The Haunted (Sarah Roberts 12) (25 page)

She had to get back to the Safari Inn.

She braced herself to get up and stood on wobbly legs.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss?”

Sarah turned to look at who was talking to her. Two police officers had stepped up behind her.

“I have to get back to the hotel.”

“You won’t be going anywhere right now, Miss. You need to see a paramedic and we need to talk to you about what happened here.”

She leaned in close to one of the officers. “If we don’t go back to the Safari Inn right now, people could die. There’s a bomb in room 224. Call the bomb squad. Have them remove it, then. But call it in. Deal with it.”

The other officer stepped up, pointing his finger. “Hey, I recognize you. You’re that girl who helped with the priest killings. Sarah something.”

“Sarah Roberts, and you have to listen to me. Detective David Hirst will die if that bomb goes off. He’s been shot three times and he’s in the room that asshole,” she pointed at the burning pickup, “left a bomb in.”

The cop who knew her name pulled out a cell phone. “What hotel again?”

“The Safari Inn. Hurry!”

He dialed out. “The one just down here, on Olive.”

“The same.”

The explosion in the distance made everyone duck even though the Safari Inn was quite a few blocks away. Sarah hobbled around the cab of the large rig. The fireball was huge, like an F-16 had dropped a guided missile in the center of Burbank.

Hirst was dead. And many other innocent lives as well. Cole would get the last laugh, after all. It was over. She had no idea how she would be able to talk herself out of this mess now that the only person who could help explain what had happened with the missing cops just died in a ball of flames.

She looked skyward, her eyes watering.

Thanks for this, Vivian. You’ve been a real sport.

The street sign caught her eye. She was standing at the intersection of Olive Avenue and Victory Boulevard.

Victory Boulevard.

How ironic.

Chapter 34

Interview Room Seven, or IR7 as the detectives referred to it, was rather splendid compared to other interrogation rooms Sarah had frequented in the past. After six hours, four coffees, two sandwiches and lots of water, she had offered the men and women investigating the hotel, chase and car accident incidents her statement, telling her side twice. No one asked her about the disappearance of Roland or Frank, which she was thankful for but was beginning to worry about. Why wouldn’t they? When Hirst was following her after using Roland’s cell, chasing her with cruisers in tow, why not question her on why she had Roland’s phone? Unless Hirst had kept that to himself. And who was the guy she had been chasing? They weren’t very interested. All they wanted was her version of the events and when the questioning strayed off the events of the Safari Inn and the crash at Victory Boulevard, Margot, the female detective who seemed to be in charge, reined them back in to keep things on track.
 

Maybe they found Roland’s phone, or parts of it in the debris at the hotel and assumed Hirst had done something rogue and died for his efforts. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t prepared to open Pandora’s box by bringing up the subject.

As everyone filed out of the room, Margot stayed behind. She leaned against the closed door, pulled out a business card and fidgeted with it, sliding it under her fingernails to clean them. Her misty gray eyes were unreadable—a good trait to have when interrogating.

This could go one of two ways. One, they had allowed Sarah to tell her story, which wasn’t the whole story, letting her trap herself before they were to charge her for the murder of two LAPD officers. Throw her to the lawyers and judges and let the courts figure it out.

Or two, this was over and for some reason they were about to let her go.

That was the maddening part. She couldn’t read Margot. The smile on the detective’s face was either a knowing smile, like I got you now, or an admiring one.

“Sarah?” Margot said.

Sarah uncrossed her hands and allowed her body language to be open without responding.

“You telling us everything?” Margot asked.

“If I’m not?” Sarah asked back, waiting for the,
or else.

Margot looked up from the business card, tossed it on the table and opened the door.

“Take the card. Call me if think of anything else. But stay close for a few days. There are more statements to go through.” She paused for a moment, then met Sarah’s gaze. “We lost a lot of bikers at that motel. But hey, that’s greed for you.”

That was the first time anyone spoke of the bomb or its casualties. Even though it appeared that Margot was letting her go and not charging her with anything, Sarah remained seated.

“Greed?”

Margot shrugged. “It’s sad, but that’s the nuts and bolts of it.”

“I’m missing something.”

“After you left the room, the bikers came upstairs to see where the girl came from who stole their bike. They were probably hunting for blood. The state Detective Hirst was in must’ve startled them. Emergency services were already en route. Hirst talked them into carrying him out of the room, wounds and all. He wanted as far from that briefcase as possible.”

The only way Margot could know all this was the statements of others as Hirst most surely died in the explosion. But if he had been carried out before the explosion—Sarah started to wonder if Hirst might be alive.

Margot moved into the room and braced her hands on the back of the chair opposite Sarah. “These guys, with Hirst bleeding out from three gunshot wounds, carried him all the way to the front desk where paramedics were arriving. Then they headed back to the room to look for clues to who you were. Half a chapter of the L.A. Riders spilled into room 224 to decide what to do to the chick who stole their bike, when one of them opened the briefcase.”

“Oh, no.”

“Exactly.” Margot pushed off the chair and opened the door to Interview Room Seven again. “You won’t have to worry about any biker gangs coming after you. The media got wind of the story and twisted it to look like a biker war with the only one making it out alive was some biker chick who slid under the rig that killed the guy chasing her.”

Sarah nodded. This was good. She couldn’t write it this good.

“So let’s leave it at that,” Margot added.

Sarah got up from the table. She didn’t need to be asked twice. At the door, Margot grabbed her arm.

