by Mark Nolan
Sarah called Beth on the phone, but her call went to voicemail. She sent a text and got no reply. She looked at the burning car through her camera’s zoom lens. It was hard to be sure, but she had a terrible feeling it was her friend’s vehicle.
Sarah’s medical training, good heart and loyalty to friends all kicked in and she knew what she had to do. She grabbed her doctor’s bag and added her pistol to it. She put on a windbreaker jacket, went outside and took off running. As Sarah ran she called 911. “Officer needs assistance. There is a vehicle on fire and I believe it’s the personal car of SFPD Sergeant Beth Cushman.”
Sarah gave her best guess of the cross streets at the location of the burning vehicle. The operator said it sounded like Sarah was running and she told her to stay away from the scene. Sarah ended the call and continued to run. These streets were familiar to her, even in the dark. She was a weekend runner and she knew every block of her neighborhood. She made good time and arrived at the scene breathing hard. The burning car was definitely Beth’s Subaru.
Sarah yelled at the crowd, “I’m a friend of the police officer who was driving this car. Where is she.? Is she hurt? I need to see her right now!”
A woman said, “She’s not injured. I let her borrow my phone. She’s over there making a call.”
Sarah turned and looked to where the woman was pointing. She saw Beth and she walked over to her. “When I saw your car, I was afraid that…”
“Yes it looks awful, doesn’t it? Beth said.
“What happened? Did that prowler shoot your gas tank?”
“He shot at my car, but the fire was caused by a Molotov cocktail.”
Sarah just shook her head in amazement.
Beth looked at Sarah’s doctor bag. “Didn’t you learn your lesson about being a Good Samaritan?”
“I guess not. At least not when it comes to my friends.”
Beth smiled at the earnest young woman who had come running toward danger to help her. She gave Sarah a quick hug. “I’m glad to have you for a friend Sarah.”
“Same here, and thanks for protecting me from the guy who did this.”
They looked at the burning car, each of them thinking that it could be Sarah’s apartment on fire instead. They’d both had a close brush with death tonight. It was something they now had in common—a bond they would always share—like sisters who had stuck together through hard times and had proven they could rely on each other.
Police cars and fire trucks arrived on the scene. The firefighters began spraying water on the flames.
A man who was standing near Beth and Sarah said, “You two are on the news.” He held up his phone.
They looked at the display and saw footage of the burning car. A reporter named Dick Arnold sat behind a desk at his news station and described the scene in a breathless voice. Someone in the crowd must have made a video and uploaded it to the internet. Sarah’s image appeared in the video as she ran up to the car with her doctor’s bag in her hand, and tried to locate the driver.
Dick Arnold said, “It appears to be Sarah Chance, from the Good Samaritan lawsuit. Coming to the rescue at another car wreck.”
The female co-host said, “After the lawyer that sued her got shot by a poisoned arrow, I doubt if any other lawyers will want to try suing Sarah Chance again.”
Sarah didn’t smile at that news, but she felt a grim sense of satisfaction in knowing that most of the lawyers in San Francisco might be afraid of her now. Deathly afraid.
A nearby police car radio crackled and the dispatcher said, “All units, be advised...” The dispatcher went on to say that the suspect from the Moscone Center shooting was believed to be at the hospital.
Sarah said, “Was she talking about the same guy who torched your car?”
“Yes, right now the shooter is believed to be at the hospital where Katherine Anderson is undergoing some tests. I’d just heard about it from Terrell on the phone.”
“Why was he prowling outside of my apartment? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“He must have thought you were important to Jake Wolfe. He was probably hoping to take you hostage or injure you in hopes of making Jake stand down and stop interfering with his plans.”
Sarah’s face went pale. “Jake just called me, right before I saw your car in flames. He said this guy had threatened me and I should go to a hotel.”
“A hotel is a good idea.”
“Where is Jake right now?”
