Nurse Blood (The Organ Harvester Series Book 1)

by Rebecca Besser

  “Damn it!” she exclaimed, yawned loudly. “So they did release my photo? I should have stopped to pick up some hair-dye.” She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I worried you. I should have called.”

  He nodded and hugged her back briefly.

  “You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” he said, yawning himself. “Did you have anything to eat? I picked up a pizza on the way home and there’s some left in the fridge.”

  “That sounds absolutely lovely,” she said, and smiled, wavering slightly on her feet.

  “Do you want me to heat you some?” he asked, stepping back into the house.

  “No,” she said, following him. “I’ll just eat it cold and pass out. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I won’t get any at all. Tomorrow’s a big day.” She yawned again and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Roger laughed and shut the door once she was inside. “Do you want the couch or the bed?”

  “I really don’t give a shit,” she said, releasing her bag and letting it drop into a corner of the room before taking a few steps and sitting in a chair at his small dining room table. “Just as long as I can sleep there without being bothered for a couple hours, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “You can have the bed,” Roger said, opening the fridge and withdrawing a square, cardboard box with a pizza printed on it. “I was already sleeping on the couch.”

  Sonya smiled, nodded, and eagerly opened the pizza box when he sat it on the table in front of her. She grabbed a slice and took a huge bite.

  “Hungry, are we?” he teased. “Would you like something to drink with that?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed with her mouth stuffed completely full.

  He opened the fridge again, got her a can of soda, and set it on the table in front of her before occupying one of the other chairs at the table.

  “Do you think Jan has seen you on TV or the FBI has called her?” he asked, and waited patiently for Sonya to chew and swallow some of her food before answering.

  “I don’t know, but I’m hoping not,” she said, and took a sip of the soda after opening it. “They might not bother until the investigation is closed. We’ve never gone after the family of someone we’ve already harvested before, so they might be looking everywhere in the city for us, except at her house.” She took another huge bite of pizza before continuing. “I’m betting they have Miles though, so they probably have our names and descriptions for all of us. The scary part is that he does know about the family harvest. I just hope he can keep his mouth shut until it’s all over.”

  “I hope so too,” Roger said, and nodded. “I didn’t even think of that. I’ve been all worried about the FBI getting close to us both today and I forgot all about them having him and what information he might be giving them. Did you tell him how or when we were doing the harvest? Does he know it’s the Housen family we’ll be going after?”

  “Yes, he does know it’s the Housen family, and no, he doesn’t know exactly when it’s happening,” she said, and swallowed hard. “I’m hoping he thinks he loves me enough to keep his trap shut about certain things for as long as possible, but we can’t count on anything right now. Did you get ahold of Jennings? Did he go to a hotel?”

  “Yup,” Roger said. “I called him right after I talked to you early this afternoon. He didn’t seem too pleased, but he said he’d find other accommodation for tonight and tomorrow. He assumes we should all be out of the city after that.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Sonya munched down pizza, and Roger was lost in his own thoughts.

  “How do you think things will go tomorrow if Jan does know?” he finally asked.

  Sonya shrugged. “If she does know, we’ll have to pounce fast and knock her out right away—that’ll make getting the kids more complicated. We also don’t know if she has any of her family coming to help. More people would make things harder too. If she doesn’t know about me, I think everything will go fine as long as we don’t overthink everything and get paranoid. And as long as Miles doesn’t betray us, which is why I went and sat on her house tonight. They don’t know anything yet, or someone would have been watching the Housen’s.”

  “It’s going to be hard not knowing,” he said. “We’re all a little on edge—some of us more than others.”

  “I know…” she said, pausing to look at the last slice of pizza, which she held in her hand, before taking a bite. “…but as long as we’re cautious and not overthinking everything, we should be okay. I mean, what are the chances of them getting to us before we get the family harvest done? Not very high, really.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. We’ve never had this much heat before and it has me shaken up.”

  She nodded and watched him closely while she finished off her supper.

  “You know, it’s okay to be nervous,” she said, swallowing her last bite. “This is a big deal, and like you said, we aren’t used to the heat. We’ll be fine. Stay cool and calm, and stick to the plan.”

  He nodded and stood, picking up the empty box and taking it into the kitchen to throw away.

  “I guess we better get some sleep,” he said, half-smiling. “That is, if we don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of all the excitement tomorrow.”

  Sonya laughed, collected her bag, and headed to the bedroom after they said their goodnights.

  Roger picked up the soda can and threw it in the trash with the pizza box, and then headed for the couch. As he lay down, he heard the sound of snoring drift down the hall from the bedroom. He couldn’t help but smile as he too drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  It was obvious to McCoy, Limmon, and Croce that they’d be pulling an all-nighter. They had every single case file that pertained to the investigation spread out on the conference room table, going over anything that could give them any indication of where they could find the team or what their next move would be. They were coming up completely empty.

