The Unlucky (17 page)

A thin strip of light kept her from absolute darkness and losing her mind. How much oxygen would one of these things offer? How long could she stay in here, huddled up against the cold? How long could a person handle a few degrees above freezing?

The voices were in the room now.

She shivered with a full-body shake, but bit down on the moan that followed. Every part of her skin that touched the inner walls of the cold storage unit felt like it rested on ice.
 

She would wait until the voices disappeared. Once they were gone, she would kick the door open and nonchalantly leave this place. She hated hospitals as a rule. Only stayed in them if absolutely needed. To be stuck in one, and not just stuck, hiding in the morgue, was making her sick.

Add to that how bad this trip to Toronto had turned out to be. What would Aaron think of her now? Sure, come to Toronto, meet with Aaron, have a chat, work things out. Instead, she was wanted for murder and she had set Aaron up to be arrested in a violent takedown.

The perils of being my boyfriend.

Maybe that was what the message was here. Maybe she shouldn’t be attached. Perhaps someone in Sarah’s line of work was destined to be single.

Parkman came to mind. She loved him in a different way and yet he seemed to make it around her just fine. So maybe Aaron could, too?

She hoped so. That is if Aaron wanted to be around her. Sarah wanted this life, needed it. She wanted to make things better wherever she could. It was in her soul, her belief system and her will to fight. But Aaron just wanted her without the other shit. That was why he left California. That was why he left her.

This might have been a hopeless trip. It occurred to her as the shakes took over and her body fought the frigid temperatures inside cold storage, that they were probably done as a couple.

The light near her feet dimmed and then brightened again. Someone was leaning on the door. She had no defense. If they opened the coffin-sized chamber they could shoot her and close the door behind them, leaving it closed for a few weeks. Then commit her to the crematorium. No one would ever find her.

That’s how it’s done,
Vivian whispered.

The shadow was at the door again.

“Excuse me, doctor?” a man said. “Are these doors supposed to be open?”

“No, Officer,” another man said.

The light by her feet disappeared as the cold storage door closed and locked from the outside.

“Oh shit,” Sarah whispered.

There was no inside release lever. Until someone came and opened the door to let her out, she was stuck inside a cold storage chamber in the basement morgue at the Princess Margaret Cancer Hospital.

Her breath caught in her throat. She broke out in a full-body sweat even though the inside of the pitch-black chamber suddenly got colder.

Then she was panting like she had run a hundred-meter dash. Her heart pounded in her chest like a caged animal angry at the cage that confined it. Her bladder urged release as Sarah fought to control her panic. With each gasp of air, she wondered how much oxygen was left, while wondering what cold storage unit she was in.

She hadn’t read the number on the outside of the door. She had no idea what chamber she was in on a wall littered with doors.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit …”

Chapter 21

Outside the restaurant, Parkman asked Aaron if he wanted to join him for a digestivo before he headed to his hotel room.

“Sounds good to me,” Aaron said.

They walked north on Yonge Street until they found a bar where the music wasn’t too loud. Aaron located a table while Parkman went and ordered two Johnny Walkers.

Once seated, Parkman nudged his briefcase up against the wall beside the table and took a large drink from his glass.

“So I got to thinking,” he said. “If researching Niles Mason gave me nothing, maybe Sarah wanted me to go deeper. So I looked into his partner, Marina Diner.”

Aaron set his glass down and stared across the table at Parkman. “What did you find?”

“She’s even cleaner than Niles and that’s saying something because you can’t get cleaner than Niles.”

Aaron drank half his whiskey in one gulp.

“Is there something else in that file except clean cops?” Aaron asked.

“There is one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a cop missing. Officer Mark Hemmings has been missing since just after last Christmas.”

“How is that connected?”

“Hemmings was Mason’s old partner.”

“Okay. Fluke coincidence since Sarah asked you to look into Niles, or do you think Niles has something to do with Hemmings’ disappearance?”

Parkman popped another toothpick from his stash into his mouth, played with it a moment, then drank the rest of his whiskey.

“If Niles had anything to do with it, he’s damn good. The night Hemmings was reported missing, Niles was on vacation. I checked where he went and found pictures of Cancun and the Mayan ruins on his Facebook timeline. Niles wasn’t even in the country when Hemmings disappeared.”

“So it wasn’t Niles Mason?”

“It wasn’t Niles, but there’s something. Otherwise Sarah wouldn’t have asked me to look up—” Parkman’s cell phone buzzed notifying him he’d received a text.

He looked down at it.

“That’s weird,” he said.

“What?” Aaron asked.

“I just got a text that says, and I quote, ‘I’m in the cancer hospital morgue. I’m freezing. Hurry.’ And it’s from a number that I don’t know.”

“That is weird.”

Parkman tilted his head in thought and stared at Aaron through half-lidded eyes. “You don’t think it’s Sarah, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t she use her own cell?”

Parkman shrugged as he looked down at his phone and reread the text. “Not sure. I’ll text back and ask.”

After typing his question back, he headed to the bar for two more whiskeys. By the time he retook his seat, his phone buzzed again.

“Listen to this,” Parkman said. Aaron leaned closer, already half done his beverage. His eyes were already swimming. “It says, ‘Vineyard. Santa Rosa. Gun. Almost shot you. Come now or when I get out, I will shoot you for this. Hurry. Freezing my shit off.’” Parkman met Aaron’s gaze. “That’s Sarah.”

