Oblivion - Debt Collector 13 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “Zach, just spit it out.”

  He leaned forward, his face getting too large for the screen. His eyes were bloodshot from staying up late and drinking one too many whiskeys. Before they got around to discussing Winchester, Kelly had to endure a long-winded spiel about his night out, and the woman he’d brought home for a night of fun. “Okay, well you remember we spoke with the Telluride Police Department after Dana went missing. They reported that Jack had an alibi, an out-of-town contact that he was with at the time of disappearance. Well, you can thank me later but I got that name.”

  She nearly spat out her coffee. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. John Dalton. He works at the Unified Rescue Mission on Skid Row.”

  Her brow furrowed. “The cops just gave you the name?”

  “No, of course not. I had a source of mine do some digging in the phone records from his residence in the months prior to her disappearance. I figured that might shed some light on his contacts. Anyway, one number came up multiple times. It was for the rescue mission. So I phoned and worked my magic on this soft-spoken girl who answered. Of course with my charm, it didn’t take long to get her to tell me that Dalton knew someone by that name and he not only visited Dalton on a regular basis but he had at one time worked at the mission. Interesting side note — the dates of when he worked at the mission coincide with a large-scale murder investigation into the Chinese triads who were involved in smuggling. Coincidence? I think not.”

  “So you’ve spoken with Dalton?”

  “No. I thought I would give you the honor of making that call. You want the number?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Eager, Kelly got up and snagged a pen and notepad beside the bed. “Go ahead.” He gave it to her and then proceeded to discuss the value of such a find.

  “Hold on, hold on. Surely this is worth dinner and a movie when you get back?” he said.

  “Probably, but now you’ve got a lady friend. I’m afraid that ship has sailed. I’m a woman of morals.”

  Zach leaned forward quickly trying to backtrack. “Did I say I was dating her? I meant she was a friend. A close…”

  “You took her to bed.”

  “Yeah, but I take all my friends to bed.” She raised a brow and he chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

  “See you later, Zach.”

  “Kelly. Hold up.”

  She dropped the call and the screen went black.

  Not wasting any time she made a call to the mission.

  John Dalton was in the middle of trying to break up an argument between two homeless men who had come in for breakfast that morning. He stabbed his finger at a disheveled, skinny man with gray hair. “Now Vern. Remember what I told you.”

  “He snuck ahead of the line. I’ve been waiting here since five this morning.”

  “Bullshit,” the other man replied causing Vern to react. Dalton got between them and pushed them apart.

  “Lord above, give me mercy. You’re both going to get fed.”

  “But it’s the principle of the matter,” Vern said, spitting saliva on Dalton’s face.

  “Mr. Dalton.” Dalton swiveled his head to see Violet, his secretary, standing in the doorway with a hand raised. He gestured to her that he would be a minute then stuck his finger in the face of both Vern and Bud.

  “No more. If you continue I’ll have you both removed. And you know I will.”

  They scowled at one another but realized that to push things further would mean empty stomachs. Vern dropped his chin. “Sorry, Mr. Dalton.”

  “It’s okay. Just remember, be cool or else.” He pointed to one of his security guys to take over as he crossed the room. Disputes were common in the 24-hour mission. They served over 300,000 meals every year and worked with the homeless to provide showers, clothing, education, job assistance and referral services. He’d been involved for many years and while his security staff was good at keeping folks in line, there were a few times he had to step in. “What is it, Violet?” he asked.

  “You’ve got a phone call on line three.”

  “Thank you.” He worked out the tension in his neck as he wandered down the labyrinth of hallways to his office. He wiped the tiredness from his eyes. What he would give for a week, or a month off. As soon as he was in his office, he closed the door, sealing out the sound of chatter. Dalton scooped up the phone. “John Dalton. How can I help?”

  The woman fired out her words in rapid succession as if expecting him to hang up. “Hello, Mr. Dalton, my name is Kelly Armstrong. I was told you are a close friend of Jack Winchester?”

  There was a pause.

  Although he considered Jack one of his closest friends, unless it was him phoning, the very mention of his name meant trouble. History had taught him it was never a good thing.

  “Sorry, who are you again?”

  “Kelly Armstrong. I’m from the San Francisco Chronicle. A reporter.”

  He was quick to jump on that. “Look, lady, I’m a little busy right now. I really have to—”

  “I know you’re a friend of his,” she said cutting him off. “I also know he worked for you. I just thought you would want to know his current predicament. Or perhaps you already know?”

  She was fishing for specifics.

  If he said he didn’t know him, it would be a lie, then on the other hand if he admitted it, that would open a box of questions. It wasn’t the first time Dalton had been contacted by various agencies and reporters, especially after some of the folks Jack helped had tried to track him down. But he’d always had a policy of saying nothing unless he was forced, and even then he was careful how he answered. Before he could decide what to say, she continued. “I’ll just get to it. Mr. Dalton, Jack was accused of murdering a family in the small town of Apalachin, New York, four months ago. He was sentenced to a forensic psychiatric facility. I had been trying to track him down for a long time prior to that in the hopes he could shed some light on the disappearance of Dana Grant. Now I know he worked for the mob, and was living with Dana for a time in Telluride. I was hoping we could talk.”

