The Thriller Collection

by S W Vaughn

“So that means what?”

  “This guy Johnny here was in my house that night, too.” He motioned at the screen, and his jaw clenched hard. “He manipulated the footage. Spliced some dead feed in over the time he was there. That’s why I couldn’t find the issue—he erased it.”

  Stone moved closer and peered at the screen. “You’re right,” he said. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Tell me about it.” Roman hit play and muttered, “Who the fuck are you, kid?”

  After a few more fruitless minutes of trying commands and passwords, Johnny sighed and held a hand over the ear that wasn’t visible.

  His lips moved.

  “He’s got an earpiece.” Roman clicked the feed back a few seconds and pulled up the audio board. “The other guy must be outside waiting for him,” he said. “Audio’s not great, but we should be able to hear him.”

  He made a few adjustments, and ran the video.

  “We may have a problem in here.” Johnny’s voice was electric and slurry, but the words were clear enough. “Get over it. This is serious…I can’t get back into the system.”

  “Goddamned right you can’t,” Roman said. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, kid.”

  “I am.” The kid typed crazily and hammered a fist into the keyboard. “Everything’s scrambled. Caesar must’ve launched a failsafe right before they—”

  He just about broke the mouse stopping the playback. “No.”

  Stone’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Caesar?”

  For a minute he thought he wouldn’t be able to reply. Hearing that name, from this kid, had lodged icicles in his spine. “Caesar was me,” he said slowly. “Before prison. A lot of hackers have code names. If you’re good enough, you’re known by them in…certain circles.” He stared in disbelief at the screen, the unknown enemy whose name wasn’t Johnny—real or code. That was all he knew for sure. “I was pretty high up there,” he said. “But tech moves too fast. You can’t lose three years and stay on top.”

  “So this guy’s a hacker too?”

  “Oh, yeah. And he’s real hungry to prove himself.” Roman let out an unsteady breath. “We’d better hear the rest of this.”

  “—took him. I can crack it, but it could take hours. Or days…I know.”

  Roman sneered. “Guess his buddy told him they didn’t have that long.”

  Johnny made a few more frantic stabs at getting something to work. “Fuck! I can’t even wipe the drives. There must be a key combination to pop the boot menu, so I’d have to crack that before I could even start breaking the main gates.”

  “Wrong, you little smartass,” he murmured.

  Then Johnny said something that chilled him to the bone—just when he thought he couldn’t get any colder.

  “Well, we’ve got the feed from the playroom recording. We’re supposed to get the whole night. Then we pick up the package at the hospital after the club closes…I cleared it with Top. She wants to say goodbye to her sister.”

  “Oh, God,” he rasped. He stopped the feed and glanced at the system tray. It was almost three in the morning. Maybe too late already. “We’ve got to get to the hospital. Right now.”

  “You know what this package is?” Stone said.

  A shudder worked through him as her face from the club feed a few nights ago flashed into his mind—like a deer in headlights, mesmerized by oncoming death. “Yes,” he said. “It’s Teryn.”

  Chapter 29

  She’d already told the nurses she wasn’t staying tonight. That would keep them from checking in on her, so she could say what needed to be said.

  Not that Presley would hear her. She slept more and more lately, deeper and deeper as her heart slowly shut down. But she hoped her sister would absorb these last words of hers in her dreams, and that her soul would know them even if her mind didn’t.

  “Hey, sugar-pie.” Teryn sat in the chair next to the bed and took her sister’s slim, cold hand. Presley’s waxen complexion, sunken cheekbones, and the deep shadows under her eyes broke her heart all over again. No sixteen-year-old should look that close to death. “You look beautiful tonight,” she said, barely noticing her own tears.

  For a few minutes she just sat there, trying to take in being with her sister. It just wasn’t fair. Presley was beautiful, sweet as anything, and smart as a whip—not this wasted shell. She never should’ve gone down this far. She should have already had the surgery, gotten a new heart and been on the way to recovery right now. They could save her.

