Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) (21 page)

Lynn swung the door open and pulled her own IV pole into the room with her. “So you can’t sleep without me? Is that it?”

In the doorway, John leaned over, talking to the guard.

“L…ynn! He..lp.” Sharee’s words slurred.

Lynn smiled at her, and it took a minute before Sharee realized the words had just whispered from her mouth.

“Help.” She said louder and shook her arm.

Lynn’s brow furrowed, and she pulled her pole next to Sharee’s bed. “What’s up, girl?”

Sharee’s hands shook as she grabbed the tubing and bent it, again and again, kinking it.

“What’s wrong?” Lynn's voice rose in concern.

John’s head rose, the security guard stood and pushed into the doorway. “What is it?”

“Dr. Richmond was here.”

“The doc?” the guard asked.

“He…he did something.”

“What are you talking about?” John shoved his way past the other two.

Her tongue felt leaden, but she forced the words out, “He put another…nother… IV bag up there.” She pointed. “The first one wasn’t half-empty.” She waved her arm. “Unhook me.”

“You think something’s in the IV?” the guard asked. “Why?” 

Lynn stepped to the IV pole. “Let’s unhook it.”

John grabbed her arm and ripped the tape off.

Sharee caught the scream in her throat. “Pull out the needle.”

John slid the needle out, and blood spurted across the bed. He pressed his thumb on the site. “Lynn, get the nurse.”

Lynn scooted toward the door.

Sharee looked past John at the guard. “C…can you stop him?”

“The doctor?”

“Yes.”

“He had his ID, and he’s on the hospital’s list.”

“I don’t care. I…”

“You think he put something in the IV to harm you? Why?”

“I…don’t know.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Something’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong.” John interrupted her. “Your words are slurred.”

“Dr. Richmond’s ID checked out,” the guard said. “It looked just like him. Dark hair, tan, brown eyes, sharp nose.”

“Green. His eyes…green.” Oh, she just wanted to put her head back on the pillow.

“Look,” Anger mounted in John’s voice. “We need to get another doctor in here to look at her. Now.”

“The doctor that came in here had brown eyes.” The guard sounded defensive. “His ID had brown eyes.”

“You don’t know all the doctors here?”

“No. We’re hired from outside.”

“The man has green eyes. He must have changed his ID for some reason.” John headed for the door. “Where are Lynn and the nurse?”

“He changed them at the sink.” Sharee managed.

“He what?”

“Changed them at the sink.”  

“What are you talking about?”

“Contacts. Colored contacts.

The guard frowned, turned and sprinted out the door.

***

At the nurses’ station, Lynn fumbled over her explanation to the first nurse that looked her way. The other two nurses stood listening. Abruptly, one broke from the other and headed for Sharee’s room.

The guard stopped. “Did you see which way the doctor went?”

The second nurse pointed to the stairs, and the guard ran toward the door and disappeared.

Lynn looked her way. “Can I use your phone?”

She handed Lynn a receiver, and Lynn dialed Rich’s number.

“Zeke Richmond?” Rich asked after she gave her explanation. “The name’s familiar.” She heard tires squealing. “I’m headed back your way now. Where’s the guard on duty?”

“He just ran down the stairs.”

“All right. See if one of the nurses knows what kind of car Richmond has.”

“It’s black, shiny. New.”

“You know it?”

“I went out with him once.”

“With Richmond?”

“Yes, but he’s not my type. Too smooth. He asked a lot of questions about Marta.”

“What make is it?”

She told him. “And I think it’s that hybrid one.”

“Lynn, is his car like the guy’s that shot at you?”  

How could she have not seen that? “Yes, it is. I never thought about it. “

“Why would you? Not enough dots to connect. I’ll call it in. Get an APB out. Get back with Sharee. Stay together. Her husband’s there, right?”

“Yes.”

