Nurse Blood (The Organ Harvester Series Book 1)

by Rebecca Besser

  As soon as they entered the emergency room, they felt like they’d been transported to an entirely different world; people were running everywhere and there was a lot of noise.

  “Over there,” Croce said loud enough to be heard over the din, pointing to a closed door in the corner that said: SECURITY.

  David nodded and headed that way with Croce at his heels. As they reached the door and David raised his fist to knock, it flew open and a young man in a security uniform almost ran into them.

  “Oh, shit!” the man exclaimed, clutching his chest. “I didn’t know you guys were there.” He looked back and forth between the two. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes,” David said, “but it’s a private matter. We need to come inside and speak with you.”

  “Uh, sure,” the man said, “but I need to run to the bathroom really quick and can’t leave you in the office by yourselves. Can you wait just a sec?” He looked from one to the other as he sidled between them, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back—I swear.”

  The door to the security office went shut on its own.

  McCoy and Croce looked at the door, then at each other, and nodded.

  “Great!” the security guard exclaimed, and made a mad dash for the bathroom that was right around a corner.

  David reached over to the door and gripped the knob, trying to turn it.

  “Locked,” he muttered, and let it go.

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Croce asked. “You wouldn’t want just anyone walking in…” She motioned around the room to prove her point.

  David nodded. He knew tight security was a good thing, he was just eager to view the tapes and see if he could find out if anything was going on. Time was running short, and so was his patience.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Sonya woke up and got ready for work like she did every morning. Her thoughts were still on the story from the previous night. She was actually shocked she hadn’t had bad dreams. Even though she was upset about Butch and the way he was playing everyone, she was happy she’d finally told Lloyd the entire story of her past.

  As she was sitting in her driveway, waiting for the garage door to close before she headed off to the hospital, she thought about how loving and protective Lloyd had been toward her through the night. He’d even stayed to hold her until she’d fallen asleep. She believed that was why she hadn’t had nightmares.

  With a wistful sigh, she pulled out onto the road and headed off to work. She didn’t want to go, and wished she could call in and quit. She couldn’t risk it though, since that might raise a red flag if the feds were searching the hospitals, which she knew they would. Like she’d told Jan—they usually searched the morgues first. She just hoped Miles had covered his tracks well and there was nothing to find when they came snooping. She had to talk to him, and that made going to work worth it, if she made it in time.

  The drive to the hospital flew by as she worried over Miles and his nervous attitude. She hoped she’d get to reassure him and calm him down before he had to go through any questioning. She’d thought about calling to warn him again, but with Roger flipping out on her and the bank escapade the previous day, she’d never gotten a chance other than that one brief call. She hadn’t been confident in his ability to handle anything from that conversation.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and took her phone out of her pocket, thinking about texting Lloyd to tell him how much she loved him. She frowned when she realized she hadn’t turned it on. With a sigh, she remedied that error and jumped as her phone made all kinds of noises, telling her that she had multiple missed calls and voice mail messages, as well as texts.

  She glanced at the clock in the corner of the device’s screen and shook her head. She didn’t have time to check them all at that moment, because she needed to clock in and be on her floor in a couple of minutes.

  She climbed out of her car, slipping her phone into the front pocket of her scrubs shirt, and slammed the door shut behind herself. She started jogging across the parking lot, heading for the emergency room door, since it was the closest entrance to the nurse’s locker room and the elevator she needed to take.

  The emergency room was a minefield of noise blasts and clustered people—as always. Sonya rushed in through the automatic doors that almost didn’t open fast enough to allow her admittance, just as a security guard came around a corner—she almost collided with him.

  “Sorry,” she said breathlessly, smiling broadly. “I’m running a little behind.”

  He laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t mind being attacked by a beautiful woman.”

  She smiled, shook her head, tucked a few stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, and continued down the hall.

  ***

  “Thanks for waiting,” the security guard said to McCoy and Croce, still grinning like an idiot from his encounter with the beautiful blonde nurse.

  “No problem,” David said, smiling at the man. His thoughts had been wandering while they’d been waiting, and the man had startled him.

  “Come on in,” the security guard invited as he unlocked the door and opened it. He held it open for his guests. “What can I do for you?”

  David waited until the door had gone closed behind them before he answered.

  “I’m Agent David McCoy and this is Agent Hannah Croce with the FBI,” he paused and flashed his badge, “and we’re investigating a case involving organ harvesting and sales on the black market. I have reason to believe something illegal might have gone through the morgue of this hospital. I need to look at the security videos you have for the elevator that goes to the basement and any nearby hallways.”

  The security guard’s eyes went wide as he looked at the badge and listened to what David had to say.

  “Uh, sure,” he said, and sat down in a chair behind a bank of computers and security monitors. “I don’t have all the info here, but I can remotely access the company’s main system and get the digital recordings, if you’d like.”

