Taylor’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Done.”
“Okay,” Penny said, “if he’s not still in the stairwell, then he got off on another floor and went down a different stairwell.”
“But he still hasn’t gone out any of the exits.”
“That we’ve seen.”
“Yes. That we’ve seen.”
For the next hour, Penny kept in touch with Holt and continued to watch the screens. Thankfully, there were no calls requiring a chopper, and she was able to wait it out with Taylor. She sent Holt a detailed text message of what had transpired between her and Rabor, knowing he was going to ask her for a statement.
She also sent him details on the security footage, telling him to find out if there was any way out of the hospital that might not have been caught on camera. “He could have used some kind of disguise too. Maybe he actually did use one of the exits and we just didn’t know it was him. Can we look at that footage once more of anyone coming out of the stairwell?”
“Of course.” Taylor’s radio crackled. “That’s Clark,” she murmured, then listened. “He said he’s on the way back up. There’s no sign of the guy.”
Penny’s phone dinged with a text from Holt.
Grace and I are on the way up.
When the knock came shortly after and Holt identified himself, Penny opened the door. He and Grace stepped inside, and Penny explained her thoughts about the possibility that the person who slipped out of the stairwell was actually Rabor in disguise. “If it was him,” she said, “he was dressed like a woman. Maybe he got the idea from Joel and came prepared in case he had to make a quick exit.”
Taylor played the footage for Holt and Grace. When the woman disappeared from the screen, Taylor picked her up at one of the side doors. “And there she—or Rabor—went. Across the street. Looks like she’s heading for . . . the parking garage.”
“Okay,” Holt said, “let’s get some footage from the garage. Depending on where he—or she—parked, we might be able to see this person’s face. I want to see what car he gets into.”
“The hospital takes pictures of every plate that comes through the entrance,” Taylor said. “So, if we can find the car, I can find the plate.”
“Would he really be so bold as to park in the garage?” Penny asked.
“If he thought no one would figure out that he’d managed to transform himself into someone who looked like a fashionable woman . . .” Holt shrugged. “Yeah, I can see that. He’s brilliant, but arrogant. Thinks no one is smarter than he is.”
“But you caught him once,” Penny said.
“Yes, I did. Which is why he has a little more respect for me than the average agent or cop, but I guarantee you, he thinks he’s learned from the mistake that allowed me to get him and is quite confident it won’t happen again.”
Grace nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly how he would think.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Penny muttered.
“Got it.” Taylor’s fingers had tapped the keys faster than Penny could follow, but now she saw the frozen image on the monitor to her right.
“That’s him,” Holt said.
“And that’s not all.” Taylor shot him a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve got a plate.”
“God bless you,” Holt said. “You’re amazing. Thank you.” He sent a text to Daria.
Can you run this plate for me, please? And put a BOLO out on it?
Less than a minute later, she texted back.
Belongs to a woman named Natasha Mitchell.
In her next text, an address came up, along with a photo.
Reported stolen?
How’d you guess? BOLO is out.
When did she report the car stolen?
Another pause.
Um . . . yesterday.
Thanks.
Holt studied the name and the face. “I know her,” he said.
Penny blinked up at him. “You do? How? Who is she?”
“The face is a little different and the last name is changed, but I’d swear this is Rabor’s half sister.”
“How common is the name Natasha?” Grace asked.
“Not very. And, if I remember correctly, when we talked to her about her brother, she had a guy with her she introduced as her boyfriend. I’d have to look at my notes, but I’m pretty confident I’m right. Could be they got married.”
“Could be.”
“We need to pay her a little visit.”
Holt called her home and got no answer. He tried her cell—thank you, Daria—and got her voice mail. He sent another text to Daria.
Send me everything you have on Natasha Mitchell, please.
Okay, stay tuned.
His phone rang. Gerald. He answered and slapped the device up to his ear. “Hi, Ger, what’s up?”
“I might have something for you.”
“Lay it on me.”
“One of our analysts was watching the videos of Rabor and his visitors. One of those, we now know, was Joel Allen, dressed up and masquerading as his girlfriend. If you listen to the conversations, Allen has a pretty high-pitched voice. Probably doing that on purpose, knowing he’s being recorded.”
“I would agree with that.”
“Anyway, Yasmine is one smart analyst. She asked for daily footage of the areas Rabor liked to frequent. Turns out he was tight with an inmate by the name of . . .”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Kip Jenkins, Holt.”
Holt’s entire body went cold. He froze. Then went hot. Grace, Penny, and the security officer were looking at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to concern.
“Holt?” Penny asked.
He cleared his throat. “I want to talk to him.”
“I figured you’d say that. It’s a good thing, because he said he’d only talk to you.”
The thought of facing the man responsible for his former partner and best friend’s death sent swirls of nausea through him. He wasn’t sure he could be in the same room with the man and control himself. “He killed Max, Gerald.”
“I know.”
“You trust me to question him?”
