by Diane Burke
“What happened?”
“Fitch is dead. Sarah might be, too. It’s total chaos here.”
Muttered expletives floated through the receiver. “On my way.”
“Notify Rogers and call for backup.”
“Okay. Where can I find you?”
“Making sure that every window, door and crack of this hospital is sealed shut so this piece of slime doesn’t escape.”
Sam ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He stole one more precious second to glance down the hall at Sarah’s door. Every fiber of his being wanted to know what was going on in that room. Had they been able to save her? Or was she dead? The fact that no one had come out of the room yet must be a good sign, right? He had to fight the urge to run back and see what was happening. But no matter what was going on inside that room, he would not be able to help. This time logic won out.
He did what he was trained to do. He compartmentalized his emotions and focused on doing his job. He sprinted down the stairwell, his feet barely touching the stairs, and made it from the fourth floor to the lobby in record time. The sound of approaching sirens and the sight of flashing red-and-blue lights as vehicles slammed to a stop in front of the building told him that both Joe and hospital security had also gone straight to work.
Security guards were already at the entrance. They looked confused and highly nervous, but Sam had to admire how quickly and well they had sprung into action. No one was getting in or out of the building right now except cops.
Sam met with the head of security and asked to see the building’s floor plans. Once they were in hand, he began to coordinate a thorough hospital search room by room, floor by floor, while making sure that all exits were covered. For the time being, no one would be allowed to exit, for any reason, from anywhere.
Twenty minutes after he’d called Joe, Sam saw his partner flash his badge and hurry through the front door. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to greet him.
Joe stopped short when he saw Sam approach. He shoved both hands into his coat pockets and scowled. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“The killer entered Sarah’s room dressed in Amish garb.” Before Joe could ask, Sam said, “He killed the police officer assigned to guard the door. It was Brian Fitch.”
The detectives knew the officer well. A deep frown etched grooves on both sides of Joe’s mouth.
“Has anybody notified his wife?”
“Not yet.”
“And Sarah?”
“I think the guy injected something into Sarah’s IV to stop her heart.”
“Is she dead? Were they able to resuscitate her?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to check. I’ve been organizing the search.”
Joe’s shocked expression echoed the one Sam was sure he wore as well. “How did this happen? Nobody can be this lucky. The guy’s a ghost.”
“The guy’s no ghost. He’s as much flesh and blood as you and me.”
“I just don’t understand. What happened?” Joe shot a bewildered look at Sam.
“I was there, Joe. Right there.” The remorse in his voice was evident. “He got past me anyway and got to Sarah.”
“Were you hurt? Did he hit you over the head or something?”
A red-hot flush of shame and embarrassment coated Sam’s throat and face. “Sarah was sleeping. I’d stepped into her bathroom to throw some cold water on my face. I didn’t hear him come in until it was too late. The room was dark. He threw something at me. It distracted me enough that he was able to get past me.”
Joe nodded. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It could have happened to any of us.”
“But it didn’t. It happened on my watch. Mine, Joe.”
Joe grimaced. They’d been partners long enough that Sam knew Joe understood this was about more than what was happening now. This shame and pain and anger stretched back to another time and another place, when Sam had been helpless to save loved ones or bring perps to justice.
Joe patted Sam’s arm, empathy evident in his eyes, and then changed the subject. “Where do we stand with the search?”
“The best I’ve been able to do is get all the exits covered. We’re dealing with graveyard shift. We don’t have a lot of warm bodies in the security department right now.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Downstairs.” Sam walked with Joe to the elevator bank. “I don’t believe the guy will try to walk out any of the obvious exits. He’s got to know they’re the first places we’d shut down. Check every single room in the basement. Housekeeping has storage rooms, supply rooms. I think there are even some employee lockers and break rooms down there. And, of course, the morgue and the autopsy rooms. I’ve sent security guards to the loading platform by the morgue, but I’ll feel better if one of us is checking things out.”
“You got it.”
The elevator doors opened, and Joe stepped inside.
“Be careful. Fitch was found dead with his throat slashed.”
“Great. Just what I want to hear.” His mouth twisted in a wry grin just as the doors shut.
Within thirty minutes of the initial alert, the SWAT team, special weapons and tactics, arrived, quickly followed by Captain Rogers. Sam shared what he knew, and they took over command of the ongoing search.
They hadn’t located the perpetrator yet. But the hospital looked like a military camp in Afghanistan for all the uniformed and armed personnel swarming the halls. They’d catch him.
Sam threw a glance at his captain and saw the man in a deep conversation with both the SWAT team leader and the head of hospital security. Everything that could be done was being done. Finally, he’d have a moment to find out what had happened to Sarah.
