by Karen Rose
“You’ll need to wait,” the guard said gruffly.
He channeled every medical show he’d ever seen on TV, drawing himself taller. “She is my patient. Her care comes first. Let me in.”
“Stay here.” The guard scowled, cracking the door open enough for voices to emerge.
He tried not to stiffen, immediately recognizing the woman speaking. Daisy. Daisy was in there with her. Dammit.
He should have anticipated this. Should have anticipated that Daisy would visit her in the hospital. She seemed . . . kind in that way.
“What did he look like Friday at the bar?” she was asking.
Zandra’s voice was much stronger than he’d expected. “He looked . . . smarmy. He had a shaggy look. Kind of a medium brown with blond highlights. Like a rock star trying to look young. His nose was longer. A little sharper.”
Smarmy? he thought, indignant. But then he froze as her next words sank in. Shit.
She’d just described him. Perfectly. He was wearing the same face that he’d worn the day he’d taken her from Vail. She’d been so drunk. And he’d dosed her up. She shouldn’t have remembered anything. But she had.
And now the guard was giving him a suspicious, searching look.
“I didn’t realize the police were in there,” he murmured. “I’ll come back.”
He started walking, not too fast, not too slowly. Just a normal nurse doing normal nursing things. He approached the end of the hallway and glanced up at the round mirror hanging in the corner. No one was behind him.
But that didn’t mean he was home free. He needed to lose the disguise and get out. Out of the hospital. Out of the country. He needed leverage. Something to guarantee his passage.
Daisy herself would be perfect, but that wasn’t going to happen. She had that pit bull Fed who never left her side.
He rounded the corner and came to a waiting room. Losing the disguise was job one. He could do that here. Pausing outside the doorway, he watched the round mirror for the guard while he listened to see if there was anyone inside.
There was, dammit. Two people at least. A man and a woman.
“How long can you stay?” the man was asking.
“For a week,” the woman answered. “I had vacation days saved up from the lab where I work, so I took them.”
“Gideon will be happy to hear that,” the man answered, a smile in his tone.
Gideon? It was not a common name. It stood to reason that if Daisy was here, her bodyguard Fed would be, too.
The woman sighed, sounding frustrated and tense. “I think . . . well, I’m not sure what I think. I just hope I don’t hurt him any more than I already have.”
“Your brother loves you, Mercy.” The man sounded fiercely kind. “I think he’ll be happy with whatever you’re able to give him.”
Brother? A smile curled his lips. A sister might be better leverage than a girlfriend.
Staying behind their chairs, he entered the room, going straight to the coffee machine, pretending to check the supply of cups and creamers. The two didn’t turn around. They’d been so deep in conversation that they hadn’t seen him come in.
“I don’t want him to have to settle,” Mercy admitted. “He’s been through hell, too.”
Aw, poor Agent Reynolds, he thought snidely. He glanced at the pair from the corner of his eye. The woman appeared to be average height, her dark hair pulled back at her nape with a hair clip. He could overpower her if he needed to, even with a bum hand. The man was older, but tall and broad. He’d be harder to take down.
The man patted Mercy’s hand. “One day at a time, honey. That’s all you can do. That and make amends where you can. You’ve got a great place to start. But do it now.” His voice broke a little and he cleared his throat harshly. “Don’t let the past take over your whole life like I did.”
Dammit. He wished he had more of the sedative, but he’d used it all on the nurse outside. He’d try knocking the man out first, and if that didn’t work, he’d shoot him. Even if the man did sound kind.
Them or me. I choose me.
He’d taken a step toward the older man when the guy abruptly stood. “I’m going to the men’s,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”
He held his breath until the man was gone, then, still standing behind the Fed’s sister, he pulled the wig from his head and stuffed it in his pocket. Drawing his gun, he crossed the room and—
He stopped short when the woman pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse, her hands trembling. He held his breath, watching as she dug deeper in her purse, coming up with a lighter.
And suddenly it seemed too easy. He slid his gun back into place, tugging at the top of his scrubs to hide it.
“Ma’am,” he said, and she jolted to her feet, spinning around to stare at him, her eyes wide and panicked. She pressed her palm to her heart, trapping the cigarettes against her body.
“Oh.” She drew a breath, let it out. “You startled me.”
He smiled as sweetly as he could. “I’m sorry. But you can’t smoke that here.”
She nodded, shouldering her purse, clutching the pack of smokes and lighter. “I know. I was going to ask someone where I could go.”
“If you give me a smoke, I’ll show you where I go,” he said, turning on all the charm he possessed. “All my cigarettes are in my locker.”
She seemed to relax. “I thought you were going to tell me it was bad for my health.”
He shrugged. “It is. But a lot of medical professionals smoke.” He should know. He’d flown enough charters of doctors to conventions, having to tell them multiple times that even though it was a private plane they couldn’t light up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Mindful that the older man would be back from the men’s room any second, he walked out the waiting room door, holding his breath, hoping she’d follow. And she did. He went to the nearest stairwell, simply to get her out of sight.
