Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) (25 page)

11:06 AM

39

Noon traffic.

Dan drove south across Calhoun Street
at a pregnant snail’s pace toward East Bay. He pointed out the various tourist attractions. Sights of interest. Charleston, with all of its current problems was one hell of a beautiful City. Wright nodded in agreement. The scanner remained mute. A crackle would ignite over the wire intermittently, a faint indecipherable echo in the background and then fizzle away quietly.

Wright intervened. “Interesting, I’ve never been to Charleston before. Susan and I have been meaning to get down here. We just never got around to it. I can’t believe how clean it is.”

“You’re used to Richmond. That’s quite a difference.”

“The closest I ever got to Charleston was Columbia.”

“The Larry Gene Bell trial. You were the expert witness. I read about it.”

“You’ve been doing your homework.”

“Fifty seven minutes to return the verdict.”

“Forty seven to be exact. Overwhelmingly guilty. Sentenced to first degree murder and kidnapping…”

“… death by electrocution.”

Wright brushed his hands clean of the memory. “Columbia’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”

“I’ve visited a few times. After my training class in Quantico, I took a tour of the district FBI field office up there. What’s his name? Halstrom?”

“Dale Halstrom. He’s the SAC in charge. Good friend of mine. He’s the one who contacted me about what’s happening down here.”

Dan nodded and changed the subject. “I took Alexandra, my little girl, to the zoo in Columbia once. They have a nice zoo there.” Dan felt obliged to do the obligatory. He pulled out his wallet and opened it to a snapshot of Alexandra. The traffic light at Meeting Street turned red. He stopped the car. The engine idled. He tapped his index fingers on the top of the steering wheel while Harry looked at Alexandra’s photo. He imagined Harry profiling his little girl, his doomed marriage, his lonely existence.

“It’s tough.” Wright handed Dan back his photograph. Dan stole one fast glance before tucking the picture back into his wallet.

Green light. Go.

“How long have you been divorced?” Wright surveyed the scenery outside his window. College students, weighted down with books and backpacks, darted in between streets and parked cars.

“Going on two years now.” Dan pointed to the falciform brick entranceway of the college. “College of Charleston. Good school, if you can afford it.”

“Marriage is difficult,” Wright commented, matter-of-factly. “That, I grant you. But nothing can ever prepare you for fatherhood.”

“You have two children, correct?”

“You have an excellent memory, Detective Hammer. How did you get all this information? You were only in Quantico for a couple of weeks, weren’t you?”

“I took you out for a couple of beers one night. After class.”

“You did?”

“Against policy regulations, I know, but you came along anyway.”

“I’ve been known to break a
few
rules now and then in my twenty five years.”

“We went to someplace in Fredericksburg. I forget the name of the place. I wanted to pick your brain about the Academy.”

“Then you picked well. And, to answer your question, I have a boy and a girl.” Wright took a deep breath. Maybe it was a sigh. “But, my kids are all grown now. In fact, Nancy has children of her own.”

“You’re a Grandfather.”

“A Grandfather.” Pause. “Susan and I have often talked about visiting Charleston.”

Wright was repeating himself. It was an awkward moment. Guess he had some flaws, too. “Why didn’t she come?” Dan asked.

Silence.

Dan turned the car onto East Bay Street. Clusters of trendy restaurants populated the right side of the street. Office workers dressed in business attire crossed in packs at the streetlights. Women carrying shopping bags leisurely peered into store windows. New mothers pushed expensive, name brand strollers. A lone dog walker waited patiently for the light to turn green.

A cell phone went off.

The scanner flat lined.

“Is that yours or mine?” Dan asked, scrambling to grab his cell and check. Wright made an urgent, spastic move for his pocket and then relaxed.

“Yours.” He said calmly. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Thank God. Besides, mine vibrates.”

Dan chuckled as he checked the number. “I’m just going to pull over for a second. It’s Gina -- speak of the devil -- my ex.”

“No problem. I’ll wait in the car.”

Dan double-parked, flicked on his emergency lights and exited the car. He was expecting the worst. Alexandra’s sick. Alexandra’s in the hospital. Alexandra had some terrible accident. Wright sat complacently in the passenger seat checking out the fanfare of pedestrian traffic.

“Dan?” Gina’s unmistakable voice.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“You okay? You sound like you just finished running a marathon or something.”

“What do you want, Gina? Now’s not a good time for thirty questions.”