“Cool?”

Sarah nodded. “Let’s leave it at that,” she repeated.

“Good. Now, you’re going to need a ride.”

“A ride?”

They stepped out into the hallway.

“Of course. The hospital is a bit of a walk from here.”

“I can only assume you’re taking me to see Hirst?”

“If he’s out of surgery and the doctor will let us in. He asked for you before going into surgery. Said you saved his life. Something about jumping the guy. Hirst said he was sure you would eat a bullet for him. He said that if you made it, he wanted to see you when he wakes up in the ICU.” Margot was shaking her head. “Wait until I tell him you stole that Harley and almost died going after the perp.”

As Margot talked, a feeling of elation akin to freedom overwhelmed Sarah. Hirst was alive. He didn’t die and no one told her. Hirst knew she was innocent. Hirst trusted her and saw what she did for him. Things would work out after all.

They started down the hallway, Margot in the lead.

“Oh, and a man named Parkman is at the hospital. He came here first. Asked for you, but you were busy with us. Said he’d wait with Hirst. Funny guy, though.”

“Why funny?”

“He had a toothpick in his mouth like he just had a steak and he wouldn’t offer another name. Just Parkman. Who has only one name?”

Sarah smiled.

Those toothpicks. He probably found a flavored one.

“Parkman is only known by one name,” Sarah said. “I’ve never heard another for him. Maybe one day I’ll ask about that.”

It felt like a palpable weight had been lifted. She followed Margot to an unmarked LAPD cruiser with a lighter step.

Chapter 35

On the way to the hospital, Margot drove without talking. They had said enough in room seven. It gave Sarah a chance to reflect and make peace with Vivian.

For the first time in days Vivian’s presence was close by. Sarah felt her intimately close, lingering inside her head, listening to Sarah’s thoughts, a feeling still somewhat foreign, but welcoming.

The knowledge Vivian imparted to Sarah in a flash was that Vivian’s memories would stop now. The horrid images would disappear and cease to come back, but Vivian couldn’t help what was already there. Now that Cole was dead, Sarah could move on as well. But she would have to do it without Aaron.

Sarah wiped a tear away before Margot could see it when Vivian made her aware that Aaron was already in Toronto. He headed back when Parkman got to L.A. and told him Sarah was fine. She wasn’t even in the hospital. Only scrapes and bruises this time. Aaron was supposed to head to Toronto anyway, but it still hurt for him to leave this way. She was supposed to call him. They could talk. But Vivian was clear when she said that Aaron was moving on for now.

Vivian allowed Sarah to feel what Aaron was going through. Her choice was this life. His choice was Sarah. He had never been right with what she did and having to chase her around and never know if she was alive or dead had taken its toll on him.

Sarah understood but didn’t like it. She’d call him. They’d talk. She loved Aaron and he loved her. But he was free to do as he wished. She would never hold him back.

It was time to let Aaron go.

Vivian whispered some of what was coming and why it was more important than ever to work alone. This time it wouldn’t be so physical, so life and death for Sarah. Vivian dropped a few words, a few hints into Sarah’s consciousness that put a mental picture together.

All Sarah had to do was to find a certain number of people and change their plans. If their plans succeeded, it would mean the death of many.

It would be easy. Vivian would supply the locations and times. All Sarah had to do was convince them to stop going forward.

Sure she had to convince them with a gun, but once convinced, everything would be fine and Sarah’s job would be complete.

Yeah, sounds easy, Vivian. Famous last words.

Do this and succeed
, Vivian had whispered as Margot pulled into the hospital’s parking lot,
or you will be unlucky. Who wants to be known as The Unlucky?

Sarah shuddered in the seat. As the word unlucky floated through her mind, she had a premonition of death, even torture. A feeling of being on the run like never before.

“What have you got planned, Sis?”

The car stopped in a spot.

“What was that?” Margot asked.

“Oh nothing. Talking to myself.”

“Right. Let’s go visit the cop whose life you saved.”

“Let’s roll.”

Sarah got out of the car and followed Margot into the hospital, putting Vivian’s thoughts away for now.

The images of what was next for Sarah were just too chilling.

Afterword

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to another segment in Sarah Robert’s life. I hope you enjoyed the ride as Sarah found closure to a past that had haunted her for quite some time. Sarah’s evolving, maturing still, her attitude calming and her understanding of the world in relation to her gift developing in a way that allows her to do good in a world filled with bad. She’s ready for The Unlucky, Book Thirteen, and many more to come.

I hadn’t visited my brother’s grave in over a decade. Now, before I get into trouble for that statement, let me explain. My brother is buried over four thousand miles from where I live. For the first time in nearly six years this summer, I found myself in Ontario, just east of Toronto, where he’s buried and decided to make the jaunt over to pay my respects and leave flowers by his headstone.

My twelve-year-old daughter was with me when we found the graveyard and pulled into a strip mall across the street intent on purchasing flowers. Neither store we visited had flowers for sale. Seriously unprepared but at the cemetery already, my daughter and I decided to drive over and visit his grave anyway, sans flowers. (I know, how could I?)

As we headed to our car, a rented Ford Fusion by the way, a raven fluttered from the lip of a garbage bin, startling both of us. When it did, a large bang emanated from inside the garbage bin, as if someone threw a chunk of metal inside, yet there was no one around and nothing was tossed into it.

We looked at each other over the roof of the vehicle, eyes wide, both thinking the same thing.