Kitabı oku: «Silent Night Suspect», sayfa 3

THREE

Fatigue wore through Slade’s depleting energy reserves. His phone buzzed, dragging him into consciousness, and a glance at the screen revealed it was 02:34 in the morning. He repositioned in the uncomfortable hospital chair. The night seemed to stretch on forever. Asia had endured multiple tests on machines with names resembling alphabet soup, and finally the surgery to repair her shoulder. Thankfully, the bullet had missed her vital organs and arteries.

Slade scrubbed his palm over his face, then read Oliver’s demand for an update. Based on the tone, he’d avoided the conversation with his boss for one message too long. He’d hoped to receive the lab results first, but it was time to confront the inevitable.

The phone buzzed again. “Give me a minute,” Slade groused in a whispered reply to the inanimate object.

Asia sighed and rolled over, reminding him to be quiet. She appeared to sleep peacefully, and he didn’t want to wake her. The poor woman needed rest.

He glanced down, expecting Oliver’s number, but a new text message from his friend’s wife—a manager in the hospital lab—resuscitated his hope. Asia’s tox results confirmed the presence of scopolamine. A drug Quenten’s cronies specialized in because it kept the victim conscious and compliant, but blocked memory formation.

Renewed optimism had Slade slipping from Asia’s hospital room. The scopolamine explained Asia’s temporary amnesia and added plausible deniability about her participation in Quenten’s death. Unease crept between Slade’s shoulder blades. Oliver would demand an answer as to how Slade had obtained the rapid results. The reality of him facing disciplinary action for unlawful use of authority was a serious consideration. He didn’t want to get his friend’s wife in trouble, but the evidence helped Asia’s defense. Please don’t let Oliver ask for details. The prayer escaped before Slade debated whether God would frown on such a request.

Lacey Fisher, the young female trooper Sergeant Oliver assigned to assist with Asia’s security, sat in the hallway keeping watch. She glanced up, acknowledging Slade as he palmed his phone. “Please sit with Mrs. Stratton. She’s asleep. I’ll be back in five minutes. I need to make a call, but the reception in the hospital’s terrible.”

“Affirmative.” Fisher jumped to her feet.

He waited until the trooper entered Asia’s room, then strode through the gray hallway where pictures of farming landscapes hung at two-foot intervals. The path curved and disappeared behind him toward the elevators. He poked the down arrow and exhaled, allowing the night’s events to loom in his mind.

The ride to the lobby ended too soon. Slade traipsed through the vacant area to the hospital’s electric glass entry. He shivered as the frosty air greeted him. With a tap to Oliver’s contact icon, he made the call and exited the building.

“Glad to see you found time to report in. What’s Mrs. Stratton’s status?” Oliver barked without saying hello.

His sergeant’s comments were deserved and expected, but Slade cringed anyway. Avoiding the man didn’t rank high on the smart-things-to-do list, but procrastination came easy to him. “She’s resting now. Doctor stitched up the bullet wound, but the concussion and her blood pressure have him wanting to keep her overnight for observation.”

Oliver exhaled into the receiver. “That’s a relief. No need to rush her departure. The CSIs have finished for the night. They won’t release the scene until they’ve had a chance to go over it again in the morning with better lighting.”

Slade contemplated asking his next question, then concluded they had to know everything Asia faced. “Sir, did they find anything else—”

“You mean besides a dead cartel leader, murder weapon, her purse and the drugs?” Oliver snapped.

The gun hadn’t been confirmed as the murder weapon, but correcting his boss would be unwise. “Something like that.”

“Nothing of significance. I’ve requested her phone records because her cell is password protected. Should have them within a few hours.”

Slade heard the veiled implication. Unless the killer had her password, it appeared Asia had sent the text. Would the records help her case or make it worse? Why hadn’t she dialed 9-1-1?

“The drugs in Asia’s purse require her arrest. At the very least, she must be detained for questioning and processing.”