  “That would be great,” David said, stepping up behind the young man.

  “Do you know what day you’re looking for?” the security guard asked.

  “No, I don’t,” David said. “I just know it was sometime in the last month—possibly this past week. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Sorry,” the young man said. “I’m Adam Shears.”

  “Nice to meet you, Adam,” David said. “You seem pretty good at this. Do you have experience with computers?”

  Adam shrugged. “A little. I used to do a lot of gaming and stuff when I was in school.”

  David nodded. He knew that most of the younger generations had a lot more experience and comfort with technology. He didn’t feel threatened by it like most of the men he worked with who were his age and older. Instead, he often requested a few of the younger agents be added to the teams he headed because he knew that if he used their skills and abilities correctly, they could be great assets, like Agent Limmon.

  “How long will it take to pull up the feed?” David asked.

  “Not long,” Adam said, typing swiftly on the keyboard, entering passwords and verification codes to obtain the access he needed. “Ah, got it!”

  David smiled as black and white images from security cameras appeared on the main monitor.

  “Now all we have to do is determine who’s there that shouldn’t be,” he said, as he watched people enter and exit the elevator. Most of the people were transporting bodies on gurneys, covered completely with sheets. “I’m assuming those are people who died here, correct?”

  Adam didn’t answer verbally—he just nodded. He was fast forwarding through the feeds of four cameras at once: one was inside the elevator that went down to the morgue; one was in the hall leading to the elevator upstairs; one was in the hall leading to the elevator downstairs; and the other was the one leading to the entrance of the morgue from outside. There were many people in each feed. He knew they were loo
king for people who didn’t seem like they belonged there, but he knew that could be a daunting task with the volume of traffic a morgue usually had.

  “This is going to take a while,” Croce said, and sighed.

  Adam and David jumped. They’d been so intently focused on the screen that they’d forgotten she was in the room.

  David’s phone beeped and vibrated as he received a text; he stood up to look at it.

  Agent Limmon: Found her!

  Another text arrived just as David read the message—it was a picture of an attractive woman with Bill Housen outside the bar. They had security cameras hidden in the parking lot.

  Adam stopped the video, squinted at the screen.

  “What about her?” he asked, pointing at the computer.

  David looked at the screen to see the same woman whose picture had just been sent to his phone, except the one on the screen had light hair and eyes. “Yeah, we’re looking for her.” He held his phone out for Croce to look at and he heard her gasp. “Does she work down there? She doesn’t have anything with her and is using a cell phone.”

  “Odd,” Adam said, clicking a few buttons, pausing the feed on the screen when she tilted her head back to stretch her neck. He frowned. “I don’t know who she is, or why she’s going down there. She looks like a nurse though…I know she’s here today, if you want to talk to her.”

  “How do you know she’s here if you don’t know who she is?” Croce asked, stepping up beside McCoy.

  Adam looked over his shoulder at Croce and said, “I almost crashed into her when I came out of the bathroom. Didn’t you see her come in through the emergency room doors?”

  McCoy and Croce looked at each other and shrugged; neither of them had noticed her.

  “Can you find out where she works, and what she does?” David asked.

  “Um, I don’t know,” Adam said. “There are five floors and multiple wings to the hospital; it could take days or weeks to go through all the feeds to find her.”

  “Is there anyone we could ask about the hospital staff?” David asked. “Surely there’s some kind of nurse staffing supervisor…”

  Adam frowned. “You could talk to the head nurse, I guess—she knows everyone, or so it seems. She won’t be here for another…” He paused to glance up from the monitor to the clock hanging on the wall. “…fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Great,” David said, and dragged his hands through his hair. “I guess we’ll wait, unless we want to search floor by floor—that would take all day.”

  “How long do the nurse’s shifts usually last?” Croce asked.

  “Anywhere from eight hours to twelve plus,” Adam said. “If she’s just coming in to work, we have plenty of time.”

  “While we wait, go through some more feed to see how many times she’s been down there and how long she visited each time,” David said. “Croce…”

  “Yeah,” she said, stepping forward.

  “Stay here with Adam and make note of the woman’s movements,” he said. “I’m going to go watch the elevator in case she decides to go down there today. If she is involved in something illegal that’s going on in the morgue, I’m sure the medical examiner will have told her we’ve been there. And if he hasn’t, maybe she’ll try to sneak down and talk shop.”

  “I’ll call or text you if we find anything important,” Croce said, nodded, and smiled.

  “I’ll do the same,” David said before he headed out the door.

  ***

  David left the security office and headed toward the elevator he and Croce had taken to the morgue a short time ago. When he arrived at his destination, he was pleased to see no one was there. The absence of people would give him a few minutes to check out the area and try to find a place to watch the doors without being as noticeable. He was pleased to find that down the hall—just beyond the elevators—there was a room that branched off to the left; it looked like a small waiting room. He entered the room and sat in one of the chairs along the far wall, and discovered that he had a clear view of the elevator.

