Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kenzie and the others entered the hospital and wound their way to the lab. The area for giving blood was across the hall. James laid a hand on her arm. "You go on in. We'll wait out here and take you home when you're done."

"You're not coming?"

"Cowboy, Greene, and Otis will make sure the area is secure and keep an eye on all the things. But I'll drop by after I find Lainie. I need to ask her a question."

"You could just text her, you know. She checks her phone a little more often than I do."

"Ha. I know that's right, but I prefer the face-to-face."

"Of course you do."

"You will too one day."

She rolled her eyes. "I already do. For everyone." She waved her work phone at him, briefly thinking she should check her personal one. "Get out of here."

James left and Cowboy took up residence near the exit, his positioning strategic in that it would allow him to see everyone coming through the front door, the side door that opened into the main part of the hospital, and everyone in the waiting room. Greene settled into a chair on the opposite side of the room and Otis dropped beside him, planting his muzzle between his massive paws. Kenzie smiled, grateful for the crew and wishing Butler would come around—assuming he wasn't the one trying to kill her—and made her way to the back where Cole would be giving blood. Once at the door, she pushed her way into the room to find three empty beds and a missing one.

She frowned and stepped back out to find a worker she recognized behind a counter, tapping on her laptop. "Hey, Delia, Cole was supposed to be here giving blood, but I don't see him."

Delia looked up, frowning. "Well, I got him settled and going on his donation. When I last checked on him, he was almost done. Looked like he was dozing."

"When was that?"

The woman glanced at the clock on the wall. "About twenty minutes ago."

"Is someone else on duty who would have disconnected him? There are two bags on the tray next to a plasma machine, but no donor bed."

"What?" She rose and followed Kenzie back to the room and gasped. "What in the world?"

"What's wrong?"

Delia's wide brown eyes met Kenzie's. "His drink and snack are still here." She walked over to hold up the package of cookies and the bottle. "He'd never leave these. He knows how important it is to keep his blood sugar up and rehydrate."

"I agree." Dread swirled and something on the floor against the wall caught her eye. She hurried over to pick it up. "This is Cole's phone."

She tried to open it, but the screen was locked. And required facial recognition. She had no clue what his six-digit passcode would be either. She checked her work phone. No messages there.

For some reason, she checked her personal phone.

And there it was. A text from Cole.

Drugged. Fake doc. Need help.

She didn't bother standing there in shock but took off running toward the waiting room. She found Cowboy, Greene, and Otis where she'd left them. "Follow me!" Otis barked and lunged to his feet while Greene and Cowboy did the same. "Where's Cross?"

"With Lainie, I reckon," Cowboy said.

"Text him and keep moving to security. We need to look at the security footage. Someone's kidnapped Cole."

"What!"

She rounded the corner and bolted toward the emergency department. The security office was right next to it just off the hall. She rapped her knuckles on the door, then pushed it open. "Jared, oh thank goodness you're here. Someone's kidnapped Cole right from the blood donation room. Couldn't be more than twenty-five minutes ago. Can you see if you can track him?"

Wide-eyed, the man spun back to his computer and pulled up the video from that area, and jumped to the time Kenzie had given him. They watched as Delia came in to check on Cole. Then within a minute after she left, another figure appeared. "There's the doctor coming in."

Kenzie shook her head. "No. His text said fake doc. See if we can get a look at his face."

The footage played and Jared groaned. "No luck. He knew how to hold his head so the camera wouldn't pick him up—at least not his face. Plus he has that surgical mask on. Dark hair, though." Seconds ticked past. "That's where he drugged him. Put something in the IV. Waited a little, took off the lab coat, and became an instant transport person." He clicked a few keys on the keyboard and switched cameras. "He rolled him out and toward the ambulance bay."

Kenzie looked at Greene. "What do you think about bagging that lab coat? Otis can use it as a scent article. Possibly." Maybe.

Greene nodded. "On it. I'll meet you at the ambulance bay."

"Oscar Woodruff wanted my position," she said. "I was warned to quit or else. Someone took Cole to get to me."

Cowboy eyed her. "What are you thinking? You think Woodruff had something to do with this?"

"I have no idea." What she wanted to know was where Butler had been all this time. But the man on the footage wasn't him. Wrong build, wrong hair color, wrong everything. But that didn't mean he wasn't working with someone else. "I need to talk to Commander Hill and we need to come up with a plan to find Cole. Can someone find Butler too? He should know what's going on." And she wanted to know where he was so she could keep tabs on him.

"Hang on, Cole," she whispered. "We're coming."

She and the others raced to the ambulance bay to find it busy, but no Cole in sight. "Whoever rolled him out here probably had a vehicle waiting."

"But Cole was unconscious," Cowboy said. "How would he get Cole into it? The man is big, and dead weight over two hundred pounds wouldn't be easy to handle."

"You're right." So how had he moved Cole? "What if he wasn't completely knocked out? What if he could walk a little or move when instructed?"

"That would make things easier, for sure," Greene said.

"There's got to be more security footage."

"We watched and never saw him actually come out here. What if he detoured to a different exit?"

Kenzie frowned. "Where?"

Greene pointed. "The morgue."

COLE OPENED HIS EYES AND GROANED, nausea clawing at the back of his throat. While he fought it, he registered he was lying on his left side on a comfortable mattress. The gurney? Yes, but he wasn't in the hospital anymore. Chills shook him and he pressed a hand to his head. "What—?" His throat rasped and he coughed, gagged, and stilled until the desire to be sick faded.

Once he thought he could, he rolled to a sitting position, caught his breath, then stumbled off the gurney to his feet, only to have to fall back onto the bed while the room spun.

"Okay, then," he rasped, his voice loud in the complete silence. "Easy now."

When the room stopped twirling, he took a moment to look around and noted he was in some kind of room about seven by fourteen. Two iron-framed twin beds minus mattresses were tilted and stacked against the opposite wall. A very dirty window let in just a glow of light. Morning? Afternoon? He had no idea. A tiny bathroom to his right with no door. Just a sink that now rested on the floor, and a toilet. No shower. And it stunk. The smell of mildew and dirt hit him. And he'd swear the odor of ... stale urine? ... hovered in the air.

A chair that looked like it belonged back in the late 1940s sat in the corner. There were restraints on the arms and legs and they looked new.

With all these details swirling in his head, he eased himself off the mattress once more, made sure his stomach was going to stay put, then walked to the door and yanked on the handle. He wasn't surprised to find it locked. Cole patted his pockets, looking for his phone. Again, not surprised to find it missing.

He moved to the window, whose curtain hung by threads. The pane was surprisingly still intact, but caked with so much dirt and grime that he couldn't see much through it. Then he spotted a sliver of clean glass, placed his eye next to it, and squinted.

He almost didn't need the visual confirmation to know where he was, what he'd suspected.

Lake City State Hospital.

And while he knew it was impossible after all these years, he definitely smelled urine and who knew what else had been left behind. Gross.

The lock clicked on the door and Cole scrambled to search for a weapon, but if he had to defend himself, he was going to be in trouble. Weak from giving blood and the drug that was still in his system, he was a hot mess. A toddler could knock him over.

The door opened and the man stood there, mask on his face, gun in his hand. Cole let himself fall back against the wall. His mind was still a blank as to how he'd gotten here.

Or who had brought him. Fake doc.

"Woke up a little faster than I thought you would in spite of two more doses," the man said.

That voice. Where did he know that voice from?

"Who are you?" He really hoped he wasn't going to have to engage in a physical fight because his muscles quivered like Jell-O.

"Someone who needs a favor."

"You could have spared us both all the drama and just asked." His head was splitting and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. He'd give just about anything to stretch back out on the gurney and sleep it off.

"Not this favor."

Again, the man's voice tickled Cole's memory, but he couldn't place it. "What is it?"

"You're going to call whoever you need to call, as far up the chain as you need to go, and tell them that they're going to get rid of Kenzie King and hire someone to take her place."

He stared at the dark eyes peering at him through the small eyeholes in the mask.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, you won't live to see another day—and neither will Kenzie King or any of the others on your team. You've managed to protect her up to this point, but you and I both know eventually I'll succeed." His phone buzzed and he motioned with the gun. "Sit in the chair and strap yourself in. Legs first. Then one arm. I'll do the last one."

"No way."

"You can do it with or without a bullet in you. And trust me, I know where to put one so you won't die quickly. The without-bullet route will be much less painful for you. For a little while anyway."

Cole debated, then decided he'd have a much better chance of escape without the bullet wound. And this guy sounded like he didn't care one way or another. Cole sat in the chair and began to strap himself in.

His captor moved closer, and Cole noted the slight limp, but the man made quick work of rendering him helpless. "What now?"

"Now we get to work." He pulled a phone from his pocket, and for a moment Cole had hope that if he could get it, he could call for help. Another phone dinged and the man cursed, then dug in his other pocket, pulled out a smartphone, and looked at it. Another curse and he shoved the phone away, then tucked the first device into the other pocket. "Well, we're going to be a bit delayed. I have an emergency appointment to get to, then I'll be back."

"Why Kenzie? Why do you hate her so much? Want her off the team? Or dead?"

"Because she doesn't deserve the spot. For years, her family has taken what doesn't belong to them. I'm putting a stop to it once and for all."

Her family? "If Kenzie doesn't deserve it, who does?"

"You'll find out when I get back, but get ready to make some calls. It's time to make what I want to happen ... happen."

He pulled out his phone to snap a picture of Cole, then he was gone. Cole leaned his head back, thankful for the headrest—and that the man hadn't pulled that strap around him, forcing him to stay in a position that didn't allow him to move his head.

He pulled on his arms, then his legs, but the restraints held tight. He was well and truly trapped.