Tessa wasn’t exactly into hanging out with Sean and Amber, but she’d never met her stepaunt before, and even though the circumstances were sort of awkward, she seemed nice enough and Tessa tried to concentrate on being here, talking with her, but she was still upset about her conversation with Patrick, and that was sort of swallowing up her attention.
She wasn’t mad at him, more shaken by hearing he’d almost drowned. More this weird kind of loneliness and longing to connect. She even found herself wanting to tell him about the shrink, about how terrible she still felt about killing the man last summer, about the prescription for the sleeping pills-just lay everything out in the open, let Patrick listen, offer whatever help he could, be the dad he obviously wanted to be.
Later, when he gets back.
Now, she was in Amber’s room-the one she would’ve had if she’d made it to the motel last night. Sean sat somewhat obtrusively in the corner and Amber was trying a little too hard to negotiate a conversation between the three of them, but with Sean being sorta quiet and Tessa being so distracted, it wasn’t going too well, and finally Amber suggested a bit too brightly that they see if there was anything on TV.
“Okay,” Tessa said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Amber clicked on the remote, and their discussion, which had never really gotten off the ground in the first place, ended. A sports wrap-up show came on, and even though, as far as Tessa could tell, none of them really had any interest in it, they all sat quietly and stared at the screen.
I arrived at the hospital and parked the snowmobile beside the main entrance. Shed the helmet. Set it on the seat.
Seven minutes until my meeting with Alexei Chekov.
The road in front of the hospital had been plowed, and I figured that transportation to the only medical care facility for miles had to be one of the county’s top priorities. Maybe that’s why Alexei wanted to meet here-he knew it’d be the one place in the region that would have clear roads in front of it, guaranteed access.
It seemed like a good reason to me, one he would have thought of.
Before going inside I wanted as much information about Chekov as I could get, and as far as I knew, there was only one person alive in the area besides me who’d actually spoken with him: State Trooper Reggie Wayland, the man whose wrist bones Alexei had shattered yesterday afternoon.
I figured he’d be in the hospital himself, and though I could ask for him at the front desk, a dozen cars were parked in the windswept parking lot, so instead of walking in yet, I phoned the front desk and took the opportunity to walk the lot, memorizing the plates.
Surprisingly, the receptionist told me that Wayland had already checked out. When I called his home, his wife answered, and when I explained who I was, she told me that he still couldn’t grip anything but that, yes, yes of course, she would hold the phone for him.
“Talk me through what happened,” I said. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
Quickly and succinctly, Wayland detailed how Alexei had attacked him, even described the weapon he’d used. Wayland had a sharp memory, and I was glad.
We hung up and I tapped at my phone, going online to the Federal Digital Database. I entered the plate numbers for each of the cars in the parking lot, and seconds later found out that none of them were registered to Kayla Tatum.
Chekov might have switched vehicles again.
I returned to the hospital’s entrance.
It seemed obvious that Alexei had abducted Kayla, but as I’ve learned in the past, things are not always what they appear to be. Once again I was reminded of what my mentor, Dr. Calvin Werjonic, used to say: “Truth often hides in the crevices of the evident.” It was possible that Kayla wasn’t Alexei’s captive but his partner. He might not have killed the Pickrons, but I didn’t want to discount-as unlikely as it was-the possibility that she might have.
As the automatic doors whooshed open in front of me, sucking in a double curl of twirling snow, I pulled up Kayla’s DMV photo on Lien-hua’s cell. A middle-aged receptionist sitting at a small booth in the lobby looked over the top of her glasses at me as I entered.
“Some weather we’re havin’ out there,” she said with a strong Wisconsin accent.
“Yes. I’m looking for-”
“D’you drive?”
“Snowmobile.” I held up my credentials. “Listen, I’m looking for the lower level.”
She gave the ID only a cursory look. Her eyes jumped past me to the glass doors. “I hear the roads are gettin’ worse.”
“Please, the lower level?”
Finally, she gestured vaguely to her left. “Elevators are over there. By the bathrooms.”
Elevators announce your arrival, and people can be ready for you when the doors slide open, but if you use the stairs, you retain, at least for a few extra seconds, the element of surprise.
“I’m looking for the stairwell.”
With a somewhat disgruntled look, she motioned in the other direction. “End of the hall, past the chapel, turn left. Stairs’ll be on your right.”
“Thank you.” I showed her the photo of Kayla Tatum. “Have you seen this woman come through here? Maybe with a man about six feet tall? A stocky guy, might have been wearing a blue parka?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Been here since 7:00.” Then, looking toward the doors again, she added, “On the news they’re saying more snow’s coming tonight, but it’s supposed to warm up and maybe hit ten degrees-a heat wave, y’know.”
I couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not.
“Thanks.” I turned to go.
“’Course with the windchill,” she said still contemplating the weather, “it’s gonna feel a lot colder.”
As I left, I noticed her eyes following me all the way across the lobby until I was past the vending machines.
At the end of the hall, I unholstered Lien-hua’s Glock, pressed open the door.
And entered the stairwell.
57
I descended the stairs.
My senses were dialed up the way I like it.
Sharp.
Focused.
At the base of the steps I slowly opened the door and saw a long, bone-white hallway stretching before me the length of the hospital where it ended in a T.
Nobody else in sight.
Gun ready, I eased the door shut behind me.
Alexei’s text had only told me to meet him in the lower level of the hospital. No room number. No details. Although this wasn’t a large facility I noted at least a dozen doors in this corridor.
Rather than call his name I decided to start searching for him in the rooms closest to me and systematically work my way to the far end of the hall.
The first door was to a radiology lab. I pressed it open, and as I was leaning to look inside, I heard a voice behind me in the hallway. “Patrick.”
I spun, Glock raised. Alexei stood beside a door fifteen meters down the hall.
“Hands where I can see them, Alexei.”
He lifted his hands, showed me they were empty.
“Where’s Kayla?”
“I’d rather not talk here in the hall. We might get interrupted.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s safe.”
