Читать книгу Hidden in Plain View - Diane Burke - Страница 12

THREE

“There’s been another murder.”

Apprehension straightened Sam’s spine. “Another murder? Who? When?”

“Not here. Follow me.” Captain Rogers, Joe and Sam strode briskly to the conference room and took their seats. The tension in the room was almost palpable.

Sam stole a moment to study his superior’s face. The past seven days had made their mark. He noted his captain’s furrowed brow, the lines of strain etched on each side of his mouth, but what caught his attention the most was the bone-weary fatigue he saw in his eyes. The political pressure to find a quick solution to a complicated, ever-worsening scenario was taking its toll.

The captain folded his hands on the table. “There’s no sugarcoating this, so I’m just going to say it. Around 2:00 a.m. last night, Steven Miller was murdered.”

“Steven Miller?” Sam leaned back in his chair. “Isn’t that the name of the second diamond-heist robber?” He threw a hurried glance at both men. “Didn’t we have him in custody?”

“Yep. Same guy.” Joe’s expression was grim. “We had him under armed guard in a secluded room in a medical center in the Bronx.”

“Special Agent Lopez called me first thing this morning.” Captain Rogers wiped a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. “The man was suffocated with one of his own pillows.”

“How could something like this happen? He was under armed guard. Did they at least catch the guy?”

“No. He did it on the graveyard shift, when there would be fewer people roaming the halls or in attendance. Once Miller’s heart stopped, the monitors went off at the nurse’s station. By the time the nurse and crash cart personnel arrived at the room, he had disappeared.”

“Any leads? Witnesses?” Sam tried to calm his racing thoughts. This shooter had walked into a hospital and murdered a man in police custody. The degree of difficulty to keep Sarah safe just rose several more notches.

“We believe it was the ring leader of the group,” Rogers said. “The same guy we’re expecting to show up here. We figure he left here right after the schoolhouse shootings and returned to New York. He spent the week tracking down the whereabouts of his partner in crime, did his surveillance of the medical center and set a plan in motion. He’s never left anyone alive who could identify him. He wasn’t about to leave one of his team in the hands of the enemy.”

“I don’t believe this guy.” Sam ran his hand through his hair. He could feel his blood throb in a rapid beat on each side of his temple. “You’re telling me that he just walked up to a guarded room, slipped inside, killed our witness and left? Why didn’t our guards stop him? What did they have to say when they were questioned?”

“Nothing.” Joe’s expression grew grimmer. “The perp slit the guard’s throat. Nobody knows whether it was coming or going, so we’re not sure if that’s how he gained access or how he covered his tracks when he left. But we think it was on the way out, because a nurse reported that she had stopped and asked the police officer if he’d like a cup of coffee only moments before. She’d just sat down at her desk when the monitor alarm went off.”

“What about the surveillance cameras?” The throbbing in Sam’s temples became a full-blown headache. He closed his eyes for a second or two and rubbed his fingers on the tender spots beside his eyes before locking his gaze on Rogers. “We’re not chasing a shadow. He’s a flesh-and-blood man just like the rest of us. Somebody had to see something.”

Captain Rogers frowned. “Lopez identified someone he believes is the perp on the tapes. The suspect shows up in multiple camera shots and hides his face every time. Lopez sent the digital images to the FBI labs for further enhancement.”

“How did he get into the room in the first place?” Sam shot a glance between his partner and Captain Rogers. “We discussed his security plan with Lopez before he left. It seemed solid.”

“It was solid.” Rogers sighed heavily. “There was a police presence visible at the elevator banks, both in the lobby and the floor in question. There was an officer at the door of the patient’s room as well. Matter of fact, Lopez had created a dummy room with an armed guard, so it wouldn’t be easy for someone off the street to easily identify the actual location of our prisoner.”

“Yeah, I thought that part of the plan was brilliant myself,” Joe said. “I guess the dog we’re chasing is smart, too.”

“I don’t get it.” Sam was finding it difficult to process this new information. When he spoke again, he addressed his captain.

“Lopez told me he had a dual checkpoint in place. Every person entering that room would have had to be cleared—not just the doctors and nurses, but housekeeping and

dietary would have had to follow the same protocol. They had to be wearing a photo identification badge, and as a fail-safe that photo ID had to match the image in the guard’s laptop.

