Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Is everything okay?”

  Patrick met Amber’s concerned gaze. “Nothing critical.” Patrick tucked his phone in the pocket of his hospital gown. “The officer who will be taking you to the safe house arrived about thirty minutes ago and somehow got pulled into a security issue with one of the patient’s family members here at the hospital. After he finishes up some paperwork, he’ll be right up to get you.”

  “Actually, I’m about to leave,” Tony said. “I wouldn’t mind walking with Amber to the security office.”

  Patrick started to say he’d rather Amber wait for the officer, then he remembered the doctor would be in to speak with him soon. And he had a few questions he preferred to discuss with him in private—mainly how soon he could get out of there. “Tony, that would be great.”

  He glanced back at Amber. “I’ll let security know you’re on your way. And leave your cell phone on until you get to the safe house.”

  “All right.” Amber started gathering her things, and then halted. “I don’t have my cell phone. I must have left it in the bathroom.”

  As Amber took off for the bathroom, Tony hoisted up her messenger bag.

  “This thing feels like a ton of bricks.”

  “I believe it’s her survival kit.” Patrick’s attempt to laugh came out like a groan. He blew out a breath and repositioned his shoulder.

  Patrick’s phone rang again. This time it was Vance. As Patrick listened to the latest update, Amber passed quietly out the door with Tony with only a slight wave. He’d hoped to have a final word with her. Remind her to stay safe and not worry.

  Maybe even hug her goodbye.

  Where had that come from? He’d crossed enough lines already.

  Gripping the receiver, Patrick kicked that idea aside and pushed his thoughts into investigator mode.

  SIXTEEN

  Amber hiked the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder and slipped into the elevator behind Tony. The hospital patient transporter who shared the tight space maneuvered his oversize wheelchair to the left, offering them a little more room. Amber leaned against the wall and fought off a yawn. Tony pressed the necessary button and they started to descend.

  A wave of nausea rolled through her. She pressed a hand on her abdomen and drew in a steadying breath. She was exhausted, and desperate for the truth and for her perpetrator to be caught.

  The elevator bounced to a stop and the doors slid open with a hollow ding. The man in blue scrubs nodded. “Go ahead. This isn’t my floor.”

  Amber pressed by the man and followed Tony out and down a long hallway, a blank slate of stark white walls, closed doors and dark speckled floors.

  “It’s this way,” Tony assured her, as if he could read her mind.

  A hushed, almost cave-like silence permeated the corridor. Not a single employee or patient was anywhere to be seen. She directed her curiosity to the area around her, searching for the security office, wondering if they’d gotten off on the wrong floor.

  They stepped through a set of sliding doors and beyond the threshold where the hallway came to an end. A red exit sign beamed above a single door to the left.

  The sliding door slowly coasted shut behind them, and Tony paused. “Oh, I just remembered that you’d stepped out of the room when security called Patrick back. There was another delay, and Patrick asked if I could drop you by Kim’s house. Another officer will meet us there. He suggested we use this back exit so you leaving would be less conspicuous.”

  It took Amber a moment to process that. “But Patrick didn’t want me to leave without an officer present.”

  Tony gave an offhanded shrug. “I’m not sure what all transpired. But I do know he wants you at the safe house as soon as possible.”

  Second thoughts raced around in her head, weakening her resolve to comply with Patrick’s wishes for her to leave for the safe house right then. It didn’t make sense for her not to wait until someone could pick her up there. The hospital was secure.

  As if reading her mind Tony added, “I think it’s hard for Patrick to rest when he’s worried about you.”

  Reality blasted any thread of rationale she could muster about why she should stay. Patrick didn’t need her there; he was well taken care of. And with her gone, maybe he’d take some of those pain meds. “You’re right, Tony. Patrick does need his rest.”

  And she had no plan to rob him of that.

  “Ready?” Tony pushed open the door, holding it for her to go ahead of him. “I don’t want to keep the officer waiting.”

  Amber swallowed and walked out the door, anxiety building like gathering storm clouds. She had no idea what she’d be in for next.