“Then we have to go. Now.”

“Where’s the cancer hospital?” Parkman asked, already jumping out of his chair. He shot back the rest of his drink and Aaron did the same.

“Don’t know.”

Aaron ran for the bar and tossed a couple of twenties on the counter.

“Hey, barkeep? Where’s the cancer hospital?”

“Princess Margaret is the cancer hospital,” the bartender said, a towel and a glass in his hand.

“Where’s that?”

The bartender frowned and pointed out the window. “That way.”

“Thanks, you’ve been a great help,” Aaron said sarcastically.

Parkman grabbed Aaron’s arm and said, “C’mon. We don’t need to know where it is.”

They headed for the doors. Clearly Aaron didn’t understand how they would get there if they didn’t need to know where they were going.

“But how?” Aaron started. “I don’t get it, Parkman. And I don’t drink whiskey too often. I don’t feel so good. That was a lot of—”

“I know, Aaron. Just come on.” Parkman shot a hand out to hail a cab. A taxi did a U-turn and pulled up alongside them.

Once inside, the driver asked them where they wanted to go as Aaron slouched in the seat, leaning his face against the window.

“Take us to the Princess Margaret Cancer Hospital,” Parkman said.

“Got it.”

The driver watched his mirrors a moment, waited until a few cars had passed, then did another U-turn and headed south on Yonge Street.

Parkman’s cell buzzed again. He checked the message.

“She wants to know if I’m coming.”

He typed back that they were on their way.

“I told her we were both coming. She hasn’t responded.” Parkman looked up from his phone. Aaron stared out the window as if he was watching the people on the busy sidewalks at this hour. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about Sarah and about this cycle of always going in after her.”

“Just like California, eh?”

“Just like California. And all the other times.”

“You okay to do this?”

“That’s what I was thinking about.” Aaron turned to address Parkman.

“And?”

“And I’m excited to step up and be there for her. I let her down in California. I let myself down. When I pulled away, Sarah was all I could think about. I won’t do that again. I owe her. I owe her big. It’s funny how this situation has been put in front of me. I’ve been given a chance to come for her, to help her and I won’t fuck that chance up. I’m in all the way, Parkman. That is, if she’ll have me.”

Parkman smiled. “I’m pretty sure she’ll have you. But don’t tell me all that stuff. Tell it to her.”

“I will, I will. As soon as we save her, I will.”

Chapter 22

The taxi dropped them off on the street in front of the hospital. Groups of people mingled outside in various states of dress. Fire trucks, police cars, and several other emergency vehicles, their lights piercing the night, were parked in a jumble surrounding the hospital. If there was a spot a vehicle could be parked, an emergency vehicle filled that spot.

“What the hell happened here tonight?” Parkman asked, taking it all in.

Aaron responded by shaking his head.

“Okay,” Parkman said as he placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “We have to get inside somehow and make it to the morgue. If they’re in some kind of lockdown, this could be difficult. I’m relying on you.”

“I’m there. Whatever you need.”

“Follow my lead then.”

Parkman started off with Aaron following. He led Aaron through a throng of people talking about another patient. A different group of people were debating why the hospital was evacuated.

He stopped by that group.

“Excuse me,” Parkman said. “Can anyone tell me who’s in charge here?” He flipped open his private detective badge and shut it just as quick. “Just point them out to me.”

One of their group, a man in track pants and an ’80s Metallica shirt, pointed at the front doors as a group of about eight men emerged from inside the well-lit building.

“Those guys look like your best bet, buddy,” he said in a helpful Canadian way, like he was ecstatic the investigator asked him instead of anyone else. “Otherwise, try any police officer in blue. That might help, eh.”

“Okay, eh,” Parkman said, trying to sound Canadian. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”

He started for the men who had stopped on the front steps. The group consisted of two firemen, two police officers and four men in suits. They stood just outside the front doors, engaged in a discussion about something. As Parkman drew closer, it sounded like the men were debating whether or not to allow everyone back inside.

Parkman nudged Aaron to stay on his heels as he attempted to get close enough to eavesdrop.

“She’s still in the somewhere,” one of the cops said.

“We understand,” an older man in a suit said. “But I can’t have all my patients outside like this. If the bomb threat is over, I’m sending everyone back inside.”

“Sir, I’m asking for a little more time,” a middle-aged man in a suit with his back to Parkman said. “My men will find her. She killed a patient and shot a detective in the parking lot. She was last seen entering the hospital and no one has seen her leave. How can I make myself more clear? This takes priority over patients getting back in bed.”

“You have a job to do, Detective Mason,” the older man replied. Aaron nudged Parkman. They looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “And I have a job to do, too. Find your criminals on your own time. I will handle my patients as I see fit. You won’t be the one answering questions before the board next week if something happens to any of these people. I will be.”

“Fine. It’s your hospital.”

The men dispersed. Detective Niles Mason walked right by Parkman and Aaron without a second look. He had pulled out his phone and was already speaking into it.

“I’ve secured both murder scenes.” He paused. Just before he got out of earshot, he said, “Yes, I’m waiting for the team to take over the scenes as we speak.”

Then he disappeared around a corner.

“What the hell was that?” Aaron asked.

“Bomb threat? A patient and a detective were killed? What’s surprising me the most is that we got close enough to hear all that just when we needed to.”