Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
Once inside the convenience store, Beth purchased a packet of feminine products and a pair of panties. She might need proof she'd actually purchased them. After pushing them into her pocket, she dashed out of the door and into the diner. It was reasonably busy serving breakfast and she slipped through the dining area to the restrooms and then to the back door. She dragged it open and wedged it with one foot to examine the mechanism. It would lock when she left. After searching her pockets for the small roll of tape she always carried for similar situations, she placed a strip over the mechanism. The door now shut but didn't lock. She slipped outside and moved along the alleyway. It serviced the hotel as well and she soon located the open kitchen door. Cigarette butts surrounded the entrance, and the dumpsters filled the space with the stench of rotting food. She peered inside the back door of the hotel, finding a small space with coats, hats, boots, and a large chalkboard with names scribbled against times. Ahead, she could see a pair of swing doors with glass circles giving a view of a busy kitchen. To her right was a passageway with room service carts, piled high with clean linen on the top and on one side a holder for dirty linen.
She checked her watch, Carter would have seen her leave the convenience store with a paper sack, and she doubted he'd be timing her, or mention what had happened to anyone. The front counter was empty and she made out brass signs with numbers written on them. After pulling on latex gloves from a box on the cart, she grabbed the handle and pushed it down the passageway toward room twelve. She needed a fast-acting and silent weapon, and during a recent undercover mission, Nate had given her the idea by supplying her with what looked like an EpiPen but filled with a tranquilizer. Inside her pocket, she'd obtained something incredibly lethal from the dark web. A similar device that delivered a dose of anesthetic drugs combined with enough fentanyl to kill a horse. It was small, effective, and easily dropped down a drain. Her hand closed around it, flipping off the lid. She knocked on the door. "Housekeeping."
The door opened and the man who hurt kids stood in front of her in a waft of cigars and sweat. He didn't resemble a monster. He looked like someone's dad. Out of shape, with a greasy combover and a large belly hanging over the belt of his pants. She sucked in a breath waiting for a reaction. He should recognize her if he had her on his hit list, and she hadn't even removed her coat. "I was just heading home and the manager told me to make up your room."
"Are you sure?" The doctor looked at her and frowned. "Can it wait? I'll be leaving soon." He held the door open, with one hand exposing one side of a clean blue shirt, with the cuffs rolled up to the elbows.
Shaking her head, Beth stepped forward. Excitement at facing him at last made her heart race. Time was running out and she needed to act now. Forcing her words to remain calm, she lifted her chin. "No, I need to get home to my kids. I can make up this room now or leave it if you prefer."
It was as if recognition hit him in a flash. He stared at her and took two steps back. In her time in the FBI, she'd come to the conclusion pedophiles were usually cowards. His face drained of color and his eyes flicked to the shoulder holster on the bedside table. The handle of a Glock poked out. She wanted to smile as the psychopath in her rose. Time slowed to the seconds between heartbeats as he telegraphed his next move and turned, diving onto the bed. As one of his pudgy hands reached for the weapon, heart pounding, Beth dived after him, landing heavily on his back. The doctor's hand closed around the gun, and with his superior weight, he tossed her off him like a ragdoll, almost knocking the device from her hand. He was more agile than she'd imagined, and in the next second the gun came up and he straddled her, his huge belly crushing her bruised ribs. One knee pinned her left hand. She couldn't risk losing the dispenser. It was her only escape. Remaining still, she glared at him. "Get off me."
"I'm going to kill you, Agent Katz, and no one will ever know what happened to you." The doctor's lips stretched wide between flushed cheeks, covered in spider veins. "Coming here without backup was a big mistake."
Gasping for air, Beth glared at him. "I'm never alone. You won't be either when you're burning in hell."
"Not me." He chuckled. "My cleanup crew will have you swimming with the fish by tonight. One prick of a needle and you'll be asleep, but I'll make sure they wake you before they toss you into the middle of the lake." He pressed down hard on her, pushing the air from her lungs. "It's dark in that lake and you'll try to hold your breath, but death is inevitable. I wish I could be there to watch you die."
As he reached for a pillow to push over her face, to no doubt use to render her unconscious, Beth pressed the dispenser onto the bare flesh of his arm and pushed her thumb down hard on the plunger.
"What have you done?" He stared at his arm, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in disbelief.
Laughing, Beth watched the anesthetic take effect. "That's for all the forgotten girls, you sick creep."
In seconds, his eyes rolled up in his head and the Glock slipped from his hand as he fell sideways hitting the floor with a thump. Beth scrambled from the bed, and panic gripped her. Her hair or DNA could be all over the bottom sheet. Without a second thought, she dragged the sheet from the bed. Carefully opening the door to check outside, she tossed it in with the other soiled bed linen on the cart. She grabbed a clean sheet and spread it over the bed, and then tossed the rest of the bed linen on top. She considered returning the Glock to the holster and then dismissed the idea. Taking a few precious seconds, she stared down at him. He wasn't breathing. His reign of terror was over. She placed a tarot card on his chest, walked out of the door, and pushed the cart along the empty passageway to join the others. As she turned into the hallway, she heard voices. Someone had heard the doctor hit the floor. She needed to get away right now.
Panting, Beth checked her watch, it had taken longer than expected. Carter could be out searching for her by now. She needed an excuse for taking so long. She ran out the door, tossed her gloves into the dumpster, and dropped the device down a drain before hotfooting it back to the diner. She removed the tape from the door and peered into the eating area expecting to see him waiting for her. She went to the counter and ordered coffee and donuts. The service was fast and, gathering her purchases, she headed for the door just as it opened and Carter walked inside. A wave of unease gripped her as she stopped walking and stared at him. "Is there a problem?"
"Nope, not now." He inclined his head and looked at her. "I was concerned you'd fainted or something. You look flushed. Anything I can get you? Do you need to sit down?"
Flushed? That's the look of exhilaration from removing a child predator from existence. Beth handed him the donuts and they headed for the truck. "Thanks, but no, I'm okay and I've never fainted. I needed to tidy up some and then wait for the coffee. After being out here in the cold it was hot in there and the service in the diner was very slow." Trying to find the appropriate thing to say, she gave him a sideways stare. "I really appreciate you checking up on me. You might be right about speaking to Nate. This hasn't happened before."
"Yeah, go and see Nate. It's not really in my field of expertise." Carter peered into the paper sack, obviously needing to change the subject. "Mmm, my favorite—donuts. No wonder Styles likes having you around. Jo brings me celery sticks and carrots."