The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) Read online

  They all turned to look at Aaron as he stumbled upon them.

  “Look who’s back from the dead,” the man on the left said. “Care to tell us why you faked your death in the dojo explosion? These people,” he waved an arm toward Daniel and Benjamin, “seem to have grand stories to tell. Yet I have a dead airport van driver and his stolen van parked outside. I’m guessing their fingerprints will be all over the interior of the van. Any chance you can bring an air of sanity to all of this?”

  “Outside, you’ll have all the answers you need.”

  The cop stepped closer to Aaron. “Oh yeah? And what’s outside?”

  “The man who shot Benjamin. The same man who killed that driver.” He pointed at Clara. “She’ll recognize him. He’s the man who kidnapped her.”

  The cop’s attitude sickened Aaron as he hitched up his belt and offered his colleagues a cocky smile. “Gentlemen, it seems the mighty and powerful Aaron Stevens isn’t just back from the dead, he’s come bearing gifts.” The cop released his waistline and shot a hand out. “Please, lead the way.”

  Instead of smacking the man a dozen times, Aaron led the way, with two detectives on his heels.

  Chapter 42

  The ambulance made it to the Silkeborg Regional Hospital in less than twenty-five minutes as the roads were clear at that hour. They wheeled Sarah inside where a weary-looking doctor came out and checked for vital signs.

  Parkman watched it all in a detached state. He would go through the motions. Identify the body. Prepare flight arrangements to have her taken home. Talk to the parents. Go through the details and have Sarah buried. Then it would be over. There would be nothing. Ever since he paired up with Sarah on the human trafficking ring working out of crypts in Europe, his life had purpose. This girl kicked ass and he loved her for it. The world needed more Sarahs and somehow, the world just took the only one they had.

  Parkman followed the doctor as he pushed Sarah’s body down a long corridor toward the hospital morgue. One of the Danish police officers stayed close to him, but gave him breathing room.

  Sarah had been declared officially dead. Parkman approximated that Sarah had taken her last breath just over an hour ago. Slightly less than an hour and a half separated him from the time it would’ve taken to save her had he bumped into her before she entered that house. That hour and a half was gone forever, never to be taken back.

  Just like Sarah Roberts. Gone forever …

  Like a zombie, dazed and confused, he watched as the doctor placed the gurney with Sarah’s body on it against a wall of metal drawers. In the harsh cold light of the morgue, Parkman approached Sarah’s body on the gurney.

  “I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he whispered.

  Delicately, Parkman lifted the white sheet off her face and looked at her. The years, the memories swept over him. His legs weakened and he stumbled back, having to grab the edge of the gurney to stay upright. How could she be gone? So young yet. So much left to do.

  Maybe it was better. She had been through a lot in her short life. Pain, suffering. Maybe this was her final rest, her permanent vacation. No one could get to her here.

  He placed the sheet back over her face.

  At least she had Vivian now. The sisters were back together. He imagined them running around, dancing and laughing at the joy of being together on Vivian’s plane.

  The one way he could accept Sarah’s fate would be to be happy for her. She was with Vivian now. Everyone would miss her, but she could still be with them, watching over them like Vivian did with Sarah. Overall, it was okay and would be okay. Everything was okay. This was meant to be. He had to believe that. If he didn’t believe that, the alternative was insanity.

  Parkman stepped away from Sarah’s body and dropped onto a chair by the door. He hung his head in his hands and wept for Sarah.

  Someone shuffled along the hallway. Parkman wiped his face and glanced up.

  The Danish cop from Olafson’s house came into view from around the corner.

  “We will need a statement from you, Mr. Parkman,” the young cop said.

  Parkman wiped his nose. “I’ll give it when I’m through here,” he said, his voice choked, sinuses clogged.

  The cop sighed and stepped back. “I’ll wait by the exit.”

  The cop’s polished shoes reverberated throughout the morgue as he walked back along the corridor. After a moment’s pause, a door creaked open, then closed.

  He was alone with Sarah again. Probably for the last time. The silence was deafening. He adjusted his pant legs, sat back, and stared up at the ceiling tiles. A million tiny holes in the tiles stared back, beyond them, nothing.

  Something rattled from across the room.

  He blinked.

  It rattled again.

  His heart rate increased. A morgue with strange noises was bound to freak him out, but this noise was different. It sounded like someone trying to breathe.

  He lowered his head and scanned the room. He was alone with Sarah’s body on the gurney. Unless one of the dead from inside the wall of drawers was making a miraculous comeback, then the noise had to have come from an air duct.