“But you said her purse was found in one of the bedroom closets. A good attorney will refute the evidence since the purse wasn’t actively in her possession.” Slade’s weak argument was the best he could muster at the late hour.

“True, but the murder charges aren’t as avoidable. Doubtful he shot himself, Trooper.”

“Yes, sir. That part is a little harder to rebut.”

“Once the lab fingerprints the weapon...”

Slade swallowed hard. Asia’s prints were all over the gun. The realization left him reeling. Whether she was drugged or not, if the clothes he’d submitted had gunshot residue on them, it would only add to the evidence against her. Even without the ballistics report, there was little doubt in his mind that the bullet that killed Quenten came from Zander’s weapon. The same one Asia had been holding. “They’ll find Asia’s prints on the gun.”

“I see. You’d better start over and tell me exactly what happened before my arrival.” Oliver’s impatience oozed through the line.

Everything within Slade wanted to circumvent the truth, but there was no pretending or denying she’d held the gun. Until now, he hadn’t offered those specifics. With a sigh, he recounted the story again, this time including all the pertinent information, and ended with the men fleeing at the sirens.

“That’s a significant omitted detail.” Oliver’s tone, though agitated, wasn’t irate. “I suppose there’s the possibility that Quenten attacked her first.”

Perhaps his boss would give Asia the benefit of the doubt. “Then it would be self-defense.” Slade inhaled and launched into his practiced speech informing Oliver about the scopolamine.

Oliver’s pause hung between them for so long that Slade held his breath, expecting the worst. “I see. I’m not even going to ask how you obtained results that quickly.”

Whew. “Sir, Quenten should also be tested for drugs. Something that might explain immobility? How else was he shot square in the forehead? There are seasoned troopers who lack that type of accuracy. I’m sure there’s more to this than we’re seeing. It would be easy to book her and call it a done deal, but my gut says Asia’s innocent. What if the murderer’s intention was to lure me there and take out both of us?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Listen, I’m not heartless. I feel for her. Asia’s had a full plate longer than anyone should have to. I’ll request the tox screen on Quenten. In the meantime, ensure she’s safe and keep me posted.” Oliver disconnected.

Relief and a second wind had Slade rushing through the hospital doors. He paced in front of the elevator while his brain raced out of control. He had hope again, and that was huge. Dad always said hope was like blinders on a horse—it focused a man’s attention and eliminated his peripheral vision. Of course, he’d been talking about falling in love, not battling murder charges. If only they had a clue in her favor.

All of this was connected to Zander. Even in death the guy hurt Asia, and he’d never deserved her. Although Slade had ample opportunities to tattle about Zander’s extramarital activities, he refused to break Asia’s heart. He’d also feared losing her friendship, or worse, having her hate him. Oh wait, I’ve accomplished that. Score one for overachievers.

Slade punched the elevator button again, rehashing Oliver’s instructions.

Asia deserved justice. That was his sole objective, and if they found her guilty, he would do what was required of him. But only if and/or when he was certain, beyond any reasonable doubt. He wanted facts and evidence—neither had anything to do with personal feelings. Slade had buried those long ago.

The elevator dinged like a timer on his thoughts, and the doors opened. Slade’s heart was convinced of Asia’s innocence, and maybe—just maybe—proving it would ease the guilt that had haunted him since Zander’s death.

He’d failed once to save a life. Never again.

“Hello, Mrs. Stratton,” a man’s voice hissed in greeting.

Asia jerked upright in the hospital bed, stopped short by the bindings encircling her wrists and ankles. Pain radiated up her shoulder, and something covered her mouth, muting her cry. Terror gripped her chest, a tightening vise that restricted each breath. Against common sense, she tugged harder. The burning sensation confirmed her escape efforts had torn through her skin while the restraints remained unrelenting.

“It is useless to fight.” The baritone voice sent a shiver down Asia’s spine.

Streetlamps outside cast dim light through the partially closed slats of the white plastic blinds. Asia blinked, willing her eyes to focus in the dark. She scanned the room in search of the intruder. How had he gotten in? Where was Slade?

