Identity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

by H. D. Thomson

  The second he’d slipped from the library and any witnesses, he’d stuffed the wig in his backpack. Both now rested in the trunk of the car and would disappear inside an overflowing dumpster on the other side of the city.

  But right now, he wasn’t interested in either as he kept a respectable distance behind the other vehicle. He was more concerned at reaching the hospital without being detected by the paramedics, police or any curious pedestrians.

  He glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed a white, nondescript car turn the same corner in his wake.

  The phone attached to his hip vibrated against his belt. Peter ignored it. The distinct ring told him Ferguson waited on the other line. He could wait a little longer, especially with what Peter had to tell him. The prick wouldn’t feel overly fond of him after this latest development.

  Peter had fucked up. Not what he wanted to admit to himself, never mind Ferguson.

  What the hell had happened? The situation had blown up into a mess. The way the skinny bastard had blocked Peter with his wrist and elbow had thrown him. Then he’d punched Peter’s left shoulder—the one which had never fully recovered from a bullet wound—and momentarily disabled him. The man’s background wasn’t civilian, not with the way he’d expertly maneuvered Peter’s attack. He’d bet his ass on it.

  The plan had been a quick kill for two purposes. One to keep the old man from talking. Two to show Skye she didn’t have any place safe to go. No matter where she went—in the most public arena or hidden in some dank, remote hole, he’d find her, and she would know it.

  Hopefully, he’d be out of the hospital within the hour. If Bishop’s father wasn’t yet dead from the fall, he’d soon be dead from complications. Peter had never walked away without completing an assignment, and he didn’t plan on starting today.

  He was growing to hate this job. For the first time, he’d screwed up. And he knew why. He’d made this personal.

  “Skye.”

  The four-letter name tasted rancid on his lips. Because of her, he’d lost everything.

  Well, they said revenge was sweet. Soon, real soon, he’d find out if there was any truth to the saying.

  While everyone still reeled from the old man’s death, Peter would strike again. They wouldn’t see him coming, not so soon after this last attack.

  Which was exactly how he wanted it.

  And this time, he wouldn’t fuck up.

  He glanced in his review mirror and noticed that same car a good distance behind. The car’s appearance—white, generic, and easily forgettable, flagged Peter more than anything else could.

  The ambulance pulled into the Good Samaritan Hospital, but Peter drove past the emergency and parking entrance. He wasn’t about to involve a third party in his plans. The hospital would have to wait a few more minutes while he shook off his tail. If not for the urgency of finishing off the old man, he’d permanently eliminate the person stupid enough to think Peter hadn’t noticed.

  His gaze narrowed as he turned down the next street. Moments later, the car did the same.

  Just who the hell was tailing him?

  ~~*~~

  “Do you know of anyone who would want your father dead?”

  David stood by the double doors leading into the hospital’s emergency room with Skye and a police officer. Behind him, Tyler sat slumped in the corner of the waiting room, watching the television bolted to the top corner of the wall.

  For hours David had sat, paced, stared at the blank wall and watched people come and go in tears, pain and fear while waiting for word. So far, he hadn’t received any himself. Not even a quick reassurance or consultation from the medical staff. Ah, but they’d made damn sure his father had insurance.

  “No. I can’t think of anyone.” David cleared his throat, but the action didn’t remove the shakiness from his voice. The scene of his father being tossed over the balcony kept on replaying again and again inside his head, inflaming his sense of helplessness. “Other than a few retired friends, he pretty well kept to himself.”

  “You’re sure?” The cop, Gomez according to the name badge on his khaki uniform, adjusted his belt with a fleshy hand. Keys jingled and a set of handcuffs flashed against the hospital’s artificial light.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, several witnesses didn’t hear or see any altercation between your father and the assailant before the attack. They did say that the man was focused solely on your father and getting him over the balcony. From my understanding, your father gave him a pretty good fight.”

