Devil in Disguise

by Morgan James

  Shoving away from the door, I frantically pulled at the bins on the shelves, searching for something to defend myself. Items clattered to the floor, and I seized a disposable scalpel sleeved in red plastic. I jumped as a heavy thud came from the door again, and Chris’s laughter trickled in.

  “I’ve got you now,” he taunted. My gaze flew around the room, and I stared at the large shelving unit in front of me. Approximately seven feet tall, it stood in the middle of the room all by itself. If I tipped it over, it might prevent the door from opening. I shoved the scalpel in my back pocket, then darted around the huge steel frame. Bracing my hands against the middle shelf, I shoved as hard as I could. It didn’t budge. Tears sprang to my eyes as pain shot down my arm, and I let out a little growl of frustration.

  “Come on, dammit!” Another thud sounded against the door, and it squeaked open another inch.

  Shit, shit, shit! Another shelving unit lined the wall behind me, and I stepped up on the second shelf, using the extra height for leverage. Suspended between the two shelving units, I rocked my body back and forth, trying to sway the shelves in front of me. It rocked precariously, and hope flared as it slammed heavily back to the ground. I pushed again as hard as I could and felt myself start to fall as the feet left the ground and the unit began to topple forward.

  At the same moment, the door to the supply closet flew open, and Chris launched himself inside. I braced myself for the fall, and I watched in horror as Chris’s eyes met mine through the gaping hole of the shelf as I tumbled toward him. He threw his hands up, but it was too late. The shelf hit him hard, knocking him to the ground, and I landed with a jolt, sprawled over top of the shelving unit. The wall stopped its progress, and my chin glanced off the steel shelf, sending stars dancing in front of my eyes.

  Quickly regaining my wits, I scrambled up the incline of the shelving unit and slid through the doorway. As soon as my feet touched down, something wrapped around my ankle, stopping my progress. Fingers curled tightly into my skin, and I lost my balance as Chris jerked me toward him. His shoulders appeared in the triangle between the wall and the shelving unit, and a cruel smile transformed his mouth.

  “I like when they put up a fight.”

  He was too big, too fast; I knew he would catch me before I even made it down the hallway. I kicked at him, and he let out a little grumble but didn’t let go. Something poked my lower back, and I hastily reached into my back pocket to withdraw the scalpel just as Chris emerged from the rubble. Pushing the blade up, I stumbled to my feet and swung upward, aiming for his neck.

  Understanding flashed across his features, and he threw himself to the side just in time. The scalpel sank into his skin, stopping when it collided with his collarbone. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he let out a harsh grunt of pain. I stumbled backwards, trying to get my feet underneath me so I could run. In front of me, eyes locked on mine, Chris climbed to his feet and wrapped his fist around the scalpel. He yanked it out and tossed it to the ground with a little shake of his head. “You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

  Heart jumping into my throat, I threw myself into action and propelled myself away from the wall. I tried to scream as a heavy weight slammed into my back and knocked me off my feet. Pinned to the hard floor, I writhed and twisted, trying to throw him off, but he was too strong. I let out a muffled shriek as one hand fisted in my hair and slammed my face into the floor. A sharp, stinging pain stabbed into my neck, then radiated outward. I went limp as the sensation burned through my veins, and my body gave over to the pain.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Gavin

  I pressed down on the accelerator, heart racing as the brick building came into view. I’d been about six blocks from the VA when Doyle called with the information we’d been waiting on all afternoon.

  “Police are looking at Christopher Raines,” he said. “Works at the VA. Dropped out of medical school a couple years ago and got his RN instead.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No DNA match—that’ll takes weeks. But hair seems to match, and he had access to his father’s residence where the gun was stored.”

  I couldn’t believe the quiet young man was responsible for something so horrific. I’d only met him once that I remembered, but he’d always been reserved and polite. He’d even broken up the fight between Coleman and his father after Meredith’s funeral. “What’s the motivator?”

  “Possibly money,” came Doyle’s response. “He was the medical power of attorney for Meredith after the accident. Apparently, Christopher convinced his father that he was more qualified to make decisions on her behalf. According to his finances, there’s a shit ton of money here unaccounted for.”

  Jesus. I swung into the parking lot and slammed the car into gear, then hopped out, already jogging toward the building before the car door shut. “Headed into the VA now. I’ll call you as soon as I get Kate and get back on the road.”

  I ended the call and shoved my phone into my back pocket, hoping to hell the churning in my gut wasn’t age-old instinct screaming that something was wrong—very wrong.

  As I approached, I could see the lights were on inside, and I tentatively pushed against the door. With little pressure, it swung inward. I choked back the urge to vomit as the smell assaulted me the moment I stepped into the lobby. It was too distinct not to recognize, and I covered my mouth with one hand. My gut roiled with nausea, worry twisting it into knots as I crept forward.

  The body was partially concealed by the hallway that ran perpendicular to the lobby, and fear clutched at my throat as my gaze landed on the pair of legs twisted at an awkward angle.

  I paused midstride and shoved my hands into my hair. Oh, God. What if it was Kate? What would I do? The despair that crashed over me was almost crippling in its intensity, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I stood frozen for several long seconds before forcing my feet to move. I had to look—I had to know.

