Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1) (24 page)

"Thanks. And, Jamie, if you could—"

"I won't say a word about it unless my only other choice is to let Marchek go."

"Thank you."

Jamie thought about Mackenzie as she hung up. Goddamn it. The rookie had to be okay. The fact that Marchek was out there, following them away from the station, was terrifying. It was no longer just a case. Marchek was hunting them. She had to stop him before he killed someone else. Before he killed her. She wondered how close he'd come.

Chapter 24

Hailey held her breath as she walked through the automatic doors of San Francisco General. The smell of it—ammonia and lemon cleaning fluid and the faint odor of feet almost stopped her. She hated hospitals, would much rather spend time in the morgue. It was this halfway house—not dead but not well—that made her feel like she needed to rush home and shower, put herself on antibiotics. At least she didn't worry what she would catch from the dead. Today, the hospital felt worse even than usually. The guilt that ate at her from the inside out wasn't helping. There was no way to avoid the fact that she was partially to blame for Mackenzie's attack.

She thought again of the rookie, of the stressed phone call she'd gotten from Mackenzie's captain, Linda James. Hailey had a duty to let someone know about her attack. She and Buck had even discussed the possibility that the attack was part of a series of events. The other officers—Shawna Delman and another Hailey hadn't met. Then Emily Osbourne. And Natasha Devlin? Was she related to this, too? She and Buck discussed the possibility and dismissed it. Not because she didn't think it was a real possibility. She knew in her gut that it was. They hadn't taken the threat seriously enough. They had chosen to protect their own hides instead.

Now Mackenzie was in the hospital. Hailey turned her gaze to the ceiling and swore to God that she'd never see Buck again if the rookie came out okay. That night, after the attack, she'd considered the symbolism of it. She'd been attacked on the way into her lover's home. What sign could be clearer?

Jolted from her reverie, Hailey saw she'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. In the lobby, people milled around her—nurses and doctors with cups of coffee, patients in wheelchairs with oxygen or IV's hanging. Pregnant women walked in slow circles to induce labor, nervous husbands beside them.

She felt herself turn back toward the door, couldn't. Instead, she marched to the desk and looked down at the young man at the desk. She dropped her badge on the counter in front of him. "I'm trying to locate a patient who was brought in last night. Her name is Mackenzie Wallace."

He nodded without a word. His shoulders hunched as he focused on the computer screen, his fingers clicking across the keyboard. When he looked up, he said, "Orthopedic ward. Third floor. Elevators are there." He pointed across the lobby.

She thanked him and thought the orthopedic unit was a good sign. She knew Mackenzie had broken her arm—had to have a screw put in. It was the emergency department or intensive care that Hailey dreaded. The ICU was where her mother had been right before her liver had failed. No, this was better. Wallace wasn't going to die.
Please don't die, Wallace. Just don't die.

* * *

Hailey rode the elevator alone, thankful for a moment of reprieve from the sick. When the doors slid open, she followed signs to the orthopedic unit and stopped at a nurses' station. It was unmanned. She spotted a nurse coming down the hall.

"I'm looking for Mackenzie Wallace."

The nurse glanced at a large whiteboard that was divided into a chart with black tape. A row of patient names was followed by room numbers and a second set of names she assumed were the doctors' because the same ones appeared multiple times.

She spotted Wallace on the fifth line.

"She's in room 1027, but it's early for visitors."

Hailey brought her badge out again and flipped it open, swallowing down her rising stomach. "Is she going to be okay?"

The nurse nodded. "Concussion. She had a bad break in her elbow. She'll be in a cast for a while."

"Can I see her?"

The nurse frowned at the clock. "She's only been out of the OR for a couple hours. She's going to be pretty out of it."

"I'd really like to see her."

"I'll get her doctor and ask, but I don't think the patient's going to be up to talking."

Hailey put her hand on the nurse's arm as she turned. "I'm just a friend. I don't need her to talk. I'd just like to see her—please."

The nurse hesitated, looked back at the board. A phone rang then something else buzzed. "It's around the corner," the nurse said, pointing left as she grabbed for the phone. "Make it short."

Hailey took two steps when she heard her name. She turned back and saw Jamie Vail half running down the hall, a man trailing behind.

Hailey stopped and waited. The man with her was average height—maybe five ten and medium build. He'd been strong once, she could tell, but he looked thin and out of shape. He had wavy, dark brown hair cut close to his head and soft green eyes. His brow was tight with concern, and Hailey assumed it was for Mackenzie, too, though Hailey didn't recognize him. Perhaps whatever worried Jamie had spilled over on to him. She wished John reacted that way. Instead, he seemed put off that she'd had to come back to work on a Sunday.

Though Hailey didn't recognize him, the man could have been a cop. Seeing Jamie with someone made Hailey realize how little Jamie revealed. She wondered where he had been on the night of Natasha's murder. She could have used the alibi.

"Have you seen her yet?" Jamie asked.

Hailey shook her head. "Just going now. Nurse said she might not be able to talk."

"But she's conscious?"

"Yes."

Jamie blew out her breath and opened her coat to take it off.

Hailey had started to turn when she spotted the dark stains on Jamie's shoes. She'd seen enough dried blood to recognize it. "What's that from?"

"Someone attacked Barney last night."

She glanced at the man. "Who?"

Jamie shook her head. "Barney's the dog—my dog. Someone cut him up, then rang my doorbell at about one in the morning."

