James Andrus: The Perfect Scream

The woman didn’t hesitate to point down the hallway and say, “Down there and to the left, sweetheart.”

Lynn didn’t wait for her to ask if she’d be back. She just walked quickly and slipped into the restroom. That had been much easier than she’d thought it’d be. She knew from her conversations with the nurse over the phone that the ICU was on the second floor and that Alan Cole was in room 201. She waited a full three minutes before quietly slipping out of the restroom and turning toward the elevators instead of the security checkpoint. The female security guard never even looked in her direction.

She stepped out of the elevator on the second floor and followed the sign to the intensive care unit. The security door was propped open. She slipped past and took a moment to survey the nursing station. She could tell 201 was in the next hallway to her left. This hallway had even numbers on the right side of the wall. There were three nurses and a dark-skinned doctor at the station, but no one noticed as she walked past confidently to the end of the hallway, then turned to her left and her real objective.

She felt the excitement course through her as the room numbers counted down until she could see 201 a few doors ahead. She had to make this fast and neat. Her only real concern was setting off an alarm that might draw the nurses. She’d work that out when she was in the room.

John Stallings had already called ahead to the Daytona Beach Police Department as he and Patty raced south on I-95. He had given a description of the Suburban and Leon Kines to the patrol sergeant on duty and advised him that there was a chance he was going to the hospital to deal with a witness in ICU. He made sure he added that Leon Kines was a convicted doper.

In the seat next to him, Patty was trying to get a photo sent over to the Daytona Beach Police Department to help identify Kines.

Stallings hated these situations, but the one bright spot was that it was Saturday morning and traffic was light. He also felt confident they had identified the killer of the Tau Upsilon fraternity brothers. With luck this case could be over soon and he could concentrate on Gator.

Lynn took another quick look down the hallway toward the nurses’ station, then slipped into the room. It seemed bright with the curtains drawn back and it took her a moment to notice the bed was empty. There were flowers in one corner and two plotted plants. The card on the flowers had Alan’s name on the outside. Had they taken him for some tests? Then she had a sick feeling in her stomach. Had he recovered enough to be moved to another room? Could he talk? She was certain he’d seen her face just before the car struck him outside his bank. She’d met him more than once, the last time being Josh’s funeral. He knew who she was and could identify her.

Lynn had no other choice but to ask where he was and risk someone else being able to identify her.

The young sergeant with the Daytona Police Department had grabbed another patrolman and a motorcycle cop who usually handled traffic out at the flea market. There was no way he was going to let a chance like this slip away on a quiet Saturday morning. It wasn’t bike week. It’d been a quiet Thanksgiving and he needed some action. No matter what happened, he could always claim he was just helping the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. His chief was big on helping other police agencies.

He spotted the big blue Suburban parked in the rear of the front parking lot as he pulled off Beville Road. He casually drove through the lot, past the Suburban, to make sure it had the right license plate. That’s when he noticed someone sitting in the driver seat. Holy shit. Not only had he found the car, he’d found the guy too.

The sergeant quickly called up the other two officers and told them over the radio how he wanted them to close in. He told them to buckle up because it looked like they could be heroes today.

Leon Kines noticed the cop cruise past. His past employment had taught him to pick up on any law enforcement officer in the area. This guy could be on normal patrol. He’d gone through every aisle in the lot. But it could be just a ploy to lull Leon into a false sense of security. He had a Taurus nine millimeter in the waistband of his jeans. It was left over from his days in the business. He’d stashed it along with some cash in a safety deposit box. It wasn’t registered and there was no way it would ever be traced back to him.

He didn’t like the idea of having to shoot it out with the cop. He also didn’t like the idea of a cop catching him with a pistol. Both the state and federal government frowned on convicted felons carrying firearms. Even if he was doing it mainly to impress the daughter of his former boss.

He didn’t want to turn around and be obvious, but just looking in his rearview mirror he couldn’t see the cop anymore. Maybe it was just a random patrol. His backup plan was to toss the pistol into the low hedge bordering the parking lot. The key was he had to see the cop coming again to have time to dump the gun.

Leon noticed a second cruiser. This one was a Dodge Charger. It was on the street across a small field directly in front of Leon. The cop wasn’t looking his way, but it made him nervous all the same. He started to sweat. Dealing with the cops was not generally part of the marijuana business. If he had wanted this kind of stress he would’ve gone into the more profitable cocaine business. He had very little experience dealing with the cops. Other than being arrested by a Customs Inspection team that stopped his go-fast boat with three thousand pounds of pot, his only interaction with law enforcement had been as a snitch since he got out of prison. There was a guy at the ATF he could trust. That was whom he’d passed on the trumped-up information about Dale to.

He had no business holding a handgun. He didn’t care if the two cops had no interest in him or not, the gun was going in the bushes. Leon pulled it from his waistband and carefully wiped it down with his loose T-shirt. He used two fingers to hold it by the edge of the grip and opened the door to the Suburban. Just as he was stepping onto the asphalt surface of the parking lot he heard someone shout, “Police! Don’t move.”

Lynn thought the young doctor looked tired. He was Indian and wore stylish metal frame glasses and his name tag said Dr. Hamamllama. She didn’t want to risk pronouncing his name. She cleared her throat until he looked up. Then she said, “Excuse me. Could you tell me where the patient in 201 is?”

The doctor’s eyes darted to each side; then he said, “Are you related to Mr. Cole?”

“I’m his cousin. I came right here from the airport and haven’t talked to anyone.” She had been thinking of the ruse for several minutes.

The doctor nodded and said, “I see.”

She could tell he had a slight accent. It was elegant and formal.

The doctor said, “I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Cole passed away during the night from his injuries.”

Lynn felt a burst of energy and joy surge through her, but she knew not to express it. She gripped the edge of the nurses’ counter and said, “Oh my God, I just missed him.” She thought the doctor might say some words of comfort, but he remained silent. Lynn looked up at the doctor and said, “Did he ever regain consciousness?”

“Not fully.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant. “Was he able to speak at all? Did he have any last words?”

The young doctor shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. He never spoke.”

Lynn couldn’t believe her good fortune. She managed to fake a sob, wave to the doctor, then march off to the elevators.

It was over. Now all she had to deal with was Leon.

Stallings swerved to miss a car that didn’t acknowledge the small interior blue light flashing on the dashboard of his Impala. There were so many things running through his head it was hard to concentrate just on driving. Would they be able to link this guy, Leon Kines, to any of the deaths besides Zach Halston? Would he talk? Had he done it at the request of Josh Hickam’s father? It wasn’t unlike most of the cases he’d worked, but this one had come together much faster.