“He’s at the hospital working with the Secret Service agents that got him out of FBI custody.”
While Sarah tried to understand what Beth had said about the Secret Service, a black SUV pulled up with police lights flashing from under the front grill. The windows went down and revealed Terrell Hayes in the driver’s seat, and Cody in the back seat.
“Hop in Scooter, we’ve got to get to the hospital,” Terrell said.
Cody stuck his head out of the back window and barked at Sarah, glad to see his new friend. Sarah petted him and looked at his bandage to see if it needed to be changed.
Beth gave the phone back to the young woman she’d borrowed it from, and then opened the front passenger door of the SUV. As Beth was getting into the car she said, “Go to a hotel Sarah. Pay cash. Lock the door and stay inside.”
Before Beth could close her door, Sarah quickly opened the rear passenger door and got in next to Cody. Terrell turned his head and glared at Sarah and said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you,” Sarah said. She closed the door, and Cody barked once and rubbed his head against her arm.
“You are not going Sarah,” Terrell said. “Get out of the car.”
“Cody’s wound needs medical attention. I can change his bandage in the car on the way to the hospital.”
“I’m sure someone at the hospital can treat his wound. It’s a friggin’ hospital, right?”
“They don’t have veterinary supplies,” Sarah said, and she held up her doctor bag for him to see. “It will be more efficient to treat Cody in the car. When he arrives he’ll be ready to work.”
“His bandage looks fine to me, I think he’ll survive.”
“You’re not a veterinarian, I am. Besides, Cody obeys me because he thinks I’m a Navy Corpsman who saved his life. Does Cody obey you, Terrell?”
“No he doesn’t, but you’re a civilian not a cop—you don’t belong here.”
“Cody is a civilian too, he’s not a police dog, and he doesn’t belong here either. I have a legally binding power of attorney to be in charge of Cody if Jake is not available. How about if I just get out of the car right now and take Cody with me?”
“Jake asked me to bring Cody to the hospital, and I don’t believe you have any power of attorney.”
Sarah reached in the back pocket of her pants and produced the form that Jake had signed, giving her legal rights in the custody, care and treatment of Cody. “Read it and weep. I’ll bring Cody to the hospital myself, in a taxi cab. Let’s go, Cody.”
Sarah opened the car door and she got out. Cody followed her and stood on the sidewalk. Terrell glanced at the form and then cursed and muttered something about hard-headed women, and paperwork, and unruly animals, and his career choices. “Alright! Get back in the vehicle, both of you.”
Sarah and Cody got into the car, and Terrell floored the gas pedal, making the SUV engine roar as they raced down the city streets.
Beth smiled at her partner’s frustration with female stubbornness. She’d often brought it out in him herself. He would get over it in due time. She knew that from experience.
“You’ve got one thing right,” Terrell said as he drove the vehicle fast and took corners with tires squealing. “That dog won’t listen to a word I say or do anything I ask him to do. And to think I used to carry extra water on combat patrols so Jake’s dog Duke would have plenty to drink. Some gratitude I get from the canine community.”
Cody panted Ha-Ha-Ha.
“Get busy changing Cody’s bandage.�
�
Sarah began treating Cody. She removed the old dressings, put some salve on the stitched up wound, and covered it with a fresh bandage.
Beth said, “Why did the Secret Service help Jake get released from FBI custody? I’m guessing Agent McKay had a lot to do with that.”
Terrell frowned. “I can’t tell you why. The intel is on a need to know basis. But I can tell you something about Jake, and you can never repeat it. Understood?”
“Understood,” Beth said.
Terrell looked in the rearview mirror at Sarah. “Understood?”
“Understood. I won’t repeat what you say, I promise.”
As Terrell drove he told Beth and Sarah a few facts about Jake’s past. Only the parts he was allowed to tell. He was angry about the current situation his friend was involved in. He made it clear that he felt Jake had done enough, had given enough, and had suffered enough.
