Edge of the Heat 3

by Lisa Ladew

  Craig walked in, checked the sign, and headed left, towards the neurology unit. He spotted the desk and addressed the first person he saw there, a dark-haired man wearing green scrubs. “Hi, I’m Agent Masterson, here to see Norman Foster.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Hold on sir,” he said, and grabbed the phone.

  Craig’s stomach dropped as if he were on a roller coaster. Oh shit, he thought. His hands squeezed into fists. For a moment he couldn’t think of anything. His thoughts deserted him. Then, they slammed back into his head with the force of a ton of bricks. If they let Norman Foster escape, so help me -

  Craig’s thoughts were interrupted by a guard in full brown uniform practically sprinting down the corridor towards him. Craig turned to him.

  The guard extended his hand. “Agent Masterson, Hi I am Sergeant Coleman. Could you follow me to my office please?”

  Craig searched his heavily-lined face for clues.

  “Did Norman Foster escape?”

  Sergeant Coleman bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Craigs’.

  “Yes, last night, sometime after 1 a.m. He was discovered missing at 6:10 a.m. We hope he never left the grounds. They are searching for him now.”

  Craig’s blood pounded in his ears. “How? How could a paralyzed man escape?”

  “That’s the thing. He’s not paralyzed anymore. He must have recovered his mobility sometime in the last 5 weeks, but played possum and not told anyone.”

  Craig had heard enough. Suddenly he was on autopilot, and the only program playing in his brain was Emma, Emma, get to Emma. The need to see her safe was so great that he felt he would die if he stood here for one more second. He took off at a dead run back the way he had came. He buzzed through the doors, got the heavy, satisfactory weight of his gun back, and ran for his car.

  They didn’t even search his truck on the way out. Craig shook his head, knowing Norman was long gone already. He just prayed Norman wasn’t in Westwood Harbor.

  Chapter 13

  Craig had a dozen phone calls to make, but he didn’t dare make any of them while he was pushing his truck over 100 mph back to Westwood Harbor. He slowed down long enough to call Emma, who didn’t answer, so he called dispatch, who said she was at a vehicle accident on the Westwood Bridge.

  Craig’s mind showed him horrible images of Norman grabbing her in a dozen different ways. Or worse, just driving by and filling her body with bullets. Craig debated calling her boss and trying to have her pulled off of work detail after the car accident but he never did do it. He just kept praying.

  The road flew by for over an hour, and when he reached the foothills of town he tried her cell again, and again it went right to voicemail. He turned on his scanner, hoping to catch her voice. Voice traffic on the radio was heavy. The accident had been a bad one and multiple units had been called to the scene for extrication and transport. Cars heading on the bridge in both directions were at a standstill and no foot traffic was allowed on the bridge, so that meant Norman couldn’t to get her if she was still there. Craig called dispatch again and she was still at the accident.

  He wanted to head right to where she was and stand guard over her for the rest of the day, but he knew it would take forever for him to get through the backed up traffic on the bridge, so he drove to a point where he knew she’d have to drive past to get to the hospital when she was done, and found a parking lot to park in where he could see the road.

  Then he started making his phone calls.

  Call one was to Hawk, who answered on the first ring. “Hawk, you’re not going to believe this. I went out to see Norman Foster today and he escaped.”

  “What?” Hawk roared, and Craig heard something clatter in the background.

  Craig pinched his forehead right between his brows and squeezed his eyes shut. “They let him escape. I don’t know much more than that right now. I drove back into town to make sure Emma was OK. I’m going to call out there and find out the details now. I’ll call you back. I wanted to call you so you could get that brain working on where he might go or what his plan might be.”

  “I’m on it.” Hawk’s voice was gruff, solid, dependable.

  Craig nodded, still squeezing his forehead, leaving nail marks on his skin. “Bye.”

  Call two was to Sergeant Coleman at the hospital. “Sergeant Coleman, I’m sorry I left like that. I needed to make sure the woman who shot Foster and put him in the hospital was safe. Now, give me the details.”

  Sergeant Coleman laid out everything they knew. Norman had been put in general population several days ago, but in a room that housed other paralyzed or neurological patients. Two days before there had been an actual attempt on Norman’s life by a prisoner from a different ward who was on a work detail in that ward. Norman had been sliced on the neck with a makeshift knife but the wounds the assailant had made before guards got to him had only been superficial. Somehow Norman had ended up on the ground, but guards just thought he had fallen or been pulled out of the bed. The assailant had been put in solitary confinement and wouldn’t say why he had done it. Coleman had interviewed the man himself, and was convinced he was going to try again if he got a chance. Coleman didn’t think it was because Norman was a cop, but rather because someone had bribed the guy to do it.

  After that incident, they had to move Norman back into a private room, but his old room had already been taken. Because of overcrowding they had nowhere left to put him and so they put him in a nonstandard room. Meaning one that wasn’t meant for prisoners. There was no camera watching him and the room wasn’t secure. The desk Sergeant who made the decision didn’t think it would be a problem because Norman was paralyzed. A guard was supposed to check on him every 30 minutes, but there had been a riot in another area of the hospital and all guards had been called to the riot, leaving only a desk guard to watch the cameras. The desk guard didn’t even know anyone was in that little room. Basically, it was a communications breakdown and a logistical nightmare.

