The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 4-6 Page 52

  She drove across both lanes, cut across the intersection and entered the hospital’s parking area. The cab’s radio blared on and on, the dispatcher announcing different pickups and other drivers agreeing to grab them.

  The female dispatcher asked repeatedly for Marcus. On the dash Sarah saw the driver’s taxi license and realized she was in Marcus’ cab.

  The dispatcher said that she was sending police out to his last known location of a half hour ago.

  A half hour? He just picked me up four minutes ago.

  That meant he had not radioed in her pickup and Maxwell Ramsey had something to do with that. The driver had been bought, which would explain his nervous state.

  She turned down the knob on the radio and came back to the here and now. She had to get admitted to the hospital.

  “But how do I do that?”

  Should she ram the taxi into another car? But why? Innocents could get hurt. If she is needed inside the hospital for something, how could she do anything if her arms were broken? Or worse, her legs?

  Could Vivian really want her to injure herself?

  Signs for the ER directed her to the right. She followed them as the cab driver remained silent beside her. Hopefully he wasn’t too hurt. That would really suck if she ended up getting arrested for this after all that she had been through since arriving in Vegas.

  Four yellow taxis were parked near the ER entrance.

  Could there be that many people leaving the ER that need rides? Or that many drivers being admitted?

  She passed the vehicles and drove a few car lengths away, in case they knew this driver, and parked alongside the curb. After a quick check of the man’s pulse to see that it was steady, she jumped out and ran through the double doors.

  A woman at a little window was on the phone and writing something on a piece of paper. It gave Sarah a chance to examine the waiting room for any potential threats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A woman here, a sick man there. A small child coughing. On the side of the room by the window, three men chatted angrily with each other. They were probably the taxi drivers.

  “Can I help you?”

  Sarah spun around. “I was a fare in a cab and the driver took a nasty turn.” She acted a little distraught. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, attempting to look over Sarah’s shoulder.

  “He’s still in his taxi. He banged his head. I think he’s unconscious.”

  The woman picked up the phone. “Okay, ma’am, we’ll have somebody attend to it.”

  She spoke into the phone for a second and then set it down.

  “They’ll bring a stretcher out of that door,” she pointed. “Show them where he is, okay.”

  The door burst open and two paramedics wheeled out a stretcher. Sarah jumped in front and walked them to the taxi. They opened the door and began attending to the driver.

  The three men who had been talking animatedly a moment ago followed them outside.

  “What happened?” one of them asked.

  Sarah turned around. All three wore similar pants, collar shirts and were unshaven. Was it a requirement to not shave to drive a taxi in Vegas?

  “He turned a corner too fast. Hit his head. Passed out. I drove him here.”

  “Yeah, right.” The man snorted.

  “You don’t believe me?” Sarah asked. “That’s interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” the man in the middle asked.

  “I do a good deed by driving an injured colleague of yours to the hospital and you suspect that I’m up to something.”

  The third man moved closer as the paramedics lifted the cab driver onto their stretcher and wheeled him away.

  “This is the third cab driver in half an hour that has been brought to the ER,” the man said. “Our dispatcher is going crazy and sending police all over the city as other drivers call in a little late. You must understand that this doesn’t look good for us. We are suspicious of everybody.”

  That was a new development. How does this play into what Vivian is having her do? Three drivers?

  “I’m sure this one is not connected in any way,” Sarah said. Then she remembered Russell and his cab and wondered if he was involved in any of this. “Was one of the three drivers admitted wearing a red baseball cap?”

  The men exchanged a glance. It was all she needed to know. That meant Russell was either with Maxwell Ramsey right now, or inside this hospital. Either option wasn’t good for him. That must be why Vivian wanted her inside the hospital.

  Something serious was about to go down and Vivian wanted her here.

  But she didn’t want to get into a needless fight or hurt herself enough to get admitted. Having to take a fall in order to get admitted wasn’t going to be without pain.

  Before any of the three men could speak again, she slipped past them and started for the ER doors.

  “Hey, wait. We weren’t done talking to you.”

  Feet scampered behind her. At any moment one of them would touch her, try to turn her around.

  The doors were closer with each step.

  Didn’t Russell say something illegal was happening in the hospital and he’d given the information to Collins who hadn’t worked the case yet? And the plot thickens …

  “Hey,” one of them called from right behind her.