Sarah listened in disbelief as Terrell explained that in a past life Jake had done some very dangerous work for the government. Terrell couldn’t elaborate on it, but it was frightening stuff you never saw on the news. Right now it was Jake’s intention to find the shooter and draw his fire so he could be captured. Jake needed his war dog by his side. Cody’s nose could find anybody. There was almost no way to hide from him.
Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her heart was beating fast. She realized that although she’d been wishing for a more interesting and exciting man in her life, it was true what they say, you should be careful what you wish for.
Chapter 112
Police Chief Keith Pierce was at home, having dinner with his wife Joyce and their two children. His meal was interrupted by a call on his mobile phone. He saw that it was from Dr. Lang, the police psychologist. He frowned and let it go to voicemail. Lang called him again before he could even check to see if she’d left a message. Pierce shrugged an apology to his wife and answered the call.
“Pierce.”
“Chief, this is Doctor Lang. I’m sorry to call you at home at this hour but we may have an emergency on our hands.”
“What’s the problem, Doctor. Why is it urgent?”
“It’s about Sergeant Denton. I’m afraid she might try to kill someone tonight.”
“That’s a serious allegation. What in the world would make you say that?” Pierce got up from the dinner table and went into the bedroom and closed the door so his children wouldn’t hear the conversation.
“This is confidential doctor-patient information, but I was already preparing a psychological profile of Denton for your review. I’m allowed to share private details with you in a life or death situation.”
“Get to it then.”
“For some time now, Denton has been in therapy for depression and anxiety. She was showing improvement until recently when something changed for the worse.”
“What changed?”
“Today she admitted that she went to another doctor without telling me she was doing it. She paid for it out of her own pocket so it wouldn’t appear on insurance records. When we talked, she scoffed at and criticized the other doctor. He’d told Denton she might have an uncommon mental health issue known as delusional disorder. Including symptoms of both grandiose delusions and persecutory delusions.”
“I’ve never heard of those things, what does it all mean?”
“If the diagnosis is correct it would mean that Denton is suffering from grandiose delusions of immense self-importance. Along with paranoid delusions that she’s being persecuted as the victim of a conspiracy. If that were the case I’d have to find her unfit for duty.”
“What’s the specific emergency tonight?”
“It’s related to something else she told me, that she’d been holding back. When Denton was in the Army she had to constantly deflect the advances of an officer who wanted to sleep with her. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she eventually filed a sexual harassment complaint against him. He retaliated by assigning her to mortuary affairs duty.”
“Mortuary duty as in preparing the deceased to be sent home for burial?”
“Yes, Mortuary Affairs is responsible for retrieval, identification, transportation and burial of deceased military personnel,” Dr. Lang said. “It was a heartbreakingly difficult duty to perform. The worst part was that one day she was preparing a body and saw that it was the man she was in love with. Denton held her dead boyfriend in her arms and saw his lifeless face. His blank eyes staring back at her but not seeing her.”
“That’s a terrible thing for anyone to go through. I’m sorry for Denton’s loss but how does that relate to the current situation?”
“There’s a man here in San Francisco who looks so much like Denton’s deceased boyfriend that they could have been brothers. When Denton moved here to the city and saw this similar-looking man, it was hate at first sight. She was furious that he was alive and her boyfriend was dead.”
“Furious enough to want to kill him?”
“I didn’t think so at first. Denton only told me that she wanted to arrest Jake Wolfe and put him in prison or run him out of town. Just to get him out of her sight. But a few minutes ago she called me and left a ranting and almost incoherent message on my voicemail. I want you to listen to it.”
Lang played the recording, and Pierce heard Denton yelling something about how Jake Wolfe had to die or she would never have peace of mind. Pierce was well aware of Denton’s hatred of Wolfe. She went after him like a religious zealot persecuting a heretic.
“The way she slurred her words indicates she might have been drinking tonight,” Pierce said.
