The Immortal Gene Page 6

  “Hurry, baby,” Jake said. “I need to get home. Where’s that prescription shit the doctor told me I’d get?”

  “We have to buy it in the pharmacy downstairs before we leave.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Jake hopped out of bed and stripped off the gown. He stood completely naked before Cindy.

  “What?” he asked when she stared at him. “Gimme the pants,” he pleaded.

  “Are you sure we need to leave so fast? There’s a lock on the room door.”

  Jake looked at the door, then back at Cindy. He offered her a sly smile. “I could use a good nurse to do a once over. You know. Check things out. I might’ve pulled a muscle.”

  She smiled. “Pulled muscles are my specialty.”

  Jake ran for the lock.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Half an hour later, Jake was out of the hospital bed and getting dressed. Breathing had progressively gotten easier and the sneezing hadn’t returned. His body was coming back to itself, which helped since he had so much on his mind, so much to do.

  Yesterday, a serial killer had been in his city. That unknown subject took the lives of an entire family under the nose of Jake Wood, the ranking homicide detective in Orillia. Detective Keri Joslin was hard to get along with at the best of times, but she would need all the help she could get and Jake was determined to see this case through to the end—even over the needs of his friends.

  “Baby.” Jake jammed several things into a small bag Cindy had brought. “This allergy thing is over. As soon as we get home, I need a shower and then I need to get back to work.”

  Cindy exited the small bathroom attached to his hospital room. “I don’t think so. You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

  Jake shook his head. “Can’t. Last night.” He zipped up his bag. “Somebody killed an entire family in a farmhouse out in the concessions just west of the city.”

  “Kirk mentioned something about it. Said I’d read about it in the papers.”

  “He told you?”

  “I asked how you happened to be near horses.” She shrugged. “He had to give me something.”

  Jake lifted his bag and swung the strap over his shoulder. “Fair enough. Let’s get those pills and leave. I hate the smell of hospitals.”

  “Me too, but you’re staying home for the rest of the day.”

  He stopped by the door and turned back. “Honey,” he said, his voice drawing the name out.

  “No honey,” Cindy stated firmly. “Don’t honey me.” She walked by him, opened the door, and stepped into the corridor. “Health first, then job. Or I’ll pull the wife card even though I’m not the wife yet.”

  “No, don’t pull the wife card.” He lowered his head. She was the only one who could talk to him this way successfully. It wouldn’t be all that bad to take the day off. He had been admitted to the hospital with a severe allergic reaction. Taking the day off would be good for him. Home time, couch time, rest time, was always good. Helping Joslin could come tomorrow, the day after. Maybe after the weekend.

  Could a side trip to Brazil be worked in there somewhere?

  Cindy was right, though. The job had gotten into his soul years ago and he just couldn’t let go. Jake lived and breathed the job. So much so that when he took too much time away, it took days to get back into the rhythm. He needed to be doing it steadily to stay on top. Leaving the crime scene yesterday to return to the job tomorrow felt like a colossal waste of time. But it was either that or argue more with Cindy. And the wife card was her trump card. Pull that and he was not part of the discussion anymore. Any further negotiation was nixed. Better he just agree and go home and rest before he paid a greater price—one he couldn’t afford.

  They made it to the elevator. “Did Kirk leave?” He scanned the hallway.

  “Not sure.” Cindy followed Jake’s gaze. “He didn’t say.”

  They waited fifteen minutes for the prescription at the hospital pharmacy. Outside, the small amount of snow that had accumulated over the past week was almost gone, driven away by milder temperatures and rain. Dark clouds hovered above Orillia’s Soldiers’ Memorial Hospital as they strode toward Cindy’s car. The rain had fallen, the air damp, but none dropped on them now.

  While he waited for Cindy to unlock the passenger door, a man yelled Jake’s name. He spun around. Kirk was in their cruiser, headlights on, gesturing for Jake to join him.

  “Not today,” Cindy warned.

