I break into a run toward the hospital entrance.
Inside, only a handful of people occupy the main floor. I move past the employee lounge and take a peek—nobody there. I run by the administrative offices and find only two people working. I walk toward my office, and just one person passes me along the way. Awareness steps up: bumping into the wrong person could stop me from getting to Donny Ray, and even more, place Devon directly in the path of danger.
But I don’t know how to act. I’m carrying a loaded weapon.
Play it very cool.
Adam and Jeremy step out of Adam’s office. Even from this distance I know they’re not engaged in casual conversation—both wear expressions serious enough to raise my concerns.
They’re talking about you.
I take tentative steps forward and observe both men as they continue their discussion. I can’t help but notice the tension. I’m unsure what’s causing it, but I do sense it’s not between them.
At about ten feet away, I go for cover behind a stack of boxes and keep watching. Adam tosses a glance at my office door and says something. Jeremy looks too, then responds with a frown and shakes his head.
You’ve got some serious trouble brewing there.
Two doctors walk up behind me. They’re speaking too loudly and make eavesdropping impossible. I pretend to inspect some boxes, then once they pass, return my attention to Adam and Jeremy.
Adam just gave Jeremy the red folder.
Fury rips through me. That folder again.
It’s filled with the information Adam’s been gathering on you. He also handed over the tapes.
“What tapes?”
Of all your conversations with him.
I lower my gaze to Jeremy’s hands—one holds the red folder, the other a brown paper bag with his name on it. I should have known. Jeremy’s in on this, too. Now I’ve got the top dog working against me as well. The two men nod to each other, then Jeremy walks away.
Adam just ratted you out. Now Jeremy knows your mind is slipping. He’s going to put you on psych leave.
“That bastard . . . ,” I mumble, vitriol burning in my throat as Adam heads in the other direction. I reach for my gun, aim it at his skull, then cock the trigger.
Don’t waste your bullets. Donny Ray is your target—anything else will only keep you from getting to him.
I lower the gun.
More obstacles. In addition to time ticking away, now I’m a marked man. I bound toward my office, dash inside, then lock the door behind me.
I’m safe.
But not for long.
79
Things have become significantly more complicated than I’d expected. I had no idea they’d be tightening the screws all around. Getting to Donny Ray will be much harder with Adam, Jeremy, and God-only-knows-who-else watching over me.
Every camera in this hospital is monitoring you.
I have to offset this new wrinkle, move about silently to avoid detection.
A fast-moving target is the hardest to hit. Get out of this office.
I feel for the gun at my waist, straighten out my blazer.
I’m ready to roll.
I head for Ground Zero.
On my way to Alpha Twelve, I approach Security Checkpoint One.
Stay calm. Act normal.
The hospital’s been too cheap to invest in metal detectors, and the guard doesn’t know I’m packing heat. Besides, Adam told Jeremy about me just moments ago, so I doubt the news has trickled down to security yet.
At the gate, I pull out my card, swipe it through the slot, then after passing through without incident, quietly exhale my relief.
But after opening the door to Alpha Twelve, my jaw plunges. This place is in the process of being cleared out. Workers cart furniture from rooms. A maintenance guy stands at one of the circuit breaker boxes, flipping switches and looking down the hallway as lights flash on and off. Two patients wander slow and aimless amid the confusion, vision set ahead, faces nearly expressionless. Mystery Nurse sits at the station mindlessly typing away. As usual she’s oblivious to what’s going on all around her.
A loud thwack off to my side startles me. I jump back and see workers tossing debris into a construction bin, but beyond that, something far worse regenerates my worries.
Oh, no.
Jeremy stands about fifteen feet away, head bobbing in every direction, eyes wandering the floor, and when he’s not doing that, he’s busy talking to staff members.
He’s looking for you.
Slowly, I back myself around the corner.
And he just came from Donny Ray’s room.
“What was he doing there?” I whisper.
They’re getting ready to take Donny Ray out of Loveland.
“And handing that crazed lunatic a license to kill again.”
I set my sight on Donny Ray’s room. The door is wide open, light shifting across the floor, with unfamiliar voices wafting out. Butterflies batter inside my stomach. Nerves climb the ladder to jittery.
They’re strategizing on how to stop you.
I look both ways, wait for the path to clear, then zoom across the hallway and into a vacant patient room across from Donny Ray’s. I peer out from behind the door. I keep watching.
Several minutes later, a shadow drifts up the hallway, then a guy wearing an orderly’s uniform materializes. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him here before, but there’s no question he’s got dirty written all over him. He walks into Donny Ray’s room, and about three minutes later, a second unknown man enters, also wearing the uniform.
Outside reinforcements.
I swallow hard, then people start filing out of Donny Ray’s room at an urgent pace.
Hurry! They’re on the move!
Just as I storm the hallway, Donny Ray himself comes walking out of his room. He wears freshly pressed jeans and a pinpoint oxford, his hair neatly styled, his shoes brand new. Two very large and disagreeable looking thugs in plainclothes flank each side of him as all three head straight toward the exit.