Daisy herself would be perfect, but that wasn’t going to happen. She had that pit bull Fed who never left her side.
He rounded the corner and came to a waiting room. Losing the disguise was job one. He could do that here. Pausing outside the doorway, he watched the round mirror for the guard while he listened to see if there was anyone inside.
There was, dammit. Two people at least. A man and a woman.
“How long can you stay?” the man was asking.
“For a week,” the woman answered. “I had vacation days saved up from the lab where I work, so I took them.”
“Gideon will be happy to hear that,” the man answered, a smile in his tone.
Gideon? It was not a common name. It stood to reason that if Daisy was here, her bodyguard Fed would be, too.
The woman sighed, sounding frustrated and tense. “I think . . . well, I’m not sure what I think. I just hope I don’t hurt him any more than I already have.”
“Your brother loves you, Mercy.” The man sounded fiercely kind. “I think he’ll be happy with whatever you’re able to give him.”
Brother? A smile curled his lips. A sister might be better leverage than a girlfriend.
Staying behind their chairs, he entered the room, going straight to the coffee machine, pretending to check the supply of cups and creamers. The two didn’t turn around. They’d been so deep in conversation that they hadn’t seen him come in.
“I don’t want him to have to settle,” Mercy admitted. “He’s been through hell, too.”
Aw, poor Agent Reynolds, he thought snidely. He glanced at the pair from the corner of his eye. The woman appeared to be average height, her dark hair pulled back at her nape with a hair clip. He could overpower her if he needed to, even with a bum hand. The man was older, but tall and broad. He’d be harder to take down.
The man patted Mercy’s hand. “One day at a time, honey. That’s all you can do. That and make amends where you can. You’ve got a great place to start. But do it now.” His voice broke a little and he cleared his throat harshly. “Don’t let the past take over your whole life like I did.”
Dammit. He wished he had more of the sedative, but he’d used it all on the nurse outside. He’d try knocking the man out first, and if that didn’t work, he’d shoot him. Even if the man did sound kind.
Them or me. I choose me.
He’d taken a step toward the older man when the guy abruptly stood. “I’m going to the men’s,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”
He held his breath until the man was gone, then, still standing behind the Fed’s sister, he pulled the wig from his head and stuffed it in his pocket. Drawing his gun, he crossed the room and—
He stopped short when the woman pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse, her hands trembling. He held his breath, watching as she dug deeper in her purse, coming up with a lighter.
And suddenly it seemed too easy. He slid his gun back into place, tugging at the top of his scrubs to hide it.
“Ma’am,” he said, and she jolted to her feet, spinning around to stare at him, her eyes wide and panicked. She pressed her palm to her heart, trapping the cigarettes against her body.
“Oh.” She drew a breath, let it out. “You startled me.”
He smiled as sweetly as he could. “I’m sorry. But you can’t smoke that here.”
She nodded, shouldering her purse, clutching the pack of smokes and lighter. “I know. I was going to ask someone where I could go.”
“If you give me a smoke, I’ll show you where I go,” he said, turning on all the charm he possessed. “All my cigarettes are in my locker.”
She seemed to relax. “I thought you were going to tell me it was bad for my health.”
He shrugged. “It is. But a lot of medical professionals smoke.” He should know. He’d flown enough charters of doctors to conventions, having to tell them multiple times that even though it was a private plane they couldn’t light up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Mindful that the older man would be back from the men’s room any second, he walked out the waiting room door, holding his breath, hoping she’d follow. And she did. He went to the nearest stairwell, simply to get her out of sight.
“These stairs are closest to the exit,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged down the first flight. “I have to hurry, though. My break is halfway over.”
She followed him, easily taking the stairs as she kept up with his pace. “I need to hurry, too. I should have left a note. They’ll be worried about me.”
“Well, at least let me show you the spot and then you can run back up to tell your friends where you’ll be.”
“Okay. I don’t smoke often. Just when I’m stressed.”
“Me too,” he muttered truthfully. “Me too.”
They got to the bottom of the stairs, and when he led her into the hallway, he was relieved to find that the nearest door was another employee entry, not a fire exit that would alarm when he opened it.
“Just out here,” he said, holding the door open for her.
As soon as she was outside, he closed the door, grabbed her arm, and shoved the gun into her side. “Let’s walk, Mercy. If you scream I will kill you. I have nothing to lose.”
He thought she’d argue. Maybe fight.
But she didn’t. She froze, her eyes going blank. He waited a second for her to do something, but she just stood there, staring. Like he’d flipped a switch or something.
What the hell? Whatever. As long as she didn’t fight him.
He walked her around the hospital and she went willingly. Like a doll. Or someone in a trance. It was fucking spooky.
When they approached the van, he glanced at the bushes near the door he’d used to enter, relieved to see that the nurse he’d sedated was still sound asleep. Hopefully someone would find him soon. He’d catch pneumonia if he stayed out here too long.
Mercy stumbled as he put her in the van he’d stolen from an off-site long-term parking lot near the airport. Not knowing if she’d “come to” at some point, he unclipped the nurse’s ID from its lanyard, then used the narrow strap to restrain her wrists.
Knowing he was on borrowed time, he ran back inside to the family restroom where he’d left his duffel. He threw it over his shoulder and jogged back to the van.
Then he drove away. He had his leverage. Now he just needed a plane.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1:50 A.M.
Daisy kept her composure until she, Gideon, and Agents Molina and Hunter left Zandra’s room. Then she turned to Gideon, burying her face against his chest, unable to stop her tears. “That could have been me,” she whispered.
“I know,” Gideon whispered back, rubbing her back in large soothing circles. “But it wasn’t.” Still, he trembled as he said the words.
“I want to help her. I want to do something. I want to go back to Thursday and fight harder. Then he wouldn’t have taken her. I know that’s stupid, but . . . God, Gideon.”
Gideon kissed the top of her head. “You can’t change what happened to Zandra, but you’re supporting her now. That matters, Daisy.”
She nodded unsteadily, wiping her tears with the back of her hand as she pulled away. Molina stood watching—but her gaze was on Agent Hunter, who leaned against the wall, head bowed, hands clenched into fists at his side.
“Are you all right, Agent Hunter?” Molina asked crisply.
Daisy’s feathers ruffled at the woman’s tone, but it seemed to be what Hunter needed. His head snapped up, and he straightened.
“Yes, ma’am.” His jaw clenched. “Or I will be. That was difficult to hear.”
Molina nodded sagely. “It was. Yet you did well, Tom.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to get back to the office.”
“Will you add the rock star disguise to the BOLO?” Gideon asked.
“Already did while we were in there,” Molina said, holding up her phone. “As soon as we had Paul Garvey’s name as the subject’s father, we sent detectives and a SWAT team to the airfield where they operate, just in case Carson Garvey showed up there and tried to appropriate a getaway plane. Up until now, he has not.”
“Which airfield?” Gideon asked.
“Garvey Airfield, twenty miles north of Sacramento International. Paul Garvey has owned it more than twenty years. We now have Carson’s home, his father’s home, their hangar at the airport, and the office where he works surrounded. The license plates of the Mercedes registered to Sydney Garvey are also added to the BOLO. We’ve got aerial searches going on and all airports have been informed or will be as they open.” She looked at the three of them. “Why don’t you go get Miss Dawson’s father and your sister, Gideon, and get some rest.”
“And you?” Daisy asked. “Will you rest, too?”
Molina’s brow rose and she looked a bit stunned that Daisy went there. “I . . .” She gathered herself, lifting her chin. “It’s kind of you to ask. I’m quite capable of deciding when I need rest, Miss Dawson.”