  But they wouldn’t.

  When Presley first got sick, the doctors had been full of promises. She’s young and strong, they said. A perfect candidate for the donor list. They’d find her a new heart in no time, and she’d be home for Christmas.

  But weeks wore into months. Christmas came and went. And when Teryn started demanding answers, someone finally told her the truth: They weren’t rich. They didn’t have private insurance, only Medicare. And Presley—sixteen years old and dying—was not a priority.

  Well, she was a priority to Teryn. And now her big sister was going to do something about it.

  “You’re going to get better, sugar-pie.” Teryn reached over and smoothed the sheet with a trembling hand. “Real soon now. I found somebody to help us. They’ve got so much money, they can do anything.”

  She knew it was true. She’d seen the proof, the videos and messages of them paying off doctors, bribing officials, arranging miraculous recoveries and better lives for so many. A little boy who needed bone marrow and a radical experimental treatment for leukemia. A teenager in juvenile detention with a deadly kidney disease—they’d gotten him permanently released after the transplant, and found him a home with a rich couple. They’d taken a twelve-year-old who’d been horribly burned, hastily treated, and was slowly dying in a community hospital to a state-of-the-art treatment center with world-renowned doctors, where she was completely restored.

  They brought Teryn to meet Brian, the little boy with leukemia. Flew her on a private plane all the way to New York. He was healthy and happy with his loving adoptive parents, who’d confirmed the story of the mysterious rich benefactors that had saved Brian’s life. He was in remission, and the doctors were positive he’d pull through.

  The price they demanded for their miracles was high. Everything she had to give. But she would die willingly, if it meant Presley would live.

  She leaned on the bed, took Presley’s hand in both of hers and pressed it to her forehead. “You’re going to make it,” she said. “And I’m so sorry I won’t be around to see you get better…but it’s the only way. See, you’re never gonna want for a thing in your whole life. Not like we were after Momma died. You’ll have everything, and you’ll be so happy. You’re going to do great things someday.”

  The tears flowed freely now. It was time to go. Teryn stood and tucked her sister in, the way she’d done so many times before. She leaned down and kissed her cool forehead for the last time. “I love you, sugar-pie,” she said hoarsely. “You won’t see me again…but I’ll be with you. Always.”

  Before her nerve could fail her, she grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table and left the room, wiping her face on the way.

  One of the nurses called goodnight to her as she passed the floor station. She managed to lift a hand and mumble goodnight in return. In the elevator, she pulled herself together and patted her pocket to make sure the object she had to bring with her was still there. Her admission ticket, so to speak.

  It was there—the little gadget that looked like a miniature gooseneck lamp. They’d said it was a video camera. She didn’t know why they wanted her to record her client sessions, but she’d done what she was told.

  Teryn reached the lower level and went out the back entrance. The ambulance van was waiting, just where they said it would be. One of the guys who’d come to the club leaned against the back doors and watched her. Jerry, the nice one.

  She was glad it wasn’t Tom. Something about that man fright
ened her on an instinctive, primal level. She sensed a killer in him—one who wouldn’t be satisfied with a quick death, who would prefer to inflict pain for as long as possible.

  Oh, God, she was shaking so hard. For an instant she was sure she couldn’t do it. If she went over there, she’d be walking straight into death. That kind of bravery was for heroes, and she was just a glorified prostitute. Not hero material.

  But she would be Presley’s hero. That was enough for her to somehow put one foot in front of the other.

  Jerry straightened as she approached. “You have my equipment?” he said.

  She nodded and produced the little camera. He made it disappear.

  “You’ll ride in the back.” Without looking at her, Jerry pushed the handle down and opened one of the doors. Then he reached in, flipped a latch, and opened the other one.

  Tom was in there, next to a stretcher bed outfitted with restraints. Grinning.

