He took a seat in the moderately busy waiting room. The television was tuned to some inane talk show. He tried not to watch the little redheaded girl. He tried thinking about his new hotel. It was modest but not a flea trap. No room service, which meant he had to venture out. Even on the outskirts of a city, it was easy to get lost. Thoughts of ignoring his benefactor’s instructions played in his mind. The girl’s laughter distracted him and led his mind to a twisted place. Busy hospital, it would be so easy. He pushed down the urge. An amber alert was the last thing he needed. The last few text messages had promised that soon he’d be free. He could run far away and start over again. Maybe a new city and new name would give him the strength not to give in to the urges.
Unconsciously, he leaned a little so he could listen to the girl’s chatter. They always say something that helps you get close, he silently reminded himself.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Molly, come play over here!” A hostile voice broke in.
He gulped when he spied the angry-looking mother beckoning her child. Little Molly bounced over and took her place beside her.
“She reminds me of my niece,” he said. Fear gripped his heart when he caught the disbelieving look in the young mother’s eyes. Deciding he had been there long enough, he stood to leave.
“Sir?” A tall, older, dark-skinned man blocked his path. Bert’s pulse quickened. The man was hospital security. “Can I ask who you’re waiting for? Have you been to triage.”
“Oh, not me.” Bert fought to stay in control. “My niece, Mary. My brother and his wife are in with her now. Fell out of a tree,” he added with a half-hearted smile. “I was looking for a place to smoke. Could you tell me where I might be able to grab a quick one?”
“The designated smoking area is located out the front entrance and up the walkway. You can’t miss it. It’s the glass enclosure with all the smoke pouring out of it.”
“Thank you.” Bert smiled and attempted to make his way around the man.
“Why don’t I walk you over?”
“Huh?” Bert choked, unable to believe that his cover had been blown so quickly. He knew he was out of practice, but to get busted by a rent-a-cop in less than half an hour was ridiculous. “Thanks.” He tried his best to look blasé. He figured he’d let this bozo walk him there, he’d even bum a smoke, and that would be the end of it. The Red Line stop was just a few feet away. He could be on the subway before anyone was the wiser. Much to Bert’s relief, the man nodded and guided him towards the entrance.
“What was your niece’s last name?” the security guard asked, stopping Bert in his tracks.
“What?”
“I’ll have one of my men check on her condition.” The man offered a toothy grin while holding up his two-way radio. “That way you’ll know how much time you’ll have.”
“Shelley,” Bert said before he could think better of it.
“Tom, this is Terrell. I have a four seven six. Could you check on a patient named Shelley, Mary Shelley? That’s right, Mary Shelley.” Terrell smiled. “I’ll be with her uncle at the smoking area on the north side.”
“You smoke?” Bert made an attempt at sounding casual.
“Cigars. Can’t let the wife know.”
“Tell me about it. If mine finds out I’ve been smoking, I’m in the doghouse.”
Bert felt uncomfortable by how closely Terrell was walking alongside of him. He turned to head towards where he knew the smoking area was located. He had passed by it when he first arrived. He had mentally noted that it could be used as an excuse to make a hasty exit. Terrell seemed to be guiding him away from the smoking area. Bert knew he was in trouble. If he pointed out that they were heading in the wrong direction, his cover would be blown. If he kept following this seemingly innocent man, he more than likely would be walking into a trap.
His heart sank when he spied two state trooper cars pulling over to his left. Knowing he was in deep, he abruptly turned and sucker punched Terrell, sending the older man crashing to the ground. Bert huffed and puffed as he made a mad dash to the subway stop just across the street. His heart pounded as he darted out into oncoming traffic. He didn’t stop or risk looking back; he just bolted into the station. Crashing into a woman with a stroller who was exiting, he took advantage of the open gate and raced inside and up the staircase.
Bert didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He let his fear-fueled adrenaline rush guide him. His lungs felt as if they would seize as he kept running. Not only were the police chasing him, but now the transit cops were hot on his trail for fare evasion. He just kept going, dodging in and out of the crowd, until he managed to slip down another stairwell and back outside. He just kept running, even though there was a small voice whispering for him to just stop and get off the merry-go-round. His life would be much less exciting if he simply let them take him back to Connecticut.
Instead of listening to the tiny voice of reason that was telling him he was being an idiot, he kept running all the way down Charles Street. Rush hour was in full swing. Bert simply slipped into the crowd and got lost. Once he had crossed Beacon Street, he knew the quickest way back would be to jump on the Green Line. He wasn’t up for being caught on camera and running another marathon. Instead, he grabbed a tacky sweatshirt from a street vendor. The guy tried to barter with him. Bert didn’t have time to waste, so he tossed the babbling man a twenty and slipped on the navy blue sweatshirt with the name of the city embroidered across the front.
Bert decided it was a good day to walk back to the hotel. The walk would take a good while, but he figured it was better than jail. While on his trek back, he received another text. He wanted to smash the phone against the sidewalk when he read the words. “Sit tight and wait for further instructions.”
Bert felt sick. He knew not to try to contact his mysterious benefactor. The consequences for doing so had already been explained to him.
