Page 83 of Wild Fever
"I need to see him. Ask a few questions.”
Parker considered it for a moment. "Make it quick.”
He led us back through the double doors, navigating a maze of hallways, past patient rooms. Nurses scurried about. The blip of heart monitors filtered into the hallways. There were moans ofagony, mixed with the tinny, metallic scent of blood. Everyone looked overworked and overstressed.
"His girlfriend brought him in,” Parker muttered. “Said he’s been going downhill for a few days. Is he in some kind of trouble with the law?”
"Could be," I said as Dr. Parker ushered us into the patient's room. “What’s his name?”
Parker told me.
The man’s weepy-eyed girlfriend clutched his hand as she sat beside the bed. She was a cute brunette with wavy, feathered hair and big brown eyes.
The guy in bed in the pale green hospital gown looked just like I had imagined from Doug’s description—even though he never saw the man himself. This guy was knocking on death’s door. He wouldn’t have to knock much longer. The harsh lighting didn’t help his pale skin, drawn cheeks, and sunken eyes. A mist of sweat coated his skin.
He looked at me with weak eyes as I flashed my badge and made introductions. “Rick, I need to ask you a few questions so I can help you.”
Rick said nothing and stared at me with suspicion.
“They’re cops, Rick,” his girlfriend said. “Don’t say anything.”
I gave her a sharp look. “If he wants to live, he’ll talk to me.”
She cringed.
Jack pulled out his phone and recorded the interaction.
“Rick, I’ve got a witness that can put you at the Seven Seas at the time of Yan Zheng’s death,” I said, bluffing.
His face tensed.
“I hate to break it to you, but your employer poisoned you to clean up loose ends. I need to know who hired you to kill Yan Zheng.”
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“Idon’t know what you’re talking about,” Rick scratched out.
“I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but you’re dying. And I’m the only one who can save you.”
I let that percolate for a moment.
"Start talking," I said.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rick relented. "It was an encrypted drop. I don't know who my employer was."
"How did you get into the hotel room?"
"I was told the sliding glass door would be unlocked."
"Who told you that?”
“It was in the initial encrypted message.”
"So you just entered through the patio, slipped inside, and strangled Mr. Yan?”
Rick didn't want to answer that.
“How did you get paid?” I asked.
