Читать книгу Fatal Memories - Tanya Stowe - Страница 15

Dylan strode down the hospital hallway and nodded toward the nurses at their station. He was getting to be a familiar face here. Five days, and Joss still swam in pain and memory loss. He’d barely left her side, but there’d been no break in her pain, no flashes of recollection.

He was starting to worry. Every day the Serpientes grew stronger. Another body had been discovered in the desert, executed. The victim was another known gang member, but why he was executed and how he was connected to the Serpientes remained a mystery.

The group was so new and close-knit, he had not yet found anyone willing to inform on them. But they were making enemies with the rival gang, and some of those members were beginning to talk. Information had begun to filter in, and Dylan had taken the time to meet with his agents. That meant precious time away from Joss.

Holmquist stood outside her door, chatting with the guard. The supervisor gestured to the closed portal. “Her doctor’s in there now.”

“I see.” Dylan nodded. “Any change?”

Holmquist scuffed a foot in a frustrated gesture and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s asking for you though.”

Dylan tensed. Everyone had noticed and remarked on Joss’s growing attachment to him. She asked for him continually and seemed agitated when he was gone. “I was the first person she saw when she woke. I’m her only familiar face. That’s all.”

The captain stepped closer, away from the guard so only Dylan could hear. “Yeah. She trusts you. But I gotta wonder what you’re gonna do when she finds out you think she’s guilty.”

Dylan met the man’s level stare. “By that time her memory will have returned and it won’t matter what I think. Right now I want her to be as comfortable and relaxed as possible.”

Holmquist worked his jaw, a habit that showed his frustration. “Right. So you can solve your case. That’s all that matters, right?”

“That’s all that should matter to you too. The Serpientes are vicious and Joss could be their next victim. That’s more important than how she feels about me.”

“There’s more than one way to be a victim, Murphy.” His tone was stone cold. “Joss has been through enough. I don’t want to see her hurt more.”

Dylan met his gaze. “Trust me. Nothing hurts worse than knowing people are dead because of you.”

Joss’s supervisor studied him, but Dylan said no more. Finally the man turned away. “This case is going nowhere. We have no new leads and it’s not even in my jurisdiction. We will have to return to our regular duties monitoring the border checkpoints like nothing ever happened. It’ll be turned over to the police now that they’re involved.”

“And me.”

Holmquist twisted his neck from side to side as if it hurt. “And you.” The words seemed to leave him with a sour taste.

“You’ll be happy to know you’re still on the case. I just got word this morning. I’ve been given permission to expand the task force to include most of your unit. I need all the help I can get.”

“With you as the lead?”

Dylan nodded.

Holmquist looked away. “I don’t like your tactics, Murphy. You’re a driven man. But I guess you’re the one for the job. The sooner we get these creeps, the sooner Joss will be safe...from all of you.”

“You have my word, sir. Joss is safe with me. I intend to keep her comfortable while she regains her memory. Things between us won’t go any further than that.”

Holmquist studied Dylan. “I think you’re driven enough to keep that promise.”

Dylan tried not to flinch. He’d never thought of himself as driven. Strong-willed. Purposeful and successful. But not driven. Especially not so driven as to take advantage of Joss’s emotional state. No matter what Holmquist thought.

“Well, lead agent, I hope you have somewhere to go, because we’ve hit a dead end. Joss’s brother hasn’t shown up for work since the day before the cave-in. And what’s more, Maria Martinez, Walker’s girlfriend, and her family have disappeared. No one’s at home and the little sister hasn’t been to school.”

“We’re not at a dead end yet. One of my agents here in Tucson found a contact who’s talking. We have a name for their leader. Vibora.”

Holmquist shook his head. “Viper. Sounds about right for this guy. He’s crazy.”

“I’ve got my home office searching records for any connections to the name Vibora. If we can find a real name associated with that gang tag, we’ll have our first lead. See if you can expedite a search warrant for Walker’s apartment and the Martinez home.” He paused. “You should be happy. We didn’t find anything in Joss’s apartment.”

