Page 153 of Girl Between
Frowning, Monroe sighed. “This is the trouble with my little cocktail of medication,” he said, flicking the IV in her arm. “It keeps you immobile so I can do my work. But you can’t feel a thing.” He slashed somewhere on her again, raising the dripping scalpel back to her face. Warm droplets fell onto her chin, her throat. “And if you can’t feel anything, you won’t scream.”
He turned to Dr. Landry who’d been cowering just out of Dana’s view. “Ease her off the sedatives. I want this one to scream.” Monroe faced Dana again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
Once Monroe’s footsteps faded away, Dr. Landry went to work with shaky hands. Dana still didn’t trust the man, but from the moment he’d walked into the room behind Monroe she knew he was the weaker link. He was submissive in Monroe’s presence. Even now he seemed apologetic as he gently adjusted her IV.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I have to.”
“You don’t. We can go to the police.”
“No!” he said, suddenly forceful. “He’ll kill her.”
“Kill who?”
“My daughter. My Amelia.” Landry’s eyes went misty. “She’s all I have left.”
Suddenly it all made sense. The way Landry always had the right answers, never obstructing the investigation, but never helping either.Dana didn’t have time to waste wondering how she’d missed the signs. “Landry, you have to let me go. I’ll bring the police back here to get Monroe. Then your daughter will be safe.”
“You don’t get it. She’s already here. He’s holding her hostage. I’m sorry, Dr. Gray. I truly am.” She watched him empty a syringe into her IV. “I’ll do everything I can to help you go quickly.”
“No, wait!” But her eyes were already closing.
135
Fear pouredout of Jake like a faucet. He ignored the cold sweat soaking through his blue oxford. He’d already removed his tie, and his jacket lay draped over the back of a random office chair in the NOPD precinct. It didn’t matter how many times Jake told himself to focus on the task at hand, his mind kept dragging him back to the security footage from the hotel.
A man in a bellman’s uniform, forcing his way into Dana’s room.
Returning for a large piece of luggage he’d left on the cart in the hall.
Later, hefting the same piece of luggage back onto the cart and wheeling it out of view.
The next video had been even more damning.
The same man, no longer in disguise, now in the hotel parking garage, stuffing the luggage into the back of Dana’s Range Rover.
One last video had caught him exiting the parking garage, a triumphantly satisfied grin plastered on his face.
Jake wouldn’t forget that face as long as he lived. It belonged to Levi Monroe, the storied Casquette Girl killer.
And if the bastard hurt even a single hair on Dana’s head, Jakewouldn’t stop until he took everything from him, including his last breath.
“Boss, we got something.” Officer LaSalle strode into the room, her jaw set, lips pulled into a scowl that told Jake whatever it was, wasn’t good. “Vehicle matching the description was just found abandoned under Claiborne.”
“Claiborne?” George asked. “Chopped?”
“No. We got to it first.”
“Anyone talking?” he asked.
LaSalle shook her head. “You know the drill. Nobody saw nothing.”
“I bet I can jog their memories,” Jake growled.
“Won’t need to,” LaSalle assured him, moving to her station and striking a few keys on her keyboard. Her computer screen filled with a grainy image. “Got CCTV footage showing a white male moving a large black suitcase from the abandoned vehicle into a black hearse. No plates.”
Swearing, George rubbed a hand over his face. Jake knew that look. It was one a soldier got when they knew they’d lost a man. But Jake refused to believe it.
