Джеймс Паттерсон - The Summer House

“Sir, you need to leave,” the man says.

“I want to see this woman’s doctor.”

He shakes his head. “You can do that outside, once you register up front at the nurses’ station.”

“I don’t—”

The security officer takes two steps forward. “Sir, I know you’re upset and you’re concerned, but with the way you came in here, the staff and nurses, they’re also upset and concerned. Please, be a gentleman. All right? I bet you’ll be able to come back in just a few minutes. Please don’t make me escalate things, all right?”

Sanchez knows what he means by escalating. Maybe a quick shot from the Taser and then cuffing him on the floor. Then Sanchez will be out of action, and how will that help things?

“All right,” he says. “I’ll leave.”

The security guard smiles, slides the door open. “Thanks so much, sir. You won’t regret it.”

When the Army guy leaves, Bo Leighton can’t believe how much his luck is changing after that disastrous shoot-out at the Waffle House a few hours ago. But God must be riding shotgun, because after getting a good ream-out from his uncle about how he and Ricky screwed up the job, his uncle offered him redemption.

And look here, his second cousin Derek, the son of a bitch actually worked security here at this hospital, and his uniform actually fit, and like most places, if you look as if you belong, you get left alone.

Then his luck really kicked in when he got up to this Trauma ICU unit and found out that this Army agent was making a fuss in the bitch’s room, so that gave him the perfect excuse to casually walk down here and kick the guy out.

But no time to press his luck.

There’s a chair next to the big bed with the wounded agent—Christ, how the hell was she alive with a .45 jacketed round hitting her head?—and all those wires and tubes, and in the chair is a nice white pillow.

Bo walks over, picks up the pillow.

Just a few seconds and then it’ll be right.

And his cousin won’t have died in vain.

Bitch.

Chapter 78

AS HIS FELLOW squad mate Pierce makes the turn into the crowded parking lot of the Ralston police station and jail, Lieutenant John Huang reaches a decision. Once this horror show of a case is settled, one way or another, he’s putting in his papers and resigning from the Army.

Because deep down, he’s just a psychiatrist, a head doctor, a shrink. Despite what the Army thinks and especially despite the uncomfortable feeling of the 9mm SIG Sauer digging into his waist, he’s not a soldier. He’s just a doc, and since he’s been here in Georgia, a lousy doc at that, with the bloody suicide of an Army Ranger on his hands and conscience.

His companion, Captain Allen Pierce, whistles and says, “John, I don’t see an empty space here. Damn it.”

“Then park illegally,” Huang replies, “over there by those picnic tables. If we’re fortunate, the cops here will be too busy to ticket us.”

Pierce smiles, but Huang is not in a joking mood. The lot is filled with cars, news vans, and satellite trucks, all waiting for word from within the jail, where the three surviving Ranger prisoners are being held.

They both get out of the car, and Pierce says, “John, just to give you a heads-up, I intend to sling a lot of legal bullshit in there.”

“What kind?” Huang asks.

“The kind I’m currently making up,” Pierce says. “All I ask is that you roll with me, give me backup.”

Huang wants to argue the point but lets it go. Why get the Army lawyer all spun up now? When this investigation is finished, poor Pierce will probably get disbarred anyway.

“Sure, Allen,” he says. “I’ll do that.”

A few minutes later, they are in the same reception area as before, with an angry Chief Richard Kane staring at them both.

“What?” he says. “You say you’re going to do what?”

Huang is impressed at how calm and professional Pierce is, facing down the police chief with nothing to back him up but his lawyer’s tongue.

“Like I said, Chief,” Pierce says, standing straight and firm, “I intend to spend the night here with Dr. Huang to ensure nothing happens to the three Army personnel before tomorrow’s court hearing. We don’t have to be in their cells or near their cells, but we will remain here, keeping track of jail staff and any visitors they may receive.”

The chief explodes with a series of obscenities and finally says, “What the hell gives you the right? You think I’m running a goddamn Motel 6 here or something? Why should I allow you two to stay here without a warrant?”

Huang admires Pierce for not giving an inch. “At this moment, Chief, a team from the FBI’s Civil Rights Unit is en route to investigate you, this facility, and your personnel.”

“Civil rights? What the hell are you talking about?”

Pierce gives the angry chief a tight smile. “Specialist Vinnie Tyler. The Ranger who allegedly killed himself in his cell? Have you forgotten him? We certainly haven’t. And neither has the Army. Among any other crimes you and your department may have committed, you most definitely violated the specialist’s civil rights.”

Huang sees exhaustion, anger, and confusion in the chief’s eyes.

It’s his turn.

Huang says, “In my professional opinion, Chief Kane, you and your personnel offered a hostile environment that adversely affected Specialist Tyler’s health. That means you and everyone else here is criminally liable.”

“You—”

Pierce jumps right back in. “But with us staying here, keeping watch and recording everyone coming in and out, ensuring nothing untoward happens to the three surviving Rangers, that may help mitigate the situation once the FBI arrives. It will put them in a…better frame of mind.”

Huang sees the chief’s head moving, looking at the JAG lawyer and then at him. Huang imagines what the chief is thinking. An arrest made in a major crime case involving multiple homicides should have been a wonderful publicity coup for a small town like this. Increased media attention, Well done s from his fellow cops, even the local mayor and council in a mood to increase the department’s budget next year.

Huang knows what the quick glance means from the chief.

He’s looking for a way out.

Huang says, “Chief, I know this is an intrusion. And you’ve got a lot going on with all that news media out there, and with the FBI arriving—”

“Tomorrow,” Pierce says. “The FBI will be here tomorrow.”

“But we won’t disturb you or your staff,” Huang goes on. “We’ll stay here in the reception area. We won’t bother or interact with anyone. We’ll just sit in place.”

The chief’s eyes are still glaring at them with anger, but Huang senses the man is giving up.

“All right,” he says, stepping back. “You two…you sit out here. You don’t move, ’cept if you’ve gotta take a piss. And you’re on your own. Don’t expect food, water, or a blanket. Got it?”

Pierce moves to a nearby orange plastic chair. “Got it, Chief.”

The chief opens the door leading to the department’s offices, making sure to slam it good and hard.

Huang sits down next to Pierce. “Good job,” he says to Pierce.

Pierce just nods, then points to a sign over the doorway leading into the jail.

ALL CONVERSATIONS SUBJECT TO AUDIO AND VIDEO RECORDING.

Huang nods in return, getting the message.

Then Pierce shifts in his chair, pulls out his 9mm SIG Sauer pistol, and slides it between his right leg and the chair.

Huang gets that message as well.

Chapter 79

SPECIAL AGENT MANUEL SANCHEZ is walking to the nurses’ station at the entrance to the Trauma ICU when he stops and quickly looks back.