“Nope. It was clean as a whistle.”

“Well then, Joss is in the clear. You should be relieved.”

“I would be if any other special agent was in charge.”

Dylan smiled. “I think you just paid me a compliment.”

Holmquist returned a tight little smile before he turned and walked away. “Don’t let it go to your head, Murphy.”

* * *

“Are you telling me I might never regain my memory?” Joss held her breath. Doctor Hull avoided meeting her gaze by studying the computer screen on the cart by her bed.

“I’m saying it’s too soon to tell. Physically you are doing phenomenally well. Most people with a concussion as severe as yours would still be struggling to sit up. You were in excellent condition before your...accident.”

Joss’s jaw tightened. “That’s what they tell me. I, of course, don’t remember.”

The doctor’s eyebrows rose and he looked at her over the screen. “You’d think after what you’ve been through you would be willing to give yourself time to rest.”

She took a deep, tight breath. “If I knew what I’d been through, maybe I would. But right now all I want is to remember. I want my life back.”

“You still have no recollection of the accident or anything leading up to it?”

Joss closed her eyes and rested on the pillow. She willed her racing mind to be calm, to think...to remember. All she could see was a gray wall behind her closed eyes. Her jaw tightened and she looked at the older man.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just this irritating feeling that something is about to happen. I need to remember... I need to...” She sighed. “I need to stop something. But I don’t know how or even what it is.”

He pulled a pen light out of his coat pocket and kept up the conversation while he examined her pupils. “Maybe if you stop putting so much pressure on yourself, things will come back to you.”

“Someone tried to kill me. There’s a guard outside my hospital room and border-patrol officers hover around me 24/7. I don’t think I’m the one putting pressure on myself.”

He paused. “Are they bothering you? If you want me to ban them from your room, I will.”

She shook her head and the little movement brought on a twinge of vertigo. She closed her eyes, letting the moment of dizziness pass before she spoke again. “No. They’re trying to protect my feelings, so they won’t answer my questions. But that doesn’t help me when I know someone is trying to kill me. Or that I was found in a tunnel beneath the border, with a cache of drugs. They all seem to think I’m innocent, but...”

Dr. Hull waited, not rushing or pushing for a response. That, more than anything, gave her the courage to say what she really felt. “No matter how kind they are, that sounds guilty to me.”

“Is that how you feel—guilty?” He turned her head to the side, gently examining the bruise and swelling at the base of her skull.

Did she feel guilty? So many emotions swirled inside of her. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Mostly fear...of the unknown...of men she couldn’t remember trying to kill her. And now fear of not ever remembering. Of disappointing all of those very nice people outside her room.

They all seemed to care so much about her, and she couldn’t remember their names. As kind as they were, they seemed to want...need confirmation from her that she was innocent. Confirmation she couldn’t give them.

The only one who didn’t make her feel that way was Dylan. He didn’t seem to have expectations. At least not the same hopeful kind she sensed in everyone else. He made her feel like the truth was as important to him as it was to her.

The doctor’s gentle fingers touched a particularly tender spot and she winced.

“Still pretty sore there, I take it.”

She looked up to meet his gaze. “They all know so much about me and I know nothing.”

“You need to give yourself a break. You had a serious head injury and you’ve only been cognizant for a short while. Besides you know more than you think.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you know you heal quickly.”

She directed a frown in his direction.

“I’m not just placating you. Think about what you know instead of what you don’t. You’re very healthy and strong-willed. That’s apparent.”

That comment made a small wry twist slide over her lips. “I take it I haven’t been the best patient.”

The doctor’s lips lifted. “You’re impatient and you have a strong sense of right and wrong. Most people aren’t so willing to admit they might be guilty.”

That was the truth. She expelled her breath, slow and easy. Some of the taut, tense fear flowed out with it.

