CHAPTER 10
Grimm pacedthe waiting area of Geisinger Lewistown Hospital replaying everything he recalled from the time they left the Holiday Inn, parked the jeep, and began walking toward the restaurant. If they’d been followed, he hadn’t seen a car on his tail the whole time. Neither had he seen one when they left Altoona. Something wasn’t adding up. He was a better bodyguard than this.
He called Sheraton. “Hey, I need you to give me Logan Burrow’s number.”
“Sure. It’s on my phone. I’ll send you the contact. Is everything going okay?”
“No, it isn’t. Quinn’s in surgery. She was stabbed on Main Street as we were walking to dinner. We were in a crowd, so we didn’t know who did it. I didn’t notice us being followed when we left Altoona.”
“Damn. I thought when you left town, she’d be safe,” Sheraton said.
“I know. Maybe we let our guard down. I’m beating myself up over this. But I can’t for the life of me figure out–”
“Stop wasting time doing that and focus on Quinn. I’ve sent you Logan’s contact info. Reach out to me, and if you need me to come to Lewistown, just say the word, and I’ll assign my duties to the managing editor and I’m there.”
“Thanks. The police just arrived. I’ve got to go talk to them.”
“We got word that you reported a stabbing,” the officer said.
“That’s right. The victim is in surgery now. As I told the dispatch clerk, we were going to the Downtown OIP Grille on Main Street when someone passing us by on the sidewalk stabbed my friend.”
“Did you get a good look at the person?” the officer asked.
“No. It was crowded and that stretch of sidewalk was narrow. We had to walk one in front of the other. I was in front and she was behind. So, I didn’t know what had happened until after she collapsed on the ground bleeding.”
“So, no identification,” he said, frowning and letting out a huff. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Our offices close at four-thirty.”
“And crime happens regardless,” Grimm retorted. “If you aren’t going to do anything, fine. I’ll take it up with Agent Keaton Street with the FBI.”
“What’s the FBI got to do with this?” the officer asked, standing taller than his already five-foot-ten frame.
“They’re investigating the three missing women in Pennsylvania that no one seems to be able to locate. You know, Heather Randall from Lewistown, being the latest victim.”
The officer nodded while his partner stood there frowning like a statue. “Something was mentioned that your friend was a reporter from Altoona. Is that why you’re here? To stir up trouble?”
“We came to check on some facts with your office or maybe the Mifflin County Sheriff’s Office, whichever handled the Randall investigation. No trouble was intended to be stirred. And we sure didn’t expect this to happen while here. We thought by leaving Altoona we were getting away from the danger, but we were wrong.”
“When did you arrive in town?” the officer asked.
“This afternoon, maybe two hours ago now. We checked in where we were staying and then drove into town to get something to eat. Parked at the closest public area and walked toward the establishment. I think that is a good rundown of things,” Grimm said.
“You’ve been more than thorough.” The officer reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a card. “Call the number here and ask to speak with the desk sergeant tomorrow. Let him know how your friend is doing after her surgery. We can’t promise we’ll be able to catch the perp.”
“Of course. No one has been able to catch anyone related to this case.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That whoever is responsible is a slippery character.”
“I don’t like your attitude,” the officer said.
Before Grimm said anything more and got himself into trouble, Logan Burrows walked up, surprising him.
“Grimm, Officer.”
“Burrows. You know this guy?” the officer said.
“I do. So, what do we know about the Randall case? Anything new?” he asked.
