Wolfe checked the orderly’s pockets and pulled out twenty bucks. That was a start. He found the cell key, walked to the door, and listened. The door was thick so that no sounds could be heard. He’d have to chance it.
As he stepped out, another orderly walked past to the security door at the end of the hall. Wolfe timed it so that when the door was almost closed, he stuck his hand in, preventing the door from closing, and slipped through. The hall led to another security door. Shit! He’d have to move quickly.
The door was almost closed when Wolfe stuck in his hand. Only his fingers caught the door and immediately pain shot up his arm. With his other hand, he pried the door open and stepped through into a regular hospital ward. The doors to the rooms were open and nurses moved between rooms. Farther down the hall, nurses came out of a room with trays with patient medication. He strode down the hall, like he belonged. When he got to the drug room, he peeked in. No one was inside. On one wall was a cabinet with a glass door with a key in the lock. He stepped close—it was filled with narcotics. He grabbed a pillowcase and cleaned it out. On the opposite wall hung coats. He rummaged through the pockets and found a set of car keys.
He stepped out of the room and strode down the hallway to a bank of elevators. When the door opened, he got in and pushed the button for lower-level parking.
He stepped out into the parking garage and faced hundreds of vehicles. If he tried every lock, eventually someone would see him and call security. He didn’t have that kind of time. They could find the dead orderly at any moment. He looked at the ring tag—Gremlin. That narrowed it down. The parking spots closest to the elevator would go to the doctors. So, the nurse’s or orderly’s car was likely in the middle of the parking lot. He weaved back and forth between the parked cars, looking for the Gremlin.
On the fourth row he found inside the car. He opened the trunk and threw the pillowcase of drugs. He slammed the trunk. The loud echo in the parking garage startled him. He looked around, then raced to the driver’s door. With the door unlocked, Wolfe slid into the driver’s seat. He pushed the key into the ignition and turned. The car fired up right away. Wolfe stared at the dash—it even had a full tank of gas.
Wolfe drove downtown. There were lots of low end bars to choose from. He’d fit in with the crowd in any of them. He passed the York and Calgarian. The problem with them was the lack of parking. He needed to ditch this car. Wolfe parked the Gremlin at the back of the Calgarian Hotel and slipped out of the car. He’d found clothes that fit in a laundromat. Fortune was on his side.
The bar lights were dim and about half the chairs were occupied. He walked over to the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender set the beer on the counter and Wolfe slapped a dollar down. The first beer in almost two months. Cool and refreshing. He emptied the beer and ordered another. With the second beer in hand, he turned to face away from the bar. The first thing he noticed was the waitresses. They looked old and well used. He wasn’t that desperate. He scanned the bar, looking for car keys sitting on a table. He didn’t see any, so he left his seat and wandered around the room. He passed a group of guys with short hair cuts. Maybe military.
On his way back across the bar, he saw two old men nursing their beers. A set of car keys sat in the middle of the table.
“Hey, old timers, mind if I sit and buy you a beer?”
One man stared at Wolfe, then said, “You’re a big fella. You work the oil rigs?”
“Yeah. I work in Fort McMurray. Back for a few weeks of R&R.”
“Sit down.”
Wolfe caught the eye of the grizzled waitress.
“Don’t you be ogling that waitress,” the old guy said. “I get first shot.”
“You better move quick, old man, or I’m moving on her.”
The waitress wandered over, shoulders low, a defeated look on her face. “Whatcha need?”
“Three beers. For my friends and me. I’ll have a burger and fries. You guys want anything?”
They shook their heads.
“That’s it,” Wolfe said.
“Okay. Coming right up.” She walked away, clearly in no hurry.
“You guys regulars here?” Wolfe asked.
“Sure are. I’m George and this is Vic.”
No need to leave a trail. It’s unlikely the cops would ever look here for him, but why take a chance. “I’m Pickens. Slim Pickens.”
“That’s funny. You don’t look like no cowboy and you ain’t slim.”
“My old man had a sense of humor. How’d you two know each other?”
“We grew up together, fought in the war together, and now we drink together.”
“The second one?”
“We ain’t that young. First one. Although, then we called it the war to end all wars. Didn’t think there’d be another one.”
“I appreciate your service.” Wolfe nodded to each man.
The waitress set three beers on the table. Wolfe gave her a ten. “Keep the change and bring another round.”
“Hey, George, I think this young fella is buying your girl,” Vic said.
“Watch your step there, Slim.” George stood. “I gotta take care of business.”
Wolfe re-arranged the beers and his meal on the table, slipping the keys into his lap.
“Sure you don’t want sumpin’ to eat, Vic?”
“Nah, I don’t eat too much no more.”
George came back and Wolfe’s burger arrived. He convinced the old boys to talk about the war while he ate. George did most of the talking. Vic was content to drink beer.
“The news is coming on,” George said. “Ain’t that something about Mount St. Helens blowing its top. We’re still getting that ash here. Can you believe that?”
“I’ve been away. What happened?” Wolfe swung around and looked at the small TV over the bar. The picture wasn’t great, but he could see volcanic explosion and cars covered in ash.
