Silent Witness (12 page)

Angel folded her arms and leaned over the railing. “Look, I know this is tough for you, but you're going to have to face facts. The kid's a loser.” Angel straightened and stepped away. “I have a hunch he'll try to contact you, especially when he finds out you were inside. If he does, call me.”

Jennie frowned and looked toward the wall. Angel was wrong.

“I mean it. Harboring a criminal is a crime. What I'm trying to say here, McGrady, is that I don't care what your grandmother does for a living. If either of you are protecting Chambers, I'll take you in.”

“I haven't seen him.” Jennie's voice cracked.

Angel's stern look softened a little. “Hey. I know this is rough for you, him being your boyfriend and all, but it happens.”

“He is
not
my boyfriend,” Jennie argued. “He's a friend, that's all.” The realization surprised her, but it was true. Somewhere along the line, Jennie had resolved her struggle. She felt as strongly about Ryan as she had two weeks ago when he'd kissed her for the first time. Scott was just a friend. But that didn't mean she wasn't concerned.

After Angel left, Jennie dropped back against the bed. Her throat and lungs still hurt, but not nearly as much as her heart. Scott couldn't have done all those things.

But suppose you're wrong, McGrady? You've been wrong before. What if Sarah is wrong too? Her dad's murder might not have anything to do with what's been happening here.
After all, what evidence did they really have to tie them together? A paranoid uncle. A stepfather who tans easily. A neurotic child who's been a silent witness for two years. Sarah was convincing, but she was also confused.

Jennie sighed and took a deep breath, sending her into another round of coughing. She was just recovering when Anna came in to “disconnect” her. The nurse took out the IV, removed the oxygen, and helped Jennie into the bathroom again.

Once the initial dizziness wore off, Jennie was able to stand without wobbling like an unbalanced top. Except for her sore lungs and throat, she felt almost normal.

Anna took her for a short walk down the hall where she learned that Sarah's room, 319, was just across the hall from hers.

Ten minutes later, Anna steered Jennie back to her room and helped her back to bed. The exercise left her weak and shaken. Her lungs burned, and she felt more like she'd run a hundred-meter dash than having taken a leisurely stroll down a hospital corridor. Next time, she'd go farther. If there was a next time.
Why are you doing this to yourself, McGrady? You're fine. Nothing can happen to you here.

While she waited for her breathing to return to normal, Jennie loosened her hair from what had once been a neat braid and now looked like a bird's nest. Her hair still smelled like smoke. She brushed it and used the rubber band to tie it in a ponytail.

Jennie felt restless, unsettled—as if she had to do something but couldn't think what. Finally, she called Gram. No answer. Worry forced its way into her restlessness. Why wasn't she home yet?
It's only eight-thirty, McGrady. They probably stopped to have dinner.
On impulse she called Debbie, who told her Gram hadn't come back. Jennie left a message to have Gram call and hoped she would get it before it was too late.

Too late for what?
Jennie asked herself. She wasn't sure. It was only a feeling—her intuition sending out a warning. Jennie shook the feeling off and eased out of bed. Since she couldn't talk to Gram, Jennie decided to check on Sarah. She slipped into the pink sock-slippers and the pink-and-white-striped hospital robe that Anna had brought for her earlier walk. The hallway was empty, except for a nurse at the desk who seemed engrossed in reading a patient's chart. Jennie stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her, then crept across the hall and into Sarah's room.

The room was dim, lighted only by a night-light near the floor. Strange. There should have been a light on by her bed. “Sarah?” Jennie whispered, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. When there was no answer, Jennie tiptoed closer. Sarah was gone.

Don't panic, McGrady. She has to be here somewhere
. Jennie checked the bathroom, then hurried to the sliding glass door at the opposite end of the room that led to the visitors' hallway. No one. Her heart hammered inside her chest. Where is she?

Jennie held on to the bed to steady herself.
Think, McGrady, think.

Jennie slipped back into the inner hall and padded toward the nurses' station. Anna chose that moment to step out of a room, and the two nearly collided. Jennie told her what had happened.