  “No.” A hand flew to her mouth and she took a step back, shaking her head. She sent an imploring look at Jerry, who refused to meet her eyes. “Not him,” she rasped. “Please…”

  “Are we going to have a problem?”

  Before she could react, Tom jumped out of the van and grabbed her arm. “Too late to stop playing, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re in the game now, and you’ve got exactly two options. Die and save your sister’s life…or just die.”

  She stiffened instantly. Presley. Whatever they did to her, she had to take it.

  “All right,” she managed. “I’m ready.”

  “Good girl,” Tom said.

  She shivered. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Oh, no.” He gave an unpleasant laugh. “This is just the first station. You’ll have quite a few stops along the way. I won’t be your last teacher.”

  “Teacher?” she murmured. “I don’t understand…”

  “You will.”

  She stared into the back of the ambulance, and finally she climbed inside as Tom grinned his terrible grin. She didn’t hesitate or look back at either of them.

  She’d already stopped thinking.

  Chapter 30

  By the time they reached the hospital, sheer frustration had driven away all traces of exhaustion. Roman had no phone, no home base, and no clue why these two punks had gone to such elaborate lengths to get to Teryn. Or what they wanted with her.

  He’d called Kat from Stone’s landline before they left and asked her to meet them out there. He hadn’t given her much detail—just told her to try calling Teryn on the way. He’d explain the rest in person eventually, what little he knew.

  Stone parked in the lot across from the emergency room entrance. Neither of them had spoken much on the drive, but as they got out and headed for the street, he said, “Top is a military term.”

  “Huh?”

  “Something Johnny said on the tape.” Stone frowned slightly. “He said, ‘I cleared it with Top.’ That’s military.”

  Roman didn’t like the implications of that. “You think they’re soldiers?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  “Great. Well, let me know if you get sure.”

  Kat was waiting outside the ER, pacing with a phone pressed to her ear. She lowered it and cut the call as they approached. “She’s not answering,” she said. “Roman, what’s going on? You’re scaring the hell out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Honestly, we don’t know exactly what’s going on either…but I think Teryn’s in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  He shook his head. If he explained things right now, they’d waste a lot of time and be no closer to finding her. “Can you get into Presley’s room this time of night?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Please. Just go up there and see if Teryn’s around,” he said. “Stone and I are going to take a walk out here. Can you meet us at the back entrance?”

  “All right.” Her lips firmed, and she slipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out a little prepaid phone. “You take this,” she said. “I’ve got the number for it. I’ll give you a call when I’m on the way down.”

  He smirked. “Better than nothing. Thanks, Kat.”

  “I expect a report soon.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, then turned to Stone and did the same, standing on tiptoes to reach him. The big man appeared to blush. “You boys be careful,” she said.

  As she headed inside, Roman couldn’t resist a quick grin. “It’s bad news to lust after the boss,” he said. “Makes for an awkward work environment.”

  “Tell me about it.” Stone cleared his throat and went back to his normal, expressionless state. “So, we’re taking a walk,” he said. “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything suspicious.”

  “That helps.”

  “Hey, you know everything I do. Which is not a damned thing.”

  “Could be a problem.”

  “Ya think?” Roman grimaced and stared up at the building. He knew what he was looking for—cameras. Florence Memorial wasn’t a big hospital, but there had to be some type of security here. If Teryn wasn’t in her sister’s room, a hope he’d lost before they ever got here, he’d have to find a way to look at their footage.

  There was one obvious camera outside the emergency room doors. And more encouraging, a second that wasn’t so obvious. If Tim and Johnny had come here to grab Teryn, they would’ve steered clear of security cameras, unless they didn’t see them.

  He had a feeling that Johnny, at least, would’ve been paying attention.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s walk.”

  He stayed close to the building, counting cameras, while Stone stuck to the sidewalk. By the time they reached the back entrance, Roman had spotted at least a dozen. And they hadn’t seen the other side of the building yet. Even if some of the cameras were dummies, there’d be several hours of footage to go through—assuming he could get access to it.