  “I know, but I have to see what he wants.” Cindy’s car door unlocked in front of him. Jake tossed his bag in the backseat and shut the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Jake,” she said, a warning in her tone.

  “Let me at least tell him I’m off until tomorrow. Drive around and pick me up at his car.”

  Jake scurried to his partner. “What’s up?” he asked. “I thought you left.”

  “I did. I was on my way to the office when I got a call from Detective Joslin.”

  “About what?”

  “Looks like they lifted a solid print. A different one from the family’s prints. And they may have a witness. Apparently the Marcellos had a dinner guest scheduled for last night. A man named Jeffrey Harris from the Marcellos’ church. One of the fellow worshippers overheard the dinner invitation last Sunday at church. The witness might be able to work with a sketch artist to give us a face.”

  “Joslin must be happy to have that much. It’s more than the other murders.” Jake glanced over his shoulder as Cindy’s car approached. “Look, I have to take a sick day. Fill me in tomorrow.”

  “No can do. You asked for this. I called Joslin and she wants us in Toronto ASAP. She wants to apprise us on the other murders, cover how this predator hunts the families he takes so we know what to look for up here. We’re officially working this homicide from Orillia as of ten minutes ago. I came to pick you up, bro. I know Cindy is going to hate me, but we gotta go.”

  “Go where?” Cindy asked as she pulled even with Kirk’s car.

  “Jake has something to tell you,” Kirk bellowed, his voice gleeful.

  “Oh he does, does he?” Cindy eyed Jake.

  He met her gaze, mustering up a stone-like expression.

  “Cindy, baby, there’s been a break in the case.”

  “Great. There are a lot of detectives that can work that break in the case while you heal at home. Get in.”

  “Detective Joslin requested we head to Toronto for a briefing.” He leaned in her window. “Don’t be mad. Don’t use the wife card.” He leaned farther inside the car. “I love you, honey. And I’ll rest all the way there, rest in the briefing room, and then rest in the car all the way back. In the passenger seat of the cruiser is the same as if I’m sitting on the couch at home.”

  She glared at him. “It’s not the same and you know it.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Go, do your job. I understand, I just wanted you all to myself to nurse back to health.”

  “Hey, there’s a rhyme in there somewhere, Cindy,” Kirk muttered.

  “No Kirk, no rhyme. That’s your talent, not mine.”

  “See,” he shouted. “You did it again!”

  “No see,” Jake said. “Don’t say see.” He kissed Cindy on the cheek, then pulled his head out of the vehicle. “Baby, I’ll be home soon. You’re the love of my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She grabbed his collar and dragged him to within an inch of her face. “Come home and be ready for relaxation and rest and plenty of intimacy. You need a few days to heal. And promise me, no horses.”

  “No horses.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know.”

  They kissed long and hard until a car horn disengaged them.

  “Sorry.” Kirk shrugged, an innocent expression on his face. “Bumped it by accident.”

  Jake stepped away from the window as the first drop of rain hit his cheek. “See you soon, babe.”

  “Love you,” Cindy shouted as she rolled up her window
.

  Then she was gone and a hole opened in Jake’s heart. He had been looking forward to spending the day at home with her.

  He got in the passenger side of the cruiser as the rain came down harder. By the time they left the hospital parking lot, Kirk had the wipers on full.

  On Highway 11 heading south toward Toronto, the traffic backed up as the rain turned to sleet.

  “Take it easy,” Jake said. “Slow down. If we have an accident, Cindy’ll kill me.”

  “Don’t worry. I got this. No hurry. Ride in bliss.”

  “Okay, Kirk. You can stop anytime you want.”

  “I’ll stop when I’m dead.”

  Jake adjusted the lever on his seat and reclined until it was almost lying flat. His head back, he closed his eyes. “That can be arranged.”

  “Nice. My own partner just threatened my life. Great.”

