A Heartbeat Away (23 page)

35

Twenty minutes after hanging up with Officer Campbell, Tori and Phin were speeding out of Baltimore on their way to the Eastern Shore.

Phin opened the sunroof. The sun felt good on Tori's face. “You know,” she said, “they have an island over on the Shore where wild horses roam free.”

“Oh, so now this is a sightseeing tour?”

She shrugged and let her hand rest on his arm. He didn't pull away. “I'm just saying that if we have to hide out for a few days, it might not be the worst place around.”

“You think Officer Campbell is right?”

“I'm not sure. But it kind of makes sense. I saw a cop in my dream. I'm not sure he came to help Dakota—er, Emily.” She sighed. “This is so weird. All along I thought I had the heart of a druggie.” She smiled. “Turns out, I've got the heart of a policewoman.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're all about solving crimes now. Ever thought of that?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she lifted her face to the sun.

“Maybe we should just hit the road, leave the state entirely. Go to Florida or something.”

“I think you would know me better by now. I'm committed to seeing this through. I'm not running just because my life is in danger. I owe it to Emily. I owe it to her family.”

“You think contacting her family is a good idea? Didn't Barb Stiles contact them and ask them whether they wanted to know you?”

“Yes, but circumstances have changed.”

Phin shook his head. “The transplant program could get in pretty hot water if they find out the information came from within the program.”

“But it didn't really. If anyone gets in trouble, it should be me. I'm the one who figured this out. No one really came out and said it. I just guessed, and the resident confirmed it.”

“There's another reason to be careful, Tori. If you really think Emily was murdered, what if her family was involved?”

She thought quietly for a moment. “I guess it's possible. But, well—it just doesn't feel that way to me.”

“So what's your play?”

“Tell 'em the truth. Tell them I'm in trouble. Ask them if they knew anything about what Emily was doing. It's not like we can just ask Baltimore PD. We don't know who might be involved.”

“Maybe we should go to the FBI. Who polices dirty cops?”

“Some departments have internal-affairs divisions, don't they?”

“Hey, I'm a social worker. What do I know about busting crooked cops?”

“Do you have a gun?”

He glared at her. “No!”

She slid down in her seat and muttered. “I wish you did.”

Phin tapped the steering wheel. “We need gas.”

They stopped at an Exxon with a Quick-Mart. “Use my credit card,” she said. “It's the least I can do.”

She went inside to use the restroom and bought some snacks and soda for the road.

When she came out, Phin recommended calling Gus Peterson.

Tori nodded. “I think he can be trusted.”

As they pulled out, she called Gus and told him about Officer Campbell's fears that someone in the Baltimore PD might be involved in Emily's death.

Through the conversation, Gus got louder, expressing his frustration and concern. With a voice etched with urgency, he pled, “Come back to Richmond. The PD here will help you.”

“Been there,” she said. “I'm afraid.” She hesitated. “And I don't know who I can trust.”

“But that was before they knew how serious this is.”

She moved on. “I want to go to the Eastern Shore and find Emily's parents. Maybe they know what she was working on. Can you help figure out who and where they are?”

She listened as Gus huffed into the phone. “Listen. You need to do a few things to avoid detection by the Baltimore PD. When you don't show up, they'll come after you with every resource available.”

Her gut tightened. “So what do I do?”

“Stop using your cell phone, for one thing. They can triangulate your location from cell towers.”

She looked at her phone and frowned.

“And never use your credit cards. They'll trace them and follow your trail. Do they know Phin's name?”

“I don't think so.”

“So use his cards. Until they figure out that your car is a rental and trace it to Phin's name, using his card should be safe. It might be best just to get as much cash as you can with his ATM card and stop using cards altogether after that. They can't trace cash.”

“I just used my credit card for gas.”

“Well, change directions then.”

“Okay.”

“Turn off your phone and take out the battery, okay? Use Phin's phone from now on. I'll see what I can find out about the Greenes, and I'll call back on Phin's number.” He paused. “Do you think they know what kind of car you're driving?”

“I'm pretty sure they would have seen it at Dr. Jaworski's office.”

“Then you need to get a different car. Either park that car in a huge lot like at the BWI,” he said, referring to the airport, “or take it back to an airport rental company and then use a different company to rent something else.”

She was quiet.

“Are you getting this?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now get off the phone. We've talked too long. I don't want them to get a fix on your location. Move!”

Captain Ellis shook his head and looked at Officer Bundrick sitting across the captain's cluttered desk. “Where is this going to end? Now besides Greene's death, we have this psychiatrist to deal with.”

“I don't like it. This Dr. Taylor is trouble.”

“Agreed,” he said, running his hand through his short crop of gray hair. “But apparently, she isn't doing what I asked.”

Bundrick nodded. “She's running.”

“Maybe she's smart.”

The phone rang. Ellis picked up. “Good, thank you,” he said. He looked up at Bundrick. “We just got a hit on Taylor's Visa card. An Exxon station south of town, on the exit after the Fort McHenry Tunnel.”

Bundrick smiled. “Finally, a break. I'll send the boys.”