Chapter 25
Across the city, Val was on her way to Boylston General Hospital, cursing everyone and everything in sight. Mills had the unfortunate position of being trapped in the car with the irate deputy.
“Are you guys a bunch of cluster fucks or what?”
“Keep it up, and I’ll shoot you,” Mills said in a slow, direct tone. “I’ve called Calloway.”
“What? No.” Val careened the SUV around the narrow streets of the city.
“This turns into a one way,” Mills told her. “Heading the opposite way.” Val just growled under her breath.
She released a stream of curses when she tried to find a way out of the maze of streets that made the city of Boston a truly unique driving experience.
“You could have let me drive,” Mills said. “I could have told you that GPS wasn’t going to get you around this city.”
“Why did you call her?”
“Satan shows up at her wife’s job, and you don’t think she’s going to find out? I thought you were all for keeping CC in the loop.” The statement was innocent, still Val didn’t miss the hint of suspicion in the older woman’s voice.
Val took a calming breath before answering. “I just don’t want her to go off halfcocked. I’d rather know what happened before we talk to her. Ten to one, she’s going to beat us there. She’ll have little or no answers. If you were in her shoes, wouldn’t you freak out? I’m not used to having a family member working this close.”
“This piece of garbage isn’t her family.”
“I get that, but still there is a connection,” Val said wearily. “Here we are. Finally.” Her stress level was topping the charts. She had barely rolled to a stop before she jumped out. Silently, she prayed that a miracle had occurred and CC hadn’t beaten her there. When she spied the taller woman pacing in front of the emergency room doors, her stomach churned. “This is not going to be fun.”
* * *
To her credit, CC had not blown a gasket when Terrell explained the situation. She maintained her poise when she spoke to the St
ate Troopers. Thankfully, Terrell did everything by the book, alerting the Feds the moment he spotted Beaumont. Then he kept a close eye on him, only approaching when he saw him trying to engage a little girl in conversation. That was something he couldn’t risk. It broke CC’s heart when he apologized for allowing Beaumont to escape.
“Terrell, this isn’t your fault,” she said. “You did everything by the book. The guy sucker punched you.”
“What about the video?” Max demanded of the unfortunate State Trooper who was standing near him.
“We’re waiting on the Feds.”
“We’re here,” Val waved her badge hoping against hope it would calm Detective Sampson down. “Someone needs to bring us up to speed. Detective Calloway?”
“Terrell here can fill you in,” CC said. “Then he’s going inside to have his face looked at. No arguments, Terrell. My wife is already pissed that you haven’t been looked at. I don’t want to hear it when I get home.”
“Okay, Terrell.” Val blew out a terse breath. “Just tell me what happened.”
She listened intently, gathering all the details, while Max made a fuss. She should have been relieved by Calloway’s levelheaded attitude, but she didn’t like the way the woman was clenching her jaw and pacing. Val felt the tempest brewing. She thanked the weary-looking man and sent him inside for treatment. By the way his face looked, she guessed his nose was broken.
“That’s what happens when you trap a caged animal,” she noted while carefully making her way over to Calloway. “I can’t believe he used the name Mary Shelley. What an idiot.”
“Which begs the question,” Max bellowed, “of why can’t you catch this rocket scientist?”
“My fault. I should have assumed he knew about Detective Calloway’s personal life and had the hospital watched.”
“He shouldn’t have known,” CC said angrily. “We kept it quiet for just this reason. My job is what it is. I don’t want my wife’s well-being put in jeopardy because of it.”
“Is that why neither of you changed your names?”
“No, that was more personal. Moving on. I had asked Jamie to alert hospital security, just in case. Now tell me what you know and what you’re planning to do about this situation.” She spoke in a slow, direct manner that informed Val that she was expecting her to get moving and wrap this up.
* * *
Billy Ryan felt like hell. But he always felt that way. Lately, life seemed even more unbearable. He had known Bitsy since they were just kids. Attending her funeral had done a number on him. As soon as he shuffled in, the smell of lilies assaulted him. He wanted to gag. He didn’t miss the accusing looks in people’s eyes. They were always looking at him as if he was some sort of villain. So he dropped out of college! Big deal.
He hadn’t exactly dropped out. He left before the university asked him to. His GPA had been circling the bowl for most of his academic career. Unable to keep his grades up to standard led to his frat asking him to leave. That and the trouble Simon Fisher had dragged him into. Accused of manufacturing GHB and being placed on academic probation, he had no option but to leave. It hadn’t been his idea to cook up a date rape drug. In his convoluted mind, it was Simon’s idea. Billy also had been Simon’s alibi when his girlfriend disappeared. He still found it hard to believe that Simon dumped the body during their trip up to Tahoe. Granted, Billy had been wasted for most of the trip.
Hell, he had been wasted for most of his life. After Bitsy’s funeral, he wanted to get in touch with a guy who could set him up. All he needed was a little cash, but the quaint area wasn’t giving him any hope of finding someplace to hit. Then an angel appeared and offered him everything he desired and a place to crash. True, it was a grungy hotel in the city, but it came with treats.