A slight pause greeted the question. Then Gerald sighed. “I don’t have a choice, but, Holt, you’re a professional through and through. I tried to get him to agree to talk to someone else, but the guy was adamant that he had information but would only talk to you.”
“He’s wanted to talk to me before and I’ve refused. This is just him manipulating things to get what he wants.”
“Well, you’re going to have to give it to him. We need whatever information he might have on Rabor.”
Holt pressed his fingers to his burning eyes. When was the last time he’d slept for a few consecutive hours? “Fine. I’ll go see him ASAP.”
“There’s just one more thing.”
“What?”
“He requested you bring someone with you. She’s part of the deal if you want him to talk.”
A bad feeling was growing in his gut. “Okay. Who?”
“Your friend Penny Carlton.”
Holt closed his eyes. “How does he know about her? How does he know that I know her?”
“Most likely from the news. We’re looking into that on this end, but asking him about it might be faster.”
“I don’t like this one bit.”
“I don’t either. Keep me updated.”
“Of course.”
Holt hung up and closed his eyes, picturing the day Kip Jenkins had killed Max. Max had been making a ransom drop and the shot came out of nowhere. His partner dropped, dead before he hit the ground. And Holt hadn’t been able to do a thing about it.
“Holt?”
Penny’s voice snapped him out of his trip down bad-memory lane. “Yeah?”
“What is it? Who’s Max, and who killed him?”
Holt met Grace’s compassionate gaze, then turned to Penny. “Max was my partner five years ago. We were working a kidnapping and Max was killed by the kidnapper. It’s a long story. I ca
n fill you in later. But the guy who killed Max is in the same prison as Rabor was and apparently has some connection to Rabor.”
“I see. I’m so sorry.”
Once again, Holt was struck by how little they’d actually talked—even when they were talking. In all the conversations they’d had, he’d never mentioned Max. Or the pain of losing him. They’d kept the conversations light, surface-level discussions. He wanted more than that.
He looked at Grace. “He said he’d only speak to me, so I guess I’m heading to Columbia to meet with him.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell Penny that the guy knew who she was. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why the man would have any reason to speak to her. “Penny, would you consider going with me? Like now?”
Grace raised a brow at him. Penny mirrored the look. “I mean, I would, but I’m working.”
“But you don’t have to, right? You have off until Monday. Is there someone that could cover the rest of your shift?”
“Well, yeah. I’d have to make sure I could arrange it, but . . .”
“What’s going on, Holt?” Grace asked.
A flush crept up his neck. “I want to have a more in-depth conversation about Penny’s run-in with Joel Allen on the mountain. And . . . I need to discuss something else with her as well.” Like Zoe? Yes, that too.
Grace studied him for an embarrassingly long moment, then shrugged. “All right, if Penny’s going with you, I’ll hunt down Rabor’s sister and see what she has to say about the car.”
“Perfect.” He turned to Penny. “Will that work for you?”
She blew out a breath. “I guess so. If you really think it’ll help anything, I’ll start arranging it. There’s another pilot who was going to fill in for Byron, but I volunteered. It’s possible I can un-volunteer and go with you. I can try, anyway.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Okay, then. I’ll call right now.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and stepped into the hallway.
“What are you doing, Holt?” Grace asked.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Penny yet, but I’ll tell her if she can arrange someone to cover her shift. Jenkins said he’d only talk to me if Penny was included.”
Shock flashed across Grace’s face.
“Yeah. Apparently, Penny and I are a package deal.”
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
It had taken only one call to Benjamin Thomas and he promised to cover her shift. He and his wife had a baby on the way and he’d made it known that he wanted any and all hours he could get. She ran it by Dr. Kirkpatrick and he was fine with it. She really liked that man and hoped he found someone with a similar personality to take over Mike Bishop’s job.
Penny slid into Holt’s passenger seat and laid her head back against the headrest. It had been a long morning and she was starving, but wasn’t sure she could eat without gagging, thanks to Rabor’s kiss. She closed her eyes, wondering why Holt wanted her along on a three-hour trip that was going to be emotionally draining for him.
When the vehicle didn’t move, she opened her eyes and looked over at him. He sat in the driver’s seat, engine running, heater blasting. “What is it, Holt?”
“I had another reason for wanting you along, but I don’t feel right pulling out of this parking lot without telling you.”
“Okay, so tell me.”
“This guy I’m going to see requested me, but he also said he wanted you there.”
“Me? Why me? I have no idea who he even is. Do I?”
“His name is Kip Jenkins. Mean anything to you?”
“No. Nothing. How does he know me?”
“The only way he could know about you would be through the media, or—”
“Or Rabor told him about me somehow.”
“Regardless of how he knows about you, I don’t know why he requested your presence. Maybe he wants to meet Geneva Queen’s daughter. Who knows? We can ask him when we see him.”
“All of this is kind of wigging me out, Holt. I don’t like this one bit.”
“Join the club.” They fell silent for the next several minutes before Holt said, “Okay, when we get there, I’m going to leave you with a friend of mine who’s a guard. His name is Bill. I’m going to go in and see Jenkins, see if I can keep you out of this.”