  He had slept enough in the hospital and wasn’t tired, but kept his eyes closed. They headed south through the traffic. He wanted to be a part of this case, help solve it, see it to its conclusion. But he also wanted Cindy, and nothing bothered him more than hurting her feelings. He knew her intentions were clean. If he really needed to work, she never stood in the way. This was different and sometimes a man needed a mother. Cindy was everything he could ask for—a wife, a girlfriend, a mother. And one day, when they had kids, he knew she would make an exceptional mother to them.

  That was the one piece of advice from his father that he would never forget. When looking for a life-long partner, if you wanted children, your first goal is to look for a woman who would make a good mother, wife second. Children were more important long term than your selfish needs, his old man would say.

  Cindy would be a perfect mother. And lucky for him, she would make an excellent wife, too.

  When he got home later that night, he would be tired and need his knitting nurse of a fiancée to tend to him.

  Or maybe he would tend to her.

  The cruiser’s wheels offered a steady hum with the sleet and moisture on the road sounding like cymbals rattling in the background.

  Jake rolled sideways and stared at the door handle, trying to get the image of the man’s torn back out of his head.

  A ding sounded from his cell phone. He pulled it out and saw a text from Luke.

  “What is it?” Kirk asked.

  “Luke.”

  “Asking you to reconsider and head off to Brazil?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Read it.”

  Jake, I need you man. I realize how unorthodox this is, but I’m afraid for my life. Come to Brazil. Your plane is waiting. When I check into the Hotel Amazonias, I’ll tell them to expect you in case I’m out.

  “That’s it?” Kirk looked at him, then back at the road. “He’s afraid for his life? You think he’s okay? What could he be talking about?”

  Jake stared out the windshield at the traffic ahead. “I don’t know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  His cell dinged again. When he read the message, he checked his seatbelt, then shifted in his seat.

  “Turn around. Take me home. Now.”

  “Take you home?”

  “Yes,” Jake snapped. “Turn around. I need my passport.”

  Kirk hit the turn signal to exit the highway. “What the fuck, man? You going to Brazil?”

  Jake stared out the rain-soaked window, looking at nothing. “I have to.”

  The car slowed as Kirk made the turn that would take them over the highway and back onto it, heading north.

  “What did the second text say?”

  Jake looked down and recited it for Kirk.

  Jake, I’m being followed. They’ll kill me if I don’t go. Don’t respond to this text. They’ll find you, too. I’m throwing this phone away. See you in Brazil. You know I wouldn’t ask if I thought my life wasn’t at stake.

  “Holy shit, man. What the hell’s going on?”

  “I have no idea, but I intend to find out.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jake had packed a bag, spent too long reassuring Cindy, and ran back to the car. Kirk got him to the Toronto Airport and dropped him at Terminal One inside two hours. Once he’d picked up the ticket Luke had left for him, he waded through thick merging lines that led to security. On the other side of security, his blood pressure calmed. He’d made it. He was through security, near his gate, and ready to fly to South America.

  But why? What could be going on that Luke feared for his life?

  He shouldered his carryon and headed to the Starbucks. Inside his bag were two paperbacks. With approximately sixteen hours of flight time ahead of him, he wanted to read as sleep was usually elusive for him on long flights.

  After ordering a coffee, he checked his phone to see if Cindy had texted, but she hadn’t. Understandably, she was upset. One minute he was in the hospital and the next he’s about to fly to the Amazon Rainforest. He thought about texting her something nice, something to remind her he’s fine, but chose to wait. He’d text her in Miami at the first layover.

  Coffee in hand, he turned away from the Starbucks and bumped into a tall man standing too close.

  “Sorry,” Jake muttered.

  A quick step back and to the side wasn’t enough. The man matched his movements, mumbling something. Not willing to engage anyone in friendly banter, Jake slipped around a woman waiting by the counter, then walked between two round tables to escape the Starbucks traffic.

  By the time he reached his gate again, something bothered him about that encounter. He stopped walking, stared along the length of the concourse, then pivoted on his heels and looked back at the Starbucks. A dozen people milled around, oblivious to his stare. The man he’d bumped into was gone. Was the man wearing sunglasses? Was he clean shaven? Did it matter? He was tall and had worn a black overcoat. That seemed like a heavy jacket to travel in.

