No Greater Hell (Lost and Found, Inc. Book 4)

by Jerrie Alexander

  “Wonder if anybody is looking for you.” He’d find a veterinarian’s office in the morning. If she had a chip, maybe she could be reunited with her owner. “It’s one in the morning, and I’m talking to a dog.”

  By two o’clock, Jake had showered and mopped the water off the floor with the already wet towels. He stretched out on the bed, rolled over, and then patted a spot on the rug next to the bed. “Come on.”

  The dog made three circles and then flopped down. Jake set the alarm, turned off the table lamp, and concentrated on catching a few hours of shut-eye. He was barely aware when the mattress dipped on the opposite side of the bed, and the dog curled up in the bend of his knees.

  CHAPTER 8

  A shower running pulled Holly from a deep sleep. After leaving the military, Suzanne had kept her morning routine. In a few minutes, the hair dryer would come on, which meant Holly was running out of time to rest. She pulled the cover over her head and tried to block out the new day.

  But it didn’t work.

  Yesterday had been a nightmare. She’d spent two years trying to put her kidnapping behind her, burying the experience deep in the recesses of her mind. Dalton’s number was programmed into her cell, yet she’d reached out to Jake for help.

  The sound of the blow dryer meant she had a few minutes before the bathroom became open for her use. She sat up, turned on her cell, and thought about calling Kay. She’d want to know that Jake was in Connersville, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the phone ringing at six in the morning.

  Suzanne stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. Her hair had been pulled back into one long braid. A natural beauty, she was one of those lucky women who could put on mascara and lipstick and be stunning.

  “Good morning.” Holly went to the small dresser they shared, gathered her clean underwear, stopped by the closet, and grabbed her clothes.

  “Morning. I’m going to the donut shop while you get ready. You deserve a treat.” Suzanne grabbed her purse and the van keys.

  “Hey,” Holly said, stopping Suzanne at the door. “Thank you for not demanding I relive everything last night. I was exhausted.”

  “No worries. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  The door closed and Holly hurried to get ready. She showered quickly, applied fresh makeup, and then dressed. When she stepped out, Suzanne was sitting at the small table in the corner.

  “Breakfast is served.” She waved her hands over a napkin holding two chocolate-covered donuts. In front of the empty chair sat a giant cup of coffee.

  “Careful, you’ll spoil me.” Holly wasted no time sitting down and taking a welcome sip of coffee. She allowed the caffeine a minute to wake up a few brain cells before launching into the events at the school and police station. Suzanne didn’t ask questions. She listened quietly, letting Holly tell the story. “I hope the police catch this gang or whatever they are.”

  “One of their pictures is on the front page.” Suzanne unfolded the newspaper lying on the table. “If they catch him maybe he’ll lead them to his buddies.”

  Holly studied the drawing, then read the story in silence. The chief had given a brief account of what had happened. He hadn’t divulged the doctor’s name pending notification of relatives, and he hadn’t identified her by name. She appreciated his discretion.

  “Tell me more about this mystery man who drove you home.”

  Holly felt her cheeks heat. “Jake?”

  Suzanne’s eyes widened. “The same Jake you told me about?”

  “Yeah. He’s one of the volunteers. He gave me a ride, that’s all.”

  “Right. That’s all.”

  A knock on the door ended the conversation. Holly finished her coffee, ignoring the silly grin on Suzanne’s face. “We’d better go. The rest of the team will have questions. Did anyone speak to Dr. Abroon’s family?”

  “Dr. Paul was going to call last night.” Suzanne stood and walked to the door. “The team met and talked about canceling our mission and going home early, but Dr. Abroon wouldn’t have wanted that. We voted unanimously to stay.”

  Holly and Suzanne hurried to get into the van. Holly answered their questions on the way, battling the sadness that filled her with each retelling. The closer they got to their destination, the more they all wondered if the police would let them inside.

