“Just wondering why I never heard the story about her husband.”
“There was an obituary in the Mustang Valley Times,” Suzie said. “But it was just a few lines. I didn’t talk to you about it because I figured you didn’t know the family, and...” She shrugged. “You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.”
They stepped out into the bright sunlight and Katrina resisted the temptation to laugh. She had a feeling that, if she started, she might be unable to stop. And her laughter could quickly turn to tears.
“You could say that.”
“Look, I was going to see Rusty tonight.” Suzie’s on-off relationship with an old school friend was in one of its “on” phases. “But he’ll understand if I call and cancel.”
“Don’t you dare.” Despite their height difference, Katrina managed to drape an arm around the other woman’s shoulders as they walked toward their cars. “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Rusty’s dirty looks next time I see him.”
Once she’d convinced Suzie that she really would be okay and waved her off, Katrina loaded the dogs into her own vehicle. Before she set off, she sat behind the wheel and spent a few minutes checking out Helen Jackson’s website on her cell phone.
Although Aidan Hannant’s words had frightened her, she wasn’t going to let a thug stop her from finding her sister. It bothered her that an organization like the AAG could be behind sending a bully boy to scare her. Of course, there was always a chance that the leaders of the group knew nothing about the activities of some of its members. It was even possible that a few unscrupulous people had infiltrated a do-good group and were using it as a cover for their activities.
If that was the case, she was in over her head. She narrowed her eyes. Maybe she should contact Spencer one more time. She’d been threatened. And the warning had been specifically linked to the car that had come so close to running her down. Even Mr. Cautious Cop couldn’t ignore that.
When she tried Spencer’s number, it went straight to a voice-mail message that directed her to one of his colleagues. Since she wasn’t going to start explaining the situation all over again to someone new, she decided to stop by the police station and ask to speak to him. It was on the way to Helen Jackson’s place.
* * *
Spencer had been lying in the darkened hospital room for over half an hour. Visiting times were limited, and the hospital would soon close its doors for the day. If the shooter was going to make his move, he would need to act soon. The medical staff had played their parts, helping to make the scene appear authentic by positioning monitors and a ventilator close to the bed.
Beneath the bed covers, his right hand rested on his weapon. Under the bed, hidden from view by an overhanging sheet, James was lying on his stomach with his own gun trained on the door. In the corner, adjacent to the bed, Lizzie was concealed behind a folding screen. Outside, patrolling the corridor, PJ and Kerry were disguised as orderlies.
“No unusual activity.” PJ’s voice sounded overly loud in Spencer’s
headphones, but he knew the seasoned detective would be careful to speak quietly into his concealed microphone.
Because there were no other patients on that floor, the plan was simple. PJ and Kerry would observe the entrance. Once the suspect was approaching the room, they would alert Spencer. The team would let the shooter get through the door before surrounding him.
There were two entrances to Payne’s second-floor ward. Either way, anyone entering was required to check in with the unit manager, whose desk was located a few yards from the room in which Spencer and his team were lying in wait.
The air was so brittle with tension it felt ready to snap. Spencer eased his limbs into a more relaxed position. With ten minutes left until the end of visiting hours, it was possible they’d struck out this time.
“Stand by. Looks like our guy just stepped out of the elevator.” At PJ’s whisper, Spencer’s heart rate kicked up a notch and his fingers closed over the butt of his gun.
Letting out a slow, controlled breath, he strained his ears. Sure enough, the faintest sound came from just outside the door. There was just enough light for Spencer to see the handle begin to turn.
Wait. Let him get inside. Those were the instructions he’d given...
A sliver of bright light appeared as the door started to open. Just as quickly, it was gone. Reacting to the loud slam, Spencer leaped from the bed and dashed from the room. He was in time to see PJ and Kerry running after a hooded figure. As the person reached the window at the end of the corridor, Spencer thought they had him cornered. There was nowhere for him to go.
“Halt! Mustang Valley Police.”
As he shouted the warning, the intruder risked a glance over his shoulder. The fluorescent lights glinted off his shades before he turned away again. Moving swiftly, he opened the window, banged hard with the heel of his hand and forced it beyond the safety catch.
“Damn it. He’s going to jump!” PJ was almost within grabbing distance, even had an arm outstretched, but the shooter nimbly leaped through the opening.
The three police officers reached the window and clustered together, gazing down at the scene below. The guy had landed on a grass verge. He scrambled to his feet, then cast a quick look around before limping to a vehicle. Before any of the cops could jump after him, he was driving quickly away.
Spencer muttered a curse under his breath as he pulled out his cell and contacted the officers who were watching the exits. Even though there was only a limited chance they would catch up with the shooter, he described what had happened and instructed them to make an attempt to pursue the suspect’s car.
“I didn’t get a good look at him,” he said as he ended the call. “Did he match the description of the guy on the security cameras at Colton Oil the night Payne was shot?”
“Yeah.” Kerry huffed out a breath. “He was pretty much identical.”
“We need to get the hospital security footage to see if we can get a better description from it,” Spencer instructed.