Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“Please, Tracey.”

The woman capped the hypodermic needle and pocketed it. Then she bent down and kissed Rebecca’s forehead. “It won’t hurt a bit. I promise.”

“Tracey, please. Think about what you’re doing.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for months. You haven’t been easy to spy on.” Tracey laughed. “You almost caught me, do you know that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Colton’s last hockey game. You all went out to watch, and I convinced Wesley I had cold so I could do a little reconnaissance. When he called me after the game to tell me you were going to Cadomin, I knew exactly what I needed to do. But first I had to figure out your exact route. Thankfully, you left a map on a table for me.”

Rebecca thought back to that night. The open garage door! “ You broke into in my house?”

Tracey leaned close. “I’ve been in your house many times. I’ve even been in your bed. With Wesley.”

Rebecca flicked a look at the door. “That doesn’t surprise me. Wesley has a bad habit of making rotten decisions.”

Tracey observed her, her forehead furrowing in confusion. After a moment, she shook her head and said, “The little cocktail I prepared for you should be kicking in any second. Why don’t you just close your eyes and sleep?”

“Because I’m not tired, you stupid bitch.”

Tracey grabbed Rebecca’s arm and stared at the area where the IV needle should have been attached. “What the hell?” She yanked the IV bag from beneath the covers.

It was Rebecca’s turn to smile. “Sorry to disappoint. Guess you’ve wasted those drugs for nothing.”

“Then it’s a good thing I brought a backup.” Tracey held up a scalpel.

Marcus searched the ER waiting area for Zur, but the detective was gone. So was Wesley Kingston. He ran into the cafeteria and found Kingston sitting at a table, alone.

“Where’s your fiancée?”

“I have no idea. I thought she was in here, getting us dinner. I tried calling her, but she’s not picking up. Maybe she went to get something from the car.” Kingston frowned. “Why?”

Marcus didn’t answer. Instead, he raced toward the elevators, while digging his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. In the elevator he stabbed the third-floor button and dialed Zur’s number.

“What’s up, Marcus?”

“I think I know who’s trying to kill Rebecca, and it’s not a man. It’s a woman. Tracey. Wesley Kingston’s fiancée.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I found a photo in Rebecca’s house.” When Zur started to interrupt him, he said, “I had permission to be there. Don’t ask. I’ll tell you later. Anyways, I found a photo of a party at Kingston’s father’s law firm. Says on the back that they’d released the news about Rebecca being pregnant with Ella.”

“What’s that got to do with this Tracey woman?”

“She’s standing in the crowd and doesn’t look very happy about the news.”

“What’s she look like?”

“She’s tall, maybe five foot ten. Thin. Long red hair, brown eyes. How’s Rebecca doing?”

“I’m watching the feed. Mrs. Kingston is fine. But we’re having a few problems with the sound. It’s cutting in and out. I think she dislodged it by moving around too much.”

“Is she alone?”

“No. The nurse is with her.”

“The same nurse you vetted?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Shit,” came Zur’s reply. “I think it’s the fiancée. She’s been talking to Mrs. Kingston, leaning over her.” He mumbled something Marcus couldn’t hear.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus demanded.

“Security found our nurse stashed in a janitor’s closet two minutes ago. She’s unconscious, but alive. We weren’t expecting a woman, Marcus, and she’s wearing a uniform. We missed it.”

Marcus slammed a fist into the wall of the elevator. “I’ll be there right away.”

“No, don’t. I have enough men up here to handle this.”

There was more mumbling on the other end, then Zur said, “We’ve got her! Tracey Whitaker just injected something into the IV. Don’t worry. It’s not actually attached to Mrs. Kingston. We’re going in.” The line went dead.

Marcus bounced on the balls of his feet. “Why did I get the slowest elevator ever made?”

There was a brash ding and the doors opened. Marcus ran down the hallway, cursing under his breath for not taking the central elevator, which would have exited much closer to Rebecca’s room.

As he rounded the corner, he saw six plainclothes officers with their guns drawn. Zur, in his doctor gear, stood outside Rebecca’s door, his weapon aimed inside.

Marcus’s heart did a flip-flop. “What’s going on?”

“Hostage situation,” the officer closest to him replied.

Marcus couldn’t breathe. Rebecca…

He watched in horror as Zur backed away and Rebecca appeared in the doorway. Behind her stood Tracey, though the woman’s appearance had changed. Her hair was twisted into a bun, and she wore a nurse’s uniform and the black-rimmed glasses she’d confiscated from the real nurse.

Tracey held a scalpel to Rebecca’s neck.

“Ms. Whitaker, drop the knife,” Zur said.

The woman gripped Rebecca tighter. “Get back!”

“Ms. Whitaker, I’m Detective John Zur. You’re making a terrible mistake here.”

“She’s the one who made the mistake!” Tracey screamed, the knife nicking Rebecca’s neck and leaving a thin trail of blood.

“Tell us what you want,” Zur said. “What do you need?”

“I need for her to die, like she was supposed to.”

Rebecca’s panicked eyes found Marcus’s, and he tried to mentally send her strength. Hold on. Don’t do anything. Let John handle it.

“Rebecca Kingston has two young children,” Zur said. “You wanted them dead too?”

“No!” Tracey shouted as tears flowed down her cheeks. “They weren’t supposed to be there. Wesley said they were staying with their aunt.”

“So Mr. Kingston didn’t know they were with their mom?”

Tracey’s eyes flashed with panic. “No. She was the one who was supposed to die. That’s the way he wanted it, planned it. He paid that guy to run her off the road. He said I had to finish it, that we’d get the money for sure then. There was no other way I could pay back the goddamn loan.”

Marcus swallowed hard. He and Zur had been wrong about Wesley Kingston. The man had planned Rebecca’s murder. The bastard!

“Ms. Whitaker—Tracey,” Zur said in a calm tone. “If you put down the knife, you can walk away.”

“Yeah, right.” The knife trembled and dipped slightly lower.

“I give you my word. You can walk out those doors. We won’t follow you.”

“And all I have to do is let this bitch go?”

“Yes.”

What happened next was a blur of motion and sound. Tracey jerked her hand upward, and a shot rang out. Someone screamed. Tracey and Rebecca toppled backward, hit the wall and landed on the floor. The scalpel clattered across the tiles, landing in a pool of blood.

“Rebecca!” Marcus screamed.

An officer held him back. “Zur has her, Mr. Taylor. She’s all right.”

“But I saw blood,” he replied with a moan.

“The Whitaker woman. Detective Zur shot her. She’s dead.”

“I have to see Rebecca. John!”

Zur glanced around, saw Marcus and rushed over. “I can’t let you any further, Marcus. It’s a crime scene. But what I will do is bring her to you as soon as we’ve taken her statement. Go wait in the exam room with Simms and Geraldo.”