“I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Her doctor could have ordered a chest X ray.” Anna took Jennie's arm and walked her back across the hall. “You get back in bed. I'll check it out. And don't worry, I'll come back and let you know.”

Jennie reluctantly climbed into bed. She was beginning to feel like a tennis ball being hit from one side of the net to the other. First, she was in Sarah's court, seeing everything that had happened to them as being connected to Dr. Stanford's murder. In the other court her perspective changed. Delilah's murder, the car crash, and the cabin fire could be unrelated to Sarah.

If she viewed the situation honestly and objectively, she had to admit that Scott could be guilty. Everything had been fine until they met up with him and his DPA buddies. Coincidence? On the other hand …

Jennie bumped back into Sarah's court. Sarah had witnessed a murder. If Ramsey hadn't killed her father, Sarah would be in danger, especially if the murderer knew she could remember specifics like gray suits and voices.

Jennie remembered the murderous look Tim had given her when she'd asked about the gray suit. Carl, Maggie, and Gram had gone, but Tim had stayed behind. He could have taken Sarah.

Anna poked her head in the doorway. “Don't panic. We haven't been able to find her yet. She may have gone for a walk. We have a security guard out looking for her now.”

When Anna left, Jennie placed another call to Gram. If Jennie's suspicions were correct, they wouldn't find Sarah. This time her grandmother answered.

“Oh, Gram, I'm so glad you're back.” Jennie squeezed the words past the lump forming in her throat. “He's got Sarah.”

“What? Who's got Sarah?”

“Tim. I went into her room to talk to her and she's gone. I think Tim took her. He was here after you left and …”

“Wait a minute. Slow down. Tim couldn't have taken Sarah anywhere. He brought Maggie and me back to the island. We stopped to eat dinner and arrived here about five minutes ago.”

“Wh …how? Tim came by my room after you left.”

“I know. We waited for him in the lobby. He said he owed you an apology.”

“I thought … I thought Carl took you home,” she stammered.

“He had some business to attend to in town.”

Jennie frowned and rubbed her forehead. This wasn't making any sense. She told Gram about the gray suit that Sarah remembered seeing from beneath her father's desk after he'd been shot. “Tim acted really upset when I asked him if he wore gray. But if Tim was with you, then Carl must be the murderer.”

“Let's not jump to conclusions, Jennie. For one thing, we can't be certain that Sarah's memory is accurate. I'll talk to Maggie and Tim, then call you right back. Oh, and Jennie, be careful. I want you to close the curtain and lock the door to the outer hallway just in case.”

Jennie agreed. After hanging up, she tossed aside the sheet and swung her legs off the bed. A shadowy figure appeared in the dimly lit visitors' hallway and reached for the handle on the sliding glass door.

The bedside curtain obstructed her view. She couldn't see his head, only the outline of his body.
Which means he can't see me.
An empty bed stood between her and the inner door to the nurses' work station. If she could crawl under it and to the door, she might be able to get away. Not fast enough. She had to figure out a way to delay him. The door hissed open.

Jennie put a hand to her throat. She couldn't scream. If only the nurse would come in.
That's it, McGrady. You're brilliant.
Jennie reached up and switched on the bright light above her bed and at the same time yanked the curtain shut. Hoping she had deterred the intruder, Jennie slid out of bed. Staying as close to the wall as possible, she dropped to her knees and crawled under the empty bed, toward the inner door

She reached up to grab the handle. A hand clamped down on hers and forced the door shut. Her captor covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her up tight against him.

“I'm not going to hurt you, just promise me you won't scream.”

Jennie nodded. He let go of her and she whirled around to face him. “Scott Chambers, you scared me half to death. What are you doing here? Angel said you ran away. She thinks you set fire to the cabin.”

Scott shook his head. “I'd never hurt you, Jennie. You've got to believe that.”

Her throat ached, and she was beginning to feel light­headed. “Then how did you know I was here?” Jennie said, leaning against him for support.