Billy loved nothing more in life than doing speedballs, an injection of cocaine mixed with heroin. He couldn’t wait to be alone and shoot up. His angel not only provided him with a stash of drugs, but was kind enough to provide a great big spoon and a pack of disposable lighters. All he needed to do was to cook up his concoction.
For the briefest of moments, he felt good. Just preparing the needle made him elated. He spread his toes, and his hand trembled as he placed the needle between them. With a smile on his face, he prepared for the euphoric feeling to encompass him.
He injected the drugs and the euphoria did indeed come. Then all too quickly, he felt a burning sensation. Not the normal burning that lit him up; this was an inferno. When he reached for his throat he was surprised to find it swollen.
He might have collapsed. He couldn’t be sure. He was still in pain and pissed off that his high wasn’t what he had been aching for. Again he mixed up another batch of drugs on the bent spoon and carefully lit a fire beneath it. He watched as it melted together.
“This time, it will bring me peace,” he promised himself. He would repeat this plan two more times, unaware of how little time had passed since he first shot up. He had a slow, wretched death befitting his misspent life.
* * *
A short time after the maid found the body of the strange man in Room 313, the local police were called.
“Calloway, we’re up. We got a body.” Max slammed down the phone and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. They had just returned from the hospital, and neither was up for a case. Still, there was a part of CC that relished the distraction.
“Geez, you don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
“Come on, Calloway, let’s log out a car and get this over with.”
“Okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” she said in a teasing voice.
“What about Halloween?” Max asked once they were en route.
“I need to find out what Stevie wants to do. None of this makes sense, Max. I feel like we’re missing something. Something big. Tell me about the call.”
“Dead guy over at the Edison. Looks like an overdose.”
They pulled into the parking lot of the modest motel, waved their badges, and entered Room 313. CC flinched when she saw Marissa examining the body.
“Dr. Vergas, what do we have?” She tried to keep her voice professional. Marissa had been polite enough over the past couple of months. CC knew she was on edge, and lately almost anything could set her off.
“Looks like an overdose. Won’t know for sure until I get him on the table and do a tox screen.”
“We got a name, Roger?” she asked the patrol officer while she took a look around the room.
“William Wayne Ryan.”
CC froze, and her heart stopped for a brief moment. Finally she looked over at the corpse. “Billy Ryan?” She almost gagged.
“What is it?” Max asked.
“Could be a coincidence,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean if it’s the same guy. Billy Ryan was Fisher’s alibi back when Janie Jensen disappeared. He was the reason why the cops never looked at Fisher back when everything started.”
“No kidding? Well, let’s have a look around and see what we can find. Maybe we can get a line on the dealer then turn this over to narcotics.”
* * *
On the way back to the station, CC filled Max in on Brooks’ phone call. She was irked when he failed to seem interested.
“It was an overdose.”
“Yeah, still that makes four bodies all tied to Fisher.”
“Four different causes of death, all explainable.”
“I don’t know,” CC said. “I’m still calling Brooks.”
“Wait until we get the tox screen back,” Max told her. “In the meantime, why don’t we swing by Government Center and visit Deputy Brown. I’m more worried about Beaumont than some junkie who didn’t know when to stop shooting up.”
“Good point. But I have a better idea.” CC blew out the exhaustion catching up with her. “How about you head back to the station, and I go check on my wife? I just need to see her again, you know?”
“I get it.”
* * *
Val was reviewin
g everything on the tape for the one hundredth time. Her head was throbbing, her back ached, and she felt like she had missed something. She followed a shadowy figure through the miles of tape. The only thing she knew for certain was Beaumont might have jumped on the subway, and if he did, he wasn’t far from the Calloway sisters’ backyard. That is if the grainy image she followed from Copley to Boylston Village Hills was in fact Beaumont. It looked like it could be him, and if so, then he was way too close for comfort.
She pored over a map of the area before requesting Mills’ assistance. “Help me out here? This is the stop where I think he got off.”
“Okay.”
“What’s that near? Are there any hotels?”
“A couple down this way.” Mills pointed at the map. “There’s a lot of shops and overpriced coffee joints along the main drag.”
“And where is the hospital in relation to this?”
“Over this way, bit of a hike. Most people would drive or take the T.”
“And how far is that from where the Calloway sisters live?”
“They’re on the opposite end.” Mills pointed out the route. “It’s more of a suburban area. Walkable, but for the hospital, you’d have to travel by car or train.”
“But you can walk it if you had to?”
“Why would you?”
“The police are chasing you,” Val said. “I figure our guy bolted. He did his little run around the subway station and just hoofed it back to some motel. Or he hailed a cab.”
“Already checked that out. No one picked up a fare matching our guy.” Mills grimaced. “I can’t figure this guy out. There’s nothing here for him but a bunch of people gunning for him and he just keeps moving closer to trouble. Sound like any runner you’ve ever tracked?”
“No.”
* * *
CC paced around the waiting room, her stomach tied up in knots. Even after Jamie emerged, she failed to feel a sense of ease. Before she had been called away, she only had a few moments with her wife. She needed to feel more of a connection. If she had her way, she’d grab Jamie and the rest of the family and run as far away as humanly possible.
Checkmate (Caitlin Calloway Mystery Book 2) Page 17