“Even if this guy did manage to create a fake badge, are you telling me that he was able to hack into the hospital personnel files and upload his picture so he’d pass the guard’s scrutiny?”

A slow, steady burn formed in his gut and spread through his body. Sam leaned back and threw his arms in the air. “If the guy is that good, we need him running the FBI, not running from it.”

“He found a loophole,” Captain Rogers said.

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Ya think?”

Rogers ignored the sarcasm.

“Lopez set up a failsafe plan for hospital personnel. He even went one step further and insured that the same police personnel rotated shifts on the door so anyone would question a stranger in uniform, and the officers would recognize their replacements. The guard would also log the time in and out of the room for each visitor.”

Sam leaned forward, waiting for more.

“What Lopez didn’t consider was that the culprit would create a fake FBI identity. There wasn’t anything on the laptop for FBI because Lopez intended to be the only one accessing the room. Unfortunately, he failed to make sure the guards knew it. That’s how we figure he got past the guard. He pretended to be one of Lopez’s own.”

“I told you,” Joe said. “The guy’s smart.”

Sam jumped to his feet. “Sarah...”

Captain Rogers waved Sam back down.

“Sit down, King. We’re taking care of it.”

“We need to move her to another floor ASAP,” Sam urged.

“I already talked with her doctor,” Joe said. “She’s stable enough to be moved out of ICU, so they are making arrangements for a private room as we speak.”

“Our men will be handling security on the door—not FBI, not hospital security guards—us.” Rogers glared at both of them. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to happen to that woman on our watch. Understood?”

Sam’s heart started to beat a normal rhythm for the first time since he’d heard of Steven Miller’s murder. He didn’t know how this guy could keep slipping through traps, avoiding surveillance cameras and sidestepping witnesses, but it didn’t matter. No matter what it took, Sam wasn’t going to let the jerk anywhere near Sarah or any of the people who loved her.

With renewed determination, he shoved back from the table and stood. “Captain, with all due respect, don’t you think we’ve talked enough? The ball is in our court now. We’d better get busy setting things in motion. The FBI botched this one, but we can’t afford to. If he shows up here, I intend to make sure he’s sorry he didn’t stay in New York—deadly sorry.”

“King.” The censoring tone in his superior’s voice cemented his feet to the floor. “Your Amish background gives you a leg up over my other officers. I picked you because I believe you can deal with the nuances of this case the best. But for that same reason, you need to be careful. You can’t let your emotions color your judgment and jeopardize this case. Everything by the book. Got it?”

Sam nodded.

“Good. Now get back to Sarah. I’m going to finalize the room move with the hospital administrator while Joe coordinates the shift coverage outside her door.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He was halfway down the hall with the door easing shut behind him before the captain had stopped speaking.

* * *

The man made a final adjustment to the fake beard that covered the lower part of his face, being sure to keep his upper lip clean, as was the Amish custom. He stared at the reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door and admired his handiwork.

The blond shaggy wig brushed the back of his neck. It made him twitch the way one might with an errant insect racing down your arm, and he shivered with disgust.

He was a man who took great pride in his appearance. His chestnut-brown hair was always faithfully groomed in a short, concise military cut. His fingernails were manicured at all times, his clothing choices impeccable. He’d be glad when this distasteful costume was no longer necessary.

He leaned in for a closer look at the blue contacts he’d worn to conceal his brown eyes. He finished off the look by donning a pair of plain, wire-rimmed glasses. The transformation was amazing.

He glanced down at his outfit. His clothes looked like they’d been woven a century ago. What kind of people willingly dressed like this?

He couldn’t wait to get out of this outfit and back into one of his expensive Armani suits. He longed to sit in his butter-soft leather chair, sip the prime Scotch from his private collection and gaze out his plate-glass window overlooking the ocean.

He hooked his fingers behind his suspenders, turned sideways and grunted with satisfaction.

One obstacle still remained.

He glanced at his immaculate nails. He’d have to go outside and dig in a flower bed. The thought of dirt under his fingernails actually caused his stomach to roil. But these men worked on farms. He imagined they grew used to the feeling of soil and debris as their manicure of the day. The thought made his lips twist into a frown of disgust.