  But the moment Amber sank into the plush leather seat in Tony’s dual-cab truck, the tension knotting her back and shoulders started to ease. Maybe it was time for a little hiatus, to distance herself from the threats against her, from Patrick.

  “Relax and try to rest some before we get to Kim’s house.” Tony’s soft words paralleled her own thoughts.

  “Thank you.” Settling deeper against the buttery leather, Amber crossed her arms and allowed her eyes to drift shut. The drive wouldn’t be long, but a few minutes of rest sounded wonderful.

  *

  Patrick sat in his hospital bed, mulling over the data and clues for the case and making an outline for himself, trying to pull the pieces together. From what his gut told him, Carl and Randall had close drug ties, and the General was the local kingpin they answered to.

  The narcotics investigative unit was on it, looking into the local drug rings, trying to find a link to Randall or Carl. It was a tight-knit world of drug lords, mules and dealers, dirty money and greed. And they liked to stay under the radar. Incriminating facts were hard to come by and proving them was even harder.

  And Randall knew that.

  Vance’s report that a belligerent Randall had arrived at the station and had stayed uncooperative didn’t surprise Patrick. He had no doubt Randall would fight to the bitter end, declaring his innocence without emotion or insight. And so far, he was doing a pretty good job of it.

  Nonetheless, Vance’s interrogation methods were top-notch, and if anyone could get something out of Randall, Vance could. That fact made being holed up in a hospital and out of commission more tolerable for Patrick.

  Although, not much.

  Leaning back, Patrick rested against his pillow, ignoring the pulsating pain in his shoulder. He found himself wondering where Darrell Ott fit into all of this. He was curious to see the ballistics results being run on the bullets fired yesterday and match them against those fired at the counseling center.

  Ott blatantly denied killing Carl, or making any other attempts on Amber’s life.

  In Patrick’s gut he believed him. Which meant Amber’s assailant had hired Ott, a lowlife assassin, to finally get the job done that he couldn’t do himself.

  This was personal for whoever was after Amber. Someone who knew her.

  Maybe someone who hadn’t even popped into the picture yet?

  A disturbing scenario.

  He buried that thought for the moment.

  Patrick shifted again and pressed a hand against his thick shoulder dressing, cringing against another spasm of pain. It lasted only a few long seconds, though it was brutal.

  He blew out a long breath and pressed the call bell. Maybe he did need something stronger than ibuprofen. At the same time his cell phone buzzed. At first his heart kicked with hope when he saw it was Vance calling, and then skepticism settled in. Vance couldn’t be finished talking to Randall already.

  Patrick clicked on the phone, pressed it to his ear, hoping against hope for good news. A fact. A clue. A new lead. Something.

  “What do you got, Vance?”

  “Besides a headache?”

  Patrick nodded. “Ditto on that.”

  “Randall Becker is a tough nut to crack,” Vance huffed out.

  “But?” Vance had something or he wouldn’t have called.

 
“Well, I painted Becker a pretty grim picture of what his future held if he intentionally withheld information from the police, and the creep clammed up even tighter.”

  “I was hoping for good news.”

  “Well, at least Ott’s in custody. We’re following up on a few of his leads.”

  “What about the General? Did Ott own up to knowing any more about him?”

  “Still denies knowing anything.”

  “Do we have enough from Ott to keep Randall behind bars for a few days?”

  Vance hesitated, so long, in fact, that Patrick finally said, “Randall’s out, isn’t he?”

  “There was nothing conclusive to hold him on. Hearsay from a hired gun doesn’t go far. I had hoped Randall might slip up, tell us something.”

  Randall was smarter than that. That was what scared Patrick. “Let’s keep a tail on him.”

  A deep chuckle. “You know I will.”

  “Thanks, Vance.” Patrick hung up the phone and dialed Amber’s number, grateful she’d agreed to go to the safe house. Hopefully, she was on her way by now.

  On the sixth ring, his call went to voice mail. “This is Amber Talbot. I can’t pick up right now. Please leave your name and—”

  Patrick hung up the phone. Maybe she was already there? He punched Redial for the officer assigned to take her.