* * *
Adrenaline hammered through the intruder’s blood stream, and the beat of his heart thundered in his chest. Who knew all those morning jogs along the beach outside his home would have prepared him for the race of his life? He’d made it down five flights of stairs into the basement without anyone seeing him and, he was certain, before anyone could even sound the alarm.
What a rush! He thought it had been too simple when he caught the cop sneaking away for a break. But that’s why he loved operating during the graveyard shift. People often snuck away or fell asleep. Made his job so much easier.
But when he’d slipped inside the darkened hospital room, he’d never expected someone might be in the bathroom.
The man had been dressed like an Amish guy, but he wasn’t any more Amish than he was. Not carrying that 9 mm Beretta he had fired at him. He was probably an undercover cop.
Undercover cop. Undercover villain. Both disguised in Amish garb. The whole situation was laughable—and dangerous.
He stood with his back against the wall of the storage closet, trying to quiet the sound of his heavy gasps.
He could hear the pounding of feet racing down the corridor and hear the anxious, high-pitched whispers the guards shot to each other as they did a quick search of every room.
The sounds grew louder as the men approached his hiding spot.
He pushed into the far back corner of the room and crouched behind a utility cart with a large white mop and aluminum bucket attached. His hand tightened around the pistol grip of his gun, and he waited.
The door to the closet swung open. One of the security guards scanned the room with a flashlight. Just as quickly, he was gone.
Idiots.
They hadn’t even bothered to throw on the light switch or step into the room. No wonder hospital security guards had the reputation of being toy cops. How did they expect to find anyone with such a lazy, half-done search?
He grinned and relaxed his hand, lowering his weapon.
Lucky for them they were stupid, or they�
��d be dead security guards just about now.
He stepped out from behind the cart when a sudden flash of light made him squint and raise his hand to his eyes. Someone had thrown on the switch, illuminating the room, and it took his eyes a second to adjust.
“Don’t move! Drop your weapon and slide it over to me. Do it now!”
This wasn’t a security guard. He looked into eyes of cold, hard steel. This must be a detective. A smart one, too.
Slowly, he lowered his weapon to the floor and kicked it in the detective’s direction.
The detective moved farther into the room, never lowering his gun. He stepped to the side and withdrew a pair of handcuffs with his free hand. “Nice and easy now. Put your hands out where I can see them, and slowly walk over here.”
Again, he did as requested.
The detective clasped a cuff onto his right wrist.
With speed resulting from years of martial arts training, he spun, released the blade sheathed on the inside of his sleeve and slashed the detective’s throat.
The killer grinned. He always loved the look of surprise and horror on his victims’ faces, and this detective looked shocked, indeed.
He removed his Amish clothes and quickly donned the detective’s cheap brown suit. His lips twisted in disgust. The pants were about two inches too short, the waist at least two sizes too big, and the sleeves of the suit jacket revealed too much forearm. He shoved some towels under his shirt and cinched his belt tight to hold them in and his pants up.
He glowered at the pant length. When a scenario like this played out in the movies, the exchanged clothes were always a perfect fit. Just his luck this wasn’t a movie. But he’d have to make do.
He slipped the detective’s badge onto his belt, retrieved both guns from the floor and took one last look around to make sure he left nothing of significance behind. His eyes paused on the dead body.
“Sorry, buddy. You were good. Much better than those security guard wannabes. But I’m better. You never stood a chance.”
He used a towel to wipe away fingerprints on the light switch and doorknob. He shut off the light, glanced up and down the empty corridor, stepped into the hall and leisurely walked away.
FIVE
Sam couldn’t breathe.
He tried. But only shallow wisps of breath escaped his lips.
As soon as he could move...or react...or feel anything but pain, he’d remind himself to inhale deeply.
Yep. He’d do that. Just as soon as the world stopped spinning.
“Do you recognize this man?” A male nurse kneeling beside the body on the floor glanced up at him. “Is he one of yours?”
Tears burned Sam’s eyes. His throat clenched, making it impossible for him to speak. The nonchalance of the strangers doing their jobs roiled his stomach. To them, this was just another body. To him...
Sam glanced at the body of the man, dressed only in underwear, lying on the utility room floor. He hated what his eyes relayed to his brain, but he couldn’t seem to turn away.
How did this happen? Dear God, why?
“Hey, are you all right, buddy? You look pretty gray in the face. You’re not getting sick on me, are you? You’re a cop. You see dead bodies all the time, don’t ya?”
“Bert, give him a minute.” The female nurse gently touched Sam’s forearm. “You know this man, don’t you, detective? He’s one of yours.”
One of yours.
Sam nodded.
Yes, he was one of his. His partner. His best friend. His only family. And now he was dead.
“His name is Detective Joseph Masterson. He was my partner.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes supported the truth of her words. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Sam took a deep breath and steadied himself. Rational thought returned, and his inner cop took command.
