Surviving the Chase

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  “Will you be needing anything else this evening?”

  “Nope. Just my bed.”

  Living in a luxury condo with around-the-clock staff to respond to his every need still took some getting used to. He paid a handsome homeowners’ association fee for the convenience of a pool, gym, and personal assistant/concierge. It wasn’t a great place for kids, but since his daughters were four and six years old, he’d be the one doing the traveling back and forth to spend time with them. This was perfect for now.

  Miles followed behind the security guard as he stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the fourteenth floor. He glanced at his watch. By the time he showered and made it to bed, he’d be lucky if he got four good hours of sleep tonight, but as a doctor, he’d survived with far less. Besides, his adrenaline would sustain him. No need to rush or go in like a bull in a china shop. He knew exactly what he wanted, and just like the first time, he knew exactly how to be patient until he got it.

  CHAPTER 22

  “C’mon, Najee, it won’t hurt you,” Lauren and Samantha both pressed. “You need to relax,” Samantha said as all three girls sat cross-legged on Lauren’s bedroom floor. Najee stood up.

  “Drugs?” Najee questioned. “Where did you get this?”

  “I got it from my dad’s desk drawer, and weed is not a real drug. I mean, it’s practically legal.” Samantha pushed the joint in Najee’s direction.

  Taking her eyes off the joint for one quick second, Najee shot Lauren a questioning look, but she quickly turned her gaze away.

  “Here,” Samantha pressed again.

  Najee had never smoked weed or taken any kind of drugs in her life, and she hated being pressured into doing it now. But she didn’t want to be labeled as the not-cool girl either. She and Lauren had been best friends since elementary school. Drugs weren’t their thing. They hung out, went to the movies, and shopped like crazy, but they didn’t do drugs. Samantha, on the other hand, was new to Lauren’s neighborhood and clearly a bad influence. Her family moved in at the end of the school year, and it was like she and Lauren were becoming best friends. Najee reached for the joint, took a quick puff, and slowly blew the smoke out of her mouth, careful not to inhale the visible haze into her lungs. She handed it back.

  “Now, that wasn’t so bad.” Samantha grinned.

  “Are we going to Bay Street?” Najee asked as she flopped down on Lauren’s unmade bed and began picking at her fuchsia nail polish.

  Samantha responded, “Yeah, we are, but first let’s enjoy the high.”

  A few hours later, Najee sat in silence in the back seat as Lauren drove toward the outdoor mall. For the past few months, she tried to find reasons to like Samantha, but there was something about her that just didn’t feel right. And why was she the boss of everything all of a sudden? Probably the number-one reason nobody at school liked her.

  Samantha was tall and skinny, but it was her pale-white skin and medium-length hair dyed jet black that made her stand out in the crowd. Najee didn’t know much about her, except she always complained about her controlling father, who made things miserable for her at home.

  They pulled into the parking garage and parked on the second level closest to the movie theater. Lauren made eye contact with Najee in the rearview mirror, her light brown eyes red and glassy.

  “We don’t have time for the movie today, but I thought we could grab a quick bite to eat and hit a few stores to get a new outfit for Blue’s party.”

  “Cool. I need to pick up a book from Barnes and Noble for—”

  “Book? I swear, you are such a nerd,” Samantha teased.

  Lauren let out a lazy giggle. “Samantha, I bet you don’t even read.”

  Najee decided then and there this would be the last time she hung out with Samantha. If Lauren wanted to be her friend, that was her prerogative, but as far as Najee was concerned, Samantha was a loser. They were sixteen years old, heading into their junior year of high school. It was time to narrow down which colleges they wanted to attend, not get derailed by some pothead.

  Her brother worked hard, but he had never gone to college, or at least that’s what she thought. The other day, while organizing mail on the counter, Najee found a letter from California State East Bay. At first, she thought it was college mail for her, but the opened letter was addressed to Tony. It said he was granted the Incomplete from the class and all he needed to do was take the final exam to obtain his bachelor’s degree. That was pretty cool. She remembered her mother always saying how proud she was of him. How he made his own way, but she would be even prouder now.