“As your doctor, I order you to stop fixating on what you don’t know and start rediscovering yourself. You’ll find more answers there than in your determination to remember what happened.”

“But something’s wrong. It needs to be stopped. I know it. I can feel it.”

“Probably. But if your friends are doing their jobs, they’ll find the answers without your help. In the meantime, you concentrate on you. On what makes you feel good and relaxed. Stop beating yourself up. Someone else already did that for you.”

Joss relaxed her shoulders and tried to ignore the tight band across her stomach. “I know one thing. You’re a pretty good doctor.”

He gave her a nod. “Remember that when you get my bill.” He patted her leg through the blanket. “I’ll see you later today to sign your release papers. You’re going home.”

Home. Where was that? An apartment or a house? What did it look like? Comfy? Or bare essentials? Did she like to cook, or was she more of a takeout person? Did she have a pet? Was something warm and furry waiting for her? If so, did someone think to take care of it while she was in the hospital?

Wait! Did she have a boyfriend? No. Surely not. If she did he would have been in to see her, right? All of Dr. Hull’s orders flew out the window as panic built inside her. She didn’t even know what she liked to eat!

The door opened and Dylan eased into the room. His curly hair looked slightly mussed, and the shadow of a beard graced his jawline. Instead of appearing scruffy, he seemed warm and welcoming, like he was ready for an afternoon on the couch. Joss couldn’t believe how much the idea appealed to her. Sitting beside him, watching football, with tons of cheese puffs and potato chips.

Okay. She liked football. Cheese puffs. Potato chips.

And Dylan. And not necessarily in that order.

Dr. Hull was right. Concentrating on what she knew, instead of what she didn’t, helped. But there were two things she couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. People were trying to kill her. So was home a safe place?

Second, she had to go, safe or not. She needed to trigger her memory, because something bad was going to happen if she didn’t stop it. Time was slipping away and she had to do something!

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands.

“Did the doctor give you bad news?”

The sound of Dylan’s voice, deep and resonant, somewhat eased the tight ball of fear in her stomach. His voice was the only thing she remembered...that and his singing. He had a habit of humming old hymns. She’d fallen asleep and woken many times to the sound of his low-key tones. She remembered some of the lyrics clearly. They came through strong, piercing the haze of pain. They were about the only things she did remember from the past few days. Those songs and his voice brought her comfort. With all the anxiety flowing through her, she needed that comfort more than anything right now.

A small smile slipped out... She couldn’t stop it. She was that relieved to see him.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how you and Holmquist feel. Dr. Hull says he’ll be releasing me today.”

“That’s good news. Why does that make you unhappy?”

She hesitated. “You’ll have to make special arrangements, send more personnel to watch over me and...”

“Stop right there. You are not to think about those details. Let us do the worrying.”

Easier said than done. But with him, it worked. That calm reassurance went deep. How did he do it? What was it about him that eased the terror threatening to eat her alive?

That sense of safety with Dylan helped her go a step further and admit the truth. “I—I don’t know what I’m going home to.”

His eyebrows rose in a quizzical gesture. “You’re right. That is something to worry about. I don’t know how I’d feel either. Am I a neat freak? Do I hang my clothes or drop them? Am I a toilet paper up or down fellow?”

Joss giggled and a sharp pain shot through her temples. She stilled instantly, but couldn’t stop a little chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Okay. But seriously. I can’t help you there. I don’t know what your place looks like.”

“No? I thought you said we were friends.”

“Not that kind. We’re friends and we got along well. We’ve only known each other since I was transferred here to be the special agent on this case. About a month. We hadn’t graduated to visiting each other’s places, but we have common beliefs. We’re both Christians. You understood when I said my work was more of a calling...a God-given mission.”

That’s why the words to his songs comforted her so much. She was a Christian. She knew the songs. They meant something to her. It made sense. But what made more sense was the voice singing them. Dylan was reliable, strong in his faith but most of all safe. She sensed that now, even when she couldn’t remember anything else about her life.