  Jake took a sip of his coffee, eyes roaming the travelers. As far as he could tell from the hundreds of people sitting at surrounding gates and travelers walking by toting and pulling small pieces of luggage, no one wore a black overcoat.

  He shrugged, and let the odd feeling go. Luke had claimed someone was following him, that his life was in danger. Not responding to Luke’s text wouldn’t matter. If in fact someone was following Luke and these people were professional, they’d already know who Jake was. Which meant someone could be following Jake.

  Or maybe I watch too much TV ...

  He turned back toward his gate and stopped abruptly. Fifteen feet away, leaning against an exit door, the man in the black overcoat stood statue still, watching Jake. Coolly, he lifted his cup and let the hot liquid ease down his throat while he considered his next move.

  The man’s glare didn’t waver.

  Outside, the sun had descended behind clouds, the sky dark, yet the man in the overcoat wore large dark sunglasses. His taut cheeks narrowed down to a pointy chin that, from this distance, looked cast from stone. They stared at each other a moment longer, then Jake stepped forward, headed in the man’s direction.

  The man smiled, adjusted his weight, leaned sideways, and slipped through the exit door.

  Jake lurched forward, held his coffee up to avoid spilling it, and got to the exit door too late. It clicked shut with finality. He tried the latch, but it remained locked. A sign on the door said Authorized Personnel Only. It would only open with a special keycard.

  He hustled around the corner and found a window that looked out onto the tarmac and the back of the door, which led to the outside. The empty metal staircase descending from the exit door stopped by a truck parked near the underside of a plane. Crews were unhooking a large hose from under the wing. Near the rear of the aircraft, other teams were loading luggage onto a conveyor belt that fed into the belly of the aircraft.

  The odds of missing the man were low. At least a dozen steps led to the cement. From there, the man would’ve been in the open until he walked the length of the plane and Jake had gotten to the wi
ndow fairly quickly.

  So where the hell is he?

  Beneath the window, a vehicle eased into the open. With his forehead pressed hard against the glass, he tried to look directly downward. The area he stood in jutted out over an access road of some sort where the airport employees traversed without being in the way of arriving and departing aircraft. The man in the overcoat must’ve had a vehicle waiting for him.

  But why pay attention to Jake in the first place? Was it connected to Luke?

  He turned and watched the people closest to him. Could the threat to Luke be credible? If so, then the man in the overcoat had to be involved in some way.

  That led him to another question: What the hell could Luke be working on at Fortech Industries that was so important?

  A woman’s voice came over the loudspeaker announcing the flight to Miami was initiating boarding by zones. Business class would be first. Then zones would be called out by numbers after that. Zone numbers were located on individual boarding passes.

  Jake took one more look out the large window, then moved toward his gate and fished out his boarding pass. He would get to Manaus, Brazil. He would find his friend, and he would determine what the threat was. Together they would work it out. Then he would return to help with Joslin’s murder case.

  In the meantime, if he saw Overcoat Man again, he would persuade him to speak on why he had been following him. Jake had a way with making people talk.

  That odd feeling struck him again. What bothered him was the bump protruding from the man’s coat. Everyone had gone through airport security to be in that area, so how was it Overcoat Man still had a shoulder holster? Jake had been a cop for decades. He could tell when someone was carrying a weapon under a coat and the man with the chiseled face and dark sunglasses had definitely been packing a piece.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jeffrey Harris entered his house, closed and locked the front door, and exhaled.

  “Hello,” he called out. “I’m home.”

  Overwhelmed with joy, Jeffrey strode into the living room and set his eyes upon the wooden easel. Soon, within the hour, he would begin his drawing of the new family. His wife and son would love it. Once the drawing was painted, he would frame it and hang his portrayal of the Harris family above the dining room table for all to see.