CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Caden rubbed bleary eyes. He’d found the break room sofa and spent the night in the morgue after Clarissa had kicked him out of the autopsy room. She’d done it somewhat gently, but nevertheless hadn’t been forthcoming with any information other than she was working almost nonstop to find something useful for him. Which he greatly appreciated, he just wished she would find it sooner rather than later. Like now. Too bad Joan had left. She would have been nicer. A fact he’d refrained from throwing in Clarissa’s face simply because it would have made her mad.

A glance at the clock on the wall pulled a groan from him. Four o’clock. He shifted, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position, and shut his eyes once more as he decided his partner was the smart one. Zane had opted for a hotel room.

Caden wasn’t sure what made him stay. Almost a protective instinct. Like he didn’t want to leave the victims, because if he did, he might miss something—or not learn something in time.

In time for what, he had no idea.

At five thirty, he gave up, read two “I’m fine” texts from Sarah, listened to a voice mail from her, and rolled to his feet. Sarah. Another reason he wasn’t sleeping well these days. She was going to make him gray before his time. But it looked like she had electricity right now, so that was a plus.

Thirty minutes later, Caden stepped out of the men’s room, dressed in clean clothes and carrying the backpack that held all of his essential toiletries.

His next stop was the autopsy room.

Empty.

Which meant Clarissa was finished. So why hadn’t she called or texted? Tension threading his shoulders and the base of his neck, he walked to her office.

And found her seated in her chair, head on her desk, phone in her right hand. Worry spiked. He strode to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Clarissa?”

Her head popped up and she gasped. Then dropped her phone to rub her face. She blinked up at him. “Oh. Caden, I was getting ready to text you.”

He wanted to know what she knew, but more importantly . . . “Are you all right?”

“Um . . . yes. I think so. Everything took longer than I thought it would because I had to check and double-check, then wake up one of the other pathologists to ask him some questions and I guess . . .” She picked up her phone and looked at the screen. “I guess I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What is it you had to check and double-check?”

She hesitated. “They’re still working at the site, but one of the bodies that was brought in while I was still working on John Doe A was a recent death. An adult probably in his early thirties. He was killed with a gunshot to the forehead and it wasn’t self-inflicted.”

Caden frowned. “Okay. So what does that tell you?”

“Nothing much other than he was murdered. Finding his identity will go a long way toward discovering who the rest of the victims are, though.”

“Agreed.”

“I sent his prints to AFIS but haven’t heard anything yet.” She covered her mouth and yawned. “I need coffee.”

He went to the Keurig set up on a table in the corner and turned it on. “So, what else?”

“He was buried with a child who was probably in the ten-year-old range. I did the autopsies on both. The ten-year-old was missing both kidneys and a heart.”

Caden stilled, a sinking feeling in his gut. “Okay.”

“The girl, Jane Doe A, was much more decomposed, but I think she was missing a heart as well. It was really hard to tell, but definitely possible.”

“Organ trafficking,” he spat.

She held up a hand. “Maybe. It’s a little too soon to call it, but . . .”

“But?”

“The adult had all of his organs intact.”

“Were the two related? The man and the boy?”

“I wondered the same thing—and figured you would ask—and had the lab run an expedited DNA paternity test. Not even close. There’s no way they’re related. Not by blood anyway. The kid could have been adopted, I suppose.”

“Okay.” He scrubbed a hand down his cheek.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more, Caden. After I grab a shower and a couple more hours of sleep, I’ll get back to it and hopefully have a few more answers for you. Joan will be here too. I know you like her more than me.”

“Hey, now, that’s not true.” It really wasn’t.

“Uh-huh. She’s a pushover for a pretty face.” She winked. If she truly believed it, she didn’t seem to care.

He gave her bicep a quick squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

He called his partner and caught him entering the building. “I’m on the way down. You don’t have to come up.”

“Was it worth it?” Zane asked when he and Caden stepped outside.

“What?”

“That crick in your neck.” He smirked.

Caden didn’t feel like being ribbed this morning. “Yeah. It was.”

Zane recognized Caden’s mood, heard his report, and turned serious. “So, we pass this info on to Deveraux and the sheriff and then find out who the guy with the bullet in his skull is.”

“That’s the plan for now.”

Caden’s phone rang and Annie’s smiling face appeared on the screen. He’d sent their tech guru the pictures Sarah had snuck of the two men. He tapped the green button. “Hey.”

“Hey, so I finally got a chance to run these two down. They’re military. Or ex-military as the case may be. They were discharged a little over two weeks ago for violence against fellow soldiers.”

“But no prison time?”

“No. It’s kind of weird. There’s not a whole lot of information saying why they were discharged and there’s no arrest record, no prison time, nothing. They were just kicked out of the military and sent home. Current location for both men is unknown. There’ve been no credit card transactions, no loans, no credit hits. They are definitely staying off the radar.”

“Sounds like they cut a deal and disappeared together.”

“Maybe—on the cutting-a-deal thing. That’s not in here either. It’s very vague and very secretive.”

“Names?”

“Mario Ricci and Victor Hamilton.”

Asher studied his vehicle while Brooke stood just inside the hotel door. He’d duct-taped a small compact mirror Brooke had given him to the end of an unraveled wire coat hanger. It wasn’t a professional-grade tool, but it would do. In Afghanistan, he or someone else checked their vehicles several times each day for explosives. When he’d first returned home, he did the same every time he had to go somewhere.

Over the past month, he’d gradually forced himself to get out of the habit and now wished he hadn’t been so determined to do so. He held the mirror under the truck and made his way around the perimeter. Then the wheels, the trunk, the bumper, the roof. He returned to the back and noticed the license plate looked . . . off. He wiggled it. One screw was tight, the other moved. Asher unscrewed the loose one and the plate swung down.

And there it was.

A flat GPS tracker about one inch in diameter. He pulled the device off and crushed it beneath his heel before replacing the plate. “Let’s go see Ricci.” Asher’s friend from the hospital had called and said the doctors were bringing Mario Ricci out of his medically induced coma and he was showing signs of waking.

“Okay.” She climbed into his damaged truck and fastened her seat belt.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, with security leading and trailing behind, Asher and Brooke stepped out of the elevator and followed the signs to the intensive care unit.

Caden waited at the electronic doors, talking on his phone. When he turned and saw them approaching, he hung up. “Good to finally meet you two in person.”

Asher shook the outstretched hand and introduced him to Brooke.

The agent was tall. Easily six feet five and built like a linebacker. Dark hair and with emerald green eyes and a five-o’clock shadow, he no doubt drew stares from men and women alike simply because he looked like he should be in a magazine—or on a movie screen. Right alongside Heather Fontaine.

Frankly, Asher didn’t care what the man looked like as long as he could get them back to see Ricci. The fact that Brooke’s eyes lingered shouldn’t have sent a dart of jealousy shooting through him. But it did. The fact that he didn’t see a hint of interest there calmed the green-eyed monster. He cleared his throat. “Appreciate you meeting us.”

“Of course. Somehow this guy is connected to Sarah and whatever she’s investigating. And now his name shows up in conjunction with the two of you? I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I’ve got other cases on hold at the moment to see if we can figure out the connection.”

“Works for me,” Brooke said.

Caden slapped the button on the wall, and the doors swung open. Asher took in the setup of the unit. A row of offices to his left, patient rooms to the right as well as the far side of the nurses’ station planted securely in the middle. A monitor station at the rear with an exit to the stairs just beyond. His brain registered all this in seconds.

The nurse looked up from her station and smiled. “May I help you?”

Caden flashed his credentials. “We’re here to see Mr. Mario Ricci.”

The woman’s smile slid into a frown. “The officers have already changed shifts.”

