He put his gun to her head and pulled the trigger, grateful for the silencer. A mild pop later, she fell over the console into the passenger seat.
He drove to the river’s edge and found a portion of road with nothing nearby. No one coming or going. No one to see what he was doing. He opened the front passenger door, pulled the nurse’s body out and to the ground, then kicked her into the river.
She’d end up on shore eventually, but hopefully not before morning.
Then he got back into the van and drove back toward the city.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 7:45 P.M.
Daisy found her father and Karl in the waiting room. Talking. And smiling. Both men’s eyes were red and Daisy considered that a promising thing. Both stood when she entered. “Did you get kicked out?” Karl asked.
She hugged them both and took the empty chair between them. “I did,” she said when they’d sat down. “Irina told me to let someone else have a turn. Which meant her.” She held her father’s hand. “So did you guys kiss and make up?”
Karl chuckled. “We did.”
“Except Irina did the kissing,” Frederick added. “How is Agent Reynolds?”
“Annoyed that he can’t go back to work tomorrow,” she said with a shrug. Leaning her head on her father’s shoulder, she closed her eyes on a sigh. “I’m tired.”
“You have a right to be,” Frederick murmured, kissing her forehead. “You’ve had an eventful few days.”
Now that she knew Gideon was all right, her mind was awake and spinning even though her body was weary. “Indeed.”
“I’ll take you to Karl’s house,” Frederick said. “You should sleep.”
Daisy shook her head. “I’m staying.” She held her hand up to stop her father’s disapproval. “He asked me to stay. I promised him I’d be here when he woke up.”
Frederick sighed. “All right then. You should stay.”
Now that she knew Gideon was all right, all her mind could see was Trish’s body, covered in blood on her living room floor. “Trish has been dead for almost forty-eight hours. The morgue’s had her for twenty-four. How long before they release her body?”
Frederick wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Rafe will know,” Karl said. “I’m so sorry, honey. She was a nice young woman.”
“Yes, she was,” Daisy agreed sadly, her chest suddenly heavy and tight. “I’m listed as her next of kin. She had no family. I have to plan her . . . what to do with her.”
Karl reached over and tilted her chin up until she looked up at him. “She had family, Daisy. She had us. We’ll help you with the arrangements. Don’t worry. If Rafe doesn’t know when her body will be released, I’ll call the morgue. Irina and I have friends in the funeral home business. We’ll find one who’ll take care of Trish, okay?”
Daisy’s eyes stung. “Thank you. I’ve never planned a funeral before.”
“Is that what you want?” Karl asked. “A traditional funeral?”
“I think she would,” Daisy murmured.
“Well,” Frederick said with a sigh, “she won’t know. You will. Funerals are for the living, honey. It’s the opportunity for her friends to get together and remember her life.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” she whispered. “Trish has a lot of friends.” She winced. “Had a lot of friends. She grew up around here, so she had a lot of friends outside of work and school and AA. People I’ve never even met. We’ll get the word out and have a party at the community center. That’s what she would have wanted. I’ll ask Rosemary for help in reserving a room. She’s my sponsor and manages the room reservations for AA. She’ll know who to ask to get a room big enough for Trish’s friends.”
Both men went still. “What?” she asked, looking from one to the other.
“We’ll need to get security,” Frederick said. “In case he tries to get you again.”
Because the bastard was still out there, walking around with a piece of his hand missing. “I agree that we need security, but not that he was after me. He shot at Gideon.”
“And if he’d killed him?” Frederick asked quietly. “He would have killed you next.”
Once again, the image of Trish’s mutilated body flashed through her brain. “You’re right,” she murmured. That could have been me. He would have done that to me. “We’ll ask the FBI and SacPD to provide surveillance, just in case he crashes Trish’s service.”
“How will we know him?” Karl asked. “Other than a basic physical description, nobody knows what he looks like. And if you make it an open invitation, you won’t know who’s supposed to be there versus who’s just there to either gawk, report on the story, or . . . hurt you.”
“He’ll have an injured hand, for starters.” Daisy thought of the bare skin below the hollow of Trish’s throat. “And he’ll probably be wearing her necklace.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 8:40 P.M.
He pulled the minivan into the parking lot of the hospital nearest to his house. It didn’t have a special unit for kids, but it had a general ER and that would have to do. His hand throbbed, his head ached, and he was utterly spent. He’d slept fitfully in his car the night before, waiting for Agent Reynolds and Daisy to emerge from their hotel, then that clusterfuck on the mountain, and then the drive home.
Throw in killing the nurse and he’d had a fucking busy day.
Almost done. Almost home. He got out of the car and looked around for anyone who’d see him. Finding no one, he turned off the ignition, leaving nothing but blissful silence. He popped the locks, got out, and opened the slider door.
The kid stared up at him, all blinking brown eyes. “See you around, kid. Sorry about all this.” Then he made sure his hat was on straight and the wig was covering his face.
He started walking toward his own house. All he wanted was a shower and his own bed. And after a good night’s sleep, he wanted Zandra. Fortunately, he still had her available, because he’d have a helluva lot of stress come morning.
He’d gone five blocks when he saw a pay phone. Snugging the cap down to cover his face, he lifted the receiver and dialed 911.
“What is your emergency?”
“I saw a baby abandoned in a car in the parking lot of the hospital.”
“Which hospital, sir?”
“The one at J and Forty-first.” He hung up before the operator could ask any more questions. “Okay, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s the best I got.”
He still had a mile to go before he got home. He’d done this route a hundred times on his morning jog, but he hadn’t been bone tired with a shot-up hand then.
He also hadn’t been one step away from life in prison before, either. The real danger of being caught gave him the extra burst of energy he needed to make it the rest of the way.
He let himself in, then let Mutt in from the backyard. “Sorry I left you outside. I bet you’re hungry.” He gave the dog some food, then staggered off to the shower.
He let out a sigh of relief. He’d done it. He’d gotten himself home, where the cops would never find him. He’d dealt with the baby. Tomorrow, he’d deal with the Fed and Daisy Dawson. For now . . . sleep. That was all he wanted.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2:10 A.M.
The throbbing pain in his arm pulled Gideon from a fitful sleep, but it was the sniffling that fully woke him. He turned to see Daisy sitting in the chair next to him, her head bowed, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
Her shoulders shaking with sobs she was desperately trying to keep quiet.
His heart crumbled, watching her. She’d been through so much the past few days, yet she’d continually held herself together. “Hey,” he said, his voice coming out gravelly.
She looked up through her hair, one hand clamping over her mouth while the other wiped at her eyes. Turning her head so that he couldn’t see her face, she shuddered out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t. My arm did. Why are you asleep in the chair? You should be at Karl and Irina’s, in a real bed.”
“You asked me to stay.”
He frowned. “I did?”
She nodded. “You did.” She dashed away a few more tears. “You were on some good drugs, I think. You were falling asleep.”
“That was kind of selfish of me to ask,” he said. “But I’m finding it hard to feel regret for my actions.” He could get used to waking up to her pretty face. “Come here.” He patted the edge of the bed. “Put the railing down and come here.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I think the nurses will yell.” But she got up to lean over the rail to place a kiss on his forehead. “You should go back to sleep.”
“I can’t.” He patted the bed again. “I don’t want any more pain meds, so come here and take my mind off things.” He blinked what he hoped were pitiful puppy-dog eyes. “You’d be doing a humanitarian act of kindness.”
Her lips twitched. “Humanitarian, huh?”
He nodded soberly. “Come lie with me for a little while. If the nurses yell, we’ll apologize profusely. Please?”
She lowered the rail. “I don’t want to hurt you.”