  Throat thick with fear, I crept forward, already palming my phone in one hand. As I neared, two things became apparent. The first was that the woman, whoever she was, wasn’t Kate. I damn near cried at the relief that rushed through me. The second thing I noticed was the blood staining the carpet and the gunshot wound that had ripped a hole in her torso. She was beyond saving. Which raised my next question—how long ago had she been shot, and by whom?

  Taking a deep breath to try to slow the rapid pace of my heart, I tuned my ears to my surroundings. All was still. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I quickly brought up my messaging screen and tapped in both Clay and Con’s names, keeping it brief and succinct.

  Me: At VA. One dead. No sign of Kate yet

  Oh, God. What if Christopher had gotten to her? I threw a look at the woman at my feet, praying that she was the only victim here. I prayed that I wasn’t too late, that Kate wasn’t lying in one of the offices off the long hallway, gasping her last breath. I needed to find her—now.

  Tucking my phone away, I pulled my Glock from the holster at my lower back, then slipped my finger forward to the trigger guard and held it low as I quietly made my way forward. I knew that Con would call in the woman’s murder, so I didn’t bother to contact the police. I also didn’t want to draw any attention to my presence if the killer was still here.

  I peeked in each doorway I came to, but each room remained dark and empty. About halfway down the hall, I spotted something lying on the floor. As I drew closer, I realized it was a scalpel. Blood stained the blade, and I sucked in a breath when I glanced in the open doorway of the supply closet. The shelving unit inside was skewed, as if someone had knocked it over, and materials had been spilled all over the floor.

  I peeked around the doorjamb, but the room—like the others—was devoid of life. I quickly cleared the rest of the floor, but whoever had been here was long gone. Part of me was relieved; the other part was ready to jump out of my skin at what that might mean. Goddamn it. Where was Kate?

  I dialed Con, who answered on the f
irst ring, no preamble. “What did you find?”

  “Not a soul here, other than the dead woman.” Frustration seeped into my tone. “Any word of Christopher yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  I didn’t like the way he said it, and I immediately went on attack. “We need to find him—both of them. What if he has her?” I couldn’t help the hysteria rising up, threatening to choke me.

  “We’ll find her.” Con’s voice was firm, confident. “Doyle’s cross-checking everything, and the police are checking Christopher’s known residences. We’ll find her one way or another.”

  The sound of approaching sirens drew closer, and I tucked the Glock in my waistband as I made my way toward the door. “Police are here. I’m headed back your way as soon as I’m done here. Find her.”

  I didn’t bother to wait for an answer before I hung up and stowed my phone in my back pocket. I was already waiting, hands in front of me when the police entered the building. I recognized one of the cops from a few days ago, and he gave me an appraising nod. “You found the body?”

  “Yes, sir.” I explained how I’d come to pick Kate up and found the woman dead. “I’ve got my concealed carry on me, so you can check ballistics.”

  He nodded, jotting down the information as I relayed it to him. “I’m worried he has her.”

  The cop eyed me shrewdly. “We’re examining each lead, and we’ll do our best—”

  I was already shaking my head. Sometimes the best just wasn’t good enough. The police were bound by policy and red tape—but I wasn’t. “I’m telling you—he has her. He’s—”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I met the detective’s steely gaze. “Can I get that?”

  He dipped his chin, and I slowly reached back to retrieve it. Con’s name flashed on the screen, and hope flared in my chest as I swiped my thumb over the screen. “News?”

  “Police are checking his house now, as well as the home where Meredith had been staying. Doyle also found an old trailer registered to Peter Raines—Christopher’s paternal grandfather.”

  They would search the obvious places first, the places Christopher frequented. They couldn’t waste time running off to check every little thing with no evidence.

  “Where?” He rattled off the location, and my gut twisted even as I prayed I was wrong. It was an isolated area, private and secluded—perfect to carry out a murder. “I’ll meet you there.”

  I hung up with Con the same time the detective’s phone rang. “Am I free to go?”

  He held the phone away from his ear as he spoke to me. “We’ll be in contact if we need anything.”

  I left the building at a dead run before he’d finished speaking. We were going to find her one way or the other. I just prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Kate

  Tears burned my eyes, and I watched with an odd sense of detachment as Christopher slowly rounded the metal table. I saw every movement, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. My eyes remained frozen open, the paralytic rendering my muscles completely useless.

  We’d barely made it inside before he’d injected the neuromuscular blocking agent into my system, and I’d gone limp within seconds. I prayed that, like the drug he’d used to knock me out at the clinic, it would wear off quickly. I was still slightly disoriented, but fully aware of the pain coursing through my body.

  I could still feel the tiny bits of gravel scraping over my back and sides from when he’d dragged me from the car, across the overgrown drive and up the stairs of the small porch. I’d felt each jolt as my back and head collided with the steps, unable to scream through the tape covering my mouth. He’d used the same medical tape to bind my wrists and ankles, hampering my ability to fight back. Every inch of me ached, and I couldn’t even shift my weight to alleviate the worst of it.