“I need both of you to step away from the body and try not to touch anything else on the way out of the room. This is a crime scene now. Please wait in the hall for a few minutes until I can get your names and contact information.” He ushered them out of the room and grabbed the closest officer in the hallway. “Who discovered the body?”
The cop pointed to two women waiting at the end of the corridor. “Guard this door,” Sam said. “No one comes in—absolutely no one—until our forensic team arrives. Make sure to take contact information from these nurses while I speak to the women at the end of the hall.”
The cop nodded and did as requested.
Sam approached the women and flashed his detective shield. “My name is Detective King. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He glanced at their name tags. The younger female was a nurse. The matronly woman’s tag identified her as custodial staff. “Ms. Blake,” he spoke to the nurse. “I’m told you’re the one who called us.”
“That’s right.” She seemed perplexed at his Amish garb, but accepted the badge at face value.
“Did you find the body?”
The body.
He couldn’t believe he was able to treat this like any ordinary crime scene when, internally, he was reeling in pain.
Dear Lord, continue to give me the strength I need to do my job and get through this night. First Sarah. Now Joe. Help me. Please.
“She found the body.” Ms. Blake nodded to an older woman sitting beside her. “This is Mrs. Henshaw. She went into the room to get supplies, and then I heard her scream....”
Sam arched a brow and studied the drawn features of the elderly woman. It was evident that the shock of her discovery had taken its toll, and he knew he needed to tread lightly. “Thank you for speaking with me, Mrs. Henshaw. I’m sure you want to get home. I’ll try to keep my questions short and to the point.”
The woman looked up at him, her eyes glazed and distant.
“How long ago did you discover the body?”
She glanced at her watch. “I’m not sure. Thirty minutes, maybe.”
Mrs. Blake nodded. “At least. Maybe a bit longer. We checked the body for vitals before I made the call.”
“Do you remember touching anything in the room?” Sam asked.
“No. When I saw his throat had been cut, I knew he was dead, but I checked his carotid for a pulse anyway. Then I pulled out my cell and called it in.”
Sam took a deep breath and fought to keep the images she relayed out of his mind.
“Do either of you remember seeing anything or anyone suspicious? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Both women shook their heads.
“Do you remember passing anyone in the hall?”
“Policemen,” Mrs. Henshaw said. “There were security guards and police officers running up and down the halls. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I waited for the halls to clear before going to get my supplies.” A moment passed, and her face crunched in concentration. “There was something...”
Tension tightened Sam’s body as he waited for her to continue.
“I didn’t think much about it at the time but...” The woman looked directly at him. “I did see a man. He came down the hall after everyone else had already gone.”
Sam honed in on her words. “Did he do or say anything?”
“No.”
“What caught your attention? Why do you remember this particular individual?”
“Well, he was walking kind of slow, like he was taking a leisurely stroll in the park, and I guess I noticed that because everyone else had raced past.”
“Anything else, Mrs. Henshaw?”
She frowned. “Yes. His pants. They didn’t fit. They were about two inches too short.”
The shooter had changed into Joe’s suit.
“Thank you both. If I have any more questions, how can I reach you?” He pulled a small pad out of the insid
e pocket of his jacket.
Both women gave him their contact information.
“King!”
Sam glanced over his shoulder, then thanked the women for their help and joined the captain. It took only a few minutes to bring his superior up to speed.
The captain wiped a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Sam. Losing a good man is never easy for any of us. Worse if it’s your partner.”
Sam nodded. “Any word, Captain? Has anyone caught him?”
“Not yet. Unfortunately, we suspect he has already slipped past us.” The captain nodded toward the utility room. “Everyone’s been looking for a man in Amish garb. I’ve got a BOLO out now on him using Joe’s suit, badge and gun as a description.”
“That sounds like a plan. Be on the lookout for a detective when every detective and cop on the force is part of the search. Don’t want to bet on the success of that one.” Sam couldn’t hide the bitterness and sarcasm in this voice. “We’ve got to get this creep. If it’s the last thing I ever do...”
The captain clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this one covered. Go home, son. Get some rest.”
“I need to call Cindy.” The last thing he wanted to do was have to tell his partner’s wife that her husband wasn’t coming home. His distaste for the assignment must have been evident in his eyes, because the captain slapped his shoulder a second time.
“It’s been handled. I sent a squad car and a couple of our most empathetic men over to her place. Didn’t want to take a chance she’d hear it from another source. Now get some rest. Go see her after you’ve gotten some sleep.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
Sam pushed open the stairwell door and sprinted up the steps. No way was he going home. Not until he found out what had happened to Sarah.
When he entered the fourth floor, the first thing he noted was the absence of guards in front of Sarah’s room. His mind raced with a variety of scenarios on why no one would be posted there, but the only one that made sense was the one thought he refused to believe. Sam’s feet felt as if they were encased in cement, each step forward harder than the one before.