“Okay, okay. I just called to remind you about this evening…”

Dan checked his watch. He looked at the date. The time. “Remind me of what?”

“It’s Friday, Dan. Remember? You said you would watch Alexandra for me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s my Mother’s birthday. We’re taking her out for dinner. Remember? Girl’s night out. I told you about it.”

“Birthday. Oh, shit.”

“I told you to mark it down on your calendar, so you wouldn’t forget.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, Dan, tonight. I can drop Alexandra off at your place at around, say…”

“Gina, I hate to do this to you, and I would love to see Alexandra… more than anything…”

“She’s your daughter, too, you know.” Agitation was building. “I don’t believe this. Don’t tell me you forgot about this?”

“Watch your mouth. Is Alexandra near you? Is she listening in?”

“You promised Dan.”

“Gina, listen to me. The FBI is here. This case is…”

“I
am
listening to you...”

“Haven’t you been reading the papers? I’ve been working around the clock.”

“What else is new, Dan?”

“I’ll pay for the babysitter.”

“Overnight. I’m driving to Columbia. You knew that. You know what? I’ve got a better idea. Maybe I should just stand outside my house, on the curb and wait for you. The next time I see you sneaking around in that ratty ass car of yours, stalking me and your baby…”

“Stalking?”

“… I’ll put a damn restraining order on your ass. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll call the f’in cops on you.”

“I told you to watch your mouth. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I’ve made some friends out here on the Island, too, you know.”

I’m sure you have
.

“How’s
that
going to sit with the judge? Huh, Dan? Visitation rights are one thing, but
stalking
is another thing altogether.”

Assignation.

Proving ground. Once again. The bad boy metamorphosed into a horrible man who changed, far too quickly, into the horrific husband, who, in rapid succession, has tried desperately his whole fucking life to make good on all the bleak promises he ever made to a woman, one woman. Gina! Women!

“What time?” Dan asked, beaten.

“I’ll be at your apartment at seven. Sharp. And, please, Dan, don’t keep me waiting. Not like the last time.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I hope so.” In the background, Dan overheard Alexandra chatting away, trying to interrupt the conversation. Muddled voices conferred on the subject of where Daddy was. “You want to say “hi” to your Daddy?”

“Let me say “hello,” Gina,” realizing too late he was talking into a dead line. He slipped the phone back into his jacket and stepped off the curb. The sweet, fragrant scent of magnolia blossoms attacked him as he got back into the car.

11:17 AM

40

“Detective Hammer? This is Dr. Garrison…
Sydia, I mean. Ah, this is a little embarrassing, calling you, and I apologize for leaving a message on your landline, but… what I have to talk to you about, well, it doesn’t really constitute an emergency. Let me see, the current time is 11:17 in the morning, and to be totally upfront, Dan, I would like to see you. Again. This evening, if possible. You have my cell phone number, and my home phone. I know you’re probably standing there, shaking your head right now, but, if you check your navy blue jacket, the one you wore out last evening to the restaurant, in your right hand pocket you will find a matchbook to “82 Queen Street,” and inside that you’ll find… well, let’s just say… you’ll find…m e. At least my home phone number, that is. I check in frequently. I’m at the hospital now. Working. A Doctor’s job is never finished. I look forward to hearing from you, Dan…”

Perfect!

She smiled. Then Sydia did a quick foot rotation and walked down the hallway to the elevators.

Dr. Kendleson’s office was located on the second floor.

She felt lethargic exiting onto the red carpeted corridor and walking the short stretch of CEO territory with noiseless footsteps. Executive offices paneled both sides of the passage. She cowered under the scrutiny of the overly-bright fluorescent ceiling lights. Administration. At the end of the hall, enclosed in a large glass partition, sat Dr. Kendleson’s secretary. She busied herself with paperwork.

“Dr. Garrison, what can I do for you?” She collected handfuls of paper from one pile and organized them brilliantly into another. Tedium.

“Is Ron in? I need to speak with him.”

“One second.” She picked up the telephone and dialed a few numbers. “Dr. Garrison is here… she would like to speak with you. Yes. Yes, Sir, very good.” She hung up and motioned for Sydia to enter.

Dr. Kendleson sat behind a large, highly polished desk. He hovered over several issues of the
Journals of Modern Medicine
. He removed his glasses, allowing them to dangle over his chest by an expensive golden chain.

