Megan took the stairs two at a time, her mind flooding with terrible possibilities. What would she do if she found Fowler in Ella’s room? Attack him? Yell at him? Scream?
She didn’t know. Didn’t matter. Ella needed her.
Megan pulled open the heavy fire door. Rushed into the antiseptic-smelling hallway. She raced ahead and made a hard right turn into the corridor leading to Ella’s room.
She slammed into a nurse, and they both tumbled to the hard tile. She rolled and peered down the hall.
Fowler stood outside Ella’s room, his back to her, his hand resting against an open door.
Megan’s heart lodged in her throat, and she let her voice spiral into an ear-piercing scream.
Fowler spun. His hot, ugly eyes met hers. A knowing smirk slid across his face. The same one he’d worn when he’d threatened her at the bank. He let it linger on Megan for a long moment. Then his sneer disappeared into the hard expression that said he wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone—had killed someone—and he turned and walked away.
The woman’s scream pierced Reid Maddox’s ears. He knew this cry well.
Please help this woman in whatever distress she’s facing.
Even as the wail drifted into nothingness, the earsplitting shriek remained in his head. As a former FBI agent working on the Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team, he’d heard the keening cry of a mother whose child would never come home again more than he heard the happy laughter of a reunion.
“Oh dear, what do you think happened?” Nurse Mary Waldron asked from behind the nurse’s station.
“I don’t know, but I have to check it out.” Reid glanced at his old family friend. “Can Jessie and Bandit hang with you until I come back?”
“Of course.” Mary stepped around the desk and rested a hand on his eight-year-old daughter Jessie’s shoulder.
Reid looked at her. “I’ll check this out and be right back. Okay?”
Eyes wide and fearful, she tightened her hold on their therapy dog’s leash and nodded.
He hated leaving her, but he couldn’t ignore a woman’s distress cry. Ever. He charged the other way and rounded the corner. A petite woman raced toward him, a nurse hot on her heels.
“Stop him,” the woman called out, gesturing to the corridor behind him. “Please, don’t let him get away.”
Reid turned back. Searched the hallway. Didn’t see a man, much less one trying to get away.
“There’s no one there.” He moved toward the woman.
For a moment, their gazes connected, and he caught the sheer terror claiming her eyes. A spark of recognition flashed in his brain. He knew her. That he was sure of. But from where? Before he could determine her identity, she jerked her eyes away.
She pointed at the corridor behind him. “That way. He’s heading for his truck. A white one. In the main lot. Please stop him. I have to—” Her words drifted off as she darted into a patient’s room.
Should he follow her or go after this elusive man? From the look of determination on the nurse’s face as she caught up to the woman, maybe she was the problem, not the supposed fleeing man.
“I called security,” the nurse got out between deep breaths. “She’ll be fine.”
Should Reid stay anyway? No. He knew better. He might not have worked a case in over three years, and his skills might be rusty, but he knew abject terror when he witnessed it and couldn’t ignore this woman’s request.
He spun and went down the hallway, his eyes alert and cautious. No telling what the guy had done to bring out such fear in this woman. The supposed man could be armed and dangerous, and Reid wasn’t carrying.
He worked his way down the hall and into the stairwell, racing down the steps to the lobby. A quick sweep of the open area produced nothing but visitors, patients, and medical staff wandering through the lobby. He stepped into the gloomy late afternoon, made bright only by the tall Christmas tree at the end of the walkway with thousands of twinkling white lights.
Keeping his back to the entrance, he scanned the lot for a white pickup.
Howling winds picked up from the west, whipping hard rain into his eyes and clouding his vision. He lifted a hand to ward it off and searched the lot shadowed by ominous clouds.
Unease skated down his body. He would feel a lot more secure in stepping out into the open like this if he had his Glock in hand. He wanted to carry. All the time. But since his wife died and he left the FBI to be more available to Jessie, he didn’t carry whenever he was with his daughter. She really freaked out at the sight of weapons. She was only now recovering from losing her mother to cancer three years ago, and guns made her think she’d lose him too. He couldn’t add fear to a young child who was already dealing with so much. Not simply to soothe his ingrained need to feel safe.
He completed his search of the lot.Odd.No trucks. None. Either parked or exiting the lot.