“How much further?” Tori shifted in her seat and looked out the back window.

“Navigator says fourteen minutes.” He smiled. “Maybe we should just bag the rental-car idea and catch a plane somewhere.” He touched her hand. “Maybe Bermuda.”

“Very funny.” She turned her hand to accept his, palm to palm. “But I'll take a rain check. Sometime when I'm not running for my life and I can actually think.” She traced her index finger around his palm. “We need to talk about us,” she said.

She watched his eyebrows go up. “Us?”

“You haven't exactly explained why you left my house after dinner—”

“Uh-oh.” Phin looked in the rearview mirror. “We've got company.”

Tori turned to see the flashing blue lights. “Can we outrun him? We're almost to the airport exit.”

“In this? No way.”

The whoop-whoop of a siren sounded behind them.

“I've got to pull over.”

“God, help us.”

36

Christian Mitchell sat in his car watching the apartment building across the street. He checked the address he'd copied from his patient's chart. He squinted up at the old building.
Kesha and Mike live up there. She said Dakota was her neighbor. Does that mean in the same building? Or the building next to theirs?

He didn't know any other way to find the mysterious woman. He'd convinced himself it was Emily. And if it was, she was in definite need of a rescue. She'd fallen far since he'd known her. Now she appeared to be road-weary, maybe an addict.
But will she remember me?

Will she even care?

He thought romantically about the escapades of their youth. What a summer! Long walks, sweet strawberries from her farm, and oh-so-delicious kisses.

His approach wasn't well thought out. If anything, his plan was flawed by his own tendency to reach out to those who were hurting around him. He couldn't help it. He recognized their need in their faces, in their expressions. They might not verbalize their request for help, but he could see they needed it. And he couldn't stop himself from responding.

But will Emily want help?

Or will she resent me as an unwelcome reminder of her past?

He waited an hour, trying to redeem the time by alternating his visual scan of the area with reading a line or two from his pediatrics textbook. By six, his appetite called. There was a small grocery across the street. He left his car to get something to eat.

The store was a mom-and-pop operation. An Asian man smiled at him from behind the counter. Christian nodded and began to stroll the aisles. He selected some Combos and a soft drink, promising himself he'd eat something healthy that night.

The bell on the door of the grocery rang. He looked up to see her enter, along with Mike, his young patient. She didn't see him at first. In fact, because he ducked behind a stand of potato chips, she didn't see him until he was within arm's length behind her. He called her name tentatively. “Emily?”

She turned.
A reflex.

Christian nodded at Mike. “Hey, sport.”

“Hi, Doc.”

Dakota Jones shook her head and backed away. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

He squinted. The voice was Emily's.

Now he shook his head. “Emily, it's me, Christian.”

“My name is Dakota.” She took Mike's arm and led him down the aisle toward the frozen foods. Away from Christian.

“Okay, Dakota,” he said, following her. “How are your parents? Do they still own a strawberry farm?”

She turned on him, glaring. She was a mother bear, fangs bared. “Get away from me, you creep.”

He held up his hands. “Emily,” he said softly. “I never forgot you. Even in Africa, I—”

“I don't know who you think I am, but I don't need you stalking me!”

The grocery-store owner approached. “Dakota,” he said. “Is there a problem here?”

She placed one hand against Christian's chest and shoved. “Not if this guy backs off.”

The green eyes.
He would know them anywhere.

Christian took a step back. “What's going on?” he said. “We were close once.”

“I don't know you!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, backpedaling up the aisle. “You look just like someone I knew.” But even as he spoke, he could see the recognition in her eyes. This was an act for Mike. For the grocer. For anyone else who didn't know who she really was.

He paid for his items and weaved among the cars stopped at a light to the other side of the road where he'd parked his car. There, instead of eating, he tossed the Combos in the passenger's seat and pulled out.

So much for finding my old lost love.

The officer torqued Tori's arm behind her back and slipped her into handcuffs. “Ow!” she gasped. “Is this really necessary?”

A minute later, she found herself with Phin in the backseat of a police cruiser.

“Where are you taking us?” Phin asked the officers sitting in the front seat.

“Downtown. It seems someone wants to question the lady about a murder.”

“This is crazy. I didn't murder anyone. I'm a doctor.”

She looked around the backseat. Trapped. No handle on the inside door. She was separated from the officers by a coarse metal sheet with diamond cutouts, almost like a thick chain-link fence.

Tori spoke again, a little louder to be heard over the racing engine. “I know Captain Ellis. He asked me to come in so that I could be protected as a witness.”

“That's funny. An APB was issued by that very captain. Seems you knew too many details about a murder, stuff only the killer would know.”

“What are you talking about?”

The officer glanced in the rearview mirror. “Save it for the captain.”

It was awkward sitting with her hands behind her back. It put a stretching pressure on her chest. “What's going to happen to our car? I left my medications in my bag. I need them.”

“What you need to do is stop talking.”

Phin spoke up. “She had a heart transplant. She takes medicine to stay alive all the time.”

Tori watched in the mirror as the officer rolled his eyes.

