Chapter 5 - THE DETECTIVEDetective Samuel Kerr was fifty-two years old, twenty-eight years into a respected law-enforcement career, and very good at looking like the safest man in the room.
I just made sure nobody could see the man who came with me.
Marcus arrived through the eastern garage entrance six minutes after I sent him the message.
No uniform.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
“Tell me you didn't call local police,” I said.
“I called nobody.”
“Good.”
“That's a depressing sentence.”
“Today is depressing.”
Hospital security had locked down the public exits, but whoever had taken Lily had used a transport elevator connected to the physician parking structure.
Level Six.
The text told me to walk there alone.
I left my deployment bag with Marcus.
“No heroics,” he said.
“I was about to tell you that.”
“Yeah, but mine sounded more convincing.”
We split.
I took the stairwell.
Marcus disappeared toward another access point.
Level Six was nearly empty.
Rain tapped against the open sides of the concrete structure.
A white medical transport van sat forty yards away.
Engine running.
Scar stood beside it.
His real name, I would later learn, was Dominic Rourke.
At that moment, he was just the man who had helped carry my unconscious wife from our house.
Two other men stood nearby.
Neither had been in the hallway earlier.
“Hands where we see them,” Rourke called.
I stopped.
“You have my wife.”
“She isn't hurt.”
I looked at him.
He actually had the nerve to say it.
“Then bring her out.”
“First the drive.”
“I don't have it.”
Rourke smiled.
“Victor said you'd say that.”
“Victor's wrong.”
“He's rarely wrong.”
“You should update your résumé.”
The smile disappeared.
A side door on the van opened.
Lily lay on a stretcher inside.
Still unconscious.
A masked hospital orderly stood beside her.
Rage flared behind my ribs.
I forced it down.
“Let me see her.”
“You can see enough.”
“What did you give her?”
“Nothing dangerous.”
“What?”
“Sedative.”
The restraint it took not to cross that concrete floor was greater than anything I'd done in six months overseas.
Rourke extended his hand.
“The ledger.”
“I told you, I don't have it.”
“Then call Malcolm.”
That confirmed it.
“You think I know Malcolm?”
“We saw him at your house.”
“So did I.”
“He took something.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
“Because Malcolm contacted your wife months ago. She helped him.”
The pieces shifted.
Lily hadn't accidentally discovered everything.
She had been investigating.
“Why?”
Rourke shrugged.
“Good people develop bad habits. Curiosity. Morality.”
“You almost killed her for being moral?”
“No.”
He looked toward the van.
“Victor wanted to talk.”
“Four stairs?”
“That wasn't the plan.”
“So who lost control?”
For the first time, Rourke's jaw tightened.
Good.
One of the two men beside him shifted.
Young.
Nervous.
I looked at him.
“You?”
He looked away.
Rourke snapped, “Shut up.”
I hadn't spoken to Rourke.
But his reaction answered the question.
The young man had hurt Lily.
I filed his face away.
Not for revenge.
For court.
Lily had asked me to remain her husband.
That meant these men needed to survive long enough to explain everything to a jury.
Footsteps sounded from the stairwell behind me.
Rourke smiled.
“You thought we'd let you walk in armed?”
“I didn't.”
A man searched me.
No weapon.
He stepped back.
“Clean.”
Rourke nodded toward the van.
“Get closer.”
I walked.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Lily's face was pale beneath the parking lights.
Her chest rose.
That mattered.
Then I saw something reflected in the van window.
Marcus.
Two levels across.
Positioned behind a concrete barrier.
He could see Rourke.
Rourke couldn't see him.
The young nervous man stepped closer to me.
“Phone.”
I handed it over.
He checked recent calls.
Then froze.
“What?”
He looked at Rourke.
“There are no calls to Malcolm.”
“I told you.”
Rourke studied me.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes.”
His expression changed.
“When?”
Pause.
“Are you sure?”
He looked at me.
Then ended the call.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Police just found Malcolm Reed dead.”
That hit harder than I expected.
If true, our only direct link to the evidence was gone.
Rourke smiled.
“So now we have a problem.”
“You already had one.”
“What's that?”
“Your boss believed Malcolm had the drive.”
“He did.”
“Then someone killed him before you recovered it.”
Rourke's smile faded.
I kept going.
“That means somebody besides Victor is cleaning this up.”
Silence.
“Maybe one of the seven men outside Lily's room isn't as loyal as Victor thinks.”
Rourke stepped closer.
“You're bluffing.”
“Am I?”
His eyes moved.
Not much.
Toward the young man.
Interesting.
I had introduced uncertainty.
Sometimes that was enough.
A phone rang inside the van.
Not Rourke's.
Lily's.
The masked orderly looked down.
The ringtone was unmistakable.
“Here Comes the Sun.”
Our song.
Rourke cursed.
“Turn that off.”
The orderly reached for Lily's belongings bag.
I moved.
Fast.
I drove my shoulder into Rourke before the others processed what had happened.
He hit the van.
Marcus appeared behind the second man.
A short struggle.
No gunfire.
No dramatic choreography.
Just confusion.
Momentum.
Surprise.
The young man reached toward his waistband.
“Don't,” I said.
Something in my voice stopped him.
Marcus had Rourke pinned.
The hospital orderly ran.
I opened the van.
“Lily.”
She didn't respond.
I checked her breathing.
Steady.
Then her phone rang again inside the bag.
Unknown caller.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice said, “Ethan?”
Malcolm.
I froze.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“That's the idea.”
I looked at Marcus.
He heard enough to understand.
“Where are you?”
“Not safe.”
“Do you have the drive?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Lily say church?”
“Because that's where we put the original documents.”
“What documents?”
“Not financial records.”
“What?”
“Names.”
“What names?”
Malcolm inhaled.
“Victor isn't the top of this.”
Police sirens began echoing below.
“Who is?”
“The man who has been protecting Victor for twelve years.”
“Name.”
“You met him today.”
My eyes went to Rourke.
No.
He wasn't the man.
Malcolm continued.
“The gray suit wasn't the only powerful man in that hallway.”
I replayed the scene.
Eight men.
Victor.
Seven younger men.
Wait.
One man had stood near the elevator when I arrived.
Older than the rest.
Plain dark jacket.
I'd assumed he was hospital security because of the clipped badge on his belt.
I barely registered him.
“Who?”
Malcolm whispered the name.
“Detective Samuel Kerr.”
The same detective who had signed Lily's accident report.
The same detective who had been first on scene.
The same detective who now came walking onto Level Six with four uniformed officers.
Gun drawn.
“Everybody on the ground!”
Marcus and I looked at each other.
May you like
Kerr pointed the weapon directly at me.
And smiled.
