Diane Burke - Hidden in Plain View

He hit speed dial on his phone and barked orders the second his partner answered.

“Joe, we have a problem. Get over here, stat.”

They’d been partners long enough that when Joe heard the tension in his voice, he was on full alert, and any drowsiness in his tone from interrupted sleep was gone.

“What happened?”

“Fitch is dead. Sarah might be, too. It’s total chaos here.”

Muttered expletives floated through the receiver. “On my way.”

“Notify Rogers and call for backup.”

“Okay. Where can I find you?”

“Making sure that every window, door and crack of this hospital is sealed shut so this piece of slime doesn’t escape.”

Sam ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He stole one more precious second to glance down the hall at Sarah’s door. Every fiber of his being wanted to know what was going on in that room. Had they been able to save her? Or was she dead? The fact that no one had come out of the room yet must be a good sign, right? He had to fight the urge to run back and see what was happening. But no matter what was going on inside that room, he would not be able to help. This time logic won out.

He did what he was trained to do. He compartmentalized his emotions and focused on doing his job. He sprinted down the stairwell, his feet barely touching the stairs, and made it from the fourth floor to the lobby in record time. The sound of approaching sirens and the sight of flashing red-and-blue lights as vehicles slammed to a stop in front of the building told him that both Joe and hospital security had also gone straight to work.

Security guards were already at the entrance. They looked confused and highly nervous, but Sam had to admire how quickly and well they had sprung into action. No one was getting in or out of the building right now except cops.

Sam met with the head of security and asked to see the building’s floor plans. Once they were in hand, he began to coordinate a thorough hospital search room by room, floor by floor, while making sure that all exits were covered. For the time being, no one would be allowed to exit, for any reason, from anywhere.

Twenty minutes after he’d called Joe, Sam saw his partner flash his badge and hurry through the front door. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to greet him.

Joe stopped short when he saw Sam approach. He shoved both hands into his coat pockets and scowled. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“The killer entered Sarah’s room dressed in Amish garb.” Before Joe could ask, Sam said, “He killed the police officer assigned to guard the door. It was Brian Fitch.”

The detectives knew the officer well. A deep frown etched grooves on both sides of Joe’s mouth.

“Has anybody notified his wife?”

“Not yet.”

“And Sarah?”

“I think the guy injected something into Sarah’s IV to stop her heart.”

“Is she dead? Were they able to resuscitate her?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to check. I’ve been organizing the search.”

Joe’s shocked expression echoed the one Sam was sure he wore as well. “How did this happen? Nobody can be this lucky. The guy’s a ghost.”

“The guy’s no ghost. He’s as much flesh and blood as you and me.”

“I just don’t understand. What happened?” Joe shot a bewildered look at Sam.

“I was there, Joe. Right there.” The remorse in his voice was evident. “He got past me anyway and got to Sarah.”

“Were you hurt? Did he hit you over the head or something?”

A red-hot flush of shame and embarrassment coated Sam’s throat and face. “Sarah was sleeping. I’d stepped into her bathroom to throw some cold water on my face. I didn’t hear him come in until it was too late. The room was dark. He threw something at me. It distracted me enough that he was able to get past me.”

Joe nodded. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It could have happened to any of us.”

“But it didn’t. It happened on my watch. Mine, Joe.”

Joe grimaced. They’d been partners long enough that Sam knew Joe understood this was about more than what was happening now. This shame and pain and anger stretched back to another time and another place, when Sam had been helpless to save loved ones or bring perps to justice.

Joe patted Sam’s arm, empathy evident in his eyes, and then changed the subject. “Where do we stand with the search?”

“The best I’ve been able to do is get all the exits covered. We’re dealing with graveyard shift. We don’t have a lot of warm bodies in the security department right now.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Downstairs.” Sam walked with Joe to the elevator bank. “I don’t believe the guy will try to walk out any of the obvious exits. He’s got to know they’re the first places we’d shut down. Check every single room in the basement. Housekeeping has storage rooms, supply rooms. I think there are even some employee lockers and break rooms down there. And, of course, the morgue and the autopsy rooms. I’ve sent security guards to the loading platform by the morgue, but I’ll feel better if one of us is checking things out.”

“You got it.”

The elevator doors opened, and Joe stepped inside.

“Be careful. Fitch was found dead with his throat slashed.”

“Great. Just what I want to hear.” His mouth twisted in a wry grin just as the doors shut.

Within thirty minutes of the initial alert, the SWAT team, special weapons and tactics, arrived, quickly followed by Captain Rogers. Sam shared what he knew, and they took over command of the ongoing search.

They hadn’t located the perpetrator yet. But the hospital looked like a military camp in Afghanistan for all the uniformed and armed personnel swarming the halls. They’d catch him.

Sam threw a glance at his captain and saw the man in a deep conversation with both the SWAT team leader and the head of hospital security. Everything that could be done was being done. Finally, he’d have a moment to find out what had happened to Sarah.

* * *

Adrenaline hammered through the intruder’s blood stream, and the beat of his heart thundered in his chest. Who knew all those morning jogs along the beach outside his home would have prepared him for the race of his life? He’d made it down five flights of stairs into the basement without anyone seeing him and, he was certain, before anyone could even sound the alarm.

What a rush! He thought it had been too simple when he caught the cop sneaking away for a break. But that’s why he loved operating during the graveyard shift. People often snuck away or fell asleep. Made his job so much easier.

But when he’d slipped inside the darkened hospital room, he’d never expected someone might be in the bathroom.

The man had been dressed like an Amish guy, but he wasn’t any more Amish than he was. Not carrying that 9 mm Beretta he had fired at him. He was probably an undercover cop.

Undercover cop. Undercover villain. Both disguised in Amish garb. The whole situation was laughable—and dangerous.

He stood with his back against the wall of the storage closet, trying to quiet the sound of his heavy gasps.

He could hear the pounding of feet racing down the corridor and hear the anxious, high-pitched whispers the guards shot to each other as they did a quick search of every room.

The sounds grew louder as the men approached his hiding spot.

He pushed into the far back corner of the room and crouched behind a utility cart with a large white mop and aluminum bucket attached. His hand tightened around the pistol grip of his gun, and he waited.

The door to the closet swung open. One of the security guards scanned the room with a flashlight. Just as quickly, he was gone.