“We’re not here for shift change, just to—”

Asher let the two hash it out while he draped an arm across Brooke’s shoulders and took a few steps back. Brooke frowned up at him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“No one’s watching, so I figured we’d wander down here and see what we can see.”

“Asher, I don’t think—”

He placed a finger on her lips and she fell silent. “Room 6,” he whispered. “I think it’s on the other side near the monitor station.”

When they reached room 6, Asher stopped. Frowned. She looked up at him. “What is it?”

“Thought the nurse said they’d switched out guards.”

“She did.”

“And yet there’s no one on the room.” He dropped his arm from her shoulders and strode to the door to look in the large window. Ricci lay in the bed, attached to numerous machines. A police officer stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the patient.

Asher narrowed his eyes. That was no cop. He backed away before the man could see him.

“What is it?” Brooke asked.

“Get Caden. Victor Hamilton is in the room with Ricci. He’s dressed as a cop. Now I know why I recognized the voice. He was the one at Miranda’s house and was probably one of the guys chasing us in the black van. I’m going to need backup. And hospital security.”

She spun on her heel and darted off. Asher stepped up to the door once more and looked in. Hamilton hadn’t moved and Asher couldn’t read his expression. The man looked up to catch him watching. Alarm flared, then settled into resignation. Asher nudged the door open, keeping his hand on his weapon.

“What’s going on?” Caden asked, stepping up beside him.

“Special Agent Caden Denning, meet Victor Hamilton,” Asher said. “He and Ricci and I served together overseas. I’ve got lots of questions for you.”

Hamilton nodded. “I’m sure you do.”

“Like why you’re impersonating a police officer, but most importantly, what’s so special about that bracelet you and Ricci and the other guy were so desperate to get your hands on.”

The man fingered the badge. “Doesn’t matter.” He took another look at Ricci as the machines beeped and whirred. “He saved my life, you know.”

“I was there. He saved mine at the same time, remember?”

“Let me see your hands,” Caden said.

In a swift move, Hamilton raised his right hand. His weapon pointed at Asher. Asher’s muscles tensed, and the agent next to him slid his hand into his jacket.

“No, no,” Hamilton said, waving the muzzle of the gun at Caden. “Leave it alone.”

Caden lowered his hand. “Put it down,” he said. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve got to try. Now move away from the door. Get up by the head of the bed. Go.”

Asher and Caden moved.

Hamilton’s eyes flicked to the man in the bed once more before returning to Asher.

“Ricci spotted the bomb strapped to the guy as I was walking up to him,” Hamilton said. “And he yanked me behind that hill just as the bomber detonated it.” He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do it. I told him I could, but I can’t.”

“What? Kill him before he wakes up to talk?” Asher asked.

Hamilton gave a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Who gave the order?”

A cold hardness stole over his face. “That doesn’t matter either.”

“Did you kill the secretary?” Asher asked in an attempt to keep him talking while waiting for security—or to take the man down. “At Brooke’s office?”

“Not me. Ricci. He thought she was the shrink.”

So Brooke had been right. Sharon had died simply because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “What did Michaels find that warranted him being set up as a traitor?” he asked.

“I’m not talking, so you might as well quit asking.” Hamilton grabbed two pairs of handcuffs from his belt and tossed one set to Asher. “Cuff yourself to the bed. Now.” The other pair he threw to Caden. “You too. Glad I chose to steal a uniform from a cop who likes to be prepared.” Most cops carried two sets of cuffs. He backed toward the door. “If you get loose and chase me, I’ll start killing people I pass. You may get me in the end, but I’ll take a lot of people with me before you do. If you let me walk out of here, no one else dies. No one will even know I was here. I’m going to back out of the room and I’ll be watching the window. If I see either one of you before I reach the exit, someone will die. If you alert the cops that I’m here, someone will die. Am I clear?”

“You have to pass in front of the monitor station,” Asher said. “Someone’s going to guess something’s wrong if they see you walking away and leaving the room unprotected.”