Oblivious to where her thoughts had led her, Dylan continued. “We work well together.”

That gave her pause. “How?”

Her interruption threw him off. “What do you mean?”

“How do we work well together? Holmquist tells me you’re called the ‘gang buster.’ What do I do that helps you?”

He hesitated. “I think... I think we have the same goal...to protect people. That’s very important to me.”

“Why?”

Again he let the question lie while he thought about it. Was he trying to decide how much to tell her, or was he hesitating because he was going to tell her something personal about his own life? She hoped it was personal. She wanted to know more about him. Wanted to understand her deep-seated attraction to him.

He’d been her near-constant companion since she had awakened. He made her feel safe and protected. But she sensed her feelings went deeper. Had she been attracted to him before her accident? She needed to know, to understand something about her past and especially about him.

“I had a sister. Her name was Beth.” His voice dropped when he said her name. Almost as if he couldn’t speak the name out loud. Joss tensed. Whatever he was about to tell her pained him a great deal.

“She was my little sister, two years younger than me. She was beautiful and bright. Long dark hair...like yours. Only, hers was curly like mine.” A smile flashed across his lips. Gone in a moment. “She followed me everywhere...even in high school. That’s why I should have seen it. I should have realized.”

He shook his head. The pain in his expression went so deep, it hurt to see it. Reaching out, she grasped his hand. His touch was familiar. It had been like an anchor these past few days, keeping her from flying into empty space, from losing herself in darkness. She hoped she could do the same for him.

“Don’t. Don’t say more. I’m sorry I asked.”

He shook his head and gripped her hand, met her gaze. “It’s important, Joss. I want you to know.”

There was more...so much more behind the words. Something he wasn’t saying. But his hand was warm and strong. She wanted to bring it to her lips and kiss it, to thank him for trusting her.

But that would make him uncomfortable. Her emotions were too strong and overwhelming for the casual relationship he’d described. He’d told her they were friends. They clicked and worked well together. His words exactly. But Joss had the feeling “clicked” had meant a lot more to her, something Dylan didn’t want to acknowledge or discuss. Every time she’d tried to express her gratitude, to explain the unusual bond she felt with him, he grew uncomfortable and changed the subject. So she held her feelings and the words back.

“All right.” If she couldn’t comfort him in the way she wanted to, she could at least give him permission to share his heartache. “Tell me.”

He swallowed. “I went off to college and left Beth behind. Two years later she was dead from an overdose. She was seventeen.”

Joss was silent for a long while, as she searched for words. “I’m sorry. So sorry. But it wasn’t your fault...you were young.”

He gripped her hand with both of his and looked deep into her eyes. “But that’s the problem, Joss. It was my fault. I could have stopped it. She had a crush on my best friend, Rusty. He got her involved in the drug scene. I knew he was hooked on painkillers long before Beth started hanging out with him. I turned a blind eye to his usage, Joss. I covered up for him. I could have told his parents...told mine. They would never have trusted him with Beth. But they knew he was my best friend, thought he’d never let anything happen to her...”

His words trailed off into excruciating silence. Anger twisted his features. Anger and frustration...pain so strong, Joss could barely stand it.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t understand the significance of why it was important for her to know. She only understood how it had impacted his life. “That’s why you say your work is a God-given mission.”

He nodded, never loosening his grip on her hand. “I stood over her coffin, stared at her emaciated body—I barely recognized my beautiful, vibrant little sister. My parents told me she was having problems. They thought it was an eating disorder, maybe depression. They didn’t suspect drugs and I didn’t want to believe Rusty would betray me like that...not until the evidence lay in front of me. I promised God right there and then that I would devote my life to stopping drug traffickers.”

She gripped his hand. “You’ve done it, Dylan. Holmquist tells me you have one of the best records of success in the DEA. That’s why they sent you here. You can be at ease. You’ve honored your promise.”