  She hated cancer. She missed her mom.

  Once she and Tony were on speaking terms again, maybe she would share with him that she was proud of him, too. But first he had to stop treating her like she was a baby and stop keeping her locked up like a prisoner. She deserved to make her own way, too.

  “C’mon, Na...jee.” Samantha dragged out her name, overex-aggerating the two syllables.

  “You are so childish,” Najee snapped back. “Lauren, I’m going to Barnes and Noble, I’ll catch up with you and your obnoxious-ass friend later.”

  “C’mon, Naj. She was only kidding.”

  “Look at you making excuses for her and talking like she’s not standing right there.” Najee’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m done dealing with this.”

  “She’s just overreacting because her mother died.”

  “Damn, Samantha, I can’t believe you said that! Najee, wait,” Lauren called after her. “How are you getting home?”

  “Uber!”

  Before Lauren could catch up to her, Najee dashed into the bookstore. She didn’t know whom she was more upset with: Lauren, Samantha, or herself for caving in to the peer pressure. Samantha was obnoxious, but she should have never puffed on that joint. She knew better.

  Oblivious to the young man who’d been watching the heated exchange and was now her shadow, Najee located then purchased the book she was looking for, before taking the escalator up to the second level. She ordered a skinny vanilla latte from the in-store Starbucks and grabbed a seat in the café next to the window.

  The young man admired her wild, untamed hair and flawless honey-brown skin exposed by the barely-there tank top and jean shorts she was wearing. He sucked his teeth. Ray was going to have to let him do the honors of breaking this one in. As Najee removed the book from the cream-colored bag and opened it to the first page, the stranger removed his cell phone from his back pocket and texted.

  I got a live one.

  The phone immediately buzzed back. Type?

  Exotic. Only top dollar for this one.

  CHAPTER 23

  Miles Day wandered around Children’s Hospital feeling like he was trapped in a maze. He had been away from the hospital for a few weeks, and he was trying to melt back into the familiar flow. The morning was a blur. One patient after another made the time pass quickly, but he was fading fast. The lack of sleep was catching up to him.

  Miles stopped at the nurses’ station. The L-shaped hub buzzed with the sounds of an impending shift change as nurses greeted one another and exchanged patient reports. He glanced at the whiteboard. Dr. Sydney James was also in the building.

  He leaned against the countertop and studied the clipboard with the printout of his active patients and the ones he’d seen and discharged. What was he going to say to her?

  “Hey, Dr. Day.” Jason, one of the few male nurses on staff, greeted him and interrupted his thoughts. “Good to have you back.”

  “Thanks, J.” He smiled and returned to the printout in front of him. Throughout the day, he noticed the quick glances and hesitant stares from other staff, but he expected that.

  The fallout from the fight at Lois the Pie Queen had tarnished his professional image. Last night, after arriving home, he opened a letter with a legal demand to pay ten thousand dollars for half the damages, and he didn’t even blink. He was ashamed of the amount of damage they did to the small, family-f
riendly eatery. So, he wrote a check for the demand, added an additional two thousand dollars, and dropped it in the mail to the owner that morning. And since it was Donathan who initiated the physical contact with accusations of him sleeping with Sydney, he hoped his sorry ass had done the same.

  Deciding he needed a jolt of caffeine, Miles made his way to the doctors’ lounge and quickly brewed himself a cup of black tea. He took a seat on the leather couch and thumbed through the Bay Area Medical Journal as he waited for the liquid to cool enough for him to drink it. He tried to think about anything but Sydney, though he couldn’t concentrate—too many things were going on in his head.

  “Miles?”

  He looked up into the face of Julia Stevens, the self-appointed queen bee of Children’s Hospital Oakland. She was also the hospital busybody who had made it her job to stick her nose into everybody’s business, including his.

