Don't Look Back (33 page)

The Hero knew he didn’t have much time. She’d entered the office, and the officer had taken his position by the door, arms crossed in front of him, eyes alert. And while the car in the parking lot currently had Dakota’s attention – just as he’d planned – he also knew it would throw a scare into the man and he’d be here within minutes to take Jamie into protective custody.

He fingered the syringe.

It was now or never.

Dakota bypassed the elevator headed to the stairs. The team still worked on the car, but he was anxious to get Jamie in his sights and keep her there. He knew Chet would protect her, plus she was with George, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to be able to see her, to touch her and know she was all right.

He made his way to the morgue and down the hallway. Checking each autopsy room, he saw no sign of Jamie. Same thing with her office.

His ringing phone distracted him for a moment. Checking the caller ID, he answered. “Talk to me, Jazz.”

“I got the picture from the post office. The person who delivered your box of bones was a woman. We’re working on her identity.”

“Can you send a picture of her to my phone?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. And let me know when you get a name.”

“You got it.”

He hung up.

Jamie must still be in George’s office.

Trekking his way back down the hall and around the corner, he saw George’s office door open. No sign of Chet. Entering the office, he called out, “George? Jamie? Chet?”

No answer.

A bad feeling formed in his gut. He crossed to the window and looked out into the parking lot. Jake still worked on the car. Connor talked to an employee. The parking lot had been blocked off.

Had the Hero come into George’s office to get Jamie and found her with George?

So where was Chet?

Dakota moved toward the bathroom.

Empty.

He rounded the desk and pulled up short.

“Chet, aw man. Hang on, buddy, help’s on the way.” Anger, frustration, and fear boiled inside him. Chet lay on his back, eyes blinking, desperately gasping, throat gushing.

Dakota ran to the door, down the hall a little bit. “Hey! Where’s Serena? I need some help in here!”

Two people stuck their heads out of offices. Serena came out of the break room, coffee cup in hand.

Dakota motioned her toward him. “I’ve got a man in here with a slashed throat. He needs help now!”

Serena tossed her coffee in the trash can near the door and raced toward him. “Call the ER, then hand me the phone, he’ll need immediate surgery.”

Snatching his cell phone from his pocket, Dakota got more help on the way, then while Serena did what she could for him, he focused his worry back on Jamie.

His phone buzzed and he pulled up the picture of the woman who’d delivered the box of bones to the post office. He didn’t recognize her – then again, she looked vaguely familiar.

Odd.

A glance back down at the pool of blood left by Chet.

Cold terror splashed through him. He knew without a doubt Jamie was back in the hands of her tormentor from years ago.

He also knew if he didn’t act smart and swift, Jamie would die.

A sound buzzed in her ears. Annoying, persistent, she wanted to tell it to stop. But something held her still. A sense of self-preservation? What was wrong?

A headache pounded her temples, nausea knocked at the back of her throat. And still she made no sound and refused to open her eyes. Was she sick? Maybe. No, that wasn’t it. She was moving. Bouncing in the back of something. A car? A truck?

Her eyes wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t open.

Familiar niggling jolted her. Clarity of thought came through for a brief moment. She’d done this before.

The memories hit her with the driving force of a jackhammer. Familiar odors. Her nose twitched. So tired. She tried to open her eyes. Couldn’t.

Something else registered.

Aching wrists clamped in steel.

Soon she would feel the soft mattress beneath her. Smell his putrid breath as he leaned over her . . .

Her breathing quickened.

Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t dare open her eyes. Didn’t think she could force them open if she had to. So she just stayed still.

“I know you’re awake, Jamie.”

That voice.
His
voice.

And the terror claimed her. Her mind swirled, turned to mush, and she knew no more.

31

Dakota pounded out Connor’s number on his phone. “Get in here. He’s got Jamie.”

Silence greeted him, then, “I’m on my way.”