“These stairs are closest to the exit,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged down the first flight. “I have to hurry, though. My break is halfway over.”
She followed him, easily taking the stairs as she kept up with his pace. “I need to hurry, too. I should have left a note. They’ll be worried about me.”
“Well, at least let me show you the spot and then you can run back up to tell your friends where you’ll be.”
“Okay. I don’t smoke often. Just when I’m stressed.”
“Me too,” he muttered truthfully. “Me too.”
They got to the bottom of the stairs, and when he led her into the hallway, he was relieved to find that the nearest door was another employee entry, not a fire exit that would alarm when he opened it.
“Just out here,” he said, holding the door open for her.
As soon as she was outside, he closed the door, grabbed her arm, and shoved the gun into her side. “Let’s walk, Mercy. If you scream I will kill you. I have nothing to lose.”
He thought she’d argue. Maybe fight.
But she didn’t. She froze, her eyes going blank. He waited a second for her to do something, but she just stood there, staring. Like he’d flipped a switch or something.
What the hell? Whatever. As long as she didn’t fight him.
He walked her around the hospital and she went willingly. Like a doll. Or someone in a trance. It was fucking spooky.
When they approached the van, he glanced at the bushes near the door he’d used to enter, relieved to see that the nurse he’d sedated was still sound asleep. Hopefully someone would find him soon. He’d catch pneumonia if he stayed out here too long.
Mercy stumbled as he put her in the van he’d stolen from an off-site long-term parking lot near the airport. Not knowing if she’d “come to” at some point, he unclipped the nurse’s ID from its lanyard, then used the narrow strap to res
train her wrists.
Knowing he was on borrowed time, he ran back inside to the family restroom where he’d left his duffel. He threw it over his shoulder and jogged back to the van.
Then he drove away. He had his leverage. Now he just needed a plane.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1:50 A.M.
Daisy kept her composure until she, Gideon, and Agents Molina and Hunter left Zandra’s room. Then she turned to Gideon, burying her face against his chest, unable to stop her tears. “That could have been me,” she whispered.
“I know,” Gideon whispered back, rubbing her back in large soothing circles. “But it wasn’t.” Still, he trembled as he said the words.
“I want to help her. I want to do something. I want to go back to Thursday and fight harder. Then he wouldn’t have taken her. I know that’s stupid, but . . . God, Gideon.”
Gideon kissed the top of her head. “You can’t change what happened to Zandra, but you’re supporting her now. That matters, Daisy.”
She nodded unsteadily, wiping her tears with the back of her hand as she pulled away. Molina stood watching—but her gaze was on Agent Hunter, who leaned against the wall, head bowed, hands clenched into fists at his side.
“Are you all right, Agent Hunter?” Molina asked crisply.
Daisy’s feathers ruffled at the woman’s tone, but it seemed to be what Hunter needed. His head snapped up, and he straightened.
“Yes, ma’am.” His jaw clenched. “Or I will be. That was difficult to hear.”
Molina nodded sagely. “It was. Yet you did well, Tom.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to get back to the office.”
“Will you add the rock star disguise to the BOLO?” Gideon asked.
“Already did while we were in there,” Molina said, holding up her phone. “As soon as we had Paul Garvey’s name as the subject’s father, we sent detectives and a SWAT team to the airfield where they operate, just in case Carson Garvey showed up there and tried to appropriate a getaway plane. Up until now, he has not.”
“Which airfield?” Gideon asked.
“Garvey Airfield, twenty miles north of Sacramento International. Paul Garvey has owned it more than twenty years. We now have Carson’s home, his father’s home, their hangar at the airport, and the office where he works surrounded. The license plates of the Mercedes registered to Sydney Garvey are also added to the BOLO. We’ve got aerial searches going on and all airports have been informed or will be as they open.” She looked at the three of them. “Why don’t you go get Miss Dawson’s father and your sister, Gideon, and get some rest.”
“And you?” Daisy asked. “Will you rest, too?”
Molina’s brow rose and she looked a bit stunned that Daisy went there. “I . . .” She gathered herself, lifting her chin. “It’s kind of you to ask. I’m quite capable of deciding when I need rest, Miss Dawson.”
Daisy shook her head with a weary smile. “Of course you are.”
Molina managed to look like she was rolling her eyes even though she didn’t. “Agent Hunter, I need you at the office. We’re examining the computer taken from Carson Garvey’s home. I need your expertise. I’ve got someone to take Agent Reynolds’s protection detail.”
Hunter nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Gideon!”
As a group, they turned to see Frederick running around the corner, his face pale. Several nurses frowned at him for shouting in the hallway in the middle of the night, but he didn’t seem to see them.
“It’s Mercy,” he called out desperately. “She’s gone.”
Beside her, Gideon swayed. “What?” he exploded.
Frederick reached them, breathing hard. “I went to the men’s room. Two minutes. I was gone two minutes. When I got back she was gone. I ran to the elevator, but the cop there said that no one had come that way.”
The agent guarding Zandra’s door stepped forward, expression grim. “Agent Molina, a nurse—male Caucasian—tried to get into the victim’s room. When he heard you were in there, he said he’d be back.”