  “Julia.” He smiled, picking up his cup of tea from the side table and taking a sip. “How are you?”

  “I should be asking you that question, stranger.” She leaned in and hugged Miles a little too long before taking the seat on the couch next to him. “It’s so good to see you,” she gushed, her long red hair brushing against his shoulder. Miles stayed quiet, staring at Julia, taking in her words. She continued.

  “My schedule has been absolutely insane since you’ve been away. Not only did I cover those few extra shifts for you, but I’m also on the selection committee for the award you’re reading about.”

  Miles raised an eyebrow, then looked down to the open pages of the magazine resting on his lap.

  “The Dodson Society Award?”

  “Yes, and we’ve selected a very worthy recipient this year. Dr. Maurice James, a distinguished cardiac surgeon at UCSF.”

  “James? Any relation to Sydney?”

  “I guess you could say that. I mean there’s no blood relation, but he’s her father-in-law.”

  “Interesting. So, what’s the award criteria?”

  “The award is given annually to an outstanding member of the medical community in recognition of his or her contributions to research. Recipients are given a significant cash award, and an additional award is donated to their hospital in their honor.”

  “Sounds pretty cool.”

  “It’s a very big deal in the Bay Area circles of who is who. And Sylver James, the wife of this year’s recipient, is having a huge party to celebrate his achievement. All of the committee members were personally invited.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Heeeey,” she said, turning her body to face him. “Why don’t you attend the party with me as my date? It’ll be fun, and a great opportunity for you to rub elbows with the Bay Area elite.”

  Miles reached for an apple from the fruit bowl on the table in front of him and took a huge bite. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, talking with his mouth full. “I need to catch up on some things.”

  Julia stared at Miles a long moment, then she stood. “Don’t tell me you’re about to get mixed up with Sydney James again? Thought you learned your lesson with that one already,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “And what lesson would that be?”

  “That she’s a married woman, silly,” she said, her demeanor quickly turning playful as she leaned in and squeezed his bicep. “And I, on the other hand, am not. Look, the party is in a few days, and it’s a great opportunity for you to network. I’m sure those other things can wait.”

  Miles took another bite of the apple and chewed as he tossed around her proposition. His intuition told him this was a bad idea for two reasons, the first being he knew he had no business showing up at a private party for Donathan’s father. And the second being he’d been hit on enough by women to see he was about to have a head-on collision with a Mack truck. Julia reminded him of his ex-wife, Stephanie, who created more than enough drama in his life. Julia was a beautiful woman, but her demeanor and attitude were a force that he would never in a million years want to tangle with romantically. Still, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be introduced to the Bay Area’s movers and shakers. As far as he was concerned, this wasn’t a date. Just two colleagues attending a function together. He would worry about clarifying the boundaries of their friendship later.

  “Alright, I’m in.”

  “Fantastic! The event is black tie, and I will have a car pick—”

  “Whoa, no deal. I know you invited me, but how about I have a car pick you up? That’s the least I can do.”

  “Of course,” she said with a coy giggle.

  CHAPTER 24

  It was just past 2 a.m., and Donathan was wide awake, combing through printed newspaper articles of unsolved serial murder cases that fit Austyn’s modus operandi. Glad he was home alone without Sydney hovering over his shoulder, he took a gulp from the mug of black coffee and replayed the Pleasanton surveillance video for the umpteenth time. He watched, then paused the tape at the same digital location, trying to catch a clear shot of the woman’s face, but even without visual proof, he knew in his gut the image on the screen was Austyn Greene. The picture quality was grainy, but he watched the petite figure appear on the screen from out of the camera shot, then make her way toward the stairwell of the hotel, her head leaning toward the ground. The police hadn’t seen this footage yet, but from what he saw on TV, they were acting way too conservative. If they continued on like this, they would never catch her.