“More than a promise, Joss. A vow, and it was my duty.” He lifted her hand, squeezing tighter. “My sister died because I covered for my friend Rusty. I was responsible.”

His intense gaze made her uncomfortable. “What are you trying to tell me, Dylan? Is there something I should know?”

The tension in his body eased and he released her hand. “No. No. I’m just... I don’t talk about Beth much. Not ever, really. I guess I got carried away.”

She smiled. “Thank you...for sharing. It means a lot to me.”

He looked away and shifted. “You need to stop thanking me so much. I’m only doing what needs to be done. And besides.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “We don’t usually talk about serious stuff. I call you ‘hot shot.’ You call me ‘special.’ We argue over football teams. Mine, of course, is better.”

So they did share football! She’d gotten something right. They also had common beliefs, as well as faith and confidence in the justice system. Maybe Dr. Hull knew what he was talking about. All she needed to do was to concentrate on what she did know. That was easier to do around Dylan, because for her, he was special.

Swallowing her fear, she said, “Which is my team?”

A sly twist slipped over his lips. “Well...how will you know I’m telling the truth? Maybe I’ll make you a Wildcat so when your memory comes back, you’ll remember the Sun Devils and know I got you.”

The attempted joke didn’t work, mainly because it reminded her that she might not ever remember. That made her future a big black hole, just like her past. She turned to him, all humor gone. “I trust you. You’re the only one I can trust right now.”

The wry twist faded and he looked away. “You know, I’m going to try to catch Holmquist before he leaves.”

The door closed behind him and the room seemed empty. In spite of what he had said, her release from the hospital was going to be a tactical nightmare. The city police would have to schedule someone to watch over her 24/7. Maybe her friends—the friends she couldn’t remember—would have to volunteer their time to guard her. The extra expense and stress would be ridiculous. Who would pay for it? How long could it last?

And...those men were still out there...trying to kill her. Why? Was that the terrible thing she needed to prevent? Her own murder? That was a horrifying thought.

She was letting the deep dark holes overwhelm her again. She tried to slow the raging questions exploding in her mind.

If Dylan would just come back. He was so strong and vital. His presence filled a room...drove out the dark holes. She could wrap his vitality around her like a warm, safe blanket and she needed that...needed something or she might tip over the edge.

As if on cue, the door opened and he returned. A slight smile tilted his lips. “Holmquist is staying. He wants to be here when you check out.” He seemed relieved.

She said nothing. Her supervisor’s concern was nice but she really wanted Dylan there. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss your return home.”

An undertone of intensity laced his lightly stated words and gave her pause. “Why?”

He frowned. “Because we need to answer the all-important question. Do you throw clothes in a corner or hang them neatly in the closet?”

Caught off guard, she let another small chortle slip out. “Owww. I told you not to make me laugh.”

“Can’t help it. I’m dying to find out your dark secrets.” His words held an undertone of...something. A sincerity that took her by surprise. She stared at him.

He lifted his gaze upward, clearly striving for a deep-in-thought expression “I’m pretty sure you are a ‘hang it very neatly’ type.”

He meant to make her laugh, but she sensed something behind his words. What was it? Was she an unpleasant, uptight woman he didn’t like?

“You make me sound like a prude. Am I?”

He stopped to consider. “No. Thorough. By the book. Sincere. Passionate about your work. But easy to be around. Energetic and full of questions. Fun. You’re surrounded by friends all of the time. You told me once you don’t like to be alone...ever.” He started to say more but halted and clammed up. A strange look came over his features...a look she couldn’t define. Was he holding something back? Picking and choosing what to tell her about herself?

When he said no more, she released a sigh. “Maybe I’m someone I’d like if I knew me.” Her tone sounded more forlorn than she’d intended.

“Everyone likes you, Joss. You’re a good agent and a great person.”

