by G. K. Parks
Two floors later, I ran into O’Connell and hospital security. “Uniforms are stationed at the main doors. Sgt. Rivers took another security team and started at the top floor. I haven’t heard a word from him yet,” O’Connell said, just as the stairwell door swung open and two uniformed cops and two members of hospital security stepped onto our floor. “Anything?” O’Connell called to them.
“No sightings,” Rivers replied. “Did you clear this level?”
“Just finished,” O’Connell said before introducing me to Rivers. “Did you check the roof?”
“We did, but there isn’t street access. The chopper’s on the pad, so he didn’t use that as a means of escape. Only places we didn’t look are restricted to authorized personnel only.” Rivers studied me. “Are you sure Francisco Steele is here?”
“He was five minutes ago, but he said he had to go.” I met Nick’s eyes. “He’s going after his next target.”
“Shit,” O’Connell spun in a circle, “we have to find him before the body count goes up. Tell me everything you know.”
“When we spoke, I heard the intercom in the background. Right after that, he said he had someone waiting.”
“The hospital intercom?” Jon, the head of hospital security, asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Can that be heard from outside?”
Jon thought for a moment. “We have speakers in the employee parking garage and our enclosed outdoor picnic area.”
“Let’s check those out,” O’Connell said.
“Those areas are for authorized personnel only. Hospital staff has to swipe an ID to gain access.”
“We need to see them anyway,” O’Connell said, “and all other restricted areas.”
“Whatever you need,” Jon said.
“This would be easier if we could check your security footage at the same time. If we spot him on camera, we can follow him,” I said.
“Sure,” Jon said. “Tom, take the sergeant and his men upstairs and show them whatever they want.”
“I’ll radio if we find anything,” Sgt. Rivers assured us.
We broke into two groups. I went with O’Connell, Jon, and another member of hospital security. For the first time, I noticed the labels on the doors and the electronic locks. Until now, I hadn’t paid attention or I just didn’t care. We returned to the main level. At the moment, everything looked sinister. Time was not on our side.
The security team led us down a hallway, just to the side of the information desk. With a quick card swipe, we were greeted by a concrete staircase on one side and a single elevator on the other. We took the stairs down to the parking garage.
“What about the morgue?” I asked, recalling it being in the basement of the hospital.
“That’s on the other side. You can’t access it from here,” the security guard said. “This garage is walled in. Entirely separate.”
“Does Jen park down here?” I asked Nick, who shrugged.
“These are reserved spaces for department heads, administrators, people like that,” Jon said.
The lot was small. It couldn’t have had more than thirty-five spaces. We fanned out, searching the subterranean space, but Steele wasn’t here.
We left the executive parking garage and checked the employee picnic area. The entirely enclosed square had two doors on opposite sides, six picnic tables, two benches, and several harried hospital staffers. Smoking wasn’t permitted, but I found several butts snuffed out on the ground beside one of the benches.
“He’s not here,” O’Connell said.
“No shit.” I gave the area another glance. We asked everyone inside if they’d seen anyone matching Steele’s description, but no one had. “He could be anywhere by now.”
“The officers at the door are checking everyone who leaves,” O’Connell said. “He’s not getting out.”
I turned to Jon. “Any other ways out of this place?”
“We have several emergency exits and employee only access points.”
“If he has someone’s ID, he could go anywhere,” I said.
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s check the security cameras. We just need a glimpse of him. Once we get that, we’ll get him.” O’Connell keyed the radio. “Rivers, have you found anything?”
“Still checking the surveillance footage. We’re talking a dozen floors and over fifty cameras. It’ll take time.”
“Prioritize the main entrance and the ICU. With the number of cops stationed at the front doors, I don’t see how Steele could slip inside without someone noticing.” O’Connell released the radio, one eyebrow lifting in thought. “Do you think Steele had someone else leave the envelope for you?”
“What about the intercom,” I asked.
“Echo?” O’Connell suggested. He held out his palm. “May I see the phone?”
I hesitated. “He said no cops.”
“They always say no cops.”
“Until I know for sure he isn’t watching us right now, I’ll hold on to it.”
“Your call,” O’Connell said, though he didn’t agree with my assessment.
We took the elevator up and went down the hall to the security office. From the outside, it didn’t look like much. It was situated behind a few labs. The entire floor was authorized personnel only. It housed offices, billing, insurance, and several laboratories for specimen analysis. Security told us to stay close. Only two types of people were allowed up here, the ones in business suits and the ones in scrubs. All of them had IDs and scan strips. Light blue and white were common hospital scrub colors. Security rewound and changed camera angles while we watched the various monitors for any hint as to Steele’s whereabouts.
“With all the masks and caps, he could be right in front of us and we’d never notice him,” I mused.
“Jen changes clothes when she gets to work. She keeps a spare set of scrubs in her locker in case of anything.” O’Connell narrowed his eyes at the main feed. “If Steele got inside a locker room, he could have easily gotten his hands on hospital garb and probably someone’s ID card.”
“Or he could put on a gown and pretend to be a patient,” I said.
“That too.” O’Connell turned to Jon. “What do you think?”