Her perusal stopped short on the form in the corner chair. The same place where Slade had perched all evening. Now a woman sat slumped there. Recognition came to Asia—the female trooper assigned outside her door. Frazer? No, Fisher.

Asia froze, and her muffled gasp caught in the sticky substance covering her mouth. She inhaled the stench of glue, and sharp edges pulled the tender skin near her nostrils. Tape. Relieved the person wasn’t Slade, she prayed Fisher was unconscious and not dead.

“Cooperate and this will go well for you. I do not want to hurt you.”

Asia turned and startled at the black gorilla mask inches from her face.

“Your husband was a stupid man. He could’ve survived if he’d given us the card. Make a smarter choice and I’ll let you live. Tell me where it is.” The man crept around the foot of her bed, sliding his fingers along the white blanket.

Card? What was he talking about? She blinked several times. Had she heard him correctly? Asia’s mind raced. Since the intruder had disguised himself, that must mean he had no intention of killing her since she couldn’t identify him. But what card did he want?

He stepped toward the trooper and pressed a hand against the woman’s shoulder. “It’s too bad the cops are incapable of protecting you. But that’s the kind of danger you’re up against.”

Asia’s breaths came faster, caught in the tape. The threats sent fear oozing through her veins. She shoved against the bed with her heels, digging the plastic restraints harder into her skin. What would he do to her to get the information he wanted? Terrifying images passed through her mind. Please, God, help me!

Fight! The word bounced to the forefront of Asia’s brain, giving her the snap-out-of-it kick she needed. Think. The creep would have to remove the tape in order for her to speak, and when he did, she’d scream with everything in her.

Asia forced herself to inhale through her nose and commanded her racing heart to obey. A sliver of light shone beneath the closed door. Would anyone hear her? Where are you, Slade? She sensed impending doom, but annoyance pricked at the corners of her mind, providing momentary relief from her fear. He’d let her down again and proved, once more, Slade Jackson could not be counted upon.

The gorilla-masked man returned to Asia’s side. “Are you ready to talk?”

He ran a finger along her cheek, jolting her back to the present. The quick movement perpetuated the agony in her shoulder, coordinating a throbbing rhythm with her heartbeat. She groaned.

The man tsked. “Careful. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Darkness disguised the intruder, and only his heavy breathing reverberated beside her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down her face.

The man leaned closer, his dark eyes unblinking behind the gorilla mask’s eye holes. “I’m making a good-faith effort by keeping my identity hidden. Once I remove the tape, you’ll have one chance to return the favor.” His voice was muffled by the mask. “If you scream, I’ll kill you. I only want the card, Mrs. Stratton. Do we understand each other?”

Fury and fear warred within Asia, and she stubbornly refused to break away from his gaze. She’d call his bluff because the man wanted something more than he wanted her dead; otherwise he’d have killed her while she slept. That was her assurance. At least she prayed that was true. Her gaze drifted to the trooper slumped in the chair as confirmation. Please let her be alive.

Asia returned her eyes to the masked man. She had no clue about this card he referred to, but he seemed convinced she possessed it. She nodded and her cooperative gesture had the assailant patting her head like a dog. “Good girl.”

He moved to the right, remaining in the shadows.

She flattened her hand under the blanket, ignoring the burn in her injured shoulder and allowing her fingers to roam.

She grazed an object. He hadn’t taken the bed’s remote control! Asia slid her palm over the box, keeping her body as still as possible. There were several buttons. Which would call the nurse? If she pressed the wrong switch, it would send her bed’s foot or head into motion and eliminate any chance for help. Two toggles. Those must move the bed. Fingering the device, she searched for a single button and paused.

“Remember, I will give you only one opportunity to tell me where the card is.” He returned to her side and flipped open a switchblade, then pressed the cold steel along her neck.