  As a psychologist, Donathan knew that to truly understand the depths of her depravity, he had to understand her unconscious mind, what made her tick. Until that happened, no one would be able to stop her.

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose and all the while searched his mind for the whispers, the instincts on what to do next. His eyes grew heavy, and he reached for the coffee again but the cup was empty. He only had a few more hours to wrap this up and make his way to the bed before Sydney came home. The last thing he needed was for her to find him sitting at his desk again, and he had to make sure there were no visible signs of the video; otherwise, he’d have to explain how he came upon that little nugget.

  Since his near-death experience at the hands of Austyn Greene, he hadn’t returned to work. He didn’t want his challenges to overflow to his patients, but he was due to start seeing patients again next week. His return to the radio station gig, on the other hand, was on hold indefinitely. When he met with the executives a few days before, they decided to take the wait-and-see approach. Initially, he thought with one less thing on his plate he could devote all his time to finding Austyn and getting his life back on track.

  However, on his drive to Pleasanton, he noticed his likeness plastered on a few billboards along the I-80 corridor and felt a sense of urgency to get back in front of the mic again soon. He promised Sydney that he would let the police do their job, but the truth of the matter was, he couldn’t fully concentrate on anything else until Austyn Greene was caught and behind bars receiving treatment.

  With coffee in his cup, Donathan made his way back to his desk. He paused outside the home office and glanced toward the front door, then back toward the kitchen. He sniffed the air, thought he smelled something burning, but he quickly quelled the thought. Probably the coffee he had just brewed. He took a sip of the hot liquid and scalded his tongue.

  “Dammit!” he groaned.

  He didn’t have time to linger. Sydney would be home soon. He made his way to the high-back leather chair and scooted closer to the desk. No need for sleeping pills tonight. His mind and body were exhausted and ready for sleep, but he needed a few more minutes.

  His mind drifted to Payton. She’d been dealt a tough blow, confirming that Austyn Greene was her half sister. In the morning he would make it a point to call and check on her, and if she was receptive, he would refer her to a colleague to talk more about it. He copied the surveillance CD to his laptop, then removed a padded brown envelope from his desk drawer, packaged up the original, and addressed it to Detective Allen at the Pl
easanton Police Department. Without a clear image of the woman’s face, this wouldn’t help their investigation much, but he didn’t want to get in the way of justice.

  He picked up one of the articles again and studied the tiny byline. How did she murder all these people and not get caught? Her ability to go unnoticed was uncanny and another reason he had to watch his back. There were six dead in Los Angeles, and with the Pleasanton murder, three in the Bay Area. Was there a pattern here? If there was, he couldn’t quite see it. Black men, Mexican men, city workers, and now a white man. Until now, these murders had faded into the background. He read that the six in Los Angeles were members of a street gang, and LAPD obviously hadn’t put any resources into finding the killer: No one actually cared when a few street thugs ended up dead. Donathan sipped more coffee, but his eyelids grew heavier until he drifted off to sleep, facedown in the sea of articles strewn across his desk.

  The shrill of the ringing telephone jarred Donathan awake. He was momentarily dazed, oblivious to the orange glow coming from the front window. He glanced at the wall clock, but before it could come into focus, the phone screamed again. He yanked up the handset.

  “Hello.”

  “Baby, this is Mrs. Brown. I think that crazy gal don’ come over here again. Come outside quick. Your front yard is on fire!”

  CHAPTER 25

  The soulful voice of Avery Sunshine blared through the car speakers as Payton coasted down the highway toward Pittsburg. She pressed the Call button on the steering wheel and instructed the automated voice to dial Sydney James. Three weeks had passed since they’d had a real girlfriend conversation, and they were long overdue. She’d purposely given her friend some breathing room to work on her marital issues, but three weeks was long enough.

  She wondered how things were going between her and Donathan since her friend had returned home. “Hello?”

  “Are you asleep?”

  “I was taking a little nap.”