“Send a nurse for the other guard—outside your door. Then stay together. Someone will show up to take Sharee’s statement. Make sure his ID’s checked, though. Don’t let anyone in that room unless you know for sure he’s a cop.”

“I won’t.”

***

Rich gunned the Porsche and called in the information about Richmond’s car. A minute later, he called Keith.

“Richmond?” Keith said. “Doesn’t he volunteer with the online investigation unit?”

“Yeah. That’s where I’ve heard the name. Sharee might be right. He went out with Lynn and asked a lot of questions about Marta.”

“We have no idea that what Sharee Jergenson thinks is right. Maybe she’s feeling the effects of the concussion. How does she know the doc, anyway?”

“Haven’t got a clue. Look, do you want to get over there and get that IV bag’s contents checked? We’ll know for sure then. But if he’s guilty and finds out we’re looking for him, he might make a run for it. I’m going to check the parking garage and hang out there a bit.”

Keith expelled his breath in exasperation.

“If I’m wrong,” Rich said, “I owe you a steak dinner. Just get over there, talk with Sharee, and have that bag checked. We need to know what’s in it.”

Before he reached the hospital, Rich heard the call come over the radio.

“A car matching the APB with last three digits the same as those at the restaurant shooting is turning onto Tampa Road, heading east.”

“Got him!” Rich put on his siren and slipped the light out the driver’s window. He stuck it to the roof and sped past the hospital.

As he turned onto Tampa Road, he saw flashing lights disappearing around the bend ahead. He slammed his foot to the floor.

“Suspect fleeing,” came over the radio.

The communication crackled, but he kept his concentration on the road. The street lights whizzed by. He lifted a short prayer of thanks that traffic at this time of the morning was minimal.

A voice came over the radio. “We’re doing over eighty-five.”

Rich nodded. Guilty for sure.

The pursuing officer’s voice jumped. “Suspect sideswiped a car. He’s off the road. Back on.” A minute later, “He’s braking.”

Rich could see them now. The cruiser’s brake lights showed. It pulled to the right, onto the grass, behind the other car. The officer leapt from the vehicle, drawing his gun, and ran to the driver’s window. Just as he reached it, the black car hurtled forward, spinning turf and dirt, and shot back onto Tampa Road.

Rich floored the gas pedal, flew past the deputy, and closed in on the other car. The Ford swerved around a truck. Rich followed.

Rich tapped the radio. “In pursuit. We’re just passing Forest Lakes Boulevard. He barely missed a truck.”

The radio crackled back at him just as he drew parallel to the Ford’s back tire. The Ford jerked to the left and slammed his right front fender. The Porsche spun and hit the grass.

“He hit me!” Rich cursed, straightened the wheel and flew forward. “I’m back on the road.”

Rich tore a look at his rearview mirror as he flew down the road. Reds and blues flashed behind him. Good. He didn’t see this one giving up without a fight.

He swerved to the left and drew alongside the other vehicle for the second time. It rammed him again. The impact wrenched the steering wheel from his hand this time. The Porsche flew into the median. Rich yanked the wheel back, bumped over the curb. A cruiser flew past him. He straightened and roared down the highway after him.

“Suspect rammed me again,” he said between clenched teeth. “Rammed my grandma’s car. He’ll wish he hadn’t done that.”

“Still on Tampa Road?”

“Affirmative. Heading to Tampa.”

The cruiser pulled next to the Ford, but the Ford braked, and the cruiser shot past it. Rich swerved to the left again and drew next to the doctor’s car once more.

“Sorry, Grams.” He jerked the wheel to the right. Metal tore. Tires squealed. The Ford fishtailed out of control. It hit the grass, spun in a circle and stopped. Rich slammed his brakes. Another cruiser pulled up behind him. One passed him and squealed to a stop in front of the black automobile. Rich threw his door open and jumped from the car. Yanking his gun free, he ran forward.

A gun barrel popped out of the Ford’s window. Rich dropped to the ground just before the gun popped. A bullet whizzed past him. From behind, came a thud and a yell. He jumped to his feet and ran forward, taking aim and firing. Someone yelled.