“Hell,” Wolfe said. “That’s impressive.”
The news moved on to other events. In the psych ward he didn’t get a TV and the shrink said reading the papers would be bad for him.
The screen changed and showed a police ceremony. The chief was pinning medals on two cops. Wolfe walked toward the bar for a better look. The camera zoomed in on two uniformed cops. Wolfe’s jaw clenched, his heart pounded, and he felt a burn up his neck. Those fuckers. Those cock-sucking bastards.
The caption on the bottom of the screen read, Detective Thomas Devlin and Sergeant Bradley Coulter receive Medal of Valor.
Eyes ablaze, Wolfe stared at the screen, his breath rapid, his pulse racing and rage building.
The next film clip showed Coulter with a pretty blonde. She was tight by his side and looked at him with love and pride.
Like Mount St. Helens, Wolfe exploded. He threw his beer at the TV, shattering the bottle and punching a hole in the screen. A waitress passed with a tray of draft beer. Wolfe swung at the tray, sending beer in every direction. Two large bouncers pushed between the tables toward Wolfe. The first bouncer reached for Wolfe, who stepped forward and landed a solid punch under the bouncer’s jaw. His head snapped back, his eyes rolled upward, and he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
Wolfe swung an arm across the bar, knocking glasses, bottles and food to the floor. The second bouncer grabbed Wolfe from behind in a bear hug, then moved one arm around Wolfe’s neck. Wolfe snapped his head back. There was a loud crack as Wolfe’s head mashed the bouncer’s nose flat. The bartender yelled the cops were on the way.
Rational thought returned, and Wolfe ran to the back door. No one dared follow. He ran to the Gremlin, opened the trunk and grabbed the pillowcase. He left the key in the trunk lock.
Under a streetlamp in the parking lot, he looked at the keys he’d stolen from the war veterans. He looked in the parking lot for an old man’s car. He spotted a dark, four-door Oldsmobile at the back of the parking lot. He ran over, tried the key in the door—it opened. Wolfe slid in and started the car. He was backing out before h
e’d closed the door. As he pulled out of the parking lot, two police cruisers raced in.
Wolfe drove around the southeast looking for a place to stay. He passed a few drug houses where he could sleep and no one would ask questions. But if any of the dopeheads got picked up by the cops, they’d give Wolfe up in a second. He drove down a street of houses in bad shape. The house at the end of the block, maybe no more than a thousand square feet, looked vacant. He parked across the road and waited for an hour. No one came near the house and not a single vehicle drove down the road.
He got out of the car and wandered over to the house. The front door looked solid with glass intact in the front windows. He walked around the house looking for signs someone was squatting there. The yard was overgrown with wild grass and weeds. None of it seemed stomped down. The back door was locked. Wolfe leaned into the middle of the door with his full weight while pushing on the doorknob. The door popped open. He stepped inside and couldn’t believe his luck. The house was in passable shape and it was furnished. He flipped a switch and the kitchen light came on.
Wolfe checked out the rest of the house, then closed the back door and stepped into the backyard. He wandered down the alley to get a feel for the area. Few homes had cars parked in the alley. The cars had current license plates and it was tempting to steal one, but if the owner reported the theft to the cops, Wolfe might be pulled over, or at the very least they’d check out this street. He’d need to find plates somewhere else. Now that he had a place to crash, he needed cash. Seventeenth Avenue was a haven for drug dealers. Tomorrow he’d find a dealer to buy some of the stolen drugs, then he’d have enough money to get some groceries, gas, and beer.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Wednesday
Brad was putting the finishing touches on breakfast when Maggie came home the next morning. Lobo abandoned Brad in the kitchen and raced to the door.
“Something smells good,” Maggie said as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Eggs Benedict and coffee.”
Maggie frowned. “A heavy breakfast and coffee after a night shift.”
Brad pouted. “But I worked hard making this for you.”
“Bullshit, that’s your favorite breakfast.”
“I’m willing to share.”
“Okay. The eggs benedict, but not the coffee.”
Brad set two plates on the table—orange juice for Maggie, and a big mug of coffee for himself. Lobo sat under the table waiting for something, anything, to fall to the floor. “How was your night shift?”
“You mean after you ran away from Stinson?”
“I didn’t run. I had reports to write.”
“Are you sure you want to know how my shift was at breakfast with your delicate tummy and all.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I can handle most stuff. Just not the smell of autopsies.”
Maggie described a motorcycle crash where the rider was ejected from his bike and impacted a brick wall with his head at about fifty miles per hour. Helmets don’t always save lives. Then she described the homeless man who complained of foot pain. When they took off his boots, what little was left of his socks came too, as well as a layer or two of skin.
Brad picked at his breakfast.
“You going to finish that?” Maggie laughed. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”
“No, I’m just full.”
Maggie laughed again. “You and Devlin were on TV last night. You two were so dashing.”
“You looked pretty good yourself,” Brad said. “I hate that crap.”
“It wasn’t about you, darling. It was about the chief bragging and the city looking tough on crime.”
Brad collected the dishes. “Yeah, well, I still hate it.”
