Read Online Death Deserved (A Detective Jackson Mystery) by L.J. Sellers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L.J. Sellers
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the victim didn’t likely have a troubled past or an enraged boyfriend who was responsible for her being shot. But if the assailant had known Benson was law enforcement, that may have been his or her motive.
Evans left the apartment, locked it behind her, and climbed into her car. She checked her phone: 3:25. She had time to run back out to the hospital and question Benson again before the task force meeting. She headed for the expressway and called Jackson. He still didn’t answer. What the hell was he doing? He’d probably gone to notify Josh Stalling’s family and couldn’t answer his phone. She left another message with a brief update: “Hey, I think our female victim is an undercover DEA agent. I’m stopping at North McKenzie to question her again. See you at five.”
Evans parked up front in the hospital’s loading zone and rushed into the main lobby. She wished she hadn’t tipped her hand earlier by asking for the woman’s real ID. But how could she have known the victim was undercover? What did the agent have to fear from a detective anyway? Was the DEA that protective of its operations and operatives? She’d never worked undercover and didn’t want to. She wasn’t a good liar, and her face tended to reveal her true emotions. Jackson had warned her about it enough times, and she’d gotten better at keeping her face impassive, but pretending to be someone else? She couldn’t do it.
Too worried to waste any time, Evans took the elevator. She ran down the hall of the ICU and hit the buzzer twice. After what seemed like a five-minute wait, a young female nurse opened the double doors. “Who are you here to see?”
“Kayla Benson in room three twenty.”
“I think she’s getting some fresh air.”
No! “You mean she walked out?”
“Who are you?”
“Detective Evans, Eugene Police. When did she leave and where did she go?”
“I saw her in a wheelchair a few minutes ago, with an older man. She said they were just going out to the patio for a smoke.”
Shit! “Where’s the nearest exit from that area?”
“The east elevator. It opens into the parking garage.” The nurse puckered her mouth in worry. “Is the patient in danger?”
Evans spun and ran toward the other end of the building. Her car was parked out front. But she might catch the pair before they made it out of the parking garage. The elevator was stuffed with a noisy family, so she ran for the stairwell and pounded down to the ground level. She raced across the darkened parking garage to the exit. What now? Wait to see if they came out? Evans had no idea what Benson and her helper were driving, or if they were still in the structure. A few minutes could mean anything. They could be on the freeway in a medical transport van headed to Portland by now.
An engine rumbled in a distant row of cars, and she turned toward it. Another vehicle was coming down the circular exit pattern. The best she could do was stand here and watch for a while, then stop the vehicle if she spotted Benson. But if the patient was lying down or hiding inside the vehicle, Evans wouldn’t be able to see her.
Evans’ hope of intercepting the agent—and witness—faded. The nearby car, an older Toyota with a young man behind the wheel, drove toward her. He stared at her as she stood by the exit like a hall monitor. She nodded and he rolled slowly past. The second vehicle rounded the last curve. A dark van. Her pulse escalated. As the van neared, she moved to the middle of the lane and held up her hands. The van slowed, and she noticed the driver was an older man.
He rolled to a stop about ten feet away and leaned his head out. “What’s going on? I’m in a hurry.”
Evans walked toward the vehicle, but didn’t get out of its way. “Eugene Police. I’m looking for a witness to a shooting. Is she in your van?”
“Good grief.” Gray hair, tanned smooth face, dark pullover. “No, of course not.”
“I’d like to look inside.”
“Be my
Evans left the apartment, locked it behind her, and climbed into her car. She checked her phone: 3:25. She had time to run back out to the hospital and question Benson again before the task force meeting. She headed for the expressway and called Jackson. He still didn’t answer. What the hell was he doing? He’d probably gone to notify Josh Stalling’s family and couldn’t answer his phone. She left another message with a brief update: “Hey, I think our female victim is an undercover DEA agent. I’m stopping at North McKenzie to question her again. See you at five.”
Evans parked up front in the hospital’s loading zone and rushed into the main lobby. She wished she hadn’t tipped her hand earlier by asking for the woman’s real ID. But how could she have known the victim was undercover? What did the agent have to fear from a detective anyway? Was the DEA that protective of its operations and operatives? She’d never worked undercover and didn’t want to. She wasn’t a good liar, and her face tended to reveal her true emotions. Jackson had warned her about it enough times, and she’d gotten better at keeping her face impassive, but pretending to be someone else? She couldn’t do it.
Too worried to waste any time, Evans took the elevator. She ran down the hall of the ICU and hit the buzzer twice. After what seemed like a five-minute wait, a young female nurse opened the double doors. “Who are you here to see?”
“Kayla Benson in room three twenty.”
“I think she’s getting some fresh air.”
No! “You mean she walked out?”
“Who are you?”
“Detective Evans, Eugene Police. When did she leave and where did she go?”
“I saw her in a wheelchair a few minutes ago, with an older man. She said they were just going out to the patio for a smoke.”
Shit! “Where’s the nearest exit from that area?”
“The east elevator. It opens into the parking garage.” The nurse puckered her mouth in worry. “Is the patient in danger?”
Evans spun and ran toward the other end of the building. Her car was parked out front. But she might catch the pair before they made it out of the parking garage. The elevator was stuffed with a noisy family, so she ran for the stairwell and pounded down to the ground level. She raced across the darkened parking garage to the exit. What now? Wait to see if they came out? Evans had no idea what Benson and her helper were driving, or if they were still in the structure. A few minutes could mean anything. They could be on the freeway in a medical transport van headed to Portland by now.
An engine rumbled in a distant row of cars, and she turned toward it. Another vehicle was coming down the circular exit pattern. The best she could do was stand here and watch for a while, then stop the vehicle if she spotted Benson. But if the patient was lying down or hiding inside the vehicle, Evans wouldn’t be able to see her.
Evans’ hope of intercepting the agent—and witness—faded. The nearby car, an older Toyota with a young man behind the wheel, drove toward her. He stared at her as she stood by the exit like a hall monitor. She nodded and he rolled slowly past. The second vehicle rounded the last curve. A dark van. Her pulse escalated. As the van neared, she moved to the middle of the lane and held up her hands. The van slowed, and she noticed the driver was an older man.
He rolled to a stop about ten feet away and leaned his head out. “What’s going on? I’m in a hurry.”
Evans walked toward the vehicle, but didn’t get out of its way. “Eugene Police. I’m looking for a witness to a shooting. Is she in your van?”
“Good grief.” Gray hair, tanned smooth face, dark pullover. “No, of course not.”
“I’d like to look inside.”
“Be my
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