Sirens and screaming tires filled the air. Blues and reds flashed around him. Officers piled from their cars.

“A shooter!” Rich yelled in warning. Had he hit him? He darted to the side of the car for protection then eased to the driver’s window. The suspect was draped over the wheel. Blood flowed from his shoulder.

“Get out!” Rich shouted. “Get out!”

The driver didn’t move. Rich reached forward and hauled the door open. He grabbed for the man’s collar, but the man jerked around and shoved his right hand with the gun past his injured arm. Rich jumped back, and a uniformed officer slammed the door on the doctor’s arm. He screamed, and the gun dropped to the ground.

Rich grabbed the back of his collar, yanked him from the car, and shoved him to the ground. Four deputies trained their guns on him.

“Going someplace, Doc?” Rich yanked Zeke Richmond’s hands behind him, and the man screamed in pain. He tugged a pair of handcuffs free from his belt and snapped them around the man’s wrists. “I think we’ve got just the place.”

The guard pushed Sharee’s door open. “They got him.” 

Lynn’s hand tightened on her IV pole. “Dr. Richmond?”

“Yes. They chased him almost to Tampa. Shots were fired. They’re bringing them both in by ambulance.”

“Both?” Lynn’s voice climbed.

John stood, his question echoing hers.

“One of the deputies is hurt. Shot.”

“You’re sure it’s a deputy?” Lynn asked.

“An officer shot. Who else would it be?”

“Not one of the detectives?”

“Look, you’ll have to find that out on your own.” An impatient movement of his head followed the words. “They should be here soon.” He went out.

Sharee lifted her head. “Lynn?”

“I’m okay.” She glanced at Sharee. “Are you still groggy?” Lynn asked.

“Yes. My…head’s definitely messed up.”

“Makes sense. Enough morphine to kill you. You heard the doctor. That’s what’s gone from their meds.”

“But you’re worried about Rich, aren’t you? Worried that he might have been shot?”

“He said he was headed back here but never showed. He…he might have gone after Zeke, too.”

“John can go down to emergency and check.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” John said. “You two stay together.”

“No. I’ll go.”

Sharee’s eyes rounded. “Lynn.”

“I want to go.”

“Like that?”

Lynn glanced down at the hospital gown then at her IV pole. “It’s a hospital, isn’t it?” Before two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have dared step from her condo without her hair and nails done and dressing in the latest fashion. Today, somehow, it didn’t seem important. People were important—no matter how they dressed, what their lifestyle was, their income, any of it.
People
were important.

“Yeah, like this.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

“They caught him.”

“I wasn’t talking about him. I’m talking about your heart.” 

No one said anything for a moment, and then Lynn gripped her pole and swung around.

“Wearing that second gown like a robe is good,” Sharee’s voice held amusement. “At least, it covers you. You look fine.”

“Don’t try to con me,” Lynn said and let the door close behind her.

When she entered the emergency room lobby, she could see through the windows that two ambulances had arrived. A stretcher pushed open the glass doors; another one waited behind it. She walked over to the bustle of EMT’s, paramedics, and Sheriff’s deputies, and craned her neck to see the stretchers.

Someone grabbed her arm, pulling her around. Pain surged through her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Rich demanded.

Relief sent warm fingers throughout her body. She stepped back, knocking into someone.

“Excuse me.” Impatient eyes met hers.

She moved to the side.

Rich’s hand closed over her good arm. “Come out of the way. What are you doing here?” His voice sounded hard and professional.

She could go back to her room now. All she’d wanted to know was that he was okay.

“Sit down.” He indicated a nearby chair before glancing back at the two stretchers. “I’ve got to go with them. What are you doing here?”

Lynn swallowed the pain that pulsed through her. “Are you going to ask me that all night?”

His brows drew together. “Until I get an answer.”