  He sat back, linked his hands behind his head, and grinned; he was proud of himself for hiding so well. He settled himself into the chair more comfortably, planning to be there for a while, but sat forward in surprise mere moments later when the elevator doors opened with a ding, and the blonde woman stepped out into the hall. She paused and glanced around, as if to see if anyone noticed she was there.

  Their eyes met for a brief moment and he made a point of looking away first, like he was interested in something else. She seemed to believe his actions as she turned and walked away at a normal pace.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sonya sped down the hall and entered the nurse’s locker room. She quickly clocked in by swiping her badge in an electronic time clock by the door, put her phone in her pocket, ditched the rest of her stuff in her locker, and headed back out just as quickly. She knew if she rushed, she could make a quick trip down to the morgue before she had to be upstairs—they usually didn’t say anything if she was a couple minutes late as long as she’d clocked in on time; she planned to tell them she’d had to go to the bathroom.

  The halls were clear and the elevator wasn’t busy, as usual. She stepped inside and pressed the button to take her to the basement. The ding of the elevator was barely audible over her phone as she checked her voice mail messages. Most of them were from Jennings. He was trying to get ahold of her to work out some final details for the family harvest. She made a mental note to call him later and moved on to the text messages. Most of them were from Jennings too, and she cursed the man’s impatience. Fleetingly she wondered if he’d found out about her and Lloyd’s banking adventure the previous day, but nothing in his tone or words suggested that he had.

  When the doors slid open, Sonya glanced up and charged out of the elevator, heading toward the door leading into the morgue; she was surprised when the door opened as she reached for the intercom button. She looked up from her phone, startled, to see a very nervous Miles standing before her.

  She looked from his shifting, uncertain eyes, to his sweaty forehead, and down to his shaking hands.

  “What happened?” she asked right away, stepping through the doorway and into the enclosed room where he worked.

  “They were here,” he muttered, looking through the windows, out into the hall, as if he expected the agents to instantly reappear.

  “Who was here?” she asked, watching him with a frown.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Who was here, Miles?” she asked in a sterner tone, sliding her phone into her pocket and stepping forward to cup his face in her hands so he would focus on her.

  His eyes met hers and he seemed to settle down a bit. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths.

  “The FBI,” he said in a frightened whisper. “They were asking questions about smuggling. They have to be on to us.”

  “Calm down,” Sonya said, inwardly cursing his cowardly weakness. “Tell me what happened—exactly as it happened.”

  He nodded, swallowed hard, and took another deep breath.

  “They just asked if anyone had asked me to smuggle anything and looked at my files for the last month,” he said, closing his eyes as if doing so helped him remember. “I told them no one had and didn’t argue about them looking—they had a warrant and everything.”

  “That’s it?” she asked sharply.

  His eyes flew open and he nodded.

  “Odd,” she said, frowning and dropping her hands to her sides, releasing his face. “I would expect them to ask more questions.”

  “Really?” Miles asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while rubbing his hands over his bald head. “Do you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing that they didn’t ask a bunch of questions?”

  “I don’t know,” Sonya said, shaking her head in confusion. “When were they here? Yesterday?”

  “No,” Miles said, shaking his head for emphasis. “They were here about twenty minutes
ago.”

  “What?” she all but yelled, stepping forward and putting her hands on his shoulders to hold him still while they talked. “You mean they were just here?”

  “Yes,” he said in barely a whisper.

  Sonya could see tears starting to grow in his eyes. He was scared and on the verge of breaking down completely, and she didn’t have time to deal with him at the moment.

  Trying to settle him down a bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body fully up against his.

  “It’ll be okay,” she whispered in his ear, squeezing him tight.

  He pulled her in to him, pressed his face against her neck, and whimpered.

  Pathetic, she thought, but continued to hold him until she thought he had a grip on himself.

  “Stay calm,” she said, stepping backwards, breaking their embrace. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure they decided that you were telling them the truth when you told them you weren’t involved, and they moved on to another hospital.”

  As he nodded, she hoped what she’d said was true. She didn’t know what she would do—how she would handle it—if the FBI was still in the building.

  “I have to go to work now,” she said, and faked a cough, remembering she was supposed to be sick.

  “Okay,” he said, then reached forward suddenly to grip one of her small hands in his large sweaty one. “How are you feeling?” He looked at her intently. “You look really tired. Maybe you should have taken a couple more days off work.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, smiled softly, and squeezed his hand before she slid hers free and headed for the door. “I better get to my floor before I get in trouble.”

  “Will you be back down later?” he asked in what sounded to Sonya like a desperate whine.

  She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes briefly, and took a deep breath before turning and answering.