  The back parking lot and one section of the school was cordoned off by yellow and black crime scene tape, but the clinic was allowed to open. People were already lined up to go inside. A group of onlookers recorded the activity with their cell phones, but the police kept them on the other side of the street next to the three news vans parked at the corner.

  Chief Santos met the medical team in the parking lot.

  “Good morning.” His tone was formal but pleasant. “We’ll get out of your way as soon as possible. I’ve given instructions to disrupt your work as little as possible.”

  Dr. Paul stepped up, identified himself, and shook the sheriff’s hand. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  “We’ve managed to keep Holly’s name from leaking to the media, but they’re on the hunt, and they are relentless. I’d appreciate you asking the rest of your team not to speak with the press. In fact, it would help if they refused to speak to anyone about what happened here yesterday.”

  “We’ll simply say that we’re not at liberty to talk about it,” Dr. Paul said.

  “Perfect.” The chief turned to Holly.

  “The media is dying to know who worked with the forensic artist. We’ll do our best to keep you anonymous.”

  “Thank you.” Holly fell in step with the group and said nothing during the walk indoors.

  The guard was in place at the entrance. Today, he’d been joined by a uniformed officer. Neither man made eye contact with the doctors and nurses as they entered the building.

  Suzanne, Holly, and the other nurses quickly set up their stations. Dr. Paul spoke to one of the guards, and the front doors were opened, allowing the sick and injured inside.

  A few patients were curious and asked questions, but most were dealing with their own losses and just wanted a little help. The morning sped past.

  A little girl Suzanne had just treated for splinters in her arm paused at the door on her way out and asked her mother if they could stop at the food truck.

  “Suzanne, want to divide up in groups and grab a bite? We should eat something.”

  “Good idea,” Suzanne said.

  Holly turned back to the next person in line until one of the nurses returned from lunch to take her place. She and Suzanne then crossed the parking lot and were greeted by a silver-haired man, his smile wide and genuine.

  “We brought enough food to go around and lots of cold water,” he said.

  Holly and Suzanne both shook his hand. “We can’t thank you enough,” Holly said as Suzanne got in line.

  “It’s our pleasure. We try to give back when we can.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Ballinger, Texas.” He nodded at the second line forming. “I’d better get inside the truck before the missus gets too far behind.”

  Both lines were backed up so Holly joined the closest group and struck up a conversation with the man in front of her. When she looked around for Suzanne, she saw her friend waving a sandwich and bottle of water as she turned to go back inside. Her voice grew loud and angry.

  “No. I have no information to share with you or anyone else.” The crowd of media had managed to get around the cops’ protective barrier?. “Get away from me.”

  Before Holly could come to Suzanne’s defense, the guard from the front door appeared.

  “You were told to keep your distance. Go back across the street,” the guard barked out.

  “This parking lot belongs to the city. We’re on public property,” a reporter yelled so the crowd could hear. “We have a right to be here.”

  The officer left his post at the door and joined them. “You’re disturbing the peace. Leave now, or you
can write your story from a jail cell.”

  Holly got her food, thanked the woman, and turned to join her friend. A gunshot rang out. Suzanne’s mouth dropped open, her lunch fell from her hands and she sank to the ground. The crowd scattered, screams came from all sides, and a hand locked around Holly’s arm. She dropped her food and tried to run to her friend.

  The guard pulled Holly behind him. “Let’s get you inside.”

  “I have to help.”

  “You could be next.” He shoved her inside, released her, and hurried to cover the policeman who had lifted Suzanne into his arms.

  Holly held the door open and yelled for Dr. Paul.

  Dr. Paul ran forward. His gaze stopped at the blood on Suzanne’s top. “Bring her back here.”

  The officer disappeared behind the dividers with Suzanne. Holly waited, knowing the doctor and his surgical nurses wouldn’t want her to interfere. Fear built up, making it hard to concentrate. She returned to the front lobby, where the guard who’d ushered her inside was calmly herding the people inside the school out of the building.

  He paused when he saw Holly. “How is she?”

