Hooked Read online

  Finally, they reached the hospital and parked in the designated area. Visiting hours had started because a steady stream of people flowed into the building, a rather impressive complex for such a small town. The ER parking lot seemed empty by comparison. Derek decided to check it out. “I’m going to grab a soda while you get started on the paperwork, okay?”

  “Only if you get me one, too,” Ned replied.

  Derek quickly found the ER registration area, and to his delight, the waiting room was nearly empty. He turned on the charm for the young girl at the desk. “Hey, there. I’m with PATA, and we just drove up from Wilkes-Barre on a call. The ride was a killer and now my back’s out. Any chance I can see the doctor in the next few minutes? We really need to get this guy home, but I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep tonight if I don’t get some meds.”

  The cute girl frowned in sympathy, then turned to her computer screen. “Only a few patients in the ER. Let me register you and I’ll go talk to the doc, okay?”

  Derek leaned on the counter and breathed a sigh of relief, then hobbled to a chair after she returned his insurance card. PATA’s insurance plan sucked, and his ER deductible was high, so he’d need to get quite a few pills from this visit to make it worthwhile. But it could turn out to be a good source for him, and what successful businessman never took a chance?

  Cute girl swiped her ID badge and disappeared behind the locked doors. Derek’s eyes oscillated between them and his watch. He had twenty minutes or so before the EMT started looking for him. To his relief, the doors opened a minute later and she called him in.

  “I explained it to the doctor and he’ll see you right away.”

  Derek smiled the charming smile. “I could kiss you,” he said, and she blushed in response, then directed him to his room. Seconds later, a man in a long white coat marched into the room, and Derek was afraid he was in trouble. He was an older man, probably in his sixties, and wore a shirt with a tie beneath his jacket.

  “Dr. Sales. So, young man, bad back, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s given me problems off and on for years. Herniated disk. They thought I’d need surgery, but the doctor sent me for some pain shots and physical therapy, and it cleared up.”

  “When was that?”

  “About two years ago. It flared up again about a year ago, but since then it’s been fine.”

  “What did they do for you last time?”

  Derek reached for his smartphone. “I can’t remember the names of all these medications. They wanted to try to reduce the inflammation with steroids, and they gave me a few other pills for pain and spasm, bed rest for a week, that kind of stuff. Let me see, here’s the list.” He read it aloud, then looked up again. “The doctor says it’s a really high dose of the pain medicine, but he says that’s what you need for this kind of pain. They only give it to you for a short time, because he says you can get hooked on those things, and I agree. I’ve known a few guys with drug problems, and that’s the last thing I need.”

  “That is a high dose of oxycodone, Derek. Your doctor’s right. But if you taper it like that, you should be okay from the addiction point of view. I hope it helps your pain, though. It doesn’t really do anything to make you better, just sort of masks the symptