Joe Victim: A Thriller

“Yeah? Then ask her what the message is,” Melissa says.

“Please,” Sally says, shaking her head, and she’s looking at me and talking to me, and I remember the conversations we used to have at work, I remember her making me a sandwich every day, good ol’ reliable Sally, kindhearted Sally, Simple Sally. The Sally. Sandwiches that wouldn’t make me sick, Sally.

“We have no use for her,” Melissa says.

“No, I don’t suppose we do,” I say.

“Joe,” Sally says.

“Sssh,” I say, and I put my finger to my lips. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.

“Joe,” she says, her voice higher now. “Joe . . .”

“I kept her alive for you, Joe,” Melissa says. “I kept her for you to kill.”

Sally. Poor Sally. Overweight Sally. Always trying to help. Sally always plodding her way around the police station and ignored by everybody, the same way I used to plod and be ignored, only I’d be plodding with forty pounds less than her. I shake my head. It’s time to show people that I’m a human being, and what better time to start than here and now.

“I’m not going to shoot her,” I tell Melissa.

The Sally looks happy. Melissa looks sad.

“You do it,” I tell Melissa. “But make it quick,” I tell her. I don’t want The Sally to suffer. That is my humanity.





Chapter Seventy-Four


This part of the hospital is a maze. Schroder has been in it before, visiting people. He’s waited outside operating rooms as victims inside have died. He’s been in here as friends have fought for their lives—some making it, some not.

Dr. Hearse sees him and comes over. He has the same disapproving look on his face his dentist has when he sees Schroder hasn’t been regularly flossing. “I know you’re impatient, but they’re still working on her.”

“I need the quickest way out into the back parking lot.”

“The hell you do. You need medical attention.”

“Just give me something for the pain.”

“What the hell is it with cops? You want us to perform miracles when your life is on the line, but when it comes to injuries you just don’t seem to care.”

“It’s one of life’s ironies,” he says. “Look, it’s important. Please, can you give me something or not?”

“No. You need to come back and—”

“Later,” Schroder says. “Look, at least show me the way to the parking lot.”

The way consists of a few more turns and a pissed-off doctor who rolls his eyes whenever Schroder looks at him. Then they’re in a corridor that’s about twenty yards long with doors at each end and no windows. Hearse has to walk with him to use his security card to get the doors to open. They both step outside into the sun. There are sirens wailing in the not-too-far distance.

“I don’t understand,” Hearse says, looking out at the parking lot and seeing the same thing that Schroder is seeing—an ambulance surrounded by sedans and SUVs and a few motorbikes. Dirt and dust from nearby construction floats above all of it like a blanket. The weather hasn’t changed any—the sun has climbed a little higher and made the shadows shorter, but that’s about it. Hutton has parked ten yards from the ambulance. He’s standing behind his car.

“That ambulance shouldn’t be there,” Dr. Hearse says. “What is—” he starts, then stops when he notices Hutton is holding a gun.

“Stay here,” Schroder says to the doctor, then skirts around the cars and, staying low, makes his way over to Hutton. “What’s the situation?”

“Not sure. But it has to be the one, right? I’ve called it in. AOS is ten minutes away.”

Schroder doesn’t think they need to wait. The Armed Offenders Squad is going to arrive only to find an empty ambulance. Still, they need to be cautious. “We can’t wait that long.”

“I know,” Hutton says. “That’s why I called you. I’m going to go in.”

Schroder nods. “And if somebody comes out? What do you want me to do? Shoot them with my fingers?”

“Why don’t you use Kent’s gun? I saw you take it.”

Schroder nods. Fair point.

They approach the ambulance. It’s clear there’s nobody in the front. Hutton stands at the back and gives Schroder the go signal, then Schroder rests Kent’s gun in his sling, uses his good arm to pull the door open, and at the same time he jumps back and grabs Kent’s gun. Hutton points his gun inside and a moment later lowers it. Schroder puts Kent’s back into his pocket then calls out to Dr. Hearse, who comes running over. He looks inside the ambulance.

“Jesus,” he says. “That’s Trish. And where . . . Oh, shit, Jimmy,” he says, looking at the second body, then climbing in.

The back of the ambulance is a mess. There are supplies littered over the floor. Blood. A nurse’s outfit. The man has been stripped down to his underwear. Hearse checks Trish for a pulse, then quickly turns toward Schroder.