Chapter 2 - Highway 9
Malcolm's first visitor arrived the following morning.
Captain Elias Dayne.
The sight of him nearly made Malcolm's heart stop.
Dayne entered carrying flowers.
White lilies.
“Mr. Avery.”
Malcolm stared at him.
Dayne was fifty-four, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, and polished enough to belong behind a podium rather than inside an interrogation room.
He placed the flowers beside the bed.
“I'm terribly sorry about what happened.”
Malcolm couldn't speak easily through the oxygen mask.
Dayne pulled up a chair.
“Our officers found evidence suggesting this may have been an attempted robbery.”
Malcolm's eyes narrowed.
Dayne smiled sympathetically.
“Do you remember anything?”
Malcolm understood the question beneath the question.
How much can you tell them?
He slowly shook his head.
“Nothing?”
Another shake.
Dayne relaxed.
“Trauma does strange things to memory.”
He stood.
“We'll find whoever did this.”
Before leaving, he touched Malcolm's shoulder.
The gesture looked compassionate.
The pressure of his fingers was not.
“Get some rest.”
Once Dayne disappeared, Malcolm stared at the flowers.
Then at the call button.
He pressed it.
A nurse entered.
“Could you throw those away?”
“The flowers?”
“All of them.”
She looked confused but complied.
Thirty minutes later, another visitor appeared.
This one wore hospital scrubs.
She closed the door.
Malcolm recognized her eyes.
Rachel Mercer.
The federal investigator removed her surgical mask.
“You look terrible.”
Malcolm managed a faint smile.
“Good morning to you too.”
Her expression softened.
“We recovered the cloud footage.”
“Voss?”
“Clearly visible.”
“And audio?”
“Enough.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
Relief washed through him.
Mercer moved closer.
“But there's a problem.”
There always was.
“Someone accessed your hospital records six hours after admission.”
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
Malcolm looked toward the door.
“Dayne was just here.”
“I know.”
“You followed him?”
“We're following several people.”
“Then arrest them.”
“Not yet.”
Malcolm stared at her in disbelief.
“Not yet?”
“We can arrest Voss for assault. Maybe attempted murder. But if we move now, Dayne destroys everything and half the network disappears.”
“So I'm bait?”
Mercer didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Anger burned through Malcolm.
“I nearly died.”
“I know.”
“You don't know.”
Mercer lowered her voice.
“We have spent eleven months trying to penetrate this organization. Your evidence gave us the first direct connection between Voss and Dayne.”
Malcolm looked away.
“Then use it.”
“We need the financial records.”
“What financial records?”
“We believe the extortion money is being laundered through businesses controlled by intermediaries. If we arrest one officer tonight, we get one officer. If we prove the network, we dismantle the organization.”
Malcolm's eyes returned to hers.
“How many?”
“Potentially thirty-seven officers and civilian accomplices.”
He felt sick.
Mercer continued.
“We're moving you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“Because officially, your condition is too unstable right now.”
Malcolm almost laughed.
“You're telling me I'm too sick to save.”
“I'm telling you we need several hours to arrange secure transport without notifying local police.”
Malcolm glanced at the door again.
“You think they'll come here.”
Mercer looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
That afternoon, Malcolm's daughter called.
He lied to her.
He told her he had been in a car accident.
He told her everything was fine.
He told her not to come.
Every lie hurt.
At 8:17 p.m., a nurse checked his IV.
At 9:03, the hallway became unusually quiet.
At 9:26, Malcolm noticed something.
The police officer assigned outside his room was gone.
He pressed the call button.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
His heart began beating harder.
Then the lights flickered.
Malcolm stared toward the door.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
The handle moved.
Malcolm's breath caught.
The door opened.
A nurse entered.
He exhaled.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Call system malfunction.”
She checked his monitor.
Malcolm watched the hallway behind her.
“Where's the officer?”
“What officer?”
“The one outside.”
She frowned.
“There hasn't been anyone stationed there tonight.”
Malcolm went cold.
Then who had he seen?
Before he could ask, the nurse's pager beeped.
She left.
At 10:41 p.m., Mercer sent a message to the secure phone hidden beneath Malcolm's blanket.
Transport delayed. Stay awake.
He typed with trembling fingers.
How long?
No answer.
At 11:06, footsteps returned.
This time Malcolm knew them.
The door opened.
Grant Voss stepped inside.
May you like
And Malcolm realized federal agents might already be too late.
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