“I…I heard they were bringing in Dr. Richmond. I wanted to see him.”

“Why?”

“I…uh…to see if I recognized him.”

“Recognized him? I thought you said you’d gone out with him.”

“I mean from the restaurant shooting.”

“You said he had a mask on.”

“Well, he did, but…” She stopped. Despite what he thought, she’d never been good at lying.

“You’ve got more crazy answers than the Wizard of Oz. Look, just get back upstairs. What kind of security do they have here that they let you go running around?”

“Rich?”

“What?”

“You were there?”

“When we got him?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “Yeah, I was.”

“They said he was shot and…and another person was shot, too. A deputy?”

The smile disappeared. “Richmond was aiming for me. Hit the deputy instead.”

“Is…is the deputy…”

“He’ll be okay. Richmond, too. I got him in the shoulder.”

“You shot him?”

He nodded. The smile returned. “Didn’t want to kill him, although it’s hard to aim at a full run. There’s still too much we don’t know.” He glanced up. Hospital personnel held open the double doors to the emergency room as another gurney was pushed inside.

“You’re okay?” Lynn asked.

He nodded and stood.

“But what’s it all about? I mean, Dr. Richmond. It seems so…unnatural. He’s a doctor.”

“A doctor with a huge problem. All guess work at this point. He’s most likely a pedophile. The girl Lily’s only thirteen. Maybe he paid this guy, Afton, for girls—whether Afton picked them up from the mall or a homeless camp, it didn’t matter. The doc either kept them enslaved somewhere or, more likely, he and Afton worked together to sell them—with the stipulation that Richmond got free access.”

Lynn cringed.

“Sorry.” Rich glanced around. “And Richmond volunteered with our internet detectives finding pedophiles. Get that. He knew everything going down. Keeping the pimp informed and himself safe, too.” His voice grated. “He pretended to search the internet for pedophiles and human traffickers. I’m sure he handed some over to the department to look legit, but the guy’s a scumbag.”

“Would Tom’s investigation have found him out?”

“Might have. Your Victoria—Marianne Stablowski—was onto something. Jergenson gave Keith that fingerprint. She must have had it for a reason.”

“What fingerprint?”

“On a piece of tape, from the book. It could be the doc’s. Not sure yet. Could be what got her killed and why she went back to the homeless camp that night—to get it. Marta only knew him as the masked man, but Marianne had his fingerprint, and that could identify him. He killed Stablowski or had her killed but couldn’t find the print. Your Maria picked it up with the other things. Didn’t even know what she had. My guess is that the Doc tried dating you to get information. You wouldn’t see him anymore, so he tried Sharee. She’s your friend and works with the homeless. Convenient. He thought he’d still get some information. It’s all conjecture now, but if McCloud was onto Richmond, and he knew you’d dated or were dating him, it’s no wonder he kept you out of the loop.”

“But I only went out with him once.”  

One of the deputies called Rich’s name. He looked around. “One minute.” He glanced back at Lynn. “Did McCloud know that?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. He thought you were dating. I have to go. You. Back upstairs, will you?”

“But why try to kill Sharee?”

“I’m thinking that he had a meeting with Afton the day Sharee pulled over to give the guy that homeless bag. Somehow, the Doc thought Sharee had seen him or knew his car. Even if she didn’t remember that today, one day she might.”

“But how did he know about Sharee being at the hospital?”

“He shot her. Where would she go? And it was all over the news. He made a phone call and asked about the shooting victims. I’m sure he was desperate by this time. Everything started falling apart. He threw his plan together and came to wait until he got the chance to get to her.”

“He had a fake picture on his ID.”

“Did he? So, he could say later someone stole it, put their picture on it and used it?” Rich nodded. “Saying someone else used his ID would put him in the clear—for a while.”

“Sharee said he had brown contacts, and his eyes are green. And he had a fake tan. The guard said the ID looked Hispanic.”

“So, he makes a fake ID, changes his look to match the fake ID, then hangs around until Sharee’s by herself. But where?”