“We have several locker rooms, making them easy enough to find. Each department has their own,” Jon said, “but they require an ID card to be swiped or an access code entered.”
“But it’s possible,” I said.
“I guess.”
I went to the wall and studied the building layout. Everything was written on the schematic. “Does ICU have a locker room?” I didn’t spot Steele when the phone rang, but he had to have been somewhere close in order to watch me. And I knew he couldn’t have hidden inside a patient room, no matter how he might have been dressed.
“There.” O’Connell leaned over my shoulder, pointing at the spot marked employee area on the blueprint.
“He had to be able to see me to know when to make the call,” I said. “That’s the only place I can think he might have been that I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“All right. We need to get inside that room.” O’Connell held out his hand for the master keycard.
Bewildered, the head of hospital security said, “There’s no way anyone could get inside without an ID badge.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” O’Connell took the keycard off the desk. “Keep an eye on us from here, Rivers. We don’t want anyone getting the jump on us.” O’Connell then pointed to a view of the parking lot where four cruisers had just pulled up. “Have two units check around outside while the other two secure the lesser known exits. Do a full 360 degree sweep. Parker says Steele’s close, so we go on our consultant’s gut. Got it?”
“No problem, Nick,” Rivers said.
Without waiting, O’Connell and I ran out of the security office and headed straight for the ICU. With any luck, my gut was wrong.
Mildred remained at the desk, oblivious to the world as she cursed at the co
mputer.
“Where’s the locker room?” O’Connell asked, flashing his badge at her. I hung back, not wanting to antagonize the woman into non-compliance.
“Sir,” she looked up to find his badge in front of her face, “take this corridor.” She pointed. “It’s the third door on the left.”
“Have you seen anyone come out of there in the last twenty minutes?” O’Connell asked.
“No, not that I noticed.”
Since he had the keycard, I let the detective lead the way. He pushed open the door and reached for the light switch. Obviously, he’d been inside a hospital locker room before, probably courtesy of his wife. Four rows of lockers stood in parallel lines. Two were against either wall and the other two were in the center of the room, creating three aisles. Benches sat between the lockers, and several large laundry bins sat at the far end beside a door that led to what I assumed was a bathroom. One of the bins had a hazardous waste symbol. Blood on the edge of the bin caught my eye.
“Nick,” I moved cautiously toward it and peered inside, “get help.”
Nineteen
“Can you hear me?” I asked, leaning over the bin and checking for a pulse.
“Anything?” O’Connell asked.
I repositioned my fingers and pressed down harder. “He’s alive.”
“All right, let’s get him out of there.” O’Connell attempted to assess the man’s injuries before moving him. The only visible wound was the gash at his temple. His neck was red and maybe a little swollen. “Hey, buddy,” O’Connell said, “can you open your eyes?” He gave the man a slight shake. “Come on, pal, wake up.”
Suddenly, the man gasped, shoving backward and letting out a surprised yelp.
“Whoa, easy,” I said. “We’re here to help. Just stay still until we figure out how to get you out of there.” He eyed us, like a frightened rabbit. “I’m Alex. This is Detective O’Connell. Can you tell me who did this to you?”
“I don’t know.”
O’Connell keyed his radio, requesting assistance. “Rivers, run the footage backward. I need to know when the last person left the locker room and where the hell he went.”
The man in the laundry bin groaned, shifting to the side. He tried to pull himself up but wobbled on top of the pile of dirty laundry. After this, we’d all need a dose of antibiotics and maybe a Tetanus shot.
“Do you remember what happened?” I asked.
“I was at my locker when this lunatic blindsided me with something. It might have been a cafeteria tray.” He rubbed his forehead and examined the blood on his fingertips. “Then he wrapped me in a chokehold. I tried to pry his arms off, but...”
“What’s your name?” O’Connell asked.
“Mickey Andrews.”
“Are you a doctor?” I asked.
“No, I’m an RN.”
O’Connell radioed Rivers again. “Deactivate Mickey Andrews ID card, and tell me where it was last used.”
“Done,” Rivers said. “According to this, he just swiped it at the ER patient intake doors.”
The blood drained from O’Connell’s face. “Jenny.”
I raced out of the locker room, hearing O’Connell’s frantic radio call for the nearest units to reroute to the ER. Just as I opened the stairwell door, a medical team, hospital security, and a uniformed police officer came up the steps. “Get to the locker room. Now.”
I only made it down two flights of stairs before O’Connell burst through the door at a run, jumping down the last few steps of each flight on his way down. I kept moving. We had to stop Steele before he hurt Jen.
By the time we reached the bottom, O’Connell had caught up to me. We sprinted down the hall, dodging patients and staff along the way. The staff working triage at the ER had no idea what was going on.
“Open this door,” O’Connell ordered, his badge in one hand, the other holding his gun down at his thigh. The woman behind the counter hesitated. “Do it.”
She pushed the button, and we entered the ER. Individual rooms carved out the two sides. Unfortunately, I’d been here often enough to have the entire layout memorized. Several cops had already responded.
“No sign of Francisco Steele,” one of them said.