“And I asked for your opinion?”

“This position is painful. It puts pressure on my surgical wound. Can you at least cuff my hands in the front?”

“We're not going far, honey.”

Tori and Phin exchanged looks. He looked frightened. In a moment, she watched as he closed his eyes. She understood.
He's praying.

She nodded. She needed to pray. It felt like a natural impulse, but foreign at the same time. She had little practice, but an urgency in her soul prompted her. There wasn't time for wordiness. “Help us,” she whispered. “Help.”

Fifteen minutes later, the officers led them in to a small room, empty except for a table and one chair. Phin would have to stand.

The officers left. Tori stared at her reflection on the far wall. A one-way mirror, she imagined. Someone on the other side was cackling at her misfortune.

A minute later, Captain Ellis entered and closed the door. “Well, well,” he said, reaching for her handcuffs and unlocking them. He did the same for Phin, who immediately started rubbing his wrists. “Sorry for all that over-the-top drama. It was the only way I knew to get my boys to really pay attention and bring you in.”

“You mean it was all a game? I'm not really a murder suspect?”

He laughed. “Of course not. I told you to come in so we could get you to a safe place. You didn't seem to be coming in on your own, so I had to bring you in myself. I can't be responsible for your safety if you're running all over the country.”

She looked at Phin.
What to believe?

“Was Dakota Jones working for Baltimore PD?”

“What?”

“Answer the question,” she said. “Dakota was really Emily Greene, wasn't she?”

He sighed. “Okay, sounds like you're figuring this out. I didn't believe your little story at first. I mean—” He hesitated. “I just found it so incredible that I wasn't sure if you were crazy or what.” He raised his face to look in her eyes. His expression was one of pure sincerity. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you. But once I saw Dr. Jaworski's interview, I knew that Emily's heart was talking to us from beyond the grave.” He stood and clasped his hands together. “I became convinced that the knowledge you have could only be from our Emily. She was onto something big, about to break a real drug ring that involved the free clinic and a handful of palliative-care nurses and maybe even a dirty cop.”

Tori took a breath. A deep cleansing breath of relief. “So you know about a dirty cop?”

“We have our suspicions. I've had internal affairs working on this for some time.” He shook his head. “But Emily knew something that put her life in jeopardy. Since seeing your interview, we think someone may have started the fire to make it look like Emily had a reason to jump.”

“But she was thrown out, wasn't she?”

His expression was sorrowful. His voice was soft. “We think so.” He unclasped his hands and made a ceremonial clap. “So where does that leave us? I have a dead psychiatrist, the only person who knew the truth about what Emily knew.” He paused. “And I have you.”

Phin spoke up. “In other words, she's your whole case.”

He nodded. “I need you to tell me what you can about this number 316. Could it be an address? A combination? A locker number or something? When Emily found out that the drug ring involved someone inside the police department, she wouldn't have known who she could trust. I think she hid information in order to keep the police from finding out.”

“I think you're right,” Tori said, her voice lifting with excitement. “I've always had the impression that the number was a location—a drawer, a combination, or a locker. I'm not sure why. What was revealed on the tape?”

“Only Emily telling you to memorize this number, that it was the proof to make a bad person pay.”

“Only she didn't say ‘bad person.'”

“I'm only being polite,” he said, smiling.

“I'm afraid I don't remember anything else.”

“Okay,” he said. “I'm going to have Officer Bundrick take you to a remote safe place.”

“I need my luggage from the car. It has my medicine.”

“Your car has been brought to our lot here. You can collect your things on the way out.”

Outside, Officer Bundrick helped them put their luggage in the back of a white police van. Tori looked at the seats in the back of the van, and her relief balloon started a slow leak. “We have to ride back there?”

Bundrick nodded. “Afraid so.”

Phin shook his head. “There are no windows.”

“The captain wants us to institute something he calls protective ignorance. If you don't know where you're going, you can't give away your location.”

The officer held out his hand. “I need your cell phones. You won't be able to use them where we are going.”

“I can just switch it off,” Phin said.

Bundrick shook his head. “It's part of the protocol.”

Tori looked around the parking lot and flinched. In the last spot next to a chain-link fence sat a dark SUV with tinted windows.
Just like the one in front of Phin's house.

She dismissed her apprehension.
There has to be a million of those.

She followed Phin into the back of the van and buckled up. Immediately, a feeling of claustrophobia set in. She took Phin's arm. “I don't like this.”

“I wish we could talk to Officer Campbell,” Phin said. “None of this is making sense.”

“What's your gut say?”

“You don't want to know.”

“I'm scared.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “I want to know.”

“Ellis is too smooth. I think he's on the take.”

“Phin, what's going on?”

“One of two things,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “If Ellis is telling the truth, then we're going to be fine and we're protected.”

“If he's not?”

“Then he's getting rid of us like he got rid of Mary Jaworski and Emily Greene.”

She looked at her watch. “Let's memorize our route. It feels like we're turning right.”

“Okay,” he said. “And we're in stop-and-go traffic.”

A few minutes later, the van turned left and accelerated.

That's when Tori began to cry.