  “This is so lame,” Limmon said, checking his computer again. “Wow, wait a sec.” He started typing rapidly.

  “What?” Croce asked, standing and trying to bend over the table to see around to his computer screen.

  “What is it?” David asked after swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “Something we can use, I hope.”

  “I hope it is too,” Limmon said.

  “Well, spit it out already,” Croce said.

  Limmon looked at her and grinned. “I have the work and home address of Dr. Jennings.”

  “Great,” David said, standing and pulling his suit jacket off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. “Let’s go check out the residence, since the work office is probably closed.” He glanced at the clock on the wall that told him it was ten o’clock at night. They still didn’t have the lab results from the building back yet. “Limmon, you stay here in case the lab sends the results—that way you can relay information to Croce and myself.” He nodded to her and she collected her jacket as well.

  They were out the door and in the parking lot in record time.

  “I hope he’s there,” Croce said as she climbed behind the wheel, closed the car door, and buckled her seatbelt.

  “So do I,” David said. “We’re running out of time and this puzzle is hard as hell to piece together.”

  ***

  Butch sat on the bed in his motel room, sharpening the metal implements he’d bought at the hardware store. He enjoyed torture and liked to make his own tools for his craft. He planned to make Roger’s death quick, while forcing Lloyd to watch. Then Lloyd would get his turn in the torture seat.

  His plans of bloodshed were his companion through the night as he worked, preparing to do what he did best—he wasn’t called Butch the Butcher for nothing.

  ***

  McCoy and Croce parked at the end of the driveway of the address Limmon had given them.

  “Do you think we should call in backup?” Croce asked, looking out at the house.

  “No,�
� David said, “they already know we’re onto them. If we make a big fuss, it’ll tip off the doctor to our presence. We need to go in nice and slow. If it were earlier in the day, we could pull the Mormon act and get a feel for who is in the house. But since it’s late, the doctor should be in bed.”

  “There are no lights on,” Croce observed. “So, you might be right.”

  “Let’s move in,” David said, opening the passenger’s door and climbing out, shutting it behind himself slow and deliberate so as not to make much noise.

  Croce followed his lead, doing the same.

  They both pulled their service weapons before they advanced toward the house.

  Before they moved toward any doors, they went all the way around the house—one going each direction—and met at the front door again.

  “Nothing,” Croce whispered.

  David nodded and whispered back, “No back door. We’ll go in on three.”

  Croce nodded and they moved forward.

  David counted on his fingers. When he got to three, he kicked in the door and started clearing the house room by room with his gun held out in front of him at the ready, announcing “Clear!” before moving deeper into the house. Croce followed close behind, watching their backs with her gun ready as well.

  When they arrived at the last room—an empty bedroom with a neatly made bed—they knew they’d come up empty again.

  “Damn it!” David screamed.

  Croce just sighed. “I’ll call in and get the forensic team out here—see if they can find anything that will be helpful.”

  David didn’t answer. He just stared at the bed, thinking that at this rate he was sure to fail Daniel—and their mother—yet again.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  By the time McCoy, Limmon, and Croce received the forensic results from the building it was three in the morning. They were all beat and had switched from coffee to energy drinks to try and keep their brains functioning at some semblance of normalcy.

  They sat tense while David read through what the team had uncovered during their search of the building. The majority of blood they’d found was AB-Negative, but there were no matches in the system. They’d found a second blood type that was O-Negative—it matched a Jackson Parsons who had a record. Other hairs and fibers had also been found, but they didn’t match anything in the system.

  “Not much to go on, but there’s a match to one of the blood samples found—Jackson Parsons,” David finally announced. “That must be the Jack that Miles was talking about. We have a picture of him on file, since he has a record. Limmon,” he paused to look at the young agent, “I think you know what to do.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, smiled, and got to work on releasing “Jack’s” photo to the press.

  “Wasn’t Housen’s blood type AB-Negative?” Croce asked, searching through the files on the table to confirm. She picked up the file when she found it. “Yup, he’s AB-Negative. Did we get a sample of his DNA from his wife?”

  “I don’t know,” David said. “I’ll call Detective Jones and find out if they collected anything we could get DNA from when the report was filed. Or if they’ve already run tests on something they have and we haven’t been informed yet. I expect it to be his blood though—we already know we’re on the right track. It’s just a matter of catching up with the perps.”

  He dialed Jones and left her a message—he knew she’d get back to him soon. She’d been heading up the searches and working with the patrols they’d set up for bars and nightclubs.

  ***

  Jennings awoke when his alarm went off. He reached out to turn it off and read the large red numbers that indicated it was 4 AM, and for a moment he forgot why he’d set it so early. Then he remembered. He’d wanted to be at the building and have everything up and running when Roger and Butch arrived with the family. He knew Sonya planned to be at the Housen’s house around five-thirty and it would probably take them a half hour to get the family sedated and loaded.

