Page 40 of Thunder

Finally, she takes a deep breath, then another, then looks me right in the eyes.

“I’m not Carol. I’m Denise. And if you don’t get out of my face with your pervert talk, I am going to hit you in the dick, you weirdo.”

“You’re not Carol? What? Then where’s Carol?”

“Yo,” comes the voice of the person enveloped in the hoodie. The chair turns, the hood comes back, revealing a very petite woman who would take my breath away if Lia hadn’t already stolen it. “I’m Carol.”

“Oh fuck, I feel like an asshole.”

“You should. You should feel like a creep, too. Just coming in here, making assumptions. Denise is married, you know that, right? And her husband is hot. Like, real fucking hot. You know why? Because Denise is hot, too. She’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.” I look down at her hand and see a very obvious ring. Fuck me. Carol continues, “But, despite all that, I’m going to help you out instead of kicking your dumb ass to the curb. Denise, can you give us a second?”

“Sure, Carol.” Denise gets up and leaves.

“Thunder, tell me what has you so desperate that you’d come down here with that raggedy-ass bouquet and smelling like you took a bath in Drakkar Noir.”

I quickly explain to her the real reason I’m down here—Eileen’s possible poisoning and the time-frame I need security footage for.

Carol nods, a thoughtful look on her delicate, almost otherworldly features.

“OK, now I’m less inclined to think of you as a total asshole. If I thought someone poisoned my grandma, well, there’s no telling what I’d do. Actually, there is: it’s murder. Definitely murder. Like, really bloody, gruesome murder. Give me a minute and I can pull up the footage.”

In just a few seconds and some clacks of her keyboard, one of the many monitors on her desk springs to life with video outside Eileen’s hospital room. It plays at a fast forward speed. Figures of nurses and doctors enter, exit, and pass by her room on hospital business.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything… oh, wait a second,” Carol says, suddenly pausing the video. There’s a man in a white coat on the screen. I give her a confused look. The man looks like every other doctor. “I don’t recognize him. Give me a second to adjust the picture.”

A few more clacks on the keyboard bring the man’s face full into view.

He looks like a dirtbag. A muscular, murderous, diabolical dirtbag.

Carol frowns at the screen for a moment, gears obviously grinding within her head, her finger tapping a curious rhythm against her lips. Finally, she shakes her head. “He doesn’t work here. Everything about him—the coat, the badge on his chest, the clipboard, which, if you look closely, you’ll see is just covered in squiggles—is fake. That’s your man, I’m sure of it.” Before I can say anything else, she taps a few more keys on her keyboard and the printer next to her desk springs to life, printing out several full-size photos of the man on the screen. “I can’t let you take the footage with you. There are all sorts of federal laws involved because this is a hospital, but you can take these. In the meantime, I’ll keep reviewing the footage to see if there’s anything else useful that turns up, and if I find something, I’ll let you know through Eliza. Just make me one promise, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you. Anything,” I say, taking the photos.

“Never come down here with those bullshit pickup lines again, okay? If you want to take me out, take me to a fucking Rams game or out for some beers. None of this computer bullshit. This is just a job for me—one that I’m damn good at, yes—but it’s not my identity. I’m a fucking human being with a fucking multitude of interests.”

“Point taken,” I say, feeling chastened. “Thanks for the help, Carol.” Then, photos in hand, I head to the door.

“Thanks for the view, Marcus,” she says with an appreciative whistle. “Good luck.”

Outside, Bullet and Owen both wait for me with big grins on their faces. They heard every fucking word.

“Don’t say anything,” I warn them.

“We won’t,” Owen says.

“It’s not like I’ve been sending Rook live text updates this whole time,” Bullet says, holding up his phone. There’s a live video feed on there instead, with a very clear picture of a grinning Rook. “Because I haven’t. Rook’s been on video the whole time.”

“I hate you both,” I say. Then I hold up the photos. “But, despite you guys, I was successful. I’ve found our man.”

“You sure?” Owen says, taking one printout from me and looking at it closely.

“Positive. We find that man, we get our answers, and then we teach him a fucking lesson he will never forget.”

Chapter Seventeen

Amelia

I press myself against the cold, hard surface of the bookshelf, my heart pounding in my chest like a wild animal trapped within. Inwardly, I shake as Antonio Mancini's footsteps echo through Brian Russell's office as he carefully searches the room for any sign of an intruder. If he finds me, he will kill me without hesitation.

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