  The sheet over Sarah’s face caught his eye. If he wasn’t staring at it, he wouldn’t have seen it. The sheet moved. He was sure of it.

  Cautious to not be buying into some form of a delusion, Parkman got up off the chair and stepped toward her.

  The sheet moved.

  This time he saw it plain as day.

  It rose, then settled back down. Directly over her face.

  Could she be breathing?

  If she was, then how could a doctor declare her dead?

  He moved closer. The sheet moved again.

  When he was halfway across the room, Sarah’s hand twitched.

  He refused to believe it. How could it be possible? It would be a miracle. One that he’d be willing to accept. But how?

  Vivian. It had to be her. Vivian had done something to Sarah to make her only appear dead.

  He rushed over and tore the sheet back.

  Sarah blinked rapidly. Eyes open to slits, she turned to face him.

  “That,” she said, her voice cracking, “sucks.”

  Euphoria swept over him and he almost jumped on the spot, then had to collect himself lest he fall as his legs instantly weakened.

  “Sarah!” he shouted. “You’re alive.”

  “Help me up,” she moaned. “My body is too heavy. Gotta get used to it again. And why does my chest hurt so much?”

  Parkman threw the sheet to the side and grabbed her hand. Convinced he was dreaming the entire thing, he helped her into a sitting position. Still dazed and confused but now for other reasons, he waited for Sarah to gather herself on the side of the gurney.

  “Oh man,” she muttered. “Does this ever suck.”

  “What sucks?” Parkman asked, his face a mask of elation and joy.

  “Being in this body. It’s so heavy.” She looked around the room, then at him. “I was with my sister.”

  He nodded vigorously. “And?”

  “We talked.”

  “And?”

  “There’s a lot to do yet.”

  “Good.”

  “She said it wasn’t my time.”

  “Good.”

  “So here I am.”

  “Good.”

  “Stop it.”

  “What?”

  “One word answers. Pissing me off.”

  “Okay.” He smiled.

  She looked up at him, top lip pulled back slightly.

  “Oh, right. No one word answers. Got it.”

  “I need out of here.” She started off the stretcher. “We have to get to Toronto.”

  “What?”

  She stopped moving and looked up at him. “Parkman, I know you thought I was dead and now I’m not. That’s good. You can be happy. I’m not, but you can be. But I need you to come back to the guy I know. Help me out of here. Get me on a plane to Toronto.”

  He grabbed her
arm and helped her to her feet.

  “Of course. I’m just so …” his voice trailed off. “Shocked.”

  “Okay. Be shocked. That’s fine. Just don’t act like it.”

  “Done.”

  She started for the door.

  “And no one-word answers.”

  “Right.” He caught her looking back at him. “Got it,” he added.

  He led her down the corridor where the Danish cop had just gone.

  “Sarah, there are a couple of things we need to talk about.”

  “The cop outside this door?”

  Parkman shot a look at her. “You’re psychic now?”

  “Mostly. It’s what Vivian and I talked about. Our new pact.”

  “Pact?”

  “Parkman,” Sarah said, a warning in her voice. “We’re working on those one-word answers, right?”

  “What did you talk about?” he asked, ignoring her last question.

  “Too much to cover now. I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

  He stopped her before exiting the corridor.

  “Sarah, at least tell me this.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How are you still alive? I saw your body. A doctor declared you officially dead.”

  “Vivian did it. Somehow, she took over my body and stopped my breathing so Anton could record the murder on his cell phone. I floated out of my body and watched him use a mirror under my nose to prove I was dead.” She stared off at nothing. “It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I mean,” she met his gaze, “it’s not every day you can say you watched yourself die, right?”

  “True. But that was over an hour ago.”

  “I know. While Vivian and I talked, she made my body breathe in intervals when no one was watching my corpse. I breathed the whole time in the ambulance. When the sheet moved, it looked like vibrations from the road.”

  “She’s taken over your body before, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes, but for small intervals. It’s very exhausting for her. Once I was dead though, that was easier for her. She could do it while talking to me.”

  “So you were dead, then? Floating around?” He used his hands to flutter in the air. “You left your body?”

  “Yes. Even went through a life review. Like when people say their life flashed before their eyes. Did the whole thing. Chatted with my sister—it was so good to see her—made a pact, and here I am. Now, let’s go.”

  “Wait. One more thing.”

  Sarah leaned against the wall, touching her chest gingerly. “Damn this hurts. You pumped my chest too hard.”

  “So sue me. I wanted you alive. And why are you so lethargic if you were breathing the whole time?”

