Authors: Teri Riggs
“I have no choice. Detective O’Brien has to die.”
Wilder weighed the risks of shooting the man. Could he get off a clean shot before Ed killed him?
“I know what you’re thinking. Forget it, Detective. See that young man over there? Andy Kerrigan. He’s only twenty-four years old. Just had a baby last month. I’ll kill him. I think I can kill a few others before more cops show up and try to take me out.”
Ed unlocked his closet and motioned to Wilder to step inside.
“You sure I can’t talk you out of this?” Wilder turned at the threshold, hoping he could get the man off balance, take him, but he was too late. Ed hit him over the head with the butt of the gun.
And then his world went black.
Ed
ripped a couple of cleaning rags up to bind and gag Wilder after he used one of them to wipe off the spot of blood on his shoe. Who knew closets could be so useful? Stepping back, he locked the door again and put the key in his pocket. No one had seen him. The cops were still at the front doors waiting for the AFTER photo to arrive. Idiots.
“People are going to be showing up for work soon. I guess I’ll come back and clean this mess up tonight.”
If he hadn’t lost his knife, he’d be taking care of them now.
“I suppose the prostitute killer murdered the cop and Frankie when he delivered the photo. Such a shame.”
He straightened his cuffs and headed for the door. He had a rendezvous with a pretty cop to keep.
Kennedy
was just about to give up on trying to stay awake. She was about to go blind and stupid from watching the surveillance discs. Her back was aching again and her head was throbbing.
Then she saw a little silver sports car. She rewound and paused the film.
Pain and throbbing head forgotten, she forced herself to focus. There was something familiar about the car, something nagging at her. It was an older model car that looked like a thousand other little silver sports cars. Unless you noticed the car needed body work.
She zoomed in on the driver’s side front door and saw the dent. She had definitely seen that car before. But where?
“Damn.”
She remembered. She’d seen it in her parking spot at her apartment.
“Ed Hershey’s car? No fucking way.” “I’ve almost got you, you sick son of a bitch.” She zoomed in on the driver’s face. “Bingo.” The king of Las Vegas slime, Ed Hershey, sat behind the steering wheel.
“But why? Why kill the prostitutes?”
She’d figure that out later; right now Wilder needed to be warned. He was at LVTVS with a murderer. Kennedy tried his cell phone. No answer. She left a message.
Next, she called Lieutenant Hazelwood and left a message for him.
Where is everyone?
She called dispatch and told them to notify the uniforms on duty at the news room. Hell, maybe she’d better go check on Wilder herself. She pushed the little red button that would summon a nurse.
“I need to get out of here...
fa
st
.
Get this fucking IV out of my arm and give me my clothes.” Pain shot through her back when she tried to rise. She yelled out a few more colorful curse words.
“Are you in pain, Ms. O’Brien?”
“Hell yes I’m in pain, but tough shit. I need to go.” The nurse didn’t respond.
“Sometime today would be nice.”
The nurse smiled. “You can’t leave. You’re still on a Morphine pump and you have no discharge orders.”
“I’m giving you your orders. Now, move it. And where the hell is my gun?”
“Your gun?” The nurse’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t have a gun here. It’s not allowed.”
Kennedy pulled at her IV. “Get this out of me!”
The nurse tried to soothe her. “Detective, I think your pain is causing you to become agitated.” She laid a hand over Kennedy’s. “Leave the IV alone for a moment, please.”
“Of course I’m in pain. I’ve been knifed in the back!” Kennedy flopped back on the bed. “Fine. You do it.”
The nurse reached over and pushed the morphine pump button. “What did you just do?”
“You said you’re in pain and told me to take care of it. I activated your Morphine pump.”
“What? I meant for you to get this thing out
of my arm, not give me another
hit.”
“Sorry, I misunderstood. Let me flush your line and then we’ll try and get you dressed.”
The nurse flushed her IV line with saline but Kennedy wasn’t able to get up. The morphine began pulling her under.
“I can’t sleep. Wilder needs me.”
She felt the nurse tuck her arms under the covers. “I’m sure Detective James will return shortly. In the meantime, I’ll try and track him down. His number is listed on your contact information. You rest, so you can talk to him when he gets here. Sleep well.”
Yeah, right.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
NICK BURST THROUGH THE DOORS OF LVTVS YELLING ED HERSHEY’S NAME.
One of the uniformed officers standing by followed and blocked him.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Ed Hershey.” “Mr. Hershey left.”
“How long ago?” “Maybe ten minutes.”
Nick felt a streak of heat shoot up his throat. “Sir, I need to see some ID.”
“I want Hershey.”
The officer, eyes widening at the harshness of Nick’s voice, placed his hand over his gun holster. The second officer joined him. “ID, sir.”
Nick took a deep breath, let it out slow. He pulled out his driver’s license. “I have reason to believe Ed Hershey’s the man killing the prostitutes. Where is Detective James? Lieutenant Hazelwood told me he’d be here.”
“Detective James was with Mr. Hershey before he left. He’s probably still back at Hershey’s desk. I’ll show you.” One of the officers led him across the room while the other stayed at the door.
There was no sign of Wilder as they approached Ed’s desk. Nick saw the confusion in the officer’s face. “I didn’t see the detective leave.”
Lieutenant Hazelwood joined them. “Mr. Campenelli.” He nodded a greeting and turned to his officer. “Where’s Detective James? And where the hell is Ed Hershey?”
“Mr. Hershey left and Detective James doesn’t seem to be here, Lieutenant.” “I can see that for myself, Officer.”
Nick noticed the closet behind Ed’s desk. “Do you know what’s in there?” The cop looked at Hazelwood, waiting for his okay.