  He threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. He ached all over from sleeping on an unfamiliar, overly firm bed. He hated hotels. He hated even more that he’d had to leave his house to stay in a hotel. As far as he was concerned, this harvest couldn’t be over soon enough.

  The night before, when he’d been packing to leave his house, he’d considered just calling Butch and telling him to kill Lloyd right away. He’d wanted so badly to wash his hands of everything and leave the country. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed. He didn’t know why, but he had. He supposed it was because he had a soft spot in his heart for Sonya. He’d always thought of her as a daughter and he was sure that’s why Lloyd always got under his skin—he didn’t think Lloyd was good enough for her. He wanted Sonya to get married, settle down, and have a normal life. He knew from her past that she’d suffered and that’s why she did what she did now, but he knew she had a soft side too, and that was the side he tried to nurture when he could.

  He took a shower, got dressed, and headed out. He thought about taking his bag with him and clearing out the room, just in case, but decided against the hassle, since he’d be staying again that night to wait for the payout Lloyd would get for them.

  ***

  Roger was startled awake by someone moving around in his house. He sat straight up on the couch and scanned the room while blinking rapidly. The world beyond the windows was still dark, and he was disoriented because he wasn’t in his bed.

  “Who’s there?” he yelled, and forced himself to stand.

  The bathroom door creaked open and a female head popped out to peer down the hall at him. The light in the small room shadowed the face of his guest and he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on her.

  “Sonya, silly,” the woman said, opening the door all the way and stepping out into the hall.

  Once the light wasn’t behind her, casting her in a blurred silhouette, he saw that the woman was indeed Sonya; the memory of their sleeping arrangement flooded his brain.

  “It’s still really early,” she said. “You can try to get some more sleep—I’ll wake you right before I leave. You’ll still have plenty of time since you need to be a half hour behind me anyhow.”

  Sonya headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

  ***

  Lloyd stood at the bay windows of the abandoned, decaying house he’d made his residence until the family harvest was done. His eyes scanned the neighborhood through the crisscrossed boards that covered the window as if he was waiting for his beloved child who hadn’t made it home in time for curfew. He was unsettled and he couldn’t figure out why. To his knowledge, nothing had changed and everything was going according to his carefully laid plans, but something felt…off. He really wanted to call Sonya and make sure she was all right, but he knew she was, so he resisted the urge. His laptop was still tracking her cell phone, so he knew she was at Roger’s and that he was there too.

  Jennings was heading to the building where they’d be doing the harvest in mere hours, which gave him another sliver of peace, but not much. He hoped the agents hadn’t found out anything more about Sonya―at least nothing more than they already knew. She was the key to all his plans for the present and the future. She was his life and it actually scared him to even think something might happen to her.

  As he watched the sky lighten and the stars fade in the distance, he pulled out his cell phone without realizing it. Something in him said to call her and tell her they were leaving—fuck it all. They would take the money and run, and never look back.

  He liked Roger, and would feel bad doing something like that to him, but he’d seriously considered giving him a suitcase of cash and telling him to do the same damn thing. They could even off Jennings to make the getaway easier, but that still left Butch; he was a loose end Lloyd didn’t want hanging around after him. That issue alone kept him from making any calls, so he stood there, holding his cell phone and staring out at a dead world, waiting for the right time to do what needed to be done. He just hoped it was the ri
ght thing and that he hadn’t risked everything by being overly cautious.

  ***

  David was overly tired and at his wits’ end as to what to do or where to go next. There was still no trace of the woman—even the tip line had been almost dead silent all night long. There was also no sign of Jackson Parsons. They’d just gotten back the DNA results of the sample Detective Jones had provided and the blood sample they’d found at the building was definitely William “Bill” Housen’s.

  He was so discouraged. He knew they were close. He knew they were following the right people and the right trail, but he felt like no matter what he did he was always too late.

  It was now almost five in the morning. The sun would be up in about an hour and a half, and then they could resume their search for the building. He felt it might be a waste of time though…the people he was after might have already left the city. If that was the case he didn’t know that he would ever find them again.

  Croce peeked into the conference room. She’d headed home to take a shower and change clothes—they were doing so in shifts. Limmon had left as soon as she’d returned and David would go as soon as he returned.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee or anything?” she asked.

  David rubbed his face with both hands in an attempt to wake himself up more and then shook his head.

  She smiled and disappeared again. She reappeared a couple minutes later with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other.

  “When do you want to go and tell the widow that she is indeed a widow?” Croce asked before she took a big bite of her food.

  “I guess it would be polite to wait until at least seven in the morning, wouldn’t it?” David asked, looking up at the clock on the wall.

  “Okay,” she said, chewing. “What are we going to do until then?”

  “No idea…” David said. “I think my brain is fried.” He shut his brother’s file that he’d been reading yet again. “Was anyone reported missing last night?”