  “Officially, my body was dead for an hour. That’s why it’s not acting normal yet. Every limb has pins and needles right now. Internal organs, too. My heart is racing, forcing blood to move where ten minutes ago it was settling. I feel pretty fucked up right now and it’s pissing me off. Makes me irritable. Can we just go?”

  Parkman pulled her off the wall and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I’m so glad you’re back.” His voice cracked.

  “Don’t get too sappy on me,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric on his shoulder as he clung to her tight. “We still have lots to do if we’re going to save Aaron. And Alex is out there all alone with an assassin. I saw him asking the guy a bunch of questions. Violent stuff. They need us.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said. “I thought it was my fault.”

  “Parkman?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let me go.”

  He opened his arms. She settled back against the wall.

  “It wasn’t your fault. This was all Vivian’s doing. A higher purpose. I’ll tell you more on the plane. You’ll understand everything. I even saw the letter she wrote you. You’re supposed to be here, now. Not before I met Anton and entered his house, but after. That was supposed to happen. So let the rest go.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, let’s do this and get out of here.”

  The door opened in front of them. Two Danish cops blocked their way.

  “What do we have here?” the older one asked. “The dead girl rises.”

  “Parkman,” Sarah whispered. “Get me out of here.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Sarah Roberts.” The cop stepped forward and clamped a hand on her arm. “You’re supposed to be dead. We’re about to charge someone with murder and you’re walking around the hospital morgue.” He glanced at his partner and shook his head. “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.”

  Chapter 43

  Aaron led the police officers outside the hospital and across the parking lot to the retail store where they had parked the stolen cop car. Halfway there, he wondered what they would say when they saw Alex dressed as a cop, standing by a stolen police car, wearing the uniform of an officer they had knocked out back at the hotel.

  Was Ansgar enough of a catch to expose themselves to that much heat? How stupid of a move was this?

  He almost turned around and headed in another direction. But when would this end? How would it end? Would one of them be charged with the murder of the airport van driver? Once they launched a full investigation, they would have the bullet casings, the trajectory the bullets entered the vehicle. And why shoot Benjamin? Why drive him to the hospital if they were guilty of murder? Wouldn’t Clara’s word absolve them of charges? What would the hotel clerk’s story be? And what about the cop Alex coaxed into coming to the hotel room where he got knocked out and stripped.

  The waters were definitely muddy and it would take considerable time to un-muddy them.

  He looked down at the ground while he walked, wondering if he’d been hanging around Sarah too long. They couldn’t go around knocking out cops and stealing police cars. This had gone too far. It was time for Clara to stay in police custody until this was over and for them to answer for their actions. He would explain that he felt what they did at the time was the right thing to do. They were running from a hitman. How could they know if more were coming or not? Extreme measures were taken.

  “How much farther, Aaron?” the mouthpiece cop asked.

  “Right behind this retail store.” Aaron pointed.

  “What are we going to find there?”

  “Ansgar Holm, the man who murdered the airport van driver. The man who kidnapped Clara Olafson. Ansgar Holm goes by the nickname, The Clock. He’s an ex-Navy Seal sniper.”

  “The Clock?” the cop sounded surprised. “You’re saying The Clock’s real name is Ansgar Holm?”

  Aaron chanced a look at the men walking with him. “You know The Clock?”

  “Who doesn’t? Some say he’s trying to duplicate what the Jackal did in the eighties.”

  Aaron had never heard of The Clock. Of course he didn’t run in circles where the names of assassins were routinely discussed, but he found it odd that random police officers would know that name.

  The hospital didn’t have metal detectors. Aaron had been able to enter the hospital, meet Dr. Shelp, and find Daniel and Benjamin without having to ditch Ansgar’s Glock in his waistband. So far, the cops hadn’t asked him if he was armed and hadn’t search him.

  If they thought for a moment that Aaron was a suspect, then it wouldn’t be a stretch for them to think that they were walking into a trap after traversing the hospital parking lot in the dark and effectively leaving the premises. He also had to consider it was the Glock in his waistband that shot the airport van driver.

  That left Aaron with two choices.

  Either he wasn’t a suspect or these officers—who hadn’t identified themselves by name yet—were genuinely curious who Aaron had captive behind the retail store.

  Or the cop was with Ansgar and it was Aaron who was walking into a trap. Could all the officers back in the hospital be in on some kind of conspiracy or had he been hanging around Sarah too long?

  Aaron stepped around the cor
ner of the retail store building and pointed.

  “There’s the police car—”

  The cruiser was gone. Alex was gone. Ansgar Holm was gone.