  Again he was at a loss for words. Though now he was processing what she’d said. A murder? That he could accept, but a family? That didn’t fit his MO. Jack wouldn’t harm women or children.

  “Mr. Dalton.”

  Flustered, he answered, “Yes. Um. Go ahead.” He pulled up a chair and sat down.

  “I’ve tried multiple times to set up a visit at the facility but they’re denying access. I’m also unable to find any information about Dana Grant or why Jack was in Apalachin besides what the court released. The details were minimal. I was hoping that perhaps you might have better luck?”

  He brought a hand up. “What’s the name of the hospital?”

  “Holbrook State in upstate New York.”

  Dalton leaned back in his chair. “What are you getting out of this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your reason for getting involved in the disappearance of Dana.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “And I have mine for telling you to stay out of it. For your own good. Those who get involved with Jack don’t tend to come out better for it.”

  “You seem to have managed okay.”

  Dalton drummed his fingers against the table. It was true but then again he’d always kept his distance from Jack’s work. He had a wife and child to think about.

  “Jack is a friend but there are lines that even I won’t cross.”

  “Look, Mr. Dalton, I am staying at the Evergreen Motel in Ray Brook until the end of the week. If you make any progress and get in, I would really appreciate it if you let me tag along. I won’t take up much of his time. I just…”

  He was quick to cut her off. “Ms. Armstrong. I don’t think you understand. If you’re smart you will head back to San Francisco and not give this another second of your time. Now I appreciate the call but this conversation is over.” With that said he hung up, then told Violet to say that he was out of the office i
f she received any more calls from Armstrong. Reporters were only after one thing and that was dirt. He’d yet to meet any that weren’t looking for some angle to advance their career, and the last person he wanted to throw under the bus was Jack.

  Dalton leaned back and brought a hand up to his forehead. What had he got himself into now? He knew Jack was trying to find Dana but since Arkansas he hadn’t heard from him. Dalton pulled up his computer and did a search for the hospital. He clicked on a website and browsed to the section on visitors to see their policy. Strange. There was nothing unusual. Friends or family were allowed. Why was she being denied? Figuring he would find out, he dialed the number for Holbrook from his cell phone and presented himself as family. A few minutes of being placed on hold and one of the staff came back and told him the following: “At this time all visitation rights have been terminated for Mr. Winchester. Please check back at a later date.” It was said like the person was reading a script.

  “Why? What’s the issue?”

  “I’m sorry but we’re unable to discuss that.”

  “So when should I call back?”

  “Unfortunately at this time I can’t give you a date.”

  With that said, the call ended abruptly leaving him guessing. Could they do that? Digging a little deeper on the website, under general visitor guidelines it stipulated that the nurse-in-charge could terminate or modify visits for clinical or safety reasons, and the hospital had the right to refuse until a review.

  If Jack had landed himself inside a seclusion room, Dalton could see that being an issue, but something about it didn’t ring true. A further search of the site brought him to a page that listed a pastor who ran services on Sundays. He figured his connection with the mission might give him a way in. Using the main phone he made the call. Of course he couldn’t disclose his true reasons but he came up with a story that he was looking to support ministries that were reaching out to patients and was hoping for a chance to see how they operated so he could do the same in Los Angeles.

  “That’s a long way to travel, Mr. Dalton. I would have thought you would stay local,” Pastor Boone said.

  “I am but I’ve heard good things about what you’re doing there, and well, I think it would be a great benefit for me to learn from you.”

  A pause. He needed to offer more. Boone wasn’t buying it.

  “I also think it would be a great ministry for us to donate to.”

  Donations. Now that was like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey. There wasn’t a ministry on the face of the planet that would turn down money.

  “Then by all means, come, I look forward to your arrival.”

  They briefly discussed dates and times before Dalton hung up and sat there for a minute or two staring into space. He got up and grabbed his brown leather briefcase and slid a few notebooks inside, snatched up the keys to his vehicle and locked the office. “Violet. I’ll be unavailable for the next few days. Anyone calls…” He ducked his head into her office and gave a wink before heading out.

  “I know,” she said.

  “And, uh, I’ll contact Keith and have him fill my spot.”

  She nodded. “When will you be back?”

  “Soon.”

  The news had come at the worst time. Dalton was already snowed under with work and he really couldn’t pull himself away, but Jack had gone to bat for him numerous times and the fact that he had no one else to turn to made it even more important. Whether he could help his situation or not, was to be determined, at least he could find out the situation from him.