“I think so too. I warned her not to drink if she was feeling angry, but she just cursed at me and ended the call.”
“I’ll try to get her on the phone right now.”
“I tried calling her back several times before I called you, but she didn’t answer.”
“You did the right thing in telling me about this. I’ll try Denton’s phone and also try the police radio. If she refuses to answer calls from the Chief of Police, I may have to put out an all-points bulletin to find her and detain her.”
“I have to agree with you, Chief. People with delusional disorder are not usually violent, but Denton also has anger management challenges. She is a rare case with unusual circumstances. I’m sorry to say this but at the moment I have to consider her a threat to herself, to her fellow officers, to Jake Wolfe, and to public safety.”
“I’ll get her partner Ray Kirby and several more of our people out there looking for her immediately.”
“Please let me know when you find her. She’ll need to talk to me. I’m sure I can help to calm her down. If necessary, I can administer a dose of Thorazine to prevent her from possibly becoming violent.”
“I’ll touch base with you in ten minutes,” Pierce said. He ended the call with Lang and then tapped his phone to call Denton. His call went to voicemail and he left a message.
“Sergeant Denton, this is Chief of Police Keith Pierce. You are to drop whatever you are doing and report to my office, in person, immediately. Call me and verify that you are on your way. That is an order. If you want to have a job when you wake up in the morning, you need to report to me right now. No excuses will be accepted. Call me the minute you get this message.”
Next, he sent a text message to Denton’s phone and ordered her to check her voicemail and call him. He then called the police dispatcher. “This is Chief Pierce. Get Sergeant Denton on the radio, right now.”
“Yes sir.”
Pierce could hear the woman making the radio call to Denton. There was no reply.
“Sergeant Denton is not answering the radio sir. Shall I keep trying?”
“Yes, stay on it. I want Denton to stop whatever she’s doing and report to me immediately.”
“Understood.”
“What is the current location of Denton’s police vehicle?”
“Tracking data shows that her department vehicle is here in the parking area.”
Pierce ended the call with the dispatcher, and then he called Denton’s partner, Sergeant Ray Kirby.
Several miles away, Cori Denton was driving in her personal car. There was a police radio walkie-talkie on the seat beside her. She had one hand on the steering wheel and in her other hand she held a pistol. “Where are you Wolfe?” Denton said, and she waved her pistol at the passing homes.
Sweat dripped from her feverish forehead. The fresh cuts on her left bicep stung and bled onto her shirt sleeve. Denton’s phone repeatedly buzzed with calls, and the portable walkie-talkie police radio crackled with requests that she should report to the Chief of Police. She didn’t reply. She also heard a report on the radio that Sergeant Beth Cushman’s car had been torched, and police units were on the way to the hospital in pursuit of the attorney assassin suspect.
“I’ll bet Wolfe is there too. He always shows up wherever the assassin does. They must be working together as a team. I can’t stand the sight of his face. It’s time to remove it from my life.”
Denton pulled over, reached under her seat and took out a portable police light. She set it on the dashboard, pressed the suction cups onto the windshield, and plugged the cord into the power outlet. She sat there for a moment as she took a prescription pill and swallowed it down with a drink from a bottle of gin.
She then drove toward the hospital, with the police light flashing, running stoplights on the way.
Chapter 113
Jake made a quick search of the hospital’s rooftop area, but Zhukov was nowhere to be seen. He headed into one of the stairwells and he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from below. That was probably Easton, but Jake sent him a text to make sure. I’m above you at the top of the stairs.
The footsteps stopped, and Jake received a text reply from Easton. Approaching you now. Hold your fire.
Easton approached carefully, just in case Jake had been captured and the text was actually from Zhukov, leading him into an ambush.
Jake leaned over the railing for a second to take a peek, and he saw Easton looking up and pointing his MP5 at him. Easton was alone, so Jake stood where he could be seen, and he made it easier for Easton to approach.