“I’ll be gone by the time they figure out what—as long as you two behave.”

“Where’s the cop?”

Hamilton stilled. “What?”

“The cop who was wearing the uniform you stole.”

The man scowled. “Don’t worry, he’ll wake up with a headache, but he’ll live.” With that, he slipped out of the door, tucking his weapon into his armpit, effectively hiding it, yet leaving the barrel clear so he could fire off a round if he needed to.

Caden yanked on the cuffs. “I’ve got a key in my pocket. Can you reach it?”

Since Asher had cuffed his hands below Caden’s, he simply slid his wrists down the pole next to the agent’s pocket. It was awkward and it used up precious time, but he managed to twist his fingers and grasp the key. After two failed attempts, he got it out. “He’ll do it, you know,” he said. “He might not have been able to kill Ricci, but Ricci saved his life more than once. Hamilton has no connection to the people out there and won’t hesitate to do what he said.”

“We can’t just let him walk out of here.”

“Of course not,” Asher said, even as Caden was attempting to pull his ringing phone from his pocket. “Be still, will you?”

Caden sent the call to voice mail. “We can’t let him escape, but we can’t let him know security is looking for him either.”

“He’ll head for an exit—probably not the nearest one.” He paused and the lock clicked on Caden’s cuff. He turned the key on his and was soon free, then handed the key back to Caden, who released his other wrist from the steel bracelet. “The only reason he didn’t kill us right here,” Asher said, “is that he didn’t want to cause a hospital lockdown.”

“He thinks he’s going to walk out of here.”

“Yeah—and he knows we’re going to follow as soon as we’re free. He also knows we’ll try to be discreet because we don’t want innocent people dead. Which makes him believe he can get out of the hospital and escape before a full-on search is called for.”

The door to the room opened and a frantic nurse pulled to a stop. “A woman said the cop wasn’t really a cop and he had a gun pulled.”

“Great,” Asher said. “Call security and tell them not to confront him and not to lock the hospital down.” Caden hesitated and Asher gave him a hard look. “I know this guy. He’s a trained soldier with the heart of a killer and he won’t let a few dead people stand in his way to freedom.”

Caden placed the call while Asher bolted to the door’s window.

“You see him?” Caden asked.

“No, he’s gone.”

“Is this security?” Caden identified himself. “Good. Yeah, yeah, the guy with the reported gun. Don’t let him know you’re on to him.” He gave a quick explanation of the situation. “Cover all exits and try to get everyone away from them. He’s armed and dangerous. Don’t let him know you have him spotted, but don’t lose sight of him. I repeat, he will shoot. Keep your distance, help is on the way.” Asher and Caden stepped out of the room. “I’m going after Hamilton, you stay with Brooke,” Caden said and darted for the exit.

Asher didn’t bother responding as the man disappeared before he could blink. He looked around and his pulse pounded. Staying with Brooke might be a problem since she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

He rushed to the monitor station and found two men and the young woman who’d entered Ricci’s room to tell them about the gun. They talked in hushed tones, obviously trying to decide what to do. “Did you see a woman about five feet six inches with blonde hair? Really pretty?”

“I did,” the woman said. “She’s the one who reported the cop with a gun in room 6, then went out the door to the stairs just about a minute or two ago.” She pointed. “The same way the cop left. He also looked like he was in a hurry. Why did he have his gun out?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s being taken care of and you guys are safe.” He backed toward the exit.

“Wait a minute,” she called, “where’s the officer who’s supposed to be guarding the patient? Sir? Sir?”

“Call security and get someone on his room! Just tell them the other officer had an emergency and you need coverage.” Not really concerned that the man so near death would be a threat, Asher pushed open the door to the stairs and followed after Caden and Brooke. Only Caden wouldn’t realize Brooke was ahead of him.

He sure hoped Victor Hamilton didn’t know she was behind him.