“Is everything okay, Dr. Garrison?”

“Well, to be completley honest Sir, no. May I sit?” She pointed to one of the comfortable, raspberry colored chairs situated in front of his desk. His office smelled of Fabreeze room deodorizer.

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable.” He closed the tome of a journal to give the Doctor his full attention. “What is it?”

“As you’re aware, Sir, I’ve had a very stressful couple of days. The pressure has been, to say the least, nerve-wracking.”

“It’s been stressful for us all. The fire in the SICU isn’t the sort of press a Hospital needs. Or wants.”

“Speaking of press, which is the reason I had to leave rounds this morning. Detectives and reporters have been bombarding me since the Kessler girl was brought in. I was the admitting physician, as you know.”

“What is it you need, Dr. Garrison?” He leaned back in his leather recliner chair, lifted his glasses from his chest and inserted one of the ends into his mouth, an anxious mannerism she’d noticed many times before.

“With your permission, Sir, I would like the rest of the day off. I’ve already asked one of the residents to cover…”

“Who?”

“Dr. Kim. She’s one of the brightest and best surgical residents MUSC has seen in quite some time.”

“Since you, that is.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Kendleson. I appreciate your confidence in me.” She looked down at her white lab coat, embarrassed and entertained.
Tedium.

“You’re welcome. I rarely give out compliments, you know that, but I feel you
are
one of the finest surgeons to walk through these halls in quite some time.”

“Thank you again, Sir.”

He flipped through a few notes. “Didn’t you leave for a few hours the other day? I was trying to get in touch with you…”

“When? Oh, you mean Thursday. Yes, I did. I had to pick up a few things at the mall. I came right back, though.”

“I don’t think what you’re asking for is such a problem as long as you’ve covered yourself. It’s fine with me. Get some rest.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll rest up for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Dr. Kendleson repositioned his glasses back on his nose and stood up. He was a statuesque man with an elegant air about him. A decent body. All those early morning spin classes!

“I’m On Call.” She proffered her hand in his direction. He gave her a hardy handshake before she exited. Dr. Garrison remembered to say ‘thank you’ to the nice secretary as she reentered the red oasis of carpet flooding the hallway.

Freedom.

She took the elevator to the basement, retrieved her things from her locker and resigned herself to using the stairs back up to the first floor. Exercise. She entered onto the main level, already buzzing with activity. One thing about hospitals… never a dull moment. Several pages squawked over the loudspeaker. None for her, thank God. She hurried to the front entrance, grabbed her sunglasses from out of her purse, the aviator rose-tinted ones, and flipped the collar of her trench coat firmly up around the back of her neck. She reached for her keys in the side pocket.

Where are they?

Gone. She stopped. Frantic. She prodded the bottom of her bag. She always put them in the same place. Every day.

Why aren’t they here?

She leaned down and emptied the contents of her purse onto the beige tiled floor.

Jesus Christ!

“Everything okay, Dr. Garrison?”

She looked up. “What?” There, standing beside her was Phillip, the ambulance driver from the ER.

“Is everything okay? Do you need any help?” He leaned down to assist her.

She quickly scooped up her belongings from off the floor and shoved everything back into her handbag. Standing up, Phillip rose with her.

“Everything’s fine. Thank you.” She brushed hair back from off her forehead.

Ah, here they are…

“I was just looking for my car keys, and here they are.”

Relief.

I hold them up. I dangle them in front of Phillip’s eyes like a tiny bell, hypnotizing him into submission.

“See. But, thank you, Phillip. I appreciate your help.”

“No worries.” Phillip strode away, hands in his pockets.

I remember now. Suddenly, I recall. These aren’t mine. These are the rental keys. I rented a car this morning. Very early. Before dawn. I took a taxi from the Hospital to North Charleston, close to Goose Creek. Alamo. Yes, it’s all coming back to me.

The sun is hot. Much warmer than this morning. The car is parked in the distance and shining like a red ruby in the noonday sun. All alone, by itself, near the back fence. A few cars are parked nearby it, but not many. I prepare the key as I approach the driver’s side. I stop for a second. I think back to my quick run-in with Phillip. Poor, stupid Phillip. Then, I kick the back fender, as hard as I can. I unlock the door and lower the window. I check the rearview mirror. The coast is clear. Not a soul in sight. I turn over the ignition, watching traffic and drive along Highway 17.

My destination is already charted.

“Stupid bitch!”