“Description?” Molina demanded.
“Brown hair, longish.”
“Shaggy?” Gideon asked harshly.
The agent nodded. “Yes.”
They stood there for a second as the truth sank in. No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
“Oh God.” Gideon’s whisper was tortured. “He’s got her.”
Molina dialed her phone and began giving a description of Mercy to whoever she was talking to. “Do you have a photo, Agent Reynolds?”
Gideon’s response was slow. “Yes. But it’s old.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, but fumbled with it.
Daisy took the phone from his shaking hands, punching in the code he’d given her when she’d called for help in Macdoel. She opened his photo file and held the phone while Gideon tapped on his favorites folder. The photo of Mercy was at the top and it was an old photo. The face looking from the phone screen was thinner than Mercy’s was now. Her hair was longer now. He tapped a few more buttons, then nodded at his boss.
“I sent it to you,” he said. “But she looks different now.”
Molina nodded. “I saw her tonight. I’ll take care of getting the right info out, Gideon.” She laid her hand on Gideon’s arm. “Try to stay calm, okay?”
He jerked a nod, then strode to the elevator, the rest of them following close behind him. When he got to the elevator, he jabbed the DOWN button. The officer on guard started to get involved, but Molina shook her head and the man stepped back but stood ready.
“Where are we going, Gideon?” Frederick asked, his tone the one he’d used on restless horses on the ranch.
“To find her,” Gideon bit out. “Before he can hurt her. And kill her. Like he killed thirty-one other women.”
Daisy sucked in a breath. “Oh my God.” She glanced at Hunter, then Molina. And saw that it was true. Thirty-one women.
Frederick sidled up to Gideon, angling himself between Gideon and the elevator, and Gideon glared. “Do not try to stop me, Frederick.”
“I won’t. But I will go with you.”
The elevator opened before Gideon could respond. Stepping around Frederick, he moved into the elevator, only to be pushed back out by Rafe Sokolov.
“Rafe,” Daisy breathed in relief. “Mercy’s been taken.”
Rafe looked between them all like they were insane. “What?”
“Carson Garvey came into the hospital and took Mercy,” Daisy said impatiently. “What are you doing here?”
“I came because I got home and my neighbor had to tell me what had happened. Nobody updated me.”
The nurse who’d been standing on the sidelines stepped in. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know you’re dealing with some kind of a crisis, but you’ll need to do it somewhere else. This is a hospital and you’re disturbing the other patients.”
Molina held the phone away from her ear. “Tom, go to the office. Your replacement will take them home.”
“I’ll take them home,” Rafe said, his gaze never leaving Gideon’s stony face.
It was the expression Gideon had worn the first night they’d met, Daisy thought. She’d become so used to the more open Gideon in the past few days that the hardness of his jaw caught her by surprise.
Ignoring them all, Gideon jabbed the DOWN button again.
Molina nodded. “I’ll send Agent Hunter’s replacement to your house, Detective Sokolov.”
“I’ll walk with them to their car,” Hunter offered.
The elevator doors opened and, as a group, they got in, surrounding Gideon. Partly for support, Daisy thought, and partly to control him if he tried to bolt.
Because there was sheer terror in his eyes.
Because he’d seen what this killer was capable of. He’d seen Trish’s body. He knew abou
t the others.
Thirty-one, he’d said. It was the first she’d heard of it, and Daisy wondered what else they’d find in that house. The house where he’d held Zandra. Where he’d tortured her. Where he’d tortured so many others.
Thirty-one.
Please don’t let him hurt Mercy. She’d already been through so much.
And Gideon had just gotten her back. Please.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2:10 A.M.
No. No, no, no.
Gideon knew he was getting into the backseat of Rafe’s Subaru, but he was too numb to control his own body. He wanted to scream. Wanted to throw his head back and scream until he had no more voice. But that did nothing to help his sister.
Soft hands cupped his cheeks and he looked up to see Daisy’s concerned eyes studying him. She said nothing, just leaned in to buckle his seat belt. A minute later she was beside him, holding his hand tightly.
Still she said nothing. No words of comfort. Nothing pithy or wise. No We’ll find her, Gideon or It will be all right. Because she couldn’t promise those things.
But she was here. With him. Holding on to him like she’d never let go.
“He might be hurting her right now,” he said hoarsely.
She brushed at his cheeks and he realized he was crying. “Gideon, listen to me.” She waited until he’d drawn a breath and nodded. “He took her for a reason. He’s on the run. He’s scared. He’s going to try to escape.”
Gideon nodded, her words cutting through the haze of panic. “Leverage.”
She nodded. “He won’t hurt her yet. He hasn’t made any demands.”
He nodded again, her words like a lifeline. “Okay. We need to find him.”
“And now we know who he is and what he does. More than we knew a few hours ago. So breathe. Molina is good at her job, right?”
Another nod. “Yeah.”
“Then hold on,” she said as Rafe and Frederick got in the front seats, slammed doors, and buckled in.
