Submerged (27 page)

Chapter Forty
-Two

Hinton, AB – Sunday, June 16, 2013 – 11:12 PM

Rebecca peeked between half-closed eyes. Her suspicion was correct. The voice had come from someone she'd never have suspected. In some ways it made sense, though they'd been civil to each other, and Rebecca wasn't a threat.

So then why was
Tracey Whitaker in her room, dressed in a nurse's uniform and holding a syringe?

As instructed, Rebecca
feigned grogginess. "Hi, Tracey. What are y-you doing h-here?"

Tracey
leaned over her. "I came to finish the job."

"W
-what do you mean?" Rebecca muffled an exaggerated yawn, praying that Detective Zur was getting every word on tape. "What job? What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to die, Rebecca. Quick and easy."
Tracey shrugged. "Well, maybe not so quick. But it was supposed to be a simple hit and run, no survivor."

"But you and Wesley are getting married. I'm not standing in your way. You can have him.
There's no need to do this."

Tracey
shook her head. "Rebecca, you have no idea. Of course I have to do this. For the money."

The money? This was all about the kids' inheritance?

"You know Wesley can't touch that money," Rebecca said in a faux-groggy voice.

"He can if you're dead before the divorce goes through. He'd automatically get custody of Ella and Colton, and everything that comes with them. Including the money your grandfather left them. Wesley would have signing authority."

"I'm not sure it would work that way."

Tracey
smiled. "We've already consulted a lawyer. The guy insisted there's no contingency plan. If you die, Wesley gets the money."

"It's for the kids."
Where the hell is Detective Zur?

Tracey
placed her hands on either side of Rebecca's pillow, then hunched down close to Rebecca's face. "It's not difficult to make an expense look like it's for them and not us."

"I can't believe We
sley's in on this," Rebecca slurred. "I can't believe the father of my children would agree to murder. Of me or his kids. My God…"

Tracey
snickered. "Wesley doesn't have the balls to do what's needed." An evil smile lit her face. "But I do."

"The police
will catch you," Rebecca said.
If they ever get here!

Tracey
held up the syringe. "You don't think I know what kind of drug to use? There are dozens that won't show up in an autopsy, unless one knew what to look for. No, dear Rebecca, you'll fall asleep until your lungs stop pumping oxygen to your brain and body. The police will think you suffered complications with your lung surgery." She moved to the IV pole and injected the drug into the line.

"Please,
Tracey."

The woman capped the hypodermic needle and pocketed it. Then she bent down and kissed Rebecca's forehead. "It won't hurt a bit. I promise."

"Tracey, please. Think about what you're doing."

"I've been thinking about this for months. You haven't been easy to spy on." Tracey laughed. "You almost caught me, do you know that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Colton's
last hockey game. You all went out to watch, and I convinced Wesley I had cold so I could do a little reconnaissance. When he called me after the game to tell me you were going to Cadomin, I knew exactly what I needed to do. But first I had to figure out your exact route. Thankfully, you left a map on a table for me."

Rebecca thought back to that night.
The open garage door!
"You broke into in my house?"

Tracey leaned close. "I've been in your house many times. I've even been in your bed. With Wesley."

Rebecca flicked a look at the door. "That doesn't surprise me. Wesley has a bad habit of making rotten decisions."

Tracey
observed her, her forehead furrowing in confusion. After a moment, she shook her head and said, "The little cocktail I prepared for you should be kicking in any second. Why don't you just close your eyes and sleep?"

"Because I'm not tired, you stupid bitch."

Tracey grabbed Rebecca's arm and stared at the area where the IV needle should have been attached. "What the hell?" She yanked the IV bag from beneath the covers.

It was Rebecca's turn to smile. "Sorry to disappoint. Guess you've wasted those drugs for nothing."

"Then it's a good thing I brought a backup." Tracey held up a scalpel.