“I went to the research center to look for you.” He put a hand under her arm and guided her to a chair. “You don't look so good.” He lowered her into the chair and plopped into the one next to it. “The place was burning when I got there. They'd already pulled you and Sarah out. I hid in the bushes and watched the whole thing. You believe me, don't you?”

“I'm trying to. Why did you leave the hospital?”

“What choice did I have? They were going to arrest me for killing Delilah and forcing you off the bridge.” He shoved a hand through his wavy brown hair. “I didn't do it. Any of it. You've got to believe me.”

“Why? Give me one good reason why?”

Scott pulled a rumpled T-shirt from his pack. The back of it was splotched with dried blood. “From the looks of this shirt, you'd think my back would be all scratched up, but it isn't.” He turned and lifted his shirt to show her. “See, not a mark. I don't think this blood is mine.”

“I don't understand.”

“I didn't either at first. I can't remember anything from the time I left you at the pool that day until I woke up in the hospital. I think somebody must have hit me over the head, then kept me drugged. I've got a lump the size of an ostrich egg on the back of my head, and the doctor said he found needle marks on my arm. I don't do drugs, Jennie, so how do you explain that? Somebody set me up. Whoever it was must have cut himself or something. I'll bet anything this is his blood.”

Jennie pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “Of course. The cut. Carl Layton.”

“Who's Layton?”

“Sarah's stepfather. He came to the research center the day you disappeared. I overheard your phone call and was going after you when I ran into him. He was coming out of the office. At dinner that night we noticed a long cut on his forearm. The cut could have been a coincidence, but if you add the tan …”

“You're not making sense.”

“Scott, do you remember seeing anyone around the research center the day Delilah was drugged—who shouldn't have been there?”

“Just the health inspector. When I went to pick up the food for the dolphins, he was in the lab. Said he was just finishing up.” Scott shrugged. “Seemed like a nice guy. Said his name was Hans Larson.”

“What did he look like?”

“Big, blond, pale blue eyes.”

“Sounds like Layton. He must have been in Florida all along. He killed Delilah. And he must have been the one who ran us off the road …”

Jennie leaned forward and gripped the arms of the chair. “Dr. Layton told Delaney he was coming back from town when he saw the broken glass and damaged concrete. He crossed the bridge, then turned around and came back.” She grabbed Scott's arm. “But he couldn't have. The whole time I was in the water until I reached shore, I only remember hearing one car on the bridge.” Jennie closed her eyes to bring the memory into focus. “I was lying on the beach and heard a car …only it wasn't coming from town. It was coming from Dolphin Island. I was afraid the truck driver had come back to make sure we were dead.”

“Maybe he did.” Scott put an arm around her shoulder. “This Layton guy could have stashed the truck with me in it, then driven back in his own car to make sure he'd finished the job.”

Jennie leaned back in the chair and dosed her eyes. “It still doesn't make sense. Dr. Layton was so kind and understanding that night. He gave us a ride and stayed at the hospital. If he'd wanted to kill us, why didn't he just stop the car on the way back home, murder us, and toss us off the bridge?”

“He wouldn't have had an alibi. Besides, Delaney knew you were with him.”

“True … still, he was always so nice about my spending time with Sarah …” Jennie shook her head. “Of course! The noises I heard each time Sarah and I were together. I'll bet he was listening. That would explain why he'd want me out of the way. I'm the only other person who knew.”

The phone rang. She rose from her chair to answer it. Scott stopped her. “Don't tell them I'm here.”

“I'm not making any promises, Scott,” she said. “Let go of my arm. You're hurting me.”

“I'm sorry.” Scott withdrew his hand and looked down at his shoes. “I just don't want to end up in jail for something I didn't do.”

“You won't.” Jennie picked up the phone.

“I talked to Maggie and Tim,” Gram said after Jennie's hello. “Carl was wearing a gray suit that day.”

Jennie told Gram about the blood on Scott's shirt and filled her in on the details she'd remembered.

