.38 Caliber Cover-Up

him. He shouldn’t be thinking about her at all…just this operation.

“This should make things a little easier,” she said.

To keep up the pretense, Darby handed the officers latex gloves from the box on the wall. The foursome worked without saying a word. The beds were set together, the body hoisted, saline bags transferred and they were ready to leave.

And everything could fall apart if one nurse stopped them before leaving the wing. Just one glimpse out of the corner of an eye and they were screwed.

Rounding the first corner, they came to the point in the hallway where the staff could see them. No nurses were at the station. Erren just kept pushing the gurney straight to the staff elevators, which were around another corner.

In front, Darby pushed the button. He couldn’t wait to ask her how she pulled that off. Somehow she’d diverted the nurses. Maybe she was the O’Malley Pike had spoken to him about?

The doors opened. More luck—the elevator had room for the bed and not much else. The police officer stepped in last and faced the doors.

“Could you press the ground level, Officer?” Erren concentrated on keeping his voice low and soft. Concentrate on a low-key McCoy. Low-key, boring. If he didn’t, the adrenaline rush of excitement he received at their success would cause their failure.

Waggoner pushed the button and nothing else. He looped his thumbs back in his belt.

It would have been easy to mouth words to Darby, but it was hard enough to keep himself in character. So he did his best to scowl. He read the notices about the Plano Balloon Festival and how the hospital personnel were involved with booths. Two floors and he realized how nervous he was. He hadn’t been nervous about being undercover in years.

“Just curious, Doc, but what happened to your ah…your…?” Waggoner pointed to his own cheekbone.

“Good old-fashioned clumsiness, I’m afraid. I was following a staffer who tripped over the sidewalk at the train crosswalk. She fell…. I fell…. Planted face-first in the dirt and gravel. Nothing I could do.”

“Great way to start your day. I’ve seen one or two near misses in that area. The hospital should take care of that.”

“Or DART Rail. Like that will ever happen,” Darby added.

Her natural reaction added to the believability of his lie. If he’d been listening to the conversation, he would have believed the “falling” story.

Erren had seen a near miss by one of the patients on his way into the hospital. The event gave him a believable cover for a bruised and scraped face. Of course, the nick on his neck was from an old razor at the cabin. A rough shave on a face that hadn’t been completely “clean” in several years.

The doors opened on the third floor and hospital visitors stepped forward. Waggoner lifted his hand and shook his head. If it had been Erren, he wouldn’t have tried to enter an elevator with a corpse. The dead body would have kept him from walking inside.

He’d tried to explain the difference to Pike once. Maybe it was the memory of burying his parents. They had looked…okay. Pale, cold, unnaturally posed but okay.

Blood, guts, gore…he could handle all of it. But actual dead bodies…not so much.

Ground floor.

“Bingo,” he said loud enough to be heard through the phone. Now the Medic would move into position.

Waggoner faced him with a questioning look, but kept walking. Darby was silent. Her grip was so tight it looked as if she would bend the bed rail. He loosened her fingers and watched them pinken up.

Phase three. It was 6:30 a.m. The plan was moving like clockwork. He just needed a lot of dumb luck.

Darby had drawn him maps of the hospital, but Officer Waggoner seemed to be familiar with the route and led the way. Following was easier. The halls looked as if they hadn’t been renovated since President Kennedy had been wheeled through the emergency room doors after he’d been assassinated.

They passed the sign to the loading docks. Next hallway was the morgue entrance. And Pike’s Medic was just outside the security door.

“Great timing. We don’t even have to maneuver the tight squeeze to the icebox.” He looked at Erren as if they’d never met, then gave Waggoner a nod. “Dallas ME Transport Team. We can shoot him straight to the bus from here.”

And that was it. Phase three complete.

The morgue door cracked, unable to fully open with the gurney parked in front. A balding head with a comb- over poked through the gap. “You guys deliverin’ or pickin’ up?”

Chapter Eleven

Dammit! Not now.

“We’re good,” Erren said, blocking the view of the Medic from whoever was about to gum up his operation. “Transport’s here.”

“Yeah, thought he was here for the hit-and-run last night.”

“We have an ‘in custody’ body that needs priority.”

“Not a problem.” The man bobbed his head, trying to see around Erren. All attempts were unsuccessful. “About half an hour then? You’ll be back after the drop-off?”

“Not me, I’m headed to Children’s,” the Medic answered.

“Ah…sorry to hear that,” the bald man said. “Okay then, later.”

No “later” for any of them. Not today. He was ready for their luck to hold and to get the hell out of there.

The door closed and the Medic took over the gurney, walking toward the automatic doors with Darby. Dallas P.D. requirements were fulfilled, no paperwork, only a doctor’s signature on the chart. Waggoner looped his thumbs in his belt…yet again.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor.”

The officer was a nice guy. He should remember their names and ask Darby to make a note. If they ever found the package and got out of this mess, he’d lobby hard to get their records cleared.

“Thank you for being so cooperative, Officer Waggoner. I’m certain you made the correct decision.” The doors swung closed behind the gurney. “I think I’ll give Nurse Chapel a hand.”

The officer smiled an understanding smile. “See you around, Doc.”

Finally, phase four could begin—stashing Michael.

Their luck held. No one was behind them on the dock. But it was shift change and there were a ton of people crossing to and from the employee parking lot and DART Rail station. Almost home free, he caught up with the gurney before they transferred Michael.

“Let’s get him inside the van and get the hell out of here.” The Medic had one side covered, pulling toward him. “I’m taking him over to—”

“Don’t tell us. One. Two. Three.” Darby lifted with him and O’Malley’s body shifted toward the Medic. “I don’t want to know.”

“What? The new boss man can’t keep a secret?”

Darby arched a quizzical lift of her brow but left the Medic’s “boss man” comment alone. She uncovered her brother’s face as soon as he was inside the van. The Medic had managed not only to obtain Transport credentials, but an actual vehicle. A plain white cargo van—beat up, old, and an exact match to three others sitting across the drive.

Erren handed Darby the cell. “Time to call the Sergeant Major.”

She slipped the phone into her left hand, tucking the sheet under her brother with her other. “He’s going to be okay. Right?”

Her eyes pleaded with him and the Medic to make it happen. Like she wanted them to snap their fingers and force her brother to wake up.