“What’re you up to today?” Maggie asked.
“I have a meeting with internal affairs at nine. Archer after that.”
“You should be used to that. You’re practically best friends with them.”
“It shouldn’t be too bad. I have Devlin and RCMP Sergeant Stinson as witnesses, but I’m sure they’ll try to trip me up on something.”
“Internal affairs has it out for you. But then again, you do get into a lot of shit.”
“What’s up for you after your nap?”
“Shopping for groceries.”
“We’re pretty well stocked.”
“Not with the stuff I want.”
“What’s that?”
“Ice cream, cheezies, and chocolate—lots of chocolate.”
Brad smiled. “Ah, the craving stage has begun.”
“Yup.”
“How long are you going to keep working?”
“What kind of question is that?” Maggie’s voice grew cold.
“Well, you’re over two months along so maybe this is a good time to take it easy.”
“Two months is nothing. I plan to work until at least six months.”
“Are you crazy?” Brad immediately regretted those words.
“Why not. I feel fine.”
“Sure, you do now. What if you have to lift a heavy patient? What if you get another patient like Wolfe?”
“I’ll be fine. I can get the firefighters to help lift heavy patients and you’ll be there to deal with guys like Wolfe.”
“How would I know you were in danger?”
“Because, my dear, I know you listen to the ambulance radio channel.”
“What! Where did—”
Maggie held up a hand. “Before you say more stupid things, you forget that I still see Steele and Zerr. They had some interesting things to say.”
“Those rat-bastards. Hey, wait. They said you paid them to look after me.”
Maggie laughed. “I didn’t, but that’s a damn good idea. Someone has to.”
“You know what I mean. Southeast and downtown—not the nicest areas. Your partner, Fola, is a rookie and a bit of a wimp.”
“He’s a good medic.”
“I don’t doubt that, but not the guy I’d like covering my back.”
“Not everything is fights and shooting. That’s your life, not mine.”
“Still, I’d feel better—”
“Not open for discussion. You’re overprotective.”
“You’re stubborn.”
Maggie smiled. “Yup.” She kissed Brad on the top of his head. “I’m going upstairs. You coming?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brad raced in the back entrance to police headquarters and took the stairs two at a time, then down the hall to the detective office. Devlin was waiting.
“What the hell happened?” Brad asked.
“I don’t have many details yet,” Devlin said. “Griffin is at the General Hospital, Psych Ward. An orderly is dead and Wolfe is missing.”
“How does this happen? One of the most violent and sadistic criminals in Calgary and he escapes. He killed an orderly and then walked out. How is that possible?”
Devlin held up his hands in surrender. “You know him better than anyone. I need your help to catch him.”
Brad stared at Devlin while his brain flashed thought after thought. Wolfe would rape and kill again. He threatened revenge on Annie and the crown prosecutor.
Brad raced out of his office to his car. He picked up his portable radio as he drove. “Briscoe, this is Coulter.”
“Go ahead, Brad.”
“Do you know where Annie is?”
“The detail dropped her off at her apartment about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Are they still with her?”
“Nope. They’re heading home.”
Shit. “Meet me at the condo right away.”
“What’s up?”
“We’ll talk when we get there.”
Brad tried to make sense of the court system. On the one hand he understood why Wolfe needed a psychiatric assessment. But on the other hand, the man was a vicious killer. Sending him to a psych hospital was a mistake. Obviously. It’s easy to look back and see what should have been done differently. Tw
o years ago, when Wolfe was beaten almost to death, Brad immediately called the paramedics. What if I’d waited a few minutes before bringing the paramedics in. The scene wasn’t completely secured, so he could have justified the delay. Would a few minutes have made the difference? Would Wolfe have died? How many lives would have been saved if he’d died? How many more would die before Wolfe was captured?
Briscoe parked outside the condo behind Brad’s car. They exited and met up on the sidewalk leading to the condo.
“What’s the deal?” Briscoe asked.
“Wolfe escaped from the psych hospital.”
“Ah, shit,” Briscoe said. “The stupid frickin’ court system. They got suckered. He’s about as crazy as me.”
Brad raised an eyebrow.
“Go screw yourself. This was predictable.”
“We keep underestimating Wolfe,” Brad said. “No more.”
“What do you think his first move will be?”
“I don’t know, but every scenario I think of isn’t good. He was really pissed in court. He threatened Annie, the crown prosecutor, Maggie, female reporters, the judge, and me. Just about everyone in the room.”
“That’s a lot of people to protect.”
“Blighe has personal protection,” Brad said. “Annie has protection when she is at college. Maggie and Annie will be okay at home. My place is secure. I have the new alarm system, Lobo, and Maggie can defend herself, but—”
“But what?” Briscoe asked.
“Maggie’s pregnant.”
Briscoe’s jaw dropped. “Congratulations. But, uh, the timing is a little bad.”
“I know. I just talked to Maggie about getting off the street.”
“I can guess how that went.”
Brad chuckled hollowly.
The doorman opened the door for them.
“Sergeant, Detective, what brings you gentlemen here today?”
Wolfman is Back Page 14
