But something looked different. The man was dressed in the same scrubs as the other nurses, but something didn’t seem right.
“What is that?” Chase asked him.
“Oh, uh, just a little more saline, get him better hydrated,” the nurse said.
He looked to be a man in his late thirties or early forties. And if he was a nurse, he shouldn’t have suggested that a shot so small was but saline.
“You’re not putting that in his arm,” Chase said.
“What? I just told you—”
“No. Step away from him,” Chase said.
He saw the man reach behind his back and knew that he was reaching for a weapon. He could have pulled his own. Instead, he made a flying leap, bringing the man down to the floor before he could draw his gun.
The weapon went flying across the floor.
The ostensible nurse went for it, stretching to retrieve it.
Chase caught him by the ankle, shouting for one of the cops.
In two seconds, NOPD’s finest were in the room with him. He explained quickly that the man had tried to put something in Bobby’s IV then gone to draw his weapon. He needed to give this one to the cops; he didn’t want to have to show the credentials he kept but never used.
The officers quickly had the guy cuffed and up. He stared at Chase with loathing and then started to laugh. “Hotshot drummer. Think you’re tough ’cause you got the money for hours at the gym, huh? You’ll get yours—trust me. You’ll get yours!”
“We’ve got him, Mr. McCoy. We’ve got him,” one of the cops assured him.
“Thanks!” Chase said.
They dragged the suspect out of the room, aggravated that they hadn’t seen that something was wrong when he’d gone in.
Chase made a mental note to tell Wellington they needed someone in the hospital who knew something about medicine—either that or make sure nothing went into Bobby’s IV unless the doctor himself administered it.
“Man, wow, you are...well, one hell of a drummer,” Bobby said, looked at him in despair and shaking his head. “You did it again—you saved my life again. How the hell...”
“I knew that wasn’t saline. I’ve had my share of family in the hospital,” Chase said, shrugging. “And what the hell, I haven’t even done any drumming here. Listen, I’m going to see to it that the people who matter know what happened and make sure you’re safe. I’ll take care of that right now. Your wife will be back up in a minute, and they’ll let her stay—but I’m going to see to it that someone who knows what’s up is here, too. At all times.”
“Man, thank you. Thank you, thank you!” he said softly.
Chase nodded, heading for Bobby’s door. As he set his hand on it, he heard a sound that could only be that of a shot, explosive, painfully loud in the peace and quiet of the hospital floor.
SKY DIDN’T MEAN to scream; the sound of the shot was so startling, so loud, she let out a gasp that was part squeak and part scream.
“It’s all right, it’s all right!” the man in Hank’s room quickly informed them. “I’m Luke Watson, NOPD. There’s—I don’t know what—but you’re safe, my job is to stand right here and shoot anyone who tries to come near either of you,” he assured them.
Sky swallowed hard and said the only thing that came to mind.
“Thank you, thank you. But Chase—”
“Chase will be fine. There are cops all over this place. Whatever is going on, we all have our assignments, and you are mine,” Watson said.
Sky nodded, hoping against hope he was for real, because he wasn’t wearing a uniform.
As if he could sense her thoughts, the man turned, still keeping his peripheral vision on the door but reaching into his pocket.
Not for a gun, she prayed.
His credentials.
“Thank you,” she whispered again, gripping Hank’s hand tightly.
She had wanted to find the truth. Now, she was sure she knew it. Her father had seen something, known something, and he had died for it.
Just as someone was apparently trying to kill others now.
Fear seemed to grip her like chilled and bony fingers around the heart.
She needed to know. She needed to know so badly. And yet...she had never imagined this kind of danger, a killer slipping into a hospital, shots fired in a hospital!
She thought about being on stage that night but remembered there would be security stations and security guards. Bags would be checked and arrivals would go through metal detectors.
What had happened with Jake had been far more subtle.
Whoever was doing this didn’t want to get caught. But then...
The man drew the door open, letting Chase enter. He was anxious and tense, asking quickly, “You’re all right? Everything is all right?”
“We’re good. Officer Watson here is great,” Hank assured him quickly.
