Chasing Darkness (36 page)

She
didn’t answer him. “Why are you calling me?”

“Uh,
I, I—I wanted to tell you about a bad man . . .”

“Call
the police,” she snapped and started to hang up.

“Wait!”
he cried in a shrill voice.

She
brought the phone back to her ear and waited.

“Are
you there?” he asked.

“For
about another ten seconds.”

“There’s
a man who’s trying to hurt you. I saw him.”

She
paused and considered hanging up. “Where did you see him?”

“At
your office. He was inside your car.”

Sam
felt the muscles in her stomach tighten. “Start talking, Gerry.”

He
walked through the lobby and waved at the posted security guard. By now, his
routine was perfectly established in everyone’s mind. He was never late for
work. He had a perfect attendance record. His record was clean. And he was the
best special agent. Sam Chase had the tits, but he was the senior. And he was
going to make everyone see how fragile Sam Chase was.

She
had tried to smash his career. She’d insulted him in front of their boss,
insisted on the best cases, but he wasn’t going to take it. No one made a fool
of Gary Williams.

The
elevators on the fourth floor opened slowly, displaying the dim hall lit only
by the occasional exit sign and the blue hue of computer screens left on over
the weekend. Morons. Passing the main desk, abandoned at this hour, he quickly
surveyed the area. He flipped on the two lights in the main hall and moved
slowly through the halls just as he always did. Only he knew that his purpose
was not what it seemed.

Since
she’d started, Sam Chase had been clawing her way to his level. He’d been there
twenty years, and no woman was going to get between him and the next level. He
deserved the best cases, not her. And he deserved the director job when it came
open. But she’d always been willing to do whatever they asked, such a kiss-up.
Now, slowly but surely, he was getting to her. He could see it in the way she
glanced sideways when she walked through the hall, the fear in her eyes when
the lights had been out. The unflappable Samantha Chase was flapping. He
covered his mouth and made a coughing sound that was actually a laugh. You
never knew who was in the office.

And
people would agree that Sam was starting to lose it. He heard them whispering
about her, about how she was falling apart. They read about her in the paper,
wondered what was going on in her personal life. They couldn’t imagine he was
setting her up. It would never cross their simple minds.

As
he moved, he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to confirm that he was
alone. Then, ducking around the side of a cubicle, he withdrew the plastic
gloves from his coat pocket. He pulled them on quickly, enjoying the snap as
they settled against the hair on the back of his hands.

As
he had expected, no one was in the office at this hour. Government employees
were not known for their long hours. He was an exception. He took pride in his
job. And what had he gotten for it? No respect. But not for long.

Samantha
Chase was not popular. People wanted to see her suffer, they wanted her to
fail. And he was making it happen. Already he’d heard through the grapevine
that she was out of the office for mental health reasons. That wasn’t the
official word, but he’d heard it more than once. He was making her crazy.
Sooner or later he would push her right over the edge. He turned the corner at
her office and paused.

He
wondered how many people knew the truth about her. It had taken him these few
months of watching her to realize. Samantha had brushed him off. That had been
his first clue. Now he realized it was because she didn’t like men—she liked
women. Even her name reeked of false masculinity. Sam. He should have known.
Women didn’t belong in law enforcement as it was. Now they had dykes. It was
too much.

He
was the one who belonged in this job, not her. He returned his attention to his
work. Her office was dark, but as he had suspected, locked. He pulled out the
key and slid it into the lock. The security desk had a huge ring of keys for
the building. Every single door was on it. He’d gotten hold of Samantha’s early
on and had it copied. He’d made the small gouges in the lock to scare her, but
all along he had been getting in with a key. The thought made him smile.

He
let himself in and, after a quick look around, closed the door behind him. He
stood in the dark with his back pressed to the door and inhaled deeply. She
wore no perfume, but the room was filled with her essence.