“He’s here,” I insisted.
O’Connell requested an update from Rivers concerning Steele’s last sighting.
“Andrews’ card was swiped at the ER door. The last visual we have is him heading in the direction of the ambulance bay.”
“Was he alone?” O’Connell asked.
“Yes,” Rivers replied. “According to the timestamp, he has a five minute head start.”
We continued our search, passing rooms as we went. The automatic doors to the ambulance bay whooshed open, and we stepped inside. One rig was parked to the side while the paramedics replenished the stock and cleaned the interior, oblivious to our presence.
“Psst,” O’Connell whispered, holding up his badge. “Have you seen a man in scrubs and a skull cap come through here?”
“Yeah, he had on a surgical mask too,” the paramedic said, hopping down. He pointed to the wide entrance. “The surgeons come out here sometimes to take a break when they are having a bad day. I’ve never seen one with a mask still on, though.”
“Did you see where he went?” O’Connell asked while I edged toward the opening, checking behind the support pillar and anywhere large enough for Steele to hide.
“Outside. He rounded the corner.” The paramedic pointed to the right.
“Stay here,” O’Connell instructed.
I braced against the edge of the opening, took a breath, held my gun in both hands, and peered around the side. I shook my head. O’Connell got on the radio, hoping Rivers or someone in hospital security could locate Steele on the exterior cameras. But I didn’t wait for the response. Steele said he had someone waiting, and I didn’t think he’d been talking about Nurse Andrews. Thankfully, the person waiting hadn’t been Nick’s wife, but the possibilities seemed endless.
“Parker,” O’Connell hissed, but I didn’t turn around or slow. I had to find Steele. I had to stop this.
The ambulance bay opened to a wide path that curved around the side of the hospital and led to the main thoroughfare. A chain-link fence ran the length of one side, not connecting to anything. On the other side of the fence were a few metal trashcans.
Keeping my head on a swivel, I went around the fence and checked the cans. This wasn’t hospital property. This belonged to the city. It’d be harder to get access to area surveillance cameras. That must have been why Steele went out this way.
O’Connell jogged up beside me. “Any sign of him?”
“No.”
The detective peered into the trash bins. “Looks like he ditched the hospital gear.”
“Not all of it.” The surgical mask and skull cap had been tossed inside. Beneath it was regular trash. I opened the other can and looked inside. “He’s still in scrubs.”
“Maybe he didn’t have anything on underneath them.”
“I doubt it.” An eerie feeling of déjà vu settled over me. “He didn’t drive here. He knows that would be too easy to track.”
“If he’s on foot, there’s still a chance we can catch him.” O’Connell spotted another set of dumpsters peeking out from the alley half a block away. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”
We didn’t have time to waste, so we ran, full-out, down the street, only slowing once we reached the mouth of the alley. O’Connell opened the dumpster, finding the scrub top and matching pants tossed inside.
“We’re back to looking for a bald guy with a beard.” I blew out a breath and kicked the side of the can. “Fuck.” I scanned our surroundings. Think, Parker. Where would Steele go? “He must have a way out. An escape route. Maybe he has a car waiting nearby or someone’s picking him up.”
“We’re close to the major transit lines. The closest subway station is two blocks that way.” O’Connell pointed. “And the city buses are suppose
d to stop here every fifteen minutes. He might already be gone.”
“It hasn’t been fifteen minutes, and the buses rarely run on time.” I checked my watch. “The train station makes more sense, but he might not want to get that close to the metro cops. Plus, he wouldn’t have tossed his clothes here if he was headed east.” I looked around the area. “He told me he had someone waiting – his next victim.” I frowned, feeling valuable seconds ticking by. “Dammit.”
“Talk it out,” O’Connell said, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he whipped his focus from one building to another. “Where is he, Parker? What’s your best guess?”
“I don’t know. If an agent or cop lived around here, I’d say maybe that’s where he went, but I don’t see anything residential close by.”
“This isn’t exactly one of the safer parts of town.”
“No, it isn’t. But it’s too far from KXD territory.” I blinked a few times, desperate to recall details from the closed case. Lab locations. Storage facilities. Meeting places. Anywhere Steele might go to hide. “That bar.” I pointed to the tiny establishment on the corner.
“It’s not open yet,” O’Connell said. “That makes it the ideal place for him to hole up.”
“It’d also serve his recent voyeuristic fetish.” I just didn’t know if Steele would waste the time to watch us run ourselves ragged. But this was as much about relishing in our incompetence as it was about killing and torturing. Francisco Steele enjoyed the psychological torture almost as much as the physical. Maybe he even liked it more. “Let’s check it out.”
O’Connell took the lead, crossed the street, and continued at a fast clip until we reached the bar. The sign said closed, but that didn’t mean anything. I went around the building, checking the side entrance. It was locked. No signs of tampering. And as far as I could tell, none of the employees were around. I returned to the front.
“Door’s open,” O’Connell said. “I already radioed for backup.”
We didn’t even know if Steele was inside, but this was no time to take chances. I nodded and took up a position at the side of the door. O’Connell held up three fingers, counted us down, and swung the door open.