“There’s a closet, a small kitchen and the place where they have the meds. Any of those, I guess.”

“Fast plan, full of holes, but it might have worked if Sharee had died. He lucked out when Jergenson left. It was what he was waiting for. But Sharee doesn’t die, and the guard comes looking for him. So, he runs.”

“But what about the pimp?”

“If there is one beside Afton, my bet is that Richmond will cut a deal and cough up his name and whereabouts.” He took two steps away from her then turned. “You came to see Richmond?”

“I…well, I…”

“Or me?”

“Richards,” The deputy said again, “get back here. Johnson has a bone to pick with you about ducking that bullet and allowing him to get hit.”

Rich grinned, turned and disappeared through the open door.

She wanted to hang out until he came back. What she should do—the only right thing to do—was to check herself out of here. She stood, cradling her arm with her other hand, and made her way to the elevator.

Yes, check out immediately. She’d seen how much control she had when it came to him. She’d run down here as soon as she thought he might be injured. Go home, Lynn. There’s nothing for you here.

***

Two days later, a siren sounded just as she turned the corner. Lynn glanced at the rearview mirror. Red and blue flashing lights from a Sheriff’s Office cruiser filled her vision.

Great. Just great.

She’d left the hospital as soon as she’d given Rich’s summation of what had happened to Sharee and John—checked herself out against medical advice. Rich had called later that day, but she hadn’t answered. Obviously, she should have stayed home today, too.

The siren continued behind her. A half block down the street, she found a place to pull over. She stopped and rolled the window down. Could things get any worse?

In the rearview mirror, she saw the deputy as he stepped from the cruiser and walked forward. She stuck her head halfway out the window. “I’m sorry, officer. I don’t know what I did.”

The man didn’t smile. “Your driver’s license, please, and your registration.”

Great. He’s gonna be sooo nice. She fumbled in the glove compartment until she found her registration and handed it to him.

“Driver’s license.”

She grabbed her purse, shuffled through it, pulled out her license, and passed it to him. He studied the license and the registration and handed them back.

“Step out of the car, please.”

“Why? What did I do?” Lynn frowned and hesitated.

The deputy backed away from the door. “Step out of the car.”

Lynn pushed open the door and slid out, straightening in time to see the officer look over her shoulder. She turned. Rich walked up from the other side. He’d parked a blue Ford behind the deputy’s.

Her heart clenched, and she bit her lip. His car must be in the shop. But what…

Rich nodded to the officer as he came around. The deputy walked back to the patrol car and got in.

Her jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

Her head swiveled from Rich to the deputy and back again. “I can’t believe this. You had him pull me over so you could talk with me?”

“You left me no choice.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I want to know why. You’re way over the edge with this. You’re angry because I wanted sex that night?”

“Because you pushed, you mean?”

“Pushed? I left, didn’t I?”  

“It’s all that and more.”

“Look, I told you I would never force you. If you’re into this purity thing, fine; but it’s something I had to think about.”

“Good Christian boy that you are.”

“Sarcasm is still one of your finer points, isn’t it?”

“It is when I’m being sold a bill of goods.”

“A bill of goods? If you think I would force you, you don’t know—”

“No, I hadn’t pictured you as a rapist; only as an adulterer.”

His face skewed. “What?”

“Sharee told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you’re married. That you have a baby. I saw you with them at the library.”

“I’m not married. I don’t have a baby.”  

“Right.” Lynn turned, but he grabbed her arm. She looked down and back to his face and narrowed her eyes. He dropped her arm.

“Don’t go anywhere until we’ve finished this. I am not married. I do not have a baby.”  

“Did you or did you not hear me say I saw you and her and the child at the library?”

“And you never thought to ask me about it? I’m guilty without an explanation?”

“Sharee said—”

“I don’t care what she said.”

“That you had a son.”

“Do I have to say this again? I don’t have a son.”