Asia sucked in a breath and pressed the button on the remote. Lord, please let this be the right one. There was a ding, followed by a red light illuminated on the power pad above her bed.

The man jerked then met her gaze with a venomous glare. “You’ll pay for that.”

Asia squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

He launched into a myriad of curses before bolting from the room.

Slade exited the elevator to the sound of a woman’s scream. He sprinted down the hallway, and the nurse ran to meet him. “A man wearing a gorilla mask just ran through those doors.” She gestured to the stairwell.

Slade quickened his pace and shoved open the door. His boots thudded against the thick plastic floor as he took two and three steps at a time, gripping the rail for support. The rapid staccato rhythm of footsteps echoed as Slade hurried after the intruder.

The man was at least a level ahead of him and gaining speed.

A slam below indicated he’d exited the stairwell.

Slade jumped over the railing onto the main floor and burst through the door into the garage.

The squealing of tires reverberated throughout the cement walls. A dark SUV skidded out of the building, its red taillights mocking the chase.

He’d been so close! Slade slammed his hand on the wall, then spun on his heel and pressed the button on his shoulder mic. “Intruder escaped. Put out an APB on a black SUV, newer model, no plates, headed southbound from the hospital garage.”

The dispatcher responded but her words were inconsequential. Once again, the criminal had evaded arrest.

Yanking the door open, Slade nearly collided with the female security guard on the other side.

She stepped back, eyes wide in question.

“He got away. I’ll need to see your security footage.”

“Yes, sir.”

He passed her and jogged up the steps with the guard trailing behind.

“We can view the video in my office,” she called.

“Negative. Bring it to room 422. I’m staying with my witness.” Since I nearly got her killed by leaving her.

Slade didn’t wait for the guard’s response or for her to catch up. He threw open the door to the fourth floor and ran down the hall.

Trooper Lacey Fisher lay on a stretcher, and an orderly pushed her from Asia’s room into the hallway.

Slade increased his pace. “Excuse me.”

The man paused.

“Is she okay?”

“Unconscious but breathing,” the orderly answered, then resumed his mission, moving past Slade.

Thank God. Fisher was alive.

Torn between following the orderly and checking on Asia, Slade chose to receive Asia’s well-deserved rebuke. She could’ve been killed thanks to his lackadaisical approach to her security, and he’d learned a valuable lesson. Whatever it took, he needed to remain at her side, because whoever had their target locked on Asia Stratton would stop at nothing to get to her.

Asia focused on the nurse’s name tag, which read Ramona, as she snipped through the plastic ties. In her peripheral, she saw Slade enter the room and halt by the door.

The pounding pulse beating in her ears muted the woman’s soft words, and she captured only, “You’re safe now.”

“I’ll never be safe.” Speaking the words aloud solidified their truth for Asia.

“You’ll be fine,” Nurse Ramona assured her. “They’ll catch the man.” She gathered the remnants of the restraints and turned to leave.

Doubtful. Lack of patience had Asia throwing her legs over the edge of the bed.

In a two-stride movement, Ramona impeded Asia’s escape, sporting a no-nonsense frown and rooted stance. All hesitation left the nurse’s voice. “You will stay in your bed and allow the police to deal with the intruder.” Though she was petite, the woman’s confident demeanor said she’d give Asia a literal run for her money if she tried to leave the room. “The safest place for you is right here.”

“But I—”

“Please, Mrs. Stratton.” Ramona pulled back the covers and waited as Asia stood awkwardly next to the bed. “You don’t want to tear open your stitches.” She didn’t move until Asia had obeyed and tucked her legs under the blankets. “I’ll return in a second to dress your wounds.” She pointed for emphasis to the thin red welts and beads of crimson engraving Asia’s skin.

“Fine.” Asia slumped against the pillows.

The nurse gave an approving nod and headed out of the room.

“When you’ve got a moment, would you please provide an update on Trooper Fisher?” Slade asked.

“Of course.” She closed the door softly behind her.

Slade approached, concern written on his red face.