He
flipped the light switch and moved quickly around the office. Starting with the
files on her desk, he searched through everything, hunting for the perfect next
move. As always, he was cautious to move one thing at a time, replacing it
meticulously before moving on. He ran his glove over the small black print of
her handwriting. He’d been through the files over and over and had already
worked with the interesting items. The rest of it seemed dull. Still, he
couldn’t stop now.

He
moved deftly, like an expert. And really he was. He’d been doing this long
enough to know Samantha’s habits. Once, he’d even seen her date book with the
carefully recorded notes here in the office. He’d thought it too bulky to take
at the time, but in hindsight, he wished he’d kept it. He could imagine the
things he would have learned. He’d looked for it in her car, but he hadn’t
found it. He spotted an important file on her desk and took a few of the pages
from the back to plant somewhere. He tucked them into his jacket and moved on.

He
reached down to pull open her drawer and heard a click behind him. He spun
around and caught the door opening.

Samantha’s
assistant, Aaron, pushed the door open and rolled himself inside. “What are you
doing, Gary?”

He
remained straight-faced, though he knew this was a bad situation. No one
should’ve been here now. He felt angry that he’d been interrupted. “I’m looking
for a file Sam took from my office.”

“What
file?”

“Hofstadt,”
he said.

The
gimp’s eyes narrowed, and he wheeled further into the room. Without another
word, Aaron scanned his gloved hands and then started to slowly move backward.

He
could sense the kid didn’t buy it. He tried to remain calm, but his blood began
to boil.

“What
the hell are you up to?”

He
slipped the gloves off and tucked them into a pocket, smiling. “I told you, I’m
just getting a file.”

“You’re
the one,” Aaron said. “The car, her files, you’ve been breaking in here.”

Williams
shook his head and started to walk past Aaron. “That’s ridiculous. I just came
for one file, but I guess I’ll get it later.”

“Don’t
even think about it. You’re not going anywhere until I call Sam.”

Williams
didn’t stop, but he started to panic and tried to find a good place to dispose
of the gloves and papers as he moved down the hall.

Aaron
came chasing after him. “Stop,” Aaron shouted, and Williams could feel him
closing in from behind.

Williams
turned and ran for the stairs. It was his word against Aaron’s. He’d just dump
the stuff and get out of there.

Aaron
followed him.

There
was a security call button in the stairwell that Williams didn’t want Aaron to
get hold of, but he couldn’t think of where else to go.

Aaron
was right behind him when he pulled open the stairwell door.

Williams
tried to shut it behind him, but Aaron was too close.

He
followed Williams into the landing and smacked the alarm button. Williams heard
the siren sound just as he started down the stairs.

Aaron
caught his arm. “Let go of me!” Williams yelled, but Aaron had a strong grip.

He
struggled to free himself. Desperate, he reached for Aaron’s throat with his
other hand.

The
chair held firm, but Williams fought to pull it off balance so Aaron would let
go. He didn’t.

The
alarms screamed and Williams knew he was out of time. He had to get away.

Dropping
to his knees, he reached for Aaron’s brake and flipped it down.

The
wheelchair moved.

Williams
grabbed the banister and pulled himself away. Suddenly he was knocked sideways
as Aaron and his chair went tumbling down the cement stairs.

Just
then, the door smashed open, and Sam Chase and two security guards burst in.

“Get
him!” Sam shouted, pointing the security guards to Williams. She saw Aaron at
the base of the stairs and ran toward him. “Call an ambulance.”

“He
was attacking me!” Williams screamed, fighting one of the guards. The other had
gone for help.

“Don’t
let him go until the police get here.” She knelt beside Aaron, her breath
ragged. His forehead was bleeding, and his left arm was trapped under his
chair. “Cuff him to the banister and get down here. I need help.”

She
heard Williams yelling at the security guard.

“Shut
up! If he’s hurt, Williams, I’m going to have your ass in jail.”

“You
don’t know what you’re talking about,” Williams hissed. He looked back at the
guard. “I’ll have your job.”

The
guard hesitated.