  Finding a flight for New York at the last minute wasn’t the biggest challenge, it was telling his wife. Karen was supportive and had been more than reasonable through the ups and downs of work at the mission and a couple of run-ins with the law, but that’s because he kept his distance from Jack. Other than a few phone calls a month, Dalton had stayed out of the picture. It was safer that way, for him, for Karen and the baby, but now he didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t a ploy when he told the reporter that it was better for her to walk away, it was the truth — Jack was a ticking time bomb.

  But, here he was breaking his own rule.

  As Dalton pulled into the driveway outside his residence, he sat there for a minute or two contemplating what to say before killing the engine. It was early, too early for him to be home, Karen would know that. He only hoped she was out with the baby taking a walk in the park. At least that way he could phone her later from the airport. That wasn’t to be. As soon as he turned the key she called out. “John?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  She stepped out of the living room cradling the baby in one arm while fumbling a bottle. “You not feeling well?”

  He closed the door behind him. “No, I’m good. Uh. Look, Karen, I have to go on a trip.”

  “Where?”

  “To New York.”

  Her expression changed and she knew why just at the mention of where.

  He spent the next ten minutes trying to get her to understand but his words fell short.

  “You said you wouldn’t get involved. Even Jack told you to stay away. No matter what.”

  “I know, I know I said that but he needs me.”

  “And we don’t?”

  “Karen.”

  She put up a hand and walked into the living room. He followed and watched as she turned off the television and placed the baby down on the sofa, supporting her with cushions. “It’s just a couple of days, a week at the most. I… just need to know he’s okay.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  He shrugged. “I…”

  She folded her arms and he went over and gave her a hug.

  “Listen, I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Karen didn’t look convinced. “You better be.”

  3

  Getting ready for her first day on the job, Hanna Cross couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of being surrounded by all that razor wire. It wasn’t like she hadn’t encountered danger. Eight years in a busy ER had put her in the path of many a crazy person. She’d been slapped, kicked, had her hair pulled and even been threatened with rape — all the things they failed to share with her in college as she pursued a career as a registered nurse.

  But, it came with the job. However, there was a big difference between a city emergency room and a forensic hospital.

  It had been a stroke of luck or maybe a curse to hear about the position of nurse-in-charge. A close friend whose husband worked security at Holbrook had told her about the position before it was advertised but failed to mention why it was available. She soon learned the truth at the interview. “She was murdered.” The interviewer’s words still echoed in her mind. They had to tell her but of course they were quick to explain it away as an unfortunate and rare event that should have never happened had the personal duress alarm system worked. RFID technology — radio frequency identification — was typically used for tracking vehicles or products but recent attempts to bump up security for staff had seen its introduction at Holbrook. Contained inside a card was a computer chip and transmitter that alerted dispatch, police and hospital staff to the location of the staff member. One pull and it would vibrate, let out an audible sound and cause the alarm to ring out. Within seconds the exact location and the last name of the person wearing it would be displayed across campus. Hanna had heard nothing but good things about the technology but had yet to see it in action.

  Hearing about the demise of the previous head nurse didn’t instill confidence but bills had been piling up since the death of her mother. Hanna had left her job to take care of her due to cancer, and now she was feeling the wolves nipping at her heels. If she didn’t get a job fast, she would have to move in with her sister and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Ah you’ll be fine,” Beth, her longtime friend, said over the speaker. “You’ve worked with sick people before.”

  “Yeah but not in a mental hospital.”

  “How different
can it be? Mental health is still health.”

  Hanna stood in front of the mirror and second-guessed her attire that morning. “But we’re dealing with folks who should be locked up in prison.”

  “Oh.” Hanna caught the drop in tone. “Well, they must have guards?”

  “Outside the unit.”

  “Oh,” Beth said again, sounding even more worried. “Well, look at it this way, if you die on the job, you died doing what you loved.” She burst out laughing and Hanna shook her head.

  “Remind me not to call you for support the next time. Look, I gotta go.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “You sound like a parent.”

  “Did you wash behind your ears?”

  “Beth.”

  She laughed again. “Speak to you tonight.”

  It was a good forty-minute commute to work that morning. With autumn in full swing, she could have used the heat in her Honda but it had given up the ghost a month ago. She still hadn’t had a chance to get it into the garage.

  Once she had passed through numerous security checks, Morgan, the head of security, escorted her onto the hospital grounds and up to the building. He picked up on how nervous she was because she kept fiddling with the personal alarm on her hip. Like a rookie cop making sure a gun was in its holster, she kept checking to make sure it was secure.

  “Be careful not to touch that unless you need to. Those things go off at least twenty times a day, four or five are always staff who have accidentally activated them.”

  “Right,” she said. “Thanks.” Hanna took a deep breath as her gaze washed over the yard and tall security fence.

  Led into the main building, she was taken down to Unit C. An overwhelming sense that she was trapped came over her. Soulless eyes stared back as they passed through one doorway after the next. One patient reached out and lifted her long dark hair and smelled it before Morgan shoved him back. “Hands off!”