  “I don’t know.” She refused to entertain any thought except that Suzanne was going to be okay. “There was a lot of blood.”

  He closed and locked the door bringing the flurry of activity to a halt. “One of the cops called it in. Help will be here soon.”

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “We don’t share personal information with clients.” Cold, dark eyes warmed just a smidge as he shrugged. “Don.”

  “Liar.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “The chief of police.” Don walked away. He paced the front of the building, pausing at each window to scan the outside.

  Holly returned to the doctor’s corner.

  The officer who’d carried Suzanne to the back walked around the partition, drying his hands. Blood had soaked the front of his shirt. He tossed the paper towels into the biohazard bin.

  “She’s alive. The doctor didn’t give me any more information than that. I can tell you an ambulance will be here soon.”

  Holly’s stomach was in turmoil. Why was this happening? And to her friend? Was this random or related to yesterday?

  Multiple sirens filled the air. Don moved to the entrance door and waited until the first officer stood on the other side before he flipped the lock.

  Holly scanned the faces as the chief and his men poured through the door. She’d never felt so useless. She wanted to be at her friend’s side but knew they wouldn’t allow it, so she joined the group of nurses who’d gathered and were saying a prayer for Suzanne.

  She thought about calling Jake but didn’t. He believed she had Stockholm syndrome, a psychological phenomenon that started after he’d kidnapped her.

  He was wrong. She saw beyond the tough, confused man. She saw his heart. Jake Donovan wasn’t a criminal. Johnny Darling was the cold-blooded killer.

  CHAPTER 9

  The media had saved RG the trouble of figuring out who to silence. They had rushed to her like a pack of hungry wolves. The cop had backed them up just enough for a clean shot. He calmly drove back to the ranch, taking the time to let his nerves settle. He totally understood Ivan’s choice of professions. The thrill of killing was better than sex.

  RG parked in back of the house, noting that the rancher’s car was gone. He went inside and walked through the kitchen into the living room. Lavon was sprawled on the couch watching television and eating from a package of cookies.

  “Where’s Angel?”

  “Gone.” Lavon stood and brushed crumbs off his shirt onto the carpet.

  “Gone where? Goddamn it. I told you not to let him out of your sight. You fucking better know where he went.” RG’s hand slid behind his back. If Lavon fucked with him, he’d kill him where he stood.

  “He was pissed at you,” Lavon said. “Pussy spent the morning ranting about getting another woman. I was glad when he shut the fuck up.”

  “Why did you let him leave?”

  “How was I supposed to know he was gonna split?”

  RG’s cell rang. A glance at the caller ID sent panic straight to his gut. Few people scared him, but Ivan Garza was a cold motherfucker with ice in his veins. Telling him his brother was missing meant trouble.

  He tried to keep his voice casual. “I was going to call you. It’s all good. The nurse is dead.”

  “Good. I’m picking up Angel. Put him on the phone.”

  Fuck. “He ain’t in the house right now.” RG’s brain scrambled for answers. If he could stall Ivan long enough for Lavon and RG to bring that stupid fuck home, things would be okay.

  “Give me directions to where you’re staying.”

  RG’s bowels growled. “You’re in town?”

  “I am. Directions?”

  He did as told, giving the address and word-of-mouth directions. “I can come to you. This place is hard to find.”

  “Have Angel call me.” The line went dead.

  “Fuck.” RG turned on Lavon. “This is your fault. Ivan will be here soon.”

  “Nothing we can do about it. You think Ivan is gonna be pissed that Angel ain’t here? You ain’t seen nothing. Wait until Angel finds out you put a cap in that nurse.”

  ****

  Ivan’s head was going to explode. After driving down two wrong roads, eating the dust that seeped in through the car’s piss-poor ventilation system, he spotted RG leaning against the trunk of a car. Ivan parked, killed the engine, and studied his surroundings. He knew better than to assume anything. Being aware had kept him alive.

  RG walked to the front of Ivan’s rental and waited. The motherfucker’s eyes were glazed with fear. Ivan pushed open the door and got out.