“He’s
not going to have anyone’s job,” Sam responded. “Now get down here and help
me.”

The
guard scrambled down the stairs, wearing a panicked expression.

“Help
me get him out of this chair,” Sam directed, trying to remember everything she
knew about emergency medicine. She prayed it was just a concussion. “Keep his
neck and spine straight,” she ordered, not knowing what the injuries were. What
the hell was Aaron doing at the office at this time of night?

Williams
was clattering the handcuffs and complaining, but Sam ignored him.

She
laid her arm along Aaron’s neck and upper back as they lifted him off the chair
and onto the floor. His left arm was definitely broken. She opened his eyes and
looked at them. There was no pupil activity. “Come on, Aaron!” Where were the
damn paramedics?

“Let
him die. He’s just a damn cripple.”

Sam
ran up the short flight to Williams, who was looking down at her.

“Turn
your back,” she ordered the guard.

She
raised her left knee and drove it hard into Williams’ groin.

He
doubled over and started to gag. “You bitch! That’s police brutality.”

Sam
gritted her teeth and glared at him. “You say another word, and I’ll give you
my fist. It’s a hell of a lot stronger.”

Williams
shut up and Sam returned to Aaron. She touched his neck and felt the thready
pulse. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to be okay.”

Within
two minutes, the door opened and the second security guard came in, followed by
two E.M.T.s with a stretcher.

They
paused at Williams, who was still doubled over, but Sam waved them down the
stairs.

“The
police are on their way,” the second guard said.

“Stay
here until they arrive.” Sam knelt with the paramedics as they worked on Aaron.
She took his hand and squeezed, clenching her free hand against her chest and
praying like she hadn’t since she was a little girl.

Sam
paced through the halls of San Francisco General, pressing her hands into tight
fists. Everything about the hospital made her sick to her stomach—the smells,
the people who milled about and waited for death, even those waiting with hopes
of life. It all gave her an eerie chill. Announcements over the loudspeakers
were crackling calls of panic and desperation. People stood with their heads
bowed, the low sound of crying like the constant surf of a distant sea.

Not
to mention the fact that this particular hospital was where Brent practiced. He
wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t. She repeated the mantra to herself without
slowing her pace.

She
studied the last door she’d seen Aaron disappear through as though the door
itself might disappear at any minute. She’d been waiting for three hours. It
was two o’clock in the morning, and every time she asked someone what was
happening in there, they told her to sit down. She couldn’t sit. If she’d
thought seriously about Williams as a suspect sooner, she could have saved Aaron.
If he wasn’t okay, she didn’t know what she was going to do. A million
thoughts, all jumbled, spun around in her brain.

She
continued to walk the halls, wearing off the caffeine from her third cup of
coffee. She’d had a granola bar, too, something to keep the coffee from burning
a hole in her stomach, but she was tired and hungry.

The
door opened, and a nurse in scrubs came through.

Sam
stopped her. “Aaron Ferguson?”

The
woman smiled. “Special Agent Chase, you’re in luck. He’s out of the ER, and
they’re about to move him to Room 916.” She pointed. “It’s the third room from
the end.”

Sam
leapt forward.

The
nurse caught her arm. “But you can’t go in there without his doctor’s
permission. The doctor’s on his way out to talk to you.”

Sam
halted, exhaling deeply, and the nurse let go. “How long?”

“Agent
Chase.”

Sam
turned to see a trim Japanese man with streaks of gray and a cool demeanor
approaching her. His slow movements and calm expression suggested anything but
an ER doctor. He put out his hand. “I’m Dr. John Okamoto.”

She
shook his hand. “I’m here about Aaron Ferguson.”

The
doctor nodded and motioned her to come along with him toward Aaron’s room. He
walked at a slow, even pace and spoke the same way, in a voice that was steady
and rhythmic. “Aaron is stabilized, although he’s still in and out because of
the medications. I’m told you’re a special agent with the Department of
Justice.”

“That’s
correct.”