  He had gotten out of his room through the ceiling. When they did finally check on him, his bed was empty, his restraints were cut through, and a sturdy plastic shelving unit had been pushed into the corner. A guard climbed up the shelving unit, pushed aside the ceiling tile, and peeked in, seeing no Norman, but a large open area that led all over the hospital. Basically, he could have gone anywhere.

  Coleman tried to assure him that Norman must still be on the grounds though, because there was no way for him to get outside the fence. Craig sneered silently. What a royal fuck up this was. Craig was convinced Norman was long gone.

  Coleman was droning on about how there was no way Norman had “breached the grounds”. Craig interrupted him.

  “Have you notified the state police?”

  “Yes, it’s standard protocol for an escapee.”

  “How about the Westwood Harbor police?”

  “No.”

  “When does protocol say you start searching for him outside of the grounds of the prison hospital?”

  “A team is being assembled now. I am not sure when and how they will start.”

  “I want the name of that team leader.”

  Coleman assured Craig he would immediately call him if any new information was discovered and that he would get him the name of the team leader. Craig hung up. He sat there for a second, idly watching the traffic go by, feeling defeated. Norman could be anywhere by now.

  Craig called Hawk back and gave him the details.

  “That doesn’t give us much to go on at this point,” Hawk said.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Someone should go talk to his buddies at P.D.”

  “Yep, I will, but not until I take Emma somewhere.”

  Craig hung up, and started making the rest of his phone calls. He was mostly done when he heard Emma clear the scene. He watched for her ambulance and followed them to the hospital.

  He sat in his truck in the parking lot and watched her and Jerry unload their patient. He watch
ed her come back outside and clean up the ambulance. He saw her finally check her phone and then heard his phone ring almost immediately.

  “Hey babe.”

  “Hi, how’re you?”

  “Emma, is your shift almost over?”

  She sat silent for a second. “What’s wrong?”

  Craig’s heart hurt at the words he had to say. “Norman’s escaped Emma, I’m afraid you are in danger. Can I pick you up after your shift?”

  Emma sucked in a breath. “Escaped? How? Why?”

  “They think he’s not paralyzed anymore and he just didn’t tell anyone. He got out of the room through a ceiling tile but they don’t know anything after that.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Craig heard Jerry talking in the background, then Emma telling him what had happened, then Jerry swearing a blue streak and calling the California prison system a few choice names.

  If Craig hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed.

  ***

  Craig waited for Emma at the ambulance bay after her shift, leaning against the hood of his truck. When she walked out, he pulled her into a crushing embrace that was born from nothing but love and fear, but soon stirred his passion.

  “Why you gotta be so beautiful?” he asked her, burying his hands in her hair and nuzzling her neck, her midsection pressing deliciously against his growing length.

  Emma laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I’ll live.” He pulled her hair just a little bit in that way he knew she liked and kissed her neck one more time before he pushed her gently off of him and motioned for her to get in the truck.

  “So what happened?” she asked, once they were driving.

  Craig relayed everything he had been told.

  “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe they could be so stupid!”

  “I know. I’ve been having a hard time with it all day.”

  Emma looked around. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re here actually.” Craig turned into a parking lot.

  Emma read the sign. “Rifle and Gun Club. What are we doing here?”

  Craig pulled into a stall and killed the engine, turning to Emma. “I talked to the Chief of Police and got you a concealed carry permit.”

  Emma watched him, her brow furrowed. “You think Norman is going to come after me?”

  “I’m almost positive he is. Don’t you think so?”

  “No, I think he’s halfway to Mexico already, or Canada, or anywhere but Westwood Harbor.”

  Craig sighed. “I’d like to believe that, but we can’t count on it. You have to protect yourself.”

  Emma nodded. “Ok.”

  “And Emma, this time, shoot to kill OK?”

  Emma just looked at him, chewing on her lower lip slightly, and obviously making up her own mind.

  Inside the gun club, Craig pointed out all the guns that would be best for a concealed carry, and asked Emma to pick one. He could sense her excitement. She was a crackerjack shot for sure, and just like anyone who is naturally and exceptionally talented at something, she was drawn to shooting. But she’d never pursued it. Craig didn’t have to wonder why. Guns are taboo in many facets of society, especially in cities, for some reason. Especially in liberal cities like Westwood Harbor. People judge people who carry a gun or shoot a gun as a certain type of person. He just wished it didn’t take a madman hunting her for her to loosen up about what could be a perfectly innocent hobby.

  She picked a compact Beretta storm. Craig paid for it and several boxes of ammo and took her into the indoor fighting range to get good with it. As she reloaded and fired over and over again Craig stood in awe of the shooting skills of his girlfriend. She hit the bullseye on the man-shaped target almost every time. Even after firing over 100 rounds, she was still hitting center mass almost dead-on.

  She burned through all her bullets in 45 minutes, and Craig knew she could shoot Norman anywhere she chose if he stood still. Maybe this weekend they’d head out to the mountains and try some skeet shooting at moving targets. He had no doubt she’d excel at that too.