Well, it wouldn’t be for long. Diamonds valued in the billions were definitely worth this ridiculous costume and a little dirt, weren’t they?

He sighed heavily. He’d have a very limited opportunity to interrogate the woman. But he wasn’t worried. If he couldn’t get her to tell him where she’d hidden the diamonds before he eliminated her, then he’d find them another way.

He rolled his white sleeves up to his elbows and smiled with satisfaction. Even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. If she had still been alive, that is. He paused for a moment and allowed himself to remember the look of panic and fear he’d seen in her eyes moments before he squeezed the life out of her.

He’d learned many things in his lifetime. One of the most important lessons was that when you needed to infiltrate enemy lines, it was best to blend in, give off an air of confidence, act like you belonged exactly where you were.

It had served him well over the years. His enemies had never sensed his presence—even though he was often right in their midst, hiding in plain sight, as the saying goes.

He stepped back, donned his straw hat and headed to the door.

* * *

Nighttime in hospitals always gave Sam the willies. Fewer staff. People speaking in whispers. Tonight his “willies alert” was operating on full throttle. Some cops called it gut instinct. Either way, Sam hated the tension that shot along his nerve endings, the fingers of unease that crept up his spine.

The only discernible sound as he moved through the empty corridors was the soft whirring of machines from open doorways, an occasional whimper of pain or a soft snore.

He was tired. Bone tired. He hadn’t had more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past thirty-six hours, and it was beginning to catch up with him. He wasn’t a kid anymore—thirty-four on his next birthday, and he needed those eight hours of sleep. Or at least six. Who was he kidding? He’d settle for four if he could snatch them.

He glanced into the rooms as he passed by. They’d taken a risk when they’d moved Sarah to the pediatric floor. He didn’t want to imagine the uproar the parents of these children would unleash if they had any idea that the bait to catch a killer had just been moved into their midst.

Captain Rogers had arranged the move. He firmly believed this would be the last floor in the hospital the perpetrator would expect to find Sarah. The captain didn’t seem worried about the sensitive location. He was certain that even if the killer did locate Sarah, the children would be safe because they weren’t his target. Sarah was.

Sam moved past the rooms filled with sleeping children. He offered a silent prayer that the captain hadn’t made a horrendous mistake. As he drew near Sarah’s room, he recognized the officer sitting in front of the door.

“Hey, Fitch, how’s it going?”

The policeman folded his newspaper and grinned when he saw Sam approach. He gestured with his head toward the door.

“You’d think she was a Hollywood celebrity or something. Orders came down from the top that this is the last day allowed for visitation. It’s been a steady stream of Amish folks in and out all afternoon saying their goodbyes. First thing tomorrow morning, the only Amish visitor allowed to visit is her former mother-in-law, Rebecca Lapp. No one else. Period.”

Sam nodded. “Good. How did everyone else take the news?”

“Truthfully, I think they were a little relieved. They’ve been taking turns keeping vigil at the hospital all week. I’m sure they want to return to their homes and their farms.”

Officer Brian Fitch stood and stretched his back. “I must admit I’m glad they’ve cut back on visiting. Less work for me. I hear the Amish go down when the sun does, so that’s probably why it’s been quiet the last few hours.” Fitch shot a glance at Sam’s Amish attire. “No offense intended or anything.”

Sam grinned. “None taken. You’re right. The Amish do go to bed early because they are up before dawn each day to begin their chores. Running a farm is not an easy task.”

Sam leaned his hand flat against the door and then paused before he pushed it open. “You look beat. Why don’t you go stretch your legs? Maybe grab a cup of coffee while you’re at it? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure?”

Sam opened his jacket and patted the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’m still a cop. Remember?”

Fitch grinned. “Yeah, well, you sure could fool me. You look like a natural fit with the rest of those folks. If I hadn’t recognized you from our precinct, I’d be checking your ID and trying to talk you out of visiting altogether.”

Sam grinned. “That coffee is calling your name, Fitch.”

“You want me to bring you something back?”

“No, I’m good.”

Taking advantage of Sam’s offer to cover the room, the guard nodded and hurried to the elevator banks, not giving Sam a chance to change his mind.

The telltale ding of the arriving elevator filled the silence of the night, and Fitch waved. Sam gave him a nod and then entered Sarah’s room.