Diane Burke - Hidden in Plain View

Idiots.

They hadn’t even bothered to throw on the light switch or step into the room. No wonder hospital security guards had the reputation of being toy cops. How did they expect to find anyone with such a lazy, half-done search?

He grinned and relaxed his hand, lowering his weapon.

Lucky for them they were stupid, or they’d be dead security guards just about now.

He stepped out from behind the cart when a sudden flash of light made him squint and raise his hand to his eyes. Someone had thrown on the switch, illuminating the room, and it took his eyes a second to adjust.

“Don’t move! Drop your weapon and slide it over to me. Do it now!”

This wasn’t a security guard. He looked into eyes of cold, hard steel. This must be a detective. A smart one, too.

Slowly, he lowered his weapon to the floor and kicked it in the detective’s direction.

The detective moved farther into the room, never lowering his gun. He stepped to the side and withdrew a pair of handcuffs with his free hand. “Nice and easy now. Put your hands out where I can see them, and slowly walk over here.”

Again, he did as requested.

The detective clasped a cuff onto his right wrist.

With speed resulting from years of martial arts training, he spun, released the blade sheathed on the inside of his sleeve and slashed the detective’s throat.

The killer grinned. He always loved the look of surprise and horror on his victims’ faces, and this detective looked shocked, indeed.

He removed his Amish clothes and quickly donned the detective’s cheap brown suit. His lips twisted in disgust. The pants were about two inches too short, the waist at least two sizes too big, and the sleeves of the suit jacket revealed too much forearm. He shoved some towels under his shirt and cinched his belt tight to hold them in and his pants up.

He glowered at the pant length. When a scenario like this played out in the movies, the exchanged clothes were always a perfect fit. Just his luck this wasn’t a movie. But he’d have to make do.

He slipped the detective’s badge onto his belt, retrieved both guns from the floor and took one last look around to make sure he left nothing of significance behind. His eyes paused on the dead body.

“Sorry, buddy. You were good. Much better than those security guard wannabes. But I’m better. You never stood a chance.”

He used a towel to wipe away fingerprints on the light switch and doorknob. He shut off the light, glanced up and down the empty corridor, stepped into the hall and leisurely walked away.

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