Scott wandered out the sliding glass door and stood in the hallway, gazing out the window, down at the parking lot. He whipped around to face her. “It's Larson, or Layton, or whatever his name is. I'm going down to see if I can catch him.”

“No …”Jennie placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “Scott, wait.”

“Jennie,” Gram called, “are you still there?”

“Yes, but …”

“Listen carefully. If Carl has Sarah, he may come after you next. I've called Angel. She's on her way. We'll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Okay, hurry. I think Layton's here, and Scott's gone after him.” Jennie hung up and hurried to the sliding glass door. The hallway was empty. She ran to the door marked
EXIT
and hesitated. One direction led to the elevators, the other to the stairwell. Deciding Scott would have taken the stairs, Jennie pulled open the door, entered the stairwell, and started down.

She stopped on the second-floor landing to catch her breath. A door opened somewhere beneath her. “Scott,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. “Is that you?” Her voice bounced against the concrete and came back sounding like someone else.

Jennie glanced down. A man's hand gripped the railing one floor beneath her. He raised his hand, and she saw the dressing on his arm. At that moment Jennie realized what a foolish move she'd made. Why had she run out here? She should have stayed in her room.

Slow, deliberate footsteps hit, then scraped on the steps, like a brush beating and sliding against the head of a drum. One-shhh. Two-shhh. Three-shhh. Jennie bolted for the second-floor door and grabbed the handle. It was locked. The white writing on the glass read
SURGICAL SUITE NO ADMITTANCE
.

Four-shhh. Five-shhh. Six-shhh. There was only one way to get out-back to the third floor.
Oh, God … please let it be unlocked.

She grabbed the railing and pulled herself up two steps at a time. Her lungs felt ready to explode.
Don't think about the pain. Just run.

She reached the third-floor landing and stopped. The footsteps kept coming. Seven-shhh. Eight-shhh. Nine­shhh. Jennie grabbed for the doorknob. The footsteps stopped. A sinister chuckle shattered the silence. “It's only me, Jennie. You don't need to run away.”

Jennie turned and looked back. Carl stood poised on the landing below, staring at her across the stairs that separated them. His pale blue eyes were now hard as ice; the smile on his face no longer kind, but evil. How could she have misjudged him? How could she have been so blind?

“Sarah wants to see you,” Carl said, ascending another step toward her. “She's waiting in the car.” He extended his hand up the stairway. “Come on. I've decided to take you both home.”

“N … no,” Jennie gasped. “You killed Dr. Stanford. You shot yourself in the arm to make it look like you were a victim. You killed Delilah and …”

He raised his eyebrow and advanced another step. “Of course not. Did Sarah tell you that? She's been hallucinating, you know. That's why I'm taking her home. So I can care for her properly.”

Still facing Carl, Jennie gripped the doorknob behind her and twisted. It wouldn't open. The knob slipped through her sweaty hand as though someone had greased it. She froze.
You're dead, McGrady. You can't get by him.
Carl stopped four steps short of the third-floor landing. “You don't have to be afraid of me, Jennie,” he said smoothly, his arm still extended toward her. “I won't hurt you.”

“I don't believe you. You were wearing a gray suit that day. Sarah saw you.”

His eyes flickered in anger. “Sarah is very ill. No one will believe her. I hoped you would cooperate, Jennie. Now you leave me no choice.” Carl reached into his shin pocket and pulled out a syringe. He took another step toward her.

“No!” Jennie gasped. She flattened against the door. Another door opened beneath them. The stairwell erupted with voices and laughter. Carl glanced toward the sound. Taking advantage of the disruption, Jennie slammed into him. He staggered back, teetered on the top step, and fell backwards. His head slammed into the cement with a sickening thud.

Jennie leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. Carl's limp body made a slow-motion slide down the stairs to the landing below. A pool of blood trickled from his head onto the gray concrete. His ice-blue eyes stared unseeing into hers. The syringe lay beside him, still loaded with whatever he'd planned to use on her.