Chapter Forty
-Three

Hinton, AB – Sunday, June 16, 2013 – 11:13 PM

Marcus searched the ER waiting area for Zur, but the detective was gone. So was Wesley Kingston. He ran into the cafeteria and found Kingston sitting at a table, alone.

"Where's your fiancée?"

"I have no idea. I thought she was in here, getting us dinner. I tried calling her, but she's not picking up. Maybe she went to get something from the car." Kingston frowned. "Why?"

Marcus didn't answer. Instead, he raced toward the elevators, while digging his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. In the elevator he stabbed the
third-floor button and dialed Zur's number.

"What's up, Marcus?"

"I think I know who's trying to kill Rebecca, and it's not a man. It's a woman. Tracey. Wesley Kingston's fiancée."

"What makes you think that?"

"I found a photo in Rebecca's house." When Zur started to interrupt him, he said, "I had permission to be there. Don't ask. I'll tell you later. Anyways, I found a photo of a party at Kingston's father's law firm. Says on the back that they'd released the news about Rebecca being pregnant with Ella."

"What's that got to do with this
Tracey woman?"

"She's standing in the crowd and doesn't look very happy about the news
."

"What's she look like?"

"She's tall, maybe five foot ten. Thin. Long red hair, brown eyes. How's Rebecca doing?"

"I'm watching the feed.
Mrs. Kingston is fine. But we're having a few problems with the sound. It's cutting in and out. I think she dislodged it by moving around too much."

"Is she alone?"

"No. The nurse is with her."

"The same nurse you vetted?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"Shit," came Zur's reply. "I think it's the fiancée. She's been talking to Mrs.
Kingston, leaning over her." He mumbled something Marcus couldn't hear.

"What's wrong?" Marcus demanded.

"Security found our nurse stashed in a janitor's closet two minutes ago. She's unconscious, but alive. We weren't expecting a woman, Marcus, and she's wearing a uniform. We missed it."

Marcus slammed a fist into the wall of the elevator. "I'll be there
right away."

"No, don't.
I have enough men up here to handle this."

There was more mumbling on the other end, then Zur said, "We've got her
! Tracey Whitaker just injected something into the IV. Don't worry. It's not actually attached to Mrs. Kingston. We're going in." The line went dead.

Marcus bounced on the balls of his feet. "Why did I get the slowest elevator ever made?"

There was a brash
ding
and the doors opened. Marcus ran down the hallway, cursing under his breath for not taking the central elevator, which would have exited much closer to Rebecca's room.

As he rounded the corner, he saw six plainclothes officers with their guns drawn. Zur
, in his doctor gear, stood outside Rebecca's door, his weapon aimed inside.

Marcus's heart did a flip-flop. "What's going on?"

"Hostage situation," the officer closest to him replied.

Marcus couldn't breathe.
Rebecca…

He watched in horror as
Zur backed away and Rebecca appeared in the doorway. Behind her stood Tracey, though the woman's appearance had changed. Her hair was twisted into a bun, and she wore a nurse's uniform and the black-rimmed glasses she'd confiscated from the real nurse.

Tracey
held a scalpel to Rebecca's neck.

"Ms.
Whitaker, drop the knife," Zur said.

The woman
gripped Rebecca tighter. "Get back!"

"Ms.
Whitaker, I'm Detective John Zur. You're making a terrible mistake here."

"She's the one who made the mistake!"
Tracey screamed, the knife nicking Rebecca's neck and leaving a thin trail of blood.

"Tell us what you want," Zur said. "What do you need?"

"I need for her to die, like she was supposed to."

Rebecca's panicked eyes found Marcus's, and he tried to mentally send her strength.
Hold on. Don't do anything. Let John handle it.

"Rebecca
Kingston has two young children," Zur said. "You wanted them dead too?"

"No!
" Tracey shouted as tears flowed down her cheeks. "They weren't supposed to be there. Wesley said they were staying with their aunt."

"
So Mr. Kingston didn't know they were with their mom?"

