Thin Ice, page 7
part #5 of Miranda's Rights Series
She could call Fanuzzi and ask her to talk to Coco. But Fanuzzi was even more excited about the wedding than the bride to be.
She’d always been able to talk to Fanuzzi. Maybe she should tell her about her daughter.
No, she’d just chat a little with Coco and feel her out. It would get her mind off things for ten minutes, at least.
She was about to reach for the phone when a window popped up on her computer screen. It was a text from Parker. “Can you come in here for a moment?”
Uh oh. Was she in trouble? Maybe he’d changed his mind about the Digby matter. Maybe he’d come up with an idea for handling his surrogate son and his fiancée. Or maybe he was going to talk her into going home since she wasn’t worth squat today. He hadn’t wanted her to come in, but what was she going to do in that big house all by herself?
“Sure,” she typed and got to her feet.
Chapter Ten
Miranda stepped into Parker’s blue-and-silver corner office and found him staring out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the cityscape beyond. The warm sunlight gave him an other-worldly glow.
He had on a suit of deep charcoal today, but the jacket was slung over the back of one of the fancy chairs. His white shirt had red pin-stripes that matched the silk tie of the day. His arms were folded over his broad chest. He looked weary.
“Close the door,” he told her without turning around.
Uh oh. She was in trouble. “If Detective Tan has—”
He held up a hand then gestured to the speaker phone on the large glass table that reflected the light like a huge diamond in the middle of the room. “I have Lieutenant Erskine on the line. He has something to tell us.”
She frowned at him as she closed the door. “What does he want?”
Lieutenant Erskine was a lead detective in the Atlanta Police Department. Did he have a case for them? That would be a first. Usually, he wanted to kick Parker’s ass for poking his nose into an investigation.
Instead of answering, Parker pressed a button on the phone. “She’s here now, Hosea. Go ahead.”
The Lieutenant cleared his throat and the dark voice that could put the fear of God into an MMA champion came through the speaker.
“I’m very sorry to inform both of you that just before three a.m. this morning, as far as we can ascertain, Leon Groth left the premises of Brandywine-Summit Memorial Hospital.”
Parker’s face turned to granite. “What do you mean he left the premises?”
Miranda’s heartbeat sputtered. “Is he dead?”
“No, he’s not dead. He regained consciousness. The guard found his bed empty at approximately 3:20 a.m. Apparently, the guard had fallen asleep and didn’t see him leave.”
Miranda laughed out loud, but she grabbed the back of a nearby chair. “What a prankster you are, Erskine. What are you trying to pay Parker back for?”
There was a pause, then Erskine spoke again, his voice even darker. “This isn’t a prank, Ms. Steele. I’m afraid I owe you both an apology.”
She heard herself laugh again. “Are you talking about the Leon Groth that attacked me and Parker last spring? The one that’s been in a coma since then?”
“Yes, Ms. Steele, I am.”
“You mean he just woke up?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. He roused out of his coma, found his things and made his way out of the hospital. As I said, the guard was derelict. He’s been let go.”
At last, Erskine’s words sank in. Leon? Awake? Alive?
The light from the windows was suddenly blinding. Everything went white. Then dark. Her whole body felt like rigor mortis had set in. Her heart seemed to stop beating. Her stomach felt like it was crawling with lice. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank into a chair.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Leon? Alive?
“How can that be?” she heard Parker demand. His voice sounded like an echo. “Jackson told me there was blood loss, lack of oxygen, possible brain damage.”
She remembered him saying that, too. Jackson Taggart was Parker’s best friend and Chief of Staff at Saint Benedictine. He would have known. He wouldn’t have lied to them.
“I recall Dr. Taggart saying there was a slight possibility he could rouse.”
Parker leaned over the phone and spoke as if Erskine were deaf. “Infinitesimal.”
Erskine huffed in frustration. “But apparently not zero. I apologize again, Parker. I take full responsibility.” But the hospital guards weren’t under Erskine’s jurisdiction.
Parker ran a hand through his hair, paced to the window and back. “Groth is still in a weakened condition. He couldn’t have gone far.”
That was right. The doctors had done surgery when they first brought Leon in to repair the holes in his lung from the knife she’d plunged into his back. They’d also had to take care of his face and remove about a million shards of glass from his body from the fight Parker’d had with him in that wine cellar. All that had probably healed by now. Still, he had to be pretty weak after lying in a hospital bed for four months.
“We’re doing everything in our power, Parker.” Erskine said, trying to sound reassuring and failing miserably. “We’re sending out BOLOs. We’re releasing the story to the news. We’re organizing a manhunt with the GBI. We’ll find him, Parker. I promise you. I promise you both.”
Parker stared at the phone, looking as white as a sheet. “What do you want us to do?”
“Stay out of it. This is police business. It’s not for civilians.”
Somehow Parker managed to find his cavalier chuckle. “Hosea, do you really think we can do that after our personal involvement with Groth?”
“That’s exactly why you need to, Parker.”
Parker ignored the comment. “We’ll do better if we work together, Hosea.”