  “This is Officer Blake Carson.”

  “Officer Carson, this is Investigator Wiley. Could you put Amber on the line?”

  “Amber?”

  Patrick straightened in bed so abruptly he jarred his wounded shoulder. He bit his lip against the pain and sharpened his tone. “Yes, Amber Talbot. The woman whom I hope you’re in the process of escorting to the safe house.”

  “Sir, I’m not with Miss Talbot yet. I just finished here and was about to come up there to get her.”

  “What?” Patrick glanced at the time. “She left here almost an hour ago to meet you in the security office. I called down there and spoke to you, letting you know to expect her.”

  “Yes, sir, you did. However, she never showed up.”

  “What do you mean, she never showed up?” Patrick barked into the phone, frustration egging him on, fear twisting his gut. “Run plates on a Tony Hill. See if his vehicle is still in the parking garage. And call a code yellow. Get this hospital on lockdown!”

  As Patrick jumped out of bed, he banged his shoulder on the bed railing. Pain blasted through his extremities and stars flashed in his eyes. As his legs nearly buckled, he gripped the edge of the bedside table, bracing himself against the crippling pain.

  “Can I help you?” The nurse’s voice crackled through the call bell.

  Gritting his teeth, Patrick didn’t answer. He fought to focus. He needed to get out of there, needed to find Amber.

  Exhaling a pent-up breath, he crossed the floor and grabbed the bag Vance had left him. He had no idea what was going down, but he didn’t plan to sit around and wait to find out.

  He punched Amber’s number again. Wedging the phone between his shoulder and jaw, he ripped the brown paper bag open and pulled out his clothes.

  No answer still.

  Swallowing a groan, he worked past the pain and pulled on his clothes.

  His greatest mission was about to begin.

  SEVENTEEN

  Amber woke to the sound of a cell phone ringing. She blinked her eyes, realizing she’d fallen asleep. For how long, she had no idea. Reaching down, she fumbled around her feet, searching for her bag, surprised when it wasn’t there.

  The ringing continued, a shrill bleat rising from the backseat. She adjusted her seat belt and reached over the bench seat in search of her phone, but froze as Tony’s strong hand clamped onto her wrist.

  “You don’t need to answer that,” Tony said.

  Amber’s breath hiccupped. “What?”

  “I should have turned that off.” His burly fingers tightened farther, cutting off the blood flow and making her pulse sprint. “There’s no one you need to talk to now. Just relax.” His gaze, as sharp as his tone, homed in on her face.

  The ringing stopped.

  Amber tugged her hand free of his grip and plunked back in her seat, rubbing her sore wrist. Stunned by what had just taken place, she felt dread skip up her spine. In all the years she’d known Tony, she’d never seen him act this way. She lifted her chin and intensified her glare on him. “Tony, what’s going on?”

  Time ticked by, long anxious moments. Tony’s gaze didn’t waver and he stayed mute, his eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

  An internal bell went off, and Amber darted her gaze out the front windshield. On the side of the road was a sign for North Coastal Highway 25. Her level of panic ratcheted another notch. Why were they heading into the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge and in the opposite direction of Kim’s house?

  “Tony.” Even in her attempt to stay calm, her voice pitched to a near screech. “Where are we going?”

  “My dear Amber. You ask too many questions.”

  Her pulse shot to the red zone. What was going on? The jolt of adrenaline suddenly brought her to full awareness.

  Tony was the one who wanted her dead.

  But how did he fit in with Carl and Randall? Her mind erupted in confusion. Nothing made sense. Her heart in her throat, she held her composure and ordered herself to stay calm. Maybe she was wrong. There had to be a simple explanation.

  Swallowing, she studied Tony: the menacing twist to his features, the grimace on his lips. Amber’s chest filled with fear, wondering how someone who had always exhibited such a calm and caring spirit could hide such evil.

  She blinked, hoping this was all a bad dream. But when she looked again at the scowl on his face, her body went numb. This was not a dream, but her worst nightmare.