Tracey
's eyes flashed with panic. "No.
She
was the one who was supposed to die. That's the way he wanted it, planned it. He paid that guy to run her off the road. He said I had to finish it, that we'd get the money for sure then. There was no other way I could pay back the goddamn loan."

Marcus swallowe
d hard. He and Zur had been wrong about Wesley Kingston. The man
had
planned Rebecca's murder.
The bastard!

"Ms.
Whitaker—Tracey," Zur said in a calm tone. "If you put down the knife, you can walk away."

"Yeah, right."
The knife trembled and dipped slightly lower.

"I give you my word. You can walk out those doors. We won't follow you."

"And all I have to do is let this bitch go?"

"Yes."

What happened next was a blur of motion and sound. Tracey jerked her hand upward, and a shot rang out. Someone screamed. Tracey and Rebecca toppled backward, hit the wall and landed on the floor. The scalpel clattered across the tiles, landing in a pool of blood.

"Rebecca!" Marcus
screamed.

An officer held him back. "Zur has her, Mr.
Taylor. She's all right."

"But I saw blood," he replied with a moan.

"The Whitaker woman. Detective Zur shot her. She's dead."

"I have to see Rebecca.
John!"

Zur glanced around, saw Marcus and rushed over.
"I can't let you any further, Marcus. It's a crime scene. But what I will do is bring her to you as soon as we've taken her statement. Go wait in the exam room with Simms and Geraldo."

"Kingston is in the cafeteria," Marcus said.

Zur nodded. "We got him. He's already in custody. We'll talk later, okay?"

As Zur walked away,
Marcus struggled to get a glimpse of Rebecca. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her moving around, uninjured. She was okay. Well, as okay as she could be after Tracey held a knife to her throat.

He watched as
Zur led Rebecca back to her room. With nothing left to do, Marcus wandered down the hall, replaying the night's events in his head.

Tracey
Whitaker and Wesley Kingston had conspired to murder Rebecca.

He shook his head. How could he have been so wrong about
Kingston?

The money.

Not the money the kids would inherit, but the money used to pay off Delaney. That's what had thrown Marcus. He'd been so sure that Kingston had no access to such a large amount of money. Twenty-five thousand dollars? But it had been Tracey who'd come up with payment. One coldhearted bitch.

And now one
coldhearted
dead
bitch.

Kingston
…

The guy was downstairs eating
dinner, for Christ's sake. The mastermind had been right under everyone's noses.

Marcus took a detour and headed to the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, he was on the main floor in less than two minutes. A few patients wandered the floor, along with
three interns and an ER doctor.

He strode
down the hallway, hell-bent on pounding Kingston's face to a pulp. When he reached the cafeteria, he found Wesley Kingston standing near a table, his hands cuffed behind his back while an officer read him his rights.

"
I had nothing to do with this," Kingston shrieked.

The officer led Kingston toward Marcus. They locked eyes as they passed.

"It wasn't me," Kingston insisted. "I swear, I didn't try to kill her!"

"Bullshit!
" Marcus said, his fists clenched at his sides. "Tracey already admitted you planned it all. You're going down for attempted murder. Of your wife
and
your two kids, you son of a bitch."

"You're wrong,"
Kingston sobbed. "I'd never hurt them. I have no reason to want them dead."

"I can think of about eight hundred
thousand
reasons."

Kingston shook his head. "What you're suggesting is ludicrous. I'm not capable of murder."

"Money can make people do desperate things," Marcus said between gritted teeth. "Things they thought they were never capable of."

"I didn't do this,"
Kingston hissed. "Tracey—"

"Is dead," Marcus snapped.
"That's what your plan got you. A dead fiancée and a prison sentence."

Kingston
was led away amid shrieks of protest and denials.

Marcus
ran a shaky hand through his hair and released a pent-up groan. He'd wasted enough time on Kingston. The man would get what was coming to him.

He
walked back to the elevator and stepped inside.

Time to tell Rebecca the nightmare is finally over.