  And if he’d misinterpreted what Johnny had said about a package, all of this might be a complete waste of time. Maybe Teryn really was just going to give them something and leave. Maybe she was home and asleep right now, with her phone off.

  Maybe he was just projecting his own paranoia too far. After all, they’d broken into his place. Not Teryn’s.

  “This is hopeless.” He sat down carefully on a bench at the end of the half-circle drive by the entrance. “Even if she had been out here somewhere, I wouldn’t know where to start looking. There’s too many cameras. Besides, I’m probably crazy to think something happened to her.”

  “No. I think you’re right about that.” Stone stopped in front of him and looked intently at something off to the left. “And we might have a witness here.”

  Roman followed his gaze to a low cement wall that vanished into a shadowed alcove—and the lone pigeon perched just outside the shadow. “Terrific,” he said. “Did you learn how to speak bird in the Army? I didn’t think they used carrier pigeons anymore.”

  Stone shook his head and started for the wall. He stopped in front of the pigeon. “Good evening, sir,” he said. “Have you been here long?”

  The pigeon fluttered and cooed, then stalked into the darkness.

  “Nigh on thirty year, son.”

  A cackle chased the thin voice drifting from the shadows, and Roman’s jaw dropped. “That pigeon is not talking to you,” he muttered. “What the hell…”

  “We’re looking for a friend,” Stone said. “I think you may have seen her. Would you mind helping us out?”

  “Got a smoke?”

  “No, sir. But I do have something warm.” He pulled the flask from his pocket and held it up a minute.

  “That’ll do me fine, son.”

  There was a rustling sound. A moment later, the pigeon burst from the alcove and flapped clumsily away.

  “Oh, come on!” Roman pushed to his feet and headed over. “You throwing your voice or something? Pigeons don’t…oh.” He finally realized there was a figure s
huffling slowly from the alcove. How the hell had Stone seen anything in there? It was pitch black. “I’m impressed,” he said. “Thought I was good at checking into shadows.”

  Stone shrugged. “I’ve had practice.”

  The man coming into the light looked about a hundred years old. He was gaunt and toothless, with skin like burnt paper and a dusting of white fuzz on his head. One eye was yellowed and bloodshot, the other was covered with a filthy eye patch.

  So much for an eyewitness. This guy didn’t look like he’d be able to see anything if it was happening six inches from his face.

  “Well now, son.” The man settled himself on the wall. “Let’s see what kind of fire you got there.”

  Stone uncapped the flask and handed it over. He waited while the man took a long swallow. “Old Crow, he gives me,” the man cackled. “Naught wrong with that, son, naught all. Can’t say I mind it.”

  “Gets the job done.”

  The old man roared laughter, and Roman was convinced he’d fall over. But he steadied himself and drank another slug. “That it do,” he said, and stared off into the distance. “Your friend, now. She in trouble?”

  Stone shot a glance at Roman. “We think she might be, sir.”

  “Young blonde thing, is she? Red nails, red lips, all zipped into leather. Got nice…” His hand made a few curving shapes in the air. “Assets,” he finished with a toothless grin.

  “You saw her?” Roman said.

  The old man’s smile fell away. “She come out here, not half an hour since. Stop there by that door like she scared to move, but she do. Two young fellows waiting for her by an amb’lance.” He shook his head. “Not nice boys like you. Rotten punks, and one of ’em just evil in a skin suit.”

  “What happened? Did they take her?”

  “She go with ’em.” The man helped himself to another drink. “She scared, but she get up in the back with the evil one. And off they go.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Roman said. “She went with them willingly? How…did they say anything to her? Give her money?”

  “Easy, son. I see fine, but I cain’t hear like I used to. Only picked up a few words on the wind.” His mouth turned down sharply. “They wasn’t medical folk, and naught what they said either. That dark one, he claim to be her teacher.”