The lines surrounding his caramel eyes conveyed compassion, and his muscular chest heaved from exertion. “Did the man hurt you?” He reached to touch her, and she shifted away.

The response came naturally, but whatever Asia read in his expression—defeat or frustration—left her unsettled, almost sad. “I want to go home.” She shivered and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “He threatened to kill me if I didn’t give him a card. I don’t know what he’s talking about!”

Slade stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you recognize him?”

“Not at all. He wore a gorilla mask the whole time and said he was making a good-faith effort by not letting me see his face.”

Slade scowled. “He got away, for now. Security is compiling the camera footage and I’ve got an APB on him.”

What difference would an all-points bulletin make? Asia studied him. Would he help her? “You have to get me out of here.”

Uncrossing his arms, Slade shook his head. “No, the doctors want to watch you overnight.”

“How about what I want? Like to stay alive?” She lowered her voice and gripped the sheet. “I have to prove I didn’t kill Quenten and find that stupid card! Maybe they’ll leave me alone once I hand it over.”

“They won’t allow you to go skipping off into the sunset. They’ll kill you once they have what they want.”

“Then help me!”

Slade shifted at her bedside. “I am and will continue doing everything possible to help you. Whatever it takes, I will protect you.”

Classic Slade, with his kind and thoughtful words, but he didn’t understand. Asia shook her head. Procedure Boy would never step outside the box, and right now, playing by the rules might get her killed.

“You can’t protect me. No one can.” She shoved off the blankets and swung her feet over the side.

“I cannot allow you to leave.” Slade grasped her uninjured arm, his restraint gentle but strong.

Asia looked up at him. “Let go of me.” The faded scent of aftershave wafted to her, drawing attention to Slade’s neck. He flexed his jaw, then released his hold, still blocking her from climbing out of the bed. She sat with her feet swinging childlike above the cold linoleum floor.

“I’ll be right by your side. I won’t leave for anything. I promise.”

But his promise wouldn’t save her. “Then what? I can’t stay here forever.”

“When the doctor releases you, I’ll—”

“—be forced to arrest me?” she concluded.

He looked down. “Not if I can find evidence to help you.”

“I’m not naive. If the man found me in a hospital with an armed guard—who he knocked out, by the way—he’ll locate me anywhere. You might as well hand me over to those men, because if you put me in prison, I’ll have no defense. You’ll be delivering me to them on a department-of-corrections platter.”

He met her gaze and seemed to consider her protest before spouting, “I can’t ignore the law.”

And there it was—the assurance Slade Jackson would not remain true to his promise to protect her. His definition of anything did not include breaking the law, even if it saved her life. Asia forced herself not to roll her eyes and remained calm. Hysteria wouldn’t work for coercion. “I know. But you can give me a chance to get away.”

Slade sighed, rubbing his hand over his neck, unnerving her with his hesitancy. “The evidence looks really bad. If you take off, you’ll look guiltier. Innocent people don’t run.”

She harrumphed. “Terrorized innocent people do.”

“Touché.” One side of his mouth tilted upward in a grin but quickly faded. “Where would you go?”

She ignored the question, unwilling to share any details. Mostly because, at the moment, she had no clue. “Do you believe me?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“No, it’s not.”

He didn’t reply. Asia fisted her hands and pushed off the bed. Slade stood in her way, so she remained where she was. “This is insane. I’m the victim here, and I’m the one being accused. You’ve known me since we were kids. After our history together, how can you wonder if I’m guilty?”

Slade’s gaze flicked upward, and he exhaled loudly. “Stop jumping to conclusions. Besides, my opinion isn’t important. It won’t help you at all in front of a judge or a jury.”

Why was the man talking in circles? It may be unfair to remind him of their connection, but desperation was making her toss fairness out the window. Slade had always been her defender, from the time they were in kindergarten and little Lenny Miller had stolen her pencil and refused to give it back. Now when it mattered most, he wasn’t on her side?