  “Tony…you’re the one? The one who’s been trying—” Disbelief choked off the rest of her words.

  A beat passed, then Tony sighed. “Things have gotten very complicated, Amber.”

  Complicated? What was so complicated that he needed her dead?

  A new kind of fear mushroomed in her chest. Moving vehicle or not, she needed to get out of there. Concentrating on escape, Amber unclipped her seat belt and grabbed on to the door handle. She yanked and yanked, meeting resistance. She was locked in.

  “Sorry, kiddo. It’s locked from the inside. A little mechanism I installed myself.” Tony sighed again and shook his head.

  Amber’s jaw went slack. She firmed it up. “Why are you doing this?”

  Tony exhaled a coarse breath. “You’ve come a long way, my friend, growing to be such a confident and passionate woman. An applaudable accomplishment in many respects, however, vulnerable and broken suited you better.”

  What? Before Amber could even gasp at his skewed logic, Tony jerked the vehicle to the left, around a sharp bend that led down a narrow gravel service road. The force sent her hurtling into the dash, her palms taking the brunt, sending a spike of pain exploding up her arms and into her back. She fell back against the seat, unconcerned with the pain as her mind stumbled to catch up.

  So the fact that she was getting strong posed a threat, even more so now that she’d decided to tell her story. How would that involve Tony? In a flash of clarity she understood. Carl and Randall were dealing drugs. Tony had to be the General.

  A shudder ripped down Amber’s spine. She stared right at Tony. “I can’t believe this. You’re a substance abuse counselor and running a drug ring?”

  His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “Nothing in life is quite what it seems.”

  Amber swallowed back bile, knowing his plans for her, but no way was she going to let him succeed.

  “Let me out of here!” she snapped. “Do you hear me? Let me go!” Amber yanked on his arm, and the truck started to weave.

  Overcorrecting the wheel, Tony roared, “No, you let go of me!” Balling his fist, he punched her in the chest, sending her flying across the cab of the truck. She bounced with a shriek, cut short when he
r head hit the passenger door.

  Dazed and seeing stars, Amber quickly gripped the handle on the door and held on as Tony fought for control, violently jerking the wheel as the truck sharply swerved right, then fishtailed, spewing dust clouds into the air.

  “Just remember, you’re making things hard on yourself!” Tony yelled, his knuckles whitening as he stomped on the brakes. The squeal of brakes assaulted her ears as the truck spun and then skidded to a dead halt, with the tail end of the bed in the middle of the road and the front bumper pointed to the ditch.

  Tony threw off his seat belt and Amber quickly pulled up in the seat, still in disbelief. Angry tears burned in her eyes, but resolve kept them at bay. She would not give Tony the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  “Amber, you seem to have more lives than a cat.” Tony spoke low, amusement underscoring his words as he plunged his hand into his jacket pocket. Her heart jumped to double time when she saw what he pulled out.

  A laugh broke loose as Tony lifted the small plastic bag containing a syringe, capped and ready inside. “Even our feline friends run out of chances eventually.”

  “No!” she yelled sharply, getting ready to bolt, but there was nowhere to go. Her heart pumped so hard she could hear it in her ears. She held up her hands, palms facing him, praying he’d become reasonable. “Tony, please, let’s talk about this,” she pleaded, hope morphing into fear when she saw him shake his head.

  “I don’t think so.” He grimaced.

  Twisting, Amber grabbed for the door handle again and started yanking, willing, praying it would open. Her futile attempt abated as Tony grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her around, pushing her against the seat. She blinked up at him as he loomed over her, nausea coiling tight in her stomach.

  “Relax, Amber,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his hold on her hair tightening, pinning her to the seat.

  As he leaned closer, rage built in her chest, but she knew it was a useless venture to try anything…yet.

  “Such a shame the way things turned out,” he mumbled, shaking his head, his voice softer now. “A few young men trying to have a little fun at a frat party morphed into a major disaster that continued to haunt Carl all these years. He felt so guilty when he first became my patient, and you can imagine my surprise when I heard your story and realized you were the young woman who caused him such regret.”