  “Like I said, he didn’t have any enemies that I knew of.” David couldn’t read past the officer’s hard expression as Skye shifted beside him.

  But why would someone push his dad over a balcony? An act of random violence? It didn’t fit. Even random violence had some token of motivation. Also, a lunatic wouldn’t have slipped from the scene with such finesse, and the cop was probably thinking the same thing.

  David then thought of his father’s job as a cop. His dad could have easily ticked someone off while he’d been on the force. But his dad had retired years ago. Attacking his father now after all this time also didn’t make any sense.

  Gomez glanced down at the notebook in his other hand, then turned his jaded gaze on Skye. “Now Miss Summers... It is Mary Ann Summers, correct?”

  “That’s right.” Skye’s hand curled around David’s elbow until her nails cut into his flesh.

  “How is it that you’re related to the victim?”

  “Through David.”

  When her nails dug even deeper, David didn’t flinch. He might not know many details of Skye’s life from before they met, but he’d learned enough to decipher the unease radiating from her voice and body. Realization crept into his thoughts like termites, slow and insidious, and he eased her hand from his arm.

  Really, what did he know of the woman other than what she wanted to tell him?

  “What is it?” Gomez lifted a black brow.

  David shook his head, still feeling the phantom bite of Skye’s nails on his skin. “Nothing.”

  Conscious of keeping his face void of expression, he shifted away from Skye. Bitterness coated the back of his throat as understanding abraded his thoughts.

  After two kidnapping attempts on her son, Skye had run from Boston to Vegas. She then had started poking into David’s history, thinking his past was connected to the violence. Somehow she’d inadvertently involved his father and revealed a hidden connection.

  Memories of a white car following him or Skye on two separate occasions flashed across his mind’s eye. Not a coincidence as David had thought. The kidnappers must have been watching far more closely than anyone had imagined and had decided to shut up his father for good. That or give them all a warning to stop digging.

  Hell, it made sense. More sense than anything else David had come up with.

  “Were you able to identify your father’s attacker?”

  “No.”

  Gomez glanced over at Skye.

  She shook her head and tucked her fingers into the back pockets of her shorts. A pained expression swept across her face. “Everything happened so fast.”

  David dragged in a ragged lungful of air. “What about other witnesses? Did anyone see anything?”

  David didn’t get it. Why go to such lengths in a public place and risk discovery? Not only that but if they knew anything about his father, they’d realize he wouldn’t betray a confidence. Unless... They were too afraid of the chance, no matter how slight, of his dad revealing something to Skye.

  Gomez rubbed a palm along the length of his baton and shook his head. He nodded toward Tyler still sitting in the waiting room. “Other than the boy there, no one’s come forward yet. The guy had on a baseball cap and straggly, shoulder-length hair that hid much of his face. Neither helped in getting a positive ID. Sorry.” The words were nothing more than platitudes. “I gave you my number. If anything comes up, give us a call. I can’t promise you anything.”

 
; When the cop left, Skye’s fingers glided over David’s forearm, a tentative attempt to console him as she whispered, “I’m sorry. I tried helping, but there were too many people running all over the place and in the way. I couldn’t get a good view of your father or his attacker to use my telekinesis. I never thought...”

  The harsh hospital lights amplified the ashen hue to her skin. He met her eyes faded from fatigue and sorrow, but neither emotion eased his growing resentment.

  How could she look so innocent and contrite? He curled his hands into fists in an attempt to keep them at his sides. He wanted to either shake her or shove her away.

  “Thought what? That your kidnapper would go after my father? But why wouldn’t he? You kept on digging and digging into my past. You led this—this crazed attacker right to my dad.”

  Skye stepped back, a screen of indifference washing across her features. “Excuse me?”

  “David Bishop?”

  At the voice, David turned. A man—doctor if David could go by the green scrubs on his tall, athletic frame—strode toward them with a clipboard in one hand. The door from the emergency room he’d just left swished closed with a hollow sigh.

  “That’s me.” David searched the man’s solemn face. “My father. Is he going to be okay?”