“And if he insists?”
“Then I’ll have Bill bring you in.”
She swallowed. “All right. And what do I do when I get in there?”
“Try not to let him see your fear. If you’re nervous, do your best to hide it.”
Try to hide her fear? Yeah, she could do that. She’d sure had enough practice. “Anything else?”
“If I interrupt you midsentence or something, I have a reason, okay? I’m not being intentionally rude.”
“Sure.” She paused. “Can you tell me how Max was killed?”
His jaw tightened and she wondered if he’d tell her. But then he breathed deep and let it out slowly through pursed lips. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to, but”—she shrugged—“I want to know. Maybe it’ll take my mind off the fact that this guy who knows a serial killer also knows me. And it might help me understand you better. It occurred to me that while we’ve had phone conversations and a few dinners, we’ve never really talked about the deep stuff.”
That seemed to get his attention. He quirked a quick smile at her. “I’ve thought about that too. I think you and I are deep people, but we’re also super private. Talking about the deep stuff isn’t easy for either of us.”
“I’d agree with that.”
“But I will say, I’m not that hard to understand. Basically, what you see is what you get.” And yet, something flickered in his eyes.
“And I like what I see, so . . . ?”
“You really like what you see?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yeah, Holt, I really do.” She paused. “And that’s hard for me to admit because I feel like you’re so . . . so . . .”
“So . . . what?”
Heat crept into her cheeks and she wanted to change the subject, but he also deserved her honesty. “So out of my league,” she all but whispered.
“Out of your league?” He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her. “I mean, you deserve a lot better than me.”
“Penny! Why would you say that?”
“Come on. Surely you’ve noticed I have my issues. I have a crazy mother. I have a father whom I love dearly, but he has no idea what it means to really be a father. Which means I haven’t had the best example of what marriage and parenting look like. I still haven’t fully dealt with my sister’s death and it’s been over a decade since she died. And last but not least, I have somehow become the possible target of a serial killer.” She reached up to scrub her cheek with her palm once again. She felt like she’d never be able to erase the feel of his lips on her skin and it made her want to hurl. “You don’t want to saddle yourself with . . . that. With me.”
He fell silent, then reached over to take her hand in his. “What are you doing? I noticed your cheek was super red. He didn’t hit you, did he?”
“No. He . . .” She really didn’t want to say. It would sound stupid.
“What?” He pulled the car off onto the next exit, then swung into a gas station.
“We need gas?”
He turned toward her. “No, we need to talk. What are you not telling me? Come on, Penny, we’re going deeper, right?”
She sighed and groaned. “He kissed me, all right? He kissed my cheek and I can’t get the feel of it off my skin and it makes me want to hurl.”
“Aw, Penny. I’m so sorry.”
The tears came from nowhere, but they spilled over her lashes and down her cheeks, burning a path to her chin. He brushed the tears away, released her seat belt, and pulled her against his solid chest.
“No. I’m sorry. You didn’t ask me to come so I could c
ry on your shoulder.” She sniffed and forced herself to get a grip on her emotions.
“You needed to.”
“Why? Because I’m female?” She pulled back and scowled at him.
“No, because it’s been a horrible week and sometimes you just need to cry. I’ve cried a few times in my career. The day Rabor stabbed me and I thought I was going to die, I cried. I cried at Max’s funeral and . . . some days are just cry days.”
Penny sighed. “I’m sorry, Holt, I’m just . . . scared. And when I get scared, sometimes I get mad and say things I shouldn’t.”
“We’ve all been there, but we’ll get through this, okay? Together.”
She nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. And I don’t mind letting you know that.”
He smiled. “The feeling’s mutual.” He sobered. “Try not to get mad if you wind up in the same room with Jenkins. The truth is, he’ll probably try to push your buttons, get you to react. It’s how he amuses himself.”
Penny drew in a deep breath. “All right. I have no intention of being his entertainment. I’ll be all right.” She’d probably have to call on every coping mechanism she’d learned to deal with her fear, but so be it. “Let’s get back on the road and get this done.”
“Yeah.” He continued to study her. “First things first, though.”
“What?”
He reached out to cup her chin, then ran his thumb over the area on her cheek she’d practically scrubbed raw. He pulled her closer and gently planted his lips on her cheek.
Penny went still, relishing the moment even while her pulse kicked into all kinds of crazy rhythms.
“That okay?” he asked.
“Um . . . yeah. It’s . . . nice.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Nice? Wow. Thanks.”
“No, I meant—”
His lips cut her off and she let go of the tight leash she’d been keeping on her emotions. When his mouth trailed from her lips back to her cheek once more, she realized what he was doing and almost wept again. He drew back and she clasped the hand that now covered her cheek.
“Thank you, Holt,” she whispered.
“Forget about him.”
“Forget who?” A slight smile curved her lips and gratitude filled her.
“Exactly.” He kissed her cheek once more, then gave her a nod. “Just for the record, I like kissing you.”
Life Flight Page 17