Two minutes later, face ash white, Connor rounded the corner and stepped into George’s office. Medical personnel already had Chet on his way to surgery.

“There’s no sign of George or Jamie, Chet had his throat slashed. Serena said the guy was lucky. Our hero,” heavy on the sarcasm, “apparently didn’t think to use more force on Chet than he does on the girls.”

“Is he going to make it?”

“I don’t know. Serena seemed to think so.”

“Where’s Jamie?”

Sick guilt covered him. “I don’t know. There’s no sign of her.”

“He got her out of here somehow. I want to watch the video of all the parking lots around this building.”

“Already got them being pulled.”

“It should only take a few minutes, we know almost exactly when she was taken. You talked to her on her phone, what, fifteen minutes before you came up here to find Chet?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Connor studied the other door that led to the parking lot. “He went out this back entrance.”

“You would have seen him come into the parking lot if he used that entrance.”

“Right. And he knew that. So, since he couldn’t go that way, he had to take a chance and go into the hall.”

“I’ll get video on that too.”

His phone rang before he could dial the number. Jazz.

“What is it, Jazz? Make it fast, will you? Jamie’s missing.”

A swiftly indrawn breath. Then, “You’ll want this. I kept fishing for information on this Howard Wilkins.”

“Yeah? What’d you get?”
Oh, Jamie, I’m coming, darling, just
hang on, baby.

“Family situation was horrid apparently. He and his sister were taken from the home several times. They’d end up in foster care, then get placed back with Mom after she went through whatever therapy the courts assigned her. They dropped off the radar for a couple of years, then she died, was murdered when Howard was thirteen and his sister was ten. They were split up, placed in different homes. Nothing much after that on the sister. Howard was in and out of the court system until he was about sixteen, then became a model high school student, even graduated with honors. Went on to med school where his problems resurfaced. After he was kicked out of med school, I managed to track his movements. Found out he worked as an x-ray technician under the name of Howard Metcalffe.”

“Why didn’t we know this before?”

“He was very good at hiding. He acquired a fake ID and a new life. Besides, you were in a hurry before and this took some serious digging.”

He shut up, knowing she was right. “What else?”

“I also pulled information on the girl he raped and left for dead during medical school. Her name is Rachelle Jones. She committed suicide not too long after the attack. I talked to her father and he said that after he was done with Rachelle, he went after her boyfriend – George Horton.”

Dakota felt his stomach somersault. “Excuse me? Did you just say . . . ?”

“Yep. George. So, I pulled his records.”

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

Jazz proved him right. “George graduated at the top of his class as a psychiatrist. Brilliant guy, really. Anyway, two days after graduation, he seemed to disappear. Then he surfaced a few years later working for Eastside Psychiatric Therapists in Spartanburg.”

“Okay, that sounds about right. He now works here at the hospital.”

“Right, or so the information says. I’ve got his college yearbook picture. I’m emailing it to you now.”

“Thanks, Jazz, you’re awesome.”

“Of course.” She hung up and Dakota waited for the email to come in.

When it did, his bad feeling grew to epic proportions.

She had a floating sensation. For some reason she didn’t want to wake up. A bump, the squeal of brakes.

She was in a vehicle.

Moving again.

A turn.

Someone talking on a cell phone.

Nausea swirling. Terror returning. She should be afraid, but she couldn’t think why.

A sharp turn this time, then bumping over something. Gravel? Grass? A back road?

She felt foggy, sleepy, groggy. She knew she needed to wake up but couldn’t get her body to cooperate. Then she remembered.

And let the darkness close back over her.

Dakota, Connor, and Samantha stared at the video. When Connor had called her to tell her Jamie was in the hands of a madman, Samantha had left her bed and driven to the hospital. She now sat in a cushioned chair as the action went on around her.

Dakota could see Connor keeping a close eye on her. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about Jamie but knew it was no use hiding it from her. She’d have found out anyway when Connor called to say he wouldn’t be home.