  The automatic doors slid open in front of her.

  A hand dropped on her shoulder. She moved to defend herself, but Vivian took over her body.

  Sarah’s hand went numb, then her arm. Before she could say another word, her eyes closed and Sarah dropped to the floor, unconscious.

  Chapter 22

  Sarah opened her eyes and took in the room. A standard hospital cubicle surrounded by curtains suspended on small white tracks. The wall behind her head was a drab color. The putrid smell of medicine and a staleness reserved for hospitals alone wafted through the area.

  She leaned up in bed and examined herself. A plastic bracelet with her name and a number printed on it had been clamped onto her wrist. She had no injuries other than a sore spot on her knee which must have hit the ground first when she blacked out. She was still dressed in her clothes and her cell phone was a lump in her backside.

  Another moment when having my gun would’ve caused a lot of explaining.

  She swung her legs off the gurney and hopped down.

  What now, Vivian?

  There was no message on her phone. She had done what her sister had asked of her, but wondered what the next step was.

  Nothing infuriated her more than being directionless. Once a task was assigned, she performed it. She was in control, then it was over and she moved on. This getting admitted part lacked direction.

  She peeked through the curtain. This area of the hospital didn’t look too busy. A lone woman sat at a nurse’s station. A doctor talked to a patient behind another curtain, his back exposed as he edged out.

  Find Russell and leave. Maybe that’s why she was supposed to get inside.

  She moved out of her temporary room, walked to the next one and pulled the curtain back. An old man with tubes in his nose lay sleeping.

  At the next cubicle, an old woman looked at Sarah and coughed. Sarah apologized for getting the wrong person and dropped the curtain back in place.

  This had to be where they admitted patients first. Either they stayed in the hospital and were moved to more permanent rooms or they were discharged.

  That meant Russell was in one of them.

  Maybe his injuries require surgery or something more serious.

  She checked the next two cubicles, but they were empty.

  The last one to check was the one where the doctor was still talking to the patient, but she was too far away to hear.

  Another doctor entered and walked toward her. She moved with purpose, passed her curtain and kept going. The doctor walked by without looking up.

  “Can I help you?”

  She almost jumped. The woman at the nur
se’s station had noticed her.

  Sarah moved closer and leaned on the counter.

  “My friend and I were recently admitted and I need to talk to him. Can you tell me where he would be?”

  “Did you try admitting downstairs?”

  Sarah pointed at the cubicle area where she had been.

  “I just came out of there. We got separated. I need to see if he’s okay.”

  The nurse looked upset that she was supposed to help. Sarah wanted to smack the smug look off her face. Her name tag read Clarice.

  “His name?” Clarice asked in a nasal voice.

  “Russell Anderson.”

  She typed on the keyboard, stopped and then typed again.

  “I don’t have a Russell Anderson in the system. Is that with two S’s and two L’s?”

  Sarah nodded, hoping that was the proper spelling.

  “I’m sorry.” Clarice raised her eyebrows. “There’s no Russell Anderson in our system. You said you were admitted together?”

  “Maybe he’s waiting for me outside.”

  Sarah walked away, looking for an exit sign.

  “But ma’am, if he was admitted with you—”

  She turned a corner, leaving the nurse’s station behind.

  What the hell am I doing here? she asked herself, frustration building inside.

  At the end of the hall, she turned to the right, away from the exit. Until she got kicked out, she would wander the halls looking for Russell or anyone else she was sent here to find.

  Doctors passed her. A nurse ran by her, a clipboard in her hand. Up ahead, an old man with an IV pole on wheels walked slowly toward her. As far as the hospital staff was concerned, she was just another patient—in street clothes—out for a stroll to break up the monotony of being cooped up in her room all day. Maybe she needed a gown.

  She was grateful Vivian had taken over to get her inside the hospital. Sarah hadn’t thought about faking unconsciousness. Painful alternatives were all she had come up with.

  A door opened to a room halfway up the corridor. The hall turned at that corner, so Sarah could see inside. Even from twenty feet away, she recognized the man she had met at the warehouse after he had been tortured.

  Mark Stead.

  The door shut slowly behind the nurse who exited.

  That must be the reason she was brought here. To talk to Mark. Find out who was after him. Who tried to kill him. Although, there was another option. He may see her and still feel it’s all her fault and say nothing. Then she would make him talk, which would feed into his belief that she was in on his torture.