There was a long silence.
“Or would you rather I go to the Governor?”
“Suit yourself, Parker.”
“I intend to. Keep us informed of your progress.”
“That I can do.” And he hung up.
Miranda stared at Parker for what seemed like a year. He stared back, saying nothing.
Finally, she shot to her feet, began to pace. “This can’t be right. It just can’t be.” She stomped across the carpet to the far corner where the solid wall met the glass of the window. She raked her fingers through her tangled hair.
“It can’t be,” she said again. “I just called the hospital.”
She turned around. Parker’s face was unreadable. Confession time.
She licked her lips that had gone dry as salt. “I called after my nightmare night before last. Every time I dream about that sonofabitch, he feels so real, I’ve got to check to see if he’s still in a coma.”
“I know.” His voice was gentle.
“You—know?” It was the last thing she wanted him to find out about.
“I heard you. The first time was before our wedding. I decided to let you be. Let you get it out of your system.”
“You heard?” Normally, she would be furious, feeling invaded. Now she didn’t feel a thing. How could this be happening? “I dream about that bastard. I dream he’s coming after me. With his fists. Or a belt. Or a knife. And now he’s awake. Parker—”
“What?”
She searched his deep gray eyes for answers, for sanity. “Am I psychic?”
He looked like the question surprised him. “I think you have highly tuned instincts. You’re a fine investigator, Miranda.”
It was the best thing he could say to her right now. And if it was true, she’d better use her skills to find that bastard.
She forced herself to snap out of the hysteria. “What are we going to do?”
“He can’t have gone far in his condition. We’ll find him.” As he spoke, he moved to his desk, sat down, began to type. “I’m sending out an email for all employees to be on the alert for Groth. I’ll have Judd and Tan form a team to coordinate with the GBI while you and I start at the hospital.”
That sounded good. She felt the first trickle of relief. “Go to his room?”
He nodded. “Interrogate the staff, confirm this report, the details.”
“And figure out how he left.”
“And where he might have gone.”
And what would happen when they did find him? If—no, when—she had to face Leon Groth again? She stared out the window, hugging herself, digging her fingers into her own flesh.
The last time she faced Leon, she’d fallen to pieces. Despite years of training and toughening herself up, when she saw him she’d turned back into the whimpering weakling she’d been when she was married to the jerk. Until she had managed to pull herself out of it.
She remembered his oily black hair hanging in his eyes, his hollow cheeks, his scraggly beard, those mean, black eyes.
One look from them had her shivering like a child.
He’d been dismissed from his job after a psych eval. He’d had to move to Texas, back in with his mother, who was about as cruel and crazy as he was. He’d found her in Texas. Then his mother died and he started following Miranda. He’d been stalking her for years. She’d felt his presence.
She thought of Wendy lying bound on the tasting table in her father’s wine cellar. She thought of the two young girls Leon murdered. He drugged them. Performed what he called “purification rites” on them with oils and herbs. Tied a white ribbon around their necks.
Then he strangled them.
What had he called it? “Releasing” them. Before they were “defiled with femininity.” By age thirteen, she guessed. It was almost October. Amy would be turning fourteen in November.
Her hand went to her throat. She couldn’t swallow.
He said something about his mother’s last wish. She wanted him to atone for what he’d done. And what he’d done was to—let Amy live.
“I want the same thing you do,” Leon had said.
He wanted Amy. He said he’d find her. And now he could.
“Oh, my God. He’s going to go after Amy, Parker. I mean Mackenzie,” she corrected. “He’ll get to Wendy and use her to get to Mackenzie, just like he did last time.”
Parker studied her, she could see the alarm in his eyes. But he shook his head. “Groth doesn’t know who Mackenzie is. The adoption records aren’t accessible to the general public.”
Like that would stop him.
She began to pace again like a trapped tiger. “What if he finds out anyway? It’s what he wants. What he’s intended all along. What if Mackenzie and her mother are walking around, going to the rink, going to the mall, oblivious to all this and he finds out who she is and nabs her? He’ll kill her. That’s what he wanted. That’s why he went after Wendy. Why he stalked me.”
He came to her, put his arms around her, brushed his lips against hers in a soothing kiss. It helped calm her nerves a little.
“I can put a guard on the Van Aarle house. The Chathams’, too.”
She studied his face a moment. It was grim and intense. He’d do everything he could. She knew that.
But she broke from his embrace and paced again. “Will that be enough? Will it stop him? You can’t make sure a person’s okay twenty-four-seven. Look what just happened.” She gestured at the phone. “I know our people are better than that hospital guard, but still.”
She came to a halt in front of his desk, watched him reach into a drawer, pull out the shoulder holster that held his Glock and slip it on. He strolled to the chair and put on his coat. He turned and gave her a knowing look. “What do you want to do, Miranda?” he said softly.
She rubbed her cheeks with both hands. What did she want to do? She’d wanted to keep this a secret. She never wanted Mackenzie Chatham to know who she was. She pulled at her hair as hot tears stung her eyes. Mackenzie was going to hate her. Despise her. Treat her like a leper. She didn’t know how she was going to bear the cold stares the girl would no doubt give her. And how would Wendy take all this?