  The doctor’s lips firmed briefly. He glanced at the clipboard in one hand and adjusted his rimless glasses with another before his face softened.

  Shit. A tight, unforgiving band squeezed around David’s chest. “What is it? He’s not—”

  “No.”

  David’s heart crashed against his ribs. For a minute, he’d thought the worst. He nodded toward the emergency room. “So can I talk to him?”

  “You can’t right now. He has a compound fracture, two cracked ribs, a broken leg, and a concussion.” The doctor met and held David’s gaze. “He’s currently in a medically induced coma.”

  Chapter 14

  After the doctor left, tension radiated from David and etched hard lines into his face. Even knowing he’d brush off any attempt at comfort, Skye found herself ignoring all common sense and saying, “He’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “And you’re an expert on these things?”

  Skye lifted her chin, opened her mouth, but then saw his haunted eyes. Maturity didn’t coincide with retaliation, especially against a person in such deep pain. “No I’m not, but your father seems very stubborn and not one to give in easily.”

  “Really?” He pulled out a roll of antacid tablets. “And how would you know that? Are you a mind reader now?”

  Now he was getting nasty. Skye dug her teeth into her bottom lip. The man was hurt. She needed to remind herself of that, but if he made one more comment—

  “Mom.” Tyler rose from the chair in the corner of the waiting room. “Can I get a drink from the machine?”

  She frowned and looked around until she saw two vending machines against the wall less than thirty feet away. Two hospital employees, probably nurses wheeled an empty bed down the harshly lit hallway. Skye wondered if they’d just come from the morgue. She shivered. No. She didn’t dare let her thoughts go down that tangent.

  “Sure.” She dug in her purse, pulled out a five and handed the bill to him. “How about water or juice? I’ll go with you.”

  “Mr. Bishop.”

  At the sound of a female voice, Skye turned.

  “We’re having problems with your father’s insurance carrier,” a woman said, her name tag proclaiming her Jane from administration. “I’m sure you’ll be able to answer a few questions that billing has.”

  The corners of David’s lips dipped. “Sure. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said the last to Skye before he stuffed two antacid tablets in his mouth, pocketed the roll, and followed the woman out of the waiting room.

  The air conditioner kicked on, sending a wave of frigid air racing against Skye’s exposed skin. She rubbed at her arms and turned back to Tyler. He was gone. Stiffening, she pivoted and glanced down the hall. What was Tyler doing by the vending machines with a man?

  The man bent down and said something to her son, angling his back in such a way that it obscured his features. His brown, shaggy hair seemed at odds with his pristine, white doctor’s uniform. His lab coat didn’t relieve her growing unease. She’d always had this crazy, inexplicable fear of them, along with stethoscopes and needles.

  Skye’s gaze narrowed. Tension cut into her shoulder muscles. An innocent looking encounter, but Skye had lost much of her innocence years before. Having an unfamiliar man so close to Tyler chilled her, even with the lack of fear in Tyler’s face.

  The man placed a large hand on Tyler’s shoulder. His fingers curled over slender bone and muscle. With one quick move, he could latch onto Tyler’s throat and snap her son’s neck before Skye could react.

  Panic pressed into her chest and ripped the breath from her lungs. The lights above flickered, turned off, then flared back on. “Tyler. Come here!”

  Her son turned toward her while the man pivoted and drifted down the hall in the opposition direction.

  “Hey,” Skye called, alarm sharpening her voice. “You!”

  The man didn’t glance back.

  The heels of her shoes slapped against the floor as she hurried down the hall after him. She passed the fire-extinguisher on the wall. The glass panel cracked with a loud protest. She took two more steps toward his retreating back but paused by Tyler’s side. She met his son’s scowl and stopped.

  Skye didn’t dare confront the man and give him a chance to retaliate, not with Tyler so close at hand. Yeah, she might use her telekinesis but with her heightened emotions, she was more liable to break a window than stop an attacker.