  Once she knew who was behind everything, she could let Detective Collins know and leave Las Vegas. As far as she was concerned, her job was done here.

  She was only ten feet away when the door opened again and a doctor in a white lab coat stepped out of the room and headed down the hall in the opposite direction.

  From the glance inside she got, the room appeared to be empty of all hospital personnel.

  Perfect.

  The hallway was empty behind her except for the slow-moving old man with the IV pole.

  She walked as if she was supposed to be there, opened the door, and strode inside. The authorities must feel that the threat to Mark was over, as no one guarded the room. She thought someone would have watched over him while he slept.

  The room was like any other and smelled of antiseptic. She wrinkled her nose and wished she didn’t have to breathe for a few minutes.

  Mark’s chest rose and fell with his rhythmic breathing. His eyelids didn’t flutter with REM. She could wake him, ask him a few questions and be gone before anyone came back.

  But she wanted to be on the other side of the bed so she could face the door.

  She walked around his bed, picking up the clipboard attached to the end to see what she could find out. His feet were wrapped in gauze. Many parts of his body were bandaged. She felt sorry for the guy and didn’t want to wake him up, but felt this was the reason Vivian wanted her inside the hospital. It would’ve been very hard to get this close to Mark any other way, even if she knew he was here.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder gently, the other on the steel bars that were raised on the side of the bed.

  “Mark?” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Mark, wake up.”

  He muttered in his sleep and moved a little.

  “Mark, wake up.” She shoved his shoulder harder. “We have to talk.”

  He opened his eyes and tried to focus. She wondered if they had him juiced up on some kind of drugs.

  He blinked a few times, his eyes unfocused. Then he fell back under.

  “Mark,” she snapped. “Seriously, wake the fuck up.”

  His eyes snapped open this time and turned to her.

  He groaned under his breath. Then tried to speak.

  “What … what are you—”

  “Who came after you? I need a name.”

  He moved away from her until his head hung off the edge of the bed, his face contorted in fear.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not the enemy,” she said.

  The door opened with a bang. Mark twisted in the bed to see who had entered.

  The same doctor in the white lab coat who had left Mark’s room moments ago was back.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor,” the doctor said.

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t. Please, get her away from me.”

  This was ridiculous. She had stopped his torture and was only trying to find out who was behind it so save him any future issues.

  “We were just talking,” Sarah said.

  The doctor moved into the room, the door closing slowly behind him.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked.

  “Through that door,” Sarah said as she pointed behind him. She kept her face passive, as if this was no big deal, but her gut told her something was about to happen.

  “No, what I mean is, how did you get to this part of the hospital? This isn’t visiting hours. This area is patients only.”

  Sarah held her wrist up and showed the hospital band.

  “Please,” Mark begged.

  He looked absolutely terrified. There was no way she could elicit this kind of response simply because she showed up to ask him a few questions. Something else was going on.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the doctor said.

  The bed separated the doctor from her. By the time they called security, she might find out why Mark was so afraid.

  She gazed down at him. “What has got you so spooked? I’m not the enemy. Tell me, who are you afraid of?”

  “You,” he stammered.

  “Me? Why?”

  Mark quickly glanced at the doctor and then back to Sarah.

  “I was told you orchestrated everything at the warehouse and would come here to finish off the job. I know Maxwell. He likes to use women as enforcers.” Mark spoke very fast. He licked his lips and swallowed. “He says to use a woman belittles the men who are being hurt.”

  “I can assure you that I don’t work for Maxwell. I have never met the man.”

  “Bullshit,” Mark spat out.

  The doctor was moving backwards to the door.

  “Who told you I was coming to finish the job?” Sarah asked.

  Mark exchanged a glance with the doctor again, then looked back at Sarah.

  “Go ahead,” the doctor said. “You can tell her.”

  Something clicked behind the doctor. Sarah frowned and looked to see what he was doing. His hands were behind his back and he was leaning against the door. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he just locked the door.

  Mark nodded toward the doctor. “He told me.”

  Everything Russell told her about the hospital and the pictures he had sent to Detective Collins and how Collins hadn’t done anything about the hospital betting ring on what patients would die first raced through her mind. It all came clear in seconds.

  Mark wa
s to be executed with Sarah in the room. The good doctor subdues Sarah and all is well.