But that wasn’t important now. Saving their lives was all that mattered.
She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders. “We have to let them know. We have to let the family know. Somehow.”
“Are you sure?”
“We don’t have a choice, Parker. There’s no other way.”
“Very well. I’ll talk to the Chathams. You don’t have to see her.”
That was a relief, even if a small one. “Do you know them? Will they see you?”
“Only socially. I can contact Antonio and arrange a meeting with Oliver and Colby.”
Oh, God. Why couldn’t that bastard have just died? Why didn’t she kill him when she had the chance? If she’d gone to prison for the rest of her life, at least it would have spared her daughter and her adopted family.
“I’ll meet with Judd and Tan then we’ll head for the hospital. Be ready in fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you at the back exit.”
She nodded and hurried to her desk to shut down her computer and fetch her Berretta.
Chapter Eleven
The security at the hospital was tighter than the Pentagon. As soon as Miranda hit the metal detector, all hell broke loose.
Well, people didn’t usually bring weapons and an investigator’s field kit when they visited their sick aunt.
Parker spent an hour sweet-talking and schmoozing the staff and they still wouldn’t budge. Finally, he threatened to call someone on the Board of Directors. It wasn’t until he actually pulled out his cell that somebody went to get the head honcho.
“I apologize, sir, ma’am.” A short woman in a dark blue business with a thick Southern accent hurried toward them from a lime-colored hall. “After what happened last night, the guards are extra cautious.”
“I understand perfectly, Ms. Franklin,” Parker smiled his suave, charm-her-off-her-feet smile as he eyed the name tag that, in addition to her name read, “Head of Operations.” “In fact, that’s the matter we’re investigating. We’re helping the police find the patient who disappeared last night.” He handed her his card.
That was smooth.
“Oh, well then. I’m sure there’s nothing amiss.” She turned to a tall, bony female in pale blue scrubs, who hardly looked of age. “Jan, please escort Mr. Parker and Ms—”
“Steele,” Miranda supplied.
“And Ms. Steele to the second floor.”
Without a second’s hesitation, Nurse Jan, as her name tag read, led the way down to the elevators at the end of the hall and they made it through Level One of the Hospital Red Tape game.
They rode up in silence and when the doors opened again, Jan took them to the nurses’ station.
Two harried-looking workers were behind it, one on the phone, the other busily typing on a keyboard. It took a few minutes before they even noticed someone was waiting.
From her not-so-secret phone calls Miranda knew Leon had been moved to the second floor a few weeks ago. She wondered whether he’d have been able to get out so easily if he’d stayed in ICU.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” one of the nurses said at last and smoothed back her dark blond hair with her hand as she stepped to their side of the counter. “How can I help you?”
Jan made a quick gesture at the visitors. “Emily, this is Mr. Parker and Ms. Steele from the Parker Investigative Agency. They’re here looking into the—incident that occurred last night.”
“Oh.” Emily’s eyes went wide. But she managed a half-smile as she took in Parker’s good looks. She wasn’t bad looking herself. And she seemed young, too, though the lines under her eyes were dark and crying out “overworked.”
“Ms. Franklin requests that you help them any way you can.”
“Certainly.”
Jan turned to Parker. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“I think we’re set here now. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Parker. I’ll leave you to your work then.” And with a brisk nod at Miranda, she turned and swept back down the hall to the elevator.
“What do you need to know?” Emily asked.
Parker set down his investigator’s kit and turned back to the laminated counter with an ingratiating smile. “Let’s start with who was on duty last night.”
She nodded and reached for a clipboard. After flipping a page, she frowned. “Tony was the head nurse last night. Ginger was scheduled, but she didn’t come in. Priscilla’s the aide. She was here.”
So they were short handed. Parker leaned an elbow on the counter as if he were shooting the breeze about the weather. “How often did they check on Groth?”
Emily stiffened her shoulders. “We check patients every hour round the clock. We check vitals, IV, and in a case like Mr. Groth’s, we reposition the patient at least four times a day.”
Miranda nearly choked at the way she referred to the asshole. “When was he last checked?”
Again Emily consulted her clipboard. “Just before two a.m. Priscilla recorded his vitals right here.” She turned the clipboard to them.
Feeling a little nauseated, Miranda glanced at the numbers.
“And when was it discovered that he wasn’t in his room?”
“That would have been about three. When the next check was due.”
Or not. There was no proof other than the signature of a nurses’ aide.
“Do you have any idea how he might have left the building?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. As far as I know, no one saw him leave.”
Still smiling, Parker straightened. “Can we have a look at the room?”
“Certainly.”
She moved around the desk, gestured for them to follow as her noiseless nurses shoes plodded across the institutional linoleum down the hall to room two-twelve.
It was near the end of a long stretch of rooms. Yellow tape across the door told Miranda Lieutenant Erskine or some of his minions had already been here. And a new hospital guard stood at the door, since the old one had been let go.