  “Come inside, boss. We gotta talk.”

  “Where’s Angel?”

  RG scurried in the house, reminding Ivan of a scared rat. Ivan followed. Something stunk. His own fear nagged him. If something had happened to Angel…

  “Ask him,” RG said. “None of this is my fault.”

  Lavon jumped off the couch. “Fuck you.”

  “Don’t make me ask again.” Ivan could almost smell the stench of fear rolling off RG. Lavon was too stupid to know he was close to death.

  RG regurgitated information on the past few days in a flurry of stutters, starts, and stops. Ivan could barely keep his hand in his pocket.

  “Where do you think my brother went?”

  Lavon stuck out his chest. “He’s looking for that dead nurse, but he doesn’t know she’s dead.” Lavon shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Why didn’t one of you go with him?”

  “I was at the school, killing the witness like you said.”

  “The school?” Ivan hated having to pull information from people.

  “The city turned it into a hospital.”

  “It’s probably where Angel went,” Lavon said.

  Ivan turned his attention to Lavon. If he was scared, he didn’t show it. That meant he was either good or stupid. “So you were here with Angel?”

  “Yeah.” Lavon’s shoulders straightened.

  “And you let him leave when he barely knows how to drive a fucking car?”

  “I didn’t know he was leaving until I heard the engine. The idiot walked around raving about ‘replacing the woman’ all morning.”

  RG stopped shuffling his feet. He stared slack-jawed at Lavon.

  “What did you call my brother?” Ivan pulled the pistol from his pocket.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean no disrespect.”

  Ivan spotted a gun cabinet full of weapons. He opened it, removed a rifle, and ran his hand over the smooth stock. “So how do I find my brother?”

  “Like I said, he probably went to that school. That nurse works there.”

  “The nurse you killed?”

  “The witness I killed.” RG was shaking so bad his voice
trembled. “But Angel doesn’t know that.”

  Ivan was wasting time. “How long ago did he leave?”

  “A couple of hours,” Lavon said. “He’s probably still looking for the school building.”

  A news bulletin on the television drew Ivan’s attention. The reporter was standing in front of a school. “Shut up and sit where I can see you. I want to watch this.”

  News vans, cop cars, and people milled all over the parking lot. The woman holding the microphone described the earlier shooting of a nurse. No witnesses had come forward.

  “That’s because nobody saw me,” RG boasted.

  Lavon opened his mouth but was silenced with a wave of Ivan’s hand.

  “The victim was transported to the hospital for surgery.” The newswoman held up a finger as if to tell the viewers to wait. “While Chief Santos has declined my request for an on-camera interview, it’s believed this was an effort to silence the nurse who identified this man as Angel”—a drawing of Angel filled the screen—”in connection with the murder of Doctor Elhag Abroon.”

  She held her finger to her ear. “My sources also tell me the nurse shot earlier is not the witness who provided this description.”

  Ivan’s blood ran cold. They knew what his brother looked like and knew his name. The bitch had given the artist a good description. There was no doubt the man was Angel. He slid his hand through the rifle strap and shifted it over his shoulder. Removed his pistol and checked to ensure the clip was full before turning to leave.

  RG and Lavon were standing by the back door. “Let’s go find Angel,” Ivan said.

  When both men hustled outside onto the porch, Ivan pulled his pistol out and put a bullet in their backs. The sound of gunfire ripped through the otherwise quiet countryside. He walked to RG and kicked him in the side. Dead like he deserved. Lavon rolled over on his side and opened his mouth as if he had something to say. Ivan shut him up with a bullet between his eyes.

  He pushed the tendrils of madness and fury crawling through his mind. Why hadn’t he turned down the job until he’d found reliable caretakers for Angel? Now he was out there all alone with nobody to control his actions. Ivan’s hands shook as he placed the rifle on the floor of the car. He got in, focused his mind on the task, and asked the car GPS for directions.