  David’s father was already lying in a hospital bed because of her. Did she want even more chaos? Skye swallowed down the guilt and remorse, but it bubbled up and threatened to choke the breath from her lungs.

  “What did he want?”

  Tyler’s frown deepened. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Skye couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice. “Then what did he say? I saw him talking to you.”

  “He just wanted to know if I had change for a five.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler stared at the vending machine. A plastic water bottle dropped into the dispenser without him touching a button.

  “Don’t do that.” Quickly she glanced around the hall. No one seemed interested in the two of them.

  “But I paid.” His voice thickened with frustration.

  “It doesn’t matter if you paid.” She folded her arms across her chest. “If you use your powers too often, it becomes a habit. Something you’ll have hard a time breaking. Then one day you’ll do it by reflex right when someone’s watching.”

  “But it’s not the same as the computer.”

  A shiver raced across her flesh. Memories of the last time Tyler played on their home computer, delved into Complink’s computer system with his mind and the media blitz that followed still haunted her, would probably still always haunt her.

  “True.” How to explain? He’d paid. Been completely ethical. The last thing she wanted was for Tyler to think of himself as flawed. “But we’re special and not quite like everyone else. People feel uncomfortable around different.”

  That didn’t come across any better. Exhaling loudly, she stepped back, turned and almost slammed into a warm body. She stumbled as David steadied her with a hand to her elbow.

  His gaze darted over her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought...” She glanced down the hall. The fluorescent light from above flickered. The man had disappeared. “Nothing.”

  They followed David into the waiting room, but when dinner time came and went, they left him to go in hunt for some food for Tyler. When they came back after eating, David hadn’t moved from one of the olive green chairs lining the wall. The waiting was obviously eating away at him. New shadows of weariness clung beneath David’s eyes and cut deeper lin
es on either side of his mouth. Even with a good six feet separating them, Skye felt the anxiety rolling off his body in large waves.

  Whatever anger she’d stored from his previous comments, had dissolved long ago. If she’d experienced the same situation with Gordon as with Tyler, Skye knew she would have lashed out.

  “You need to eat and get some rest,” she insisted, sinking into a seat opposite from David. “Don’t you have a show tonight?”

  “I can’t.” He swept a palm over his cropped hair and shook his head. “And I already called the casino to cancel.”

  “You won’t be much help to your father if you’re exhausted.”

  Tyler dropped into the chair beside her and took a deep swallow from his water bottle, then wiped his forearm against his mouth. The pallor in his face matched David’s and emphasized the precariousness of their future.

  She’d uncovered a new clue with the name of a foster home, October House. But with that new clue, a deadly attack against David’s father had followed. What would the next clue bring? An attack that left someone dead this time?

  Maybe she should give up, move from Vegas and start somewhere new. Skye rubbed the back of her neck. Who was she fooling? She’d last months before her past caught up to her. A new city wasn’t going to solve her wrecked life.

  “Mom. When can we leave?” Tyler’s shoulders slumped with weariness. “I’m tired.”

  “Why don’t the two of you go back to my place and get some sleep? I’ll stay here.”

  Skye shook her head, then tucked a wisp of her hair into her ponytail. “Come with us. Try to at least get a couple of hours of sleep.”

  His lips thinned as he latched onto the faded arms rests. He glanced at the double doors leading into the emergency area.

  “Didn’t the doctor say that there wouldn’t be any change for the next twenty-four hours?”

  He turned away from the doors and nodded.

  ~~*~~

  Peter stopped and faced an eight-foot adobe wall. The sun had long since set. The branches of the mesquite tree beside him camouflaged his silhouette from the grasping fingers of street lights, while a moonless night also aided tonight’s quest. He tossed a plastic bag of boneless meat over the fence. The package landed on the other side with a soft thump. He’d thought of getting hamburgers from a fast food joint but had changed his mind. All that sauce and those additives were bound to be terrible for the dogs’ digestive system.