  As soon as the paralytic had kicked in, Christopher had ripped the tape from my mouth and cut my hands and feet free. He wasn’t a big man, and he’d damn near knocked me out trying to get me up onto the table. I almost wish he would have, knowing what was coming next.

  My head lolled to the side like a broken doll’s, my limbs just as limp and useless. From my vantage point, I had a view of what must have been the kitchen. The trailer was small and appeared to have been gutted of everything, save the stainless steel table and a variety of instruments scattered across the cracked yellow Formica countertop.

  I felt the restraints snap into place around my wrists, then my feet as he moved to the end of the table. Out of my range of sight, I heard Christopher rustling around behind me. My heart damn near stopped when he turned back, scalpel in hand. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he lowered it to my chest, and I braced for the pain.

  Was he going to kill me now? I hoped he would make it quick instead of dragging it out, but I knew better. If he’d wanted to kill me right away, he would’ve done so back at the VA. Instead, he’d drugged me, restrained me so I couldn’t fight back but would still be aware of everything around me.

  The sound of ripping fabric filled my ears, and my vision blurred with tears as cool air washed over me. I wanted to be brave, but fear stole into my heart, taking over. I hated him for that.

  He leaned forward and swiped up a tear trailing down my cheek. “What’s this?”

  He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, a cruel smile twisting his mouth. “You called me a coward. Remember that, Kate?” He chuckled softly. “Who’s the coward now?”

  He paused, then stared down at me. “Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them?” He let out a wistful little sigh. “I’d give anything to have my mother back.”

  So that’s what this was all about. I wished I could speak, but my tongue remained thick and unwieldy. I wanted to keep him talking, ask about his mother and her injuries, what he’d meant by doing anything to save her.

  “She deserved the best, but I never would’ve been able to afford it. And my father didn’t care,” he replied bitterly. “Eli loved her, but in the end, he gave up on her, too. All she had was me. I had to take care of her.”

  I took his words apart in my mind, reassembled them, put them back together. Finally, it clicked. Eli—Dr. Coleman. Had he been involved, too, or was he just collateral damage? Had Christopher killed him out of resentment because he’d given up on Meredith ever healing?

  “Do you have any idea how expensive those machines are?” He gave his head a little shake. “How do they expect people to pay for that? It’s like they don’t actually want patients to get better.”

  He’d been smuggling organs to... pay his mother’s medical bills? The irony was not lost on me, and it made me ill all over again.

  “Everything was perfect—until you came along.” He rested one hand on the table and leaned further over me. “No one suspected a thing, exactly the way it was supposed to be. Of all people, you had to be the one to find that body.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “And what were the odds of you coming to work at the VA?”

  “Thank God you suspected Eli first.” He laughed. “Such a smart girl. But I’m always one step ahead, Kate. You want to know a secret?”

  God, no. I wanted to shake my head, terrified of the answer. He leaned so close that his nose almost brushed mine, his voice dropping several octaves. “I like it.”

  Those icy eyes met mine. “Do you know how hard it is to do all that work by yourself? Harvesting the organs and transporting them in a timely manner? Then having to get rid of the body without anyone finding it or seeing you in the process?”

  “Eli was on to me. Did you know that? I had no choice but to take care of him when he confronted me. Can you believe the idiot came to me first, instead of going to the police?” He tapped the end of my nose with the flat edge of the scalpel. “You almost ruined it for me, Dr. Winfield. I think you should make it up to me.”

  My stomach tightened in fear at the implication. He must have seen something in my eyes, because he grinned. �
��It’ll be so much more special with you. Now that there’s no rush...” He shrugged. “I can take my time.”

  I watched, unblinking, as he lifted the blade, flashing in the glow of the industrial lighting overhead, and lowered it toward my torso. Silent screams filled my head as the blade burned a path down my sternum.

  “Feel that, doctor?” Another tear leaked from the corner of my eye and he smiled. “Where should we start, do you think? Liver?”

  I felt the blade slice into my lower stomach and fought the nausea rolling in my belly.

  “Hmm...” He hummed a little sound, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Don’t want you passing out on me just yet.”

  Reaching off to the side somewhere, I heard the soft clank of metal before he turned back to me. He held up some sort of device that resembled an ice cream scoop.

  Oh, God.

  Inwardly, I thrashed as it moved closer to my face. Outwardly, my body didn’t even twitch.

  “Such pretty eyes, Kate.” The cool metal pressed against the skin near my temple. “Someone would pay a pretty penny for those.”

  He lifted the instrument closer to my face, allowing it to hover over my eye socket. A feral smile curled his lips as he lifted it away. “Maybe not. I want you to have a good view.”

  Motherfucker. I fought against the drug coursing through my system, trying to spur my muscles into moving, but they remained infuriatingly still. Christopher turned away again, and a tiny spasm rolled through the muscle of my forearm. I anxiously held my breath, praying for it to happen again.

  There.

  Just the slightest twitch, but my heart leaped as the index finger on my right hand moved. I tested it again, and I felt the cool brush of metal against my fingertip as I stroked the surface of the table. I focused as hard as I could, channeling all of my energy on trying to move my other fingers, my toes—anything.