Shaking her head, she met his gaze. “If I’m such a good agent, what was I doing in that tunnel with a payload of illegal drugs?”

* * *

Dylan was saved from answering when Holmquist walked in. Surprised at how relieved he was, he stepped away and turned to stare out the window.

Finding out why Joss was in that tunnel was the reason he was here, spending every free moment with her rather than pounding the street, searching for answers. Yes, his team of agents was on the job, and they were making breakthroughs. But he should be with them. Yet when she posed the question...gave him the perfect opportunity to start probing for answers...he backed off. Hesitated. What was wrong with him?

Holmquist reviewed the details of Joss’s release with her. She asked a few questions, a thread of fear running behind every word. She was scared and barely hanging on. That was the reason he’d stopped probing. Because he hadn’t wanted to push her into that dark hole.

But why was he hesitating now...almost feeling guilty? He glanced at Joss. In some ways she reminded him of Beth. Not so much in looks, even though they both had dark hair. But more in personality. Beth had been bright, outgoing and fun, but a thread of insecurity had run deep, pushed her in the wrong directions. She’d hungered for approval...for support from others, including Rusty. That need had led to her death.

Dylan sensed the same longing in Joss. She’d always seemed competent, sure of her work, but he’d sensed an underlying need to belong, not to be alone. And now that underlying need had come to the surface. She was completely vulnerable. Now was the time to push for answers, not to ease up.

He needed to get on course, to break those fears loose so they could get to the truth...for both their sakes. “While we wait, let me bring you up to speed.” He addressed his comments to Holmquist. “We have an initial report about those traces of chemicals we found on the support post in the mine. They definitely come from some sort of explosive. They don’t know the type yet.”

“Explosives.” Joss shook her head. “In the mine? What does that mean?”

Holmquist shot a puzzled glance in Dylan’s direction, obviously wondering why he was discussing details of the investigation in front of Joss while she was in her fragile state. But Dylan ignored him.

“It means the cave-in was deliberately set.”

Her features brightened. “Does that prove they were trying to kill me? That I’m innocent?”

Dylan shook his head. “Unfortunately no. The explosion could have been a cover-up. You could have set the explosion and been trapped.”

Now Holmquist gave him an angry frown. But Dylan ignored it. Joss was almost as passionate about her work as he was. Or at least she had seemed to be...and that was what he needed to determine. Now that she was vulnerable, the truth might come out. Had her loyalty been an act? Was she good at making them all like her? Was that her true motivation—the need to be liked, not the desire to stop crime? If that was true, she was just like his sister, and that weakness could have turned Joss away from a righteous path. She might care more about the people she loved than the law, and that love could have led her into that tunnel.

Now, with no recollection of her past, the real woman beneath the facade would come to light. With no memory to protect her, the next days would reveal Joss’s guilt...or innocence.

With his resolve renewed, he faced Holmquist. “Also, my home office can find nothing on Vibora. Nothing.”

“Vibora?”

Both men turned to Joss as her brow furrowed.

Dylan paused. “What? Do you remember something?”

Her frown deepened, almost as if it hurt to think. After a long while she shook her head. “No. Nothing. But I know what it means. Viper. Do I speak Spanish?”

She looked at Holmquist, and her expression was so full of hope, it almost hurt to see it.

He shook his head. “Just enough to get by.”

The beginnings of a smile flitted over her lips. “Then I remember it. The name means something to me.”

She looked happy that she had one memory. She didn’t realize that already knowing the leader’s gang name, when all of them had just discovered it, implicated her.

Holmquist looked at Dylan, his features grim and angry. Dylan looked away. The truth was the ultimate goal...no matter how much Holmquist didn’t want to hear it.

The captain’s radio crackled to life.

“We’ve got an intruder matching the description of the attacker. He’s on the fourth floor, headed toward the stairs.”