  Back in his truck, Craig explained they needed to go to the police station to pick up her concealed carry permit.

  “We also should head by the fire department and see what needs to be done so you can carry at work.”

  “Carry at work? Wait a minute, I can’t carry at work. I’m a paramedic, not a cop.”

  “I get that babe, but you’re in danger. Norman might decide that while you are working is the best time to get to you.”

  “I don’t think so. There’s so many people around all the time. And cops and firefighters.”

  “Emma, you don’t have cops at 50 percent of your calls, or more. Someone has to have a gun.”

  Emma fell silent. Craig could tell she was upset, and thinking hard.

  “Look Craig, I won’t carry at work. You can’t imagine the kind of ethical dilemmas that could put me in. And it would make my patients more aggressive if they saw it. And what if someone tried to take it from me? It’s just too much of a powder keg. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine. Norman is probably not even after me, and if he is, he’ll try to catch me off guard, alone. Not at work.”

  Craig thought hard. What Emma was saying made sense, but she was wrong about Norman. Norman was smart, and Norman probably knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t carry at work. If Norman was going to come after her, he would almost certainly do it while she was working.

  He glanced at Emma and could tell her mind was completely made up and there would be little he could do to convince her. Damn stubborn woman, he thought. Damn strong-minded woman, another part of his mind threw at him. That’s why you love her.

  Craig switched gears. How could he keep Emma protected at work, even if she wouldn’t carry? And that’s when the perfect idea hit him. He almost sat back and cooed in delight at his genius idea, but he caught himself. Normally he would never lie to Emma, but he didn’t care what the cost of this little omission was, as long as it kept her alive.

  Chapter 14

  Vivian stopped reading for a second and listened to the click-clack of Hawk’s keyboard in the other room. The clicks and clacks sped up, to an almost frantic pace. She wished she could go in and ask him what was going on, did he find something? But she knew if she did she would hit a brick wall. He never shared anything with her. In the past 4 days, he had barely said 4 words to her. Since they’d arrived he’d spent all day and most of every night on the computer, or poring over his notes. Now that Norman had escaped, things seemed even worse. He was on the computer when she went to bed, and he was on it again when she woke up. She wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all. But he had to be, didn’t he? He did most of his eating at night too, probably concerned that he would run into her if he entered the kitchen in the daytime.

  But things weren’t all bad. This evening, she’d taken a walk in the forest and listened to the birds chirping good night to each other. She was enjoying having the time to just sit and read on her tablet. She’d already caught up on her 2 year backlog of professional journals and she’d even finished a few books that were strictly pleasure reads - for the first time in years.

  She’d also gone to the grocery store yesterday after seeing how much Hawk ate. She had made a large casserole the day before, eaten a small portion, and when she’d woken up yesterday morning the glass dish had been washed and put away. Mouth open, she had wanted to go in and ask if he really ate the entire casserole, but she couldn’t stand the way he refused to look at her or say more than one word at a time to her. So she just went shopping and bought more food.

  Besides, if she stayed out here she could pretend they were getting along and that maybe there was even something between them. She could imagine his muscular body in the other room just waiting till his work was done so he could come in and sit down next to her. She would lean into his chest and smell his cologne. He would caress her hair and say somet
hing sweet to her, then lean in and kiss her gently. She imagined his kisses would start out gentle, but become more and more fervent while his hands roamed around her body. Eyes closed, she saw herself rip off his shirt and cover his chest in kisses. She felt the hard denim of his jeans under her hands as she yanked at his zipper. And when he finally sprung free her breath caught in her throat at the sight -

  Vivian’s tablet dropped out of her limp fingers and hit the floor, startling her. Her cheeks blushed crimson when she realized she’d been doing it again. Day and night she‘d been fantasizing about Hawk. In fact, she’d been so busy dreaming of Hawk she hadn’t had one of her nightmares about Norman since their first night here. The day they’d gotten the news that Norman had escaped she’d been certain that her sleep would be filled with horrible images of running from Norman, or of Norman taking her from her apartment and shooting her up with that drug.

  She was quite irritated at herself, not only because she couldn’t seem to control the erotic picture show in her brain, but also because she hadn’t had the nightmares. Was it really that her mind was just too busy getting busy to dream about Norman? Or was there more to it? Did Hawk somehow make her feel safe? Safer then she felt alone? Because that was ridiculous. She was a modern woman. She didn’t need a man to keep her safe.

  Idly, Vivian thought about Emma carrying a gun now. She wondered if she should get a gun. Maybe Hawk would teach her how to use one. Yeah right, and maybe Hawk would get down on one knee and propose to her. She laughed out loud at the thought and heard the clickety clack in the other room stop. She covered her mouth and giggled again, silently. Sorry to disturb you Hawk.

  After a few beats, the keyboard noise started up again and Vivian picked up her tablet. Well, he’d have to talk to her sometime today. She had some things she wanted to discuss with him about Norman.

  She looked at her tablet one last time, and put it down for the day. God hates a coward. It was time to talk to Hawk.