“Answer the man, Officer.”
“I have no clue.” The cop tried the door. It was locked.
Nick looked around and spotted a pretty young woman the next desk over. “Do you have a key for this?”
“Check Ed’s desk drawer.”
Nick pulled it open, but the key wasn’t there.
Hazelwood turned to the woman. “Does Mr. Hershey use this closet?”
“Ed-the-jerk-of-all-jerks, thinks it’s his private hidey hole, but it’s a storage closet for all of us to use.”
“Do you all have a key?” “No.”
“There’s not one here. Can you tell me where else it might be?”
“It was there yesterday. I had to all but promise Ed my firstborn child to get the darn thing.”
Hazelwood turned back to the officer. “Break it down.”
The woman pulled a nail file from her desk. “I’ve got it.” She bent over the doorknob and jimmied the lock like a professional. “I learned this little trick from a B&E artist I interviewed last May. Who knew it’d ever come in handy?”
She opened the door and stepped aside.
Wilder lay on the floor, awake and tugging at his bindings, muffled sounds coming through the gag over his mouth.
“Jesus, it’s Detective James.”
Hazelwood stuck his head inside the small storage closet. “Let’s get him out of there.”
Nick and the officer each took an arm, and Nick took the gag off Wilder as they helped him up. “Are you okay?”
Wobbly and weak legged, Wilder stood. “I’m fine.” He swayed to one side. “No, maybe I’m not fine. I’m dizzy.”
Wilder rubbed a hand over his face before giving his head another good shake. “Never mind. There’s no time. Ed Hershey is the killer and he’s after Kenny. Campenelli, call the Lieutenant and then get over to the hospital. I’ll catch up. Somebody get my hands untied and help me to a squad car.”
Hazelwood frowned. “I’m right here, Wild Thing. You okay?”
Wilder blinked, obviously trying to focus his eyes, as he stumbled to Ed’s chair and plopped down. “You need to get to the hospital, Lieutenant. Hershey’s going after Kenny.”
Hazelwood turned to the uniform. “Forget trying to get Detective James to a cruiser. Get an ambulance for him. I’m heading to the hospital. And I want this place searched, top to bottom.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
Hazelwood turned, “and Campenelli, you stay put.”
But Nick was already gone. He wasn’t about to waste time listening to someone telling him what to do. He had to get to Kennedy before it was too late.
Before Ed Hershey could make her his next victim.
Ed
slipped calmly past the nurse’s station on Four North. He could see his blurry reflection in the shiny waxed hospital floors. The smells of antiseptics and ammonia assaulted his senses. Ed used to think that hospitals smelled of death. That was before he knew what death really smelled like. The coppery, sweet smell of death. Death not hidden beneath disinfectants. Death he controlled with his own two hands.
He approached the cop standing guard outside her room.
“Good morning, Officer. I’m here to interview Detective O’Brien.” “Sorry sir, but that’s not possible.”
“I see. When will it be possible?”
“Not sure yet. Lieutenant Hazelwood will release a statement later today.” “Okay, thanks.”
Ed walked away and opened the nearest stairway door and stepped in, then turned back immediately. “Oh my God, someone’s fallen down the stairs. Quick, help me.”
The officer frowned and looked around. No one else was in sight. “Step away from the door, sir.”
“Of course.” Ed let go of the door and stood back as the officer came over and opened it. As soon as the cop looked around the door frame, Ed slammed Kennedy’s gun into the back of his head, knocking him into the stairwell.
Kennedy was sleeping soundly when he entered the room. He gently closed the door behind him and slid a visitor’s chair under the knob.
“Well, well, Detective O’Brien. I wish we had a little time to play. I’d sure like to finish what we started last night. But as they say, all good things must come to an end.”
Ed picked up an extra pillow from the nearby chair, as he studied her, admired her.
Then he put the pillow firmly over her face and pushed.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the tingling sensations that engulfed him.
“Poor thing, it seems you’re about to succumb to your injuries. Such a tragic, end, love. Tragic, tragic.”
Kennedy
couldn’t breathe. She tried to dig her way out of sleep, struggling for air. She had to get to Wilder. Her head was fuzzy and she couldn’t think clearly. It must be the drugs. Too many drugs. Damned nurse.
Her eyes wouldn’t cooperate. They were stuck. Too much pressure. Way too much pressure.
She heard a familiar voice talking to her in whispers. Kept calling her love. Hershey. Oh God, it’s him.
Her lungs screamed for air. She began to wiggle, her arms and legs flailing. Making a fist, she threw a left hook as hard as she could and felt her knuckles connect.
The weight of the pillow eased. “Damn you, bitch. That hurt.”
Kennedy had almost scooted out from under the pillow when it felt like a knife was thrust into her back. The son of a bitch had punched her near the wound. She froze in agony.
He put the pillow back over her face. “There now, love. That’s much better. Relax.”
The darkness took her under.
Nick
rushed past the nurse’s station on Four North. “Call security.”
His heart raced faster when he reached Kennedy’s room and found the door unguarded and locked. Not bothering to knock, he took a step back, and kicked the door as hard as he could. A chair slid across the room as the door flew open and banged against the wall.
Ed Hershey looked up. He was standing over an unmoving Kennedy, pressing a pillow to her face. He looked like a raging mad man, with cold, hollow eyes and blood running from his nose.
“You’re too late, Campenelli. I’ve already taken care of Detective O’Brien.” He smiled at Nick, took one hand off of the pillow and swiped at his nose. “I’m going places, you know. The money, the fame, and the women... maybe even get back the wife you stole from me.”
“You did this because you think I took your wife?”