Joss’s room was on the fifth floor. Holmquist’s gaze darted to Dylan. Dylan was younger, faster and probably stronger. Holmquist gave Dylan a sharp nod and he dashed out the door.

As it closed behind him, Joss cried out. “Wait! Don’t go!”

Her desperate tone sent a sharp pain through him, but he pushed it aside and turned to the guard outside. “You heard the report?”

The man nodded.

“Holmquist is inside. Whatever happens, don’t leave this door unguarded.”

Another nod. Dylan strode down the hall and raised his voice. “Everyone clear this hall.”

He shut the door of the room closest to him and went on to the next. A nurse pushing a cart full of medications paused.

He gestured to the nearest room. “Go on. Step inside and close the door.”

A man in a hospital gown pushed an IV stand on its wheels. He turned and headed to his room. “That’s too far. Go in here.”

Dylan guided the patient to the nearest room and closed the door.

The hall was empty. He unlatched his gun from its holster and released the lock. Directly in front of him, the elevator lay at the junction of the T-shaped hall. The door to the stairwell was around the corner...out of his vision. He moved forward, settled against the wall and peeked around the corner. The hall was empty. The intruder had not yet reached this floor.

Dylan waited, gun drawn. Hands bracing the gun, wrists taut. Nothing happened.

Should he move closer to the storage room on the right? Wait inside, then pop out and get behind the intruder?

No. Better to keep himself between the man and Joss.

He heard a noise in the stairwell. Heavy footfalls echoed from behind the door. The intruder was close. Dylan gripped the gun. At that moment the elevator dinged. The doors slid open. A man, his wife and two laughing children prepared to step out.

“Get back! Stay inside!”

The frightened father pulled the children to him and pushed his wife inside. The mother frantically jabbed at the elevator buttons. Dylan turned to see the stairway door slowly closing.

Groaning his frustration, he ran toward it. Carefully he pulled it open and waited for gunfire. Nothing happened, so he peeked out. The man was gone. Stepping inside the echoing stairwell, he could hear footsteps—so many, it was hard to distinguish where they were coming from. He paused, listening, and heard the low instructions of the police as they systematically moved up the stairwell together.

Then he heard steps above him. He shouted, “This is Agent Murphy. He’s headed to the sixth floor.”

No men were stationed on the sixth floor. Three officers were stationed below him, plus the guard at Joss’s door. Dylan was ahead of everyone. If the intruder were to be caught, he’d have to do it himself.

He took the steps two at a time, reaching the sixth floor just as the door shut. He flung it open and waited. No shots were fired. He moved into the hall in time to see another set of elevator doors close and the lights above flash on. This was the surgery level and, the elevator was strictly for service. It didn’t open onto the other floors, but went straight to the basement.

Spinning, Dylan took the stairs two at a time, shouting again. “He’s on the service elevator, headed for the basement. I don’t have a radio. Call security and have them send someone there.” He met the three policemen coming up and they all headed down.

One of the policemen’s radios crackled, but no one responded. “I’m not getting any reception in the stairwell.”

Dylan stifled his frustration and they descended to the bottom, coming out in the brightly lit, wide-open basement. The entrance to the laundry room on the right. On the left, a massive generator. Other doors led to other rooms. Too many rooms. Too many nooks and crannies in which to hide.

One of the policemen gestured across the room. “Look.”

Yet another door at the far end was closing. A bright shaft of sunlight slashed across metal steps before it closed. Dylan raced across the room, with the other men close behind. They lunged out the door in time to see a gray Toyota truck screech away through the alley.

The guard had seen the same truck speeding away the first time the gang had tried to reach Joss. This time Dylan was close enough to see the license plate, but a coating of strategically placed mud made it indecipherable.

Clever. No traffic cop would stop them for a blob of mud, but at the same time, no one could track them. The Serpientes were cunning, deceptive and incredibly bold to attack Joss twice while she was under protection.

What did they want from her? What did Joss know that they were so desperate to silence?