Jamie turned back to her friend. "This is Tony. He's—" Jamie stopped.

"I'm just visiting." He stepped back, pointed to a chair. "I'll wait here."

Leaving Tony, the two women walked down the corridor in silence. Hailey was thinking about the dog attack. First Hailey, then Mackenzie, then Jamie's dog.

"It could be the same guy," Hailey said.

Jamie nodded. "I should've warned you guys when I thought I saw Marchek."

"You didn't know."

"I should've known," she said through closed teeth. "I sure as hell know what he's capable of."

Had he been going for both of them in one night? Or all three? "You really think it's him?"

Jamie hesitated. "Maybe. After we were in his house, he'd be angry. I can see him coming after us."

Hailey repressed the shudder that built in her spine. The two of them stopped in front of room 1027. Hailey knocked. No one answered. Jamie nodded, then slowly pushed the door open.

Before Hailey could enter, the beep and whoosh of noises assaulted her. Too many machines. She wanted to leave, to run. She imagined her dying mother. Jamie was right behind. No choice but to go forward. Hailey sucked in a breath, forced a step into the room.

Mackenzie lay on the narrow bed, covered by a thin white cotton blanket. One slender arm rested at her side, pale against the ugly green hospital gown. The other was bent and covered in a thick, white cast. The head of the bed was tilted up six or eight inches and Mackenzie faced the window. From Hailey's angle, Mackenzie looked too thin and too young to be a cop. Christ, how had they let this happen to a rookie?

Mackenzie turned toward them. As her face came into view, the air swept from the room. Hailey had to steel herself from stepping away. She blinked hard, fighting back emotion as she moved closer to the beautiful woman she'd met only two days before.

Tears streaked Mackenzie's cheeks. Her left eye was swollen purple and black. It looked like a rotting plum crushed on her face. Lacerations covered both cheeks, and her top lip was swollen and cut. White butterfly sutures crisscrossed her scabbed cheeks. Black stitches laced her lower lip.

Mackenzie let out a guttural noise like hello, but her lips didn't move.

"Oh, Christ," Jamie said, moving to the far side of the bed. She took the rookie's hand and perched on the bed. "Jesus Christ, Wallace."

Hailey moved closer, too, but Mackenzie faced Jamie.

Jamie was crying. Tears falling down her cheeks, she made no move to stop them. "I'm so sorry. Jesus, I'm so fucking sorry."

Mackenzie's one eye blinked and her tongue came out to catch a stray tear. She shook her head. Her words were slow but discernible as she said, "Not. Your. Fault."

Jamie glanced at Hailey and they shared a brief moment of relief. Hailey recognized them. She was speaking. It was good news. She would recover.

But when Jamie turned back, her frown deepened. "Like hell it's not. It's completely my fault." She stopped talking, but Hailey could tell the retribution continued in her head.

Jamie caught her eye, stared up at the ceiling, and inhaled deeply as though trying to bottle back some of the emotion that had just come uncorked. Then she focused back on Mackenzie and looked her over. "Did you get a look at this guy last night? At all?"

"A flash of dark hair," she said, licking her lips. "Curly." Mackenzie hesitated. "Left-handed," she added, then motioned for her water.

"Sounds like Marchek." Hailey lifted the cup and put the straw to Mackenzie's lips.

"Was it him? Would you recognize him?" Jamie pressed.

Mackenzie shrugged.

"It wasn't random," Hailey said. "I can't stomach a coincidence this big."

Jamie brought the focus to the attack. "Are you up to talking about it?"

Mackenzie nodded.

Jamie watched her. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay. Walk us through it. When did you first realize he was there? How did he sneak up on you?"

Mackenzie told the story, stopping every few minutes for water. Hailey held the straw to her lips. Jamie never let go of her hand, urging her to go slow, to take a breath.

Hailey had never seen Jamie like this. At first, she'd thought the patience was all about her own guilt. But as she continued, Hailey realized Jamie knew what it was to be a victim. Hailey was impressed with the way in which Jamie engaged, at the level of her sympathy. Jamie Vail was clearly very good at her job.

Mackenzie blinked, a new herd of tears crisscrossing her cheeks. "Warning," she whispered.

"What?" Jamie asked.

"It was a warning."

"A warning. What kind of warning?"

Hailey and Jamie stood on either side of the bed as Mackenzie spoke. "He said, 'Tell her one of her own is a killer.'"

"One of her own," Hailey repeated. He was talking to her. He had to be. The killing was her case. Natasha's killer was a cop. They were looking for a cop. Christ, maybe it was Scanlan.

"'She better listen this time. It's one of you,'" Mackenzie added. "That's what he said. 'You better listen. '" She broke down a moment while Jamie rubbed her hand.

Hailey replayed the words. She better listen this time.
She
. Did he know who
she
was?

Mackenzie started to speak again but Hailey stopped her. "It's okay. You've given us enough."

Mackenzie shook her head. "One more..."

Hailey waited. Her stomach knotted.

"He said," Mackenzie took a breath through the tears. "'It'll be like the inspector that asshole killed, he said.'"

Jamie remained silent. When she finally spoke, her voice seemed to catch in her throat. "He saw something that night—the night Natasha Devlin was killed. More than just her getting out of the car. He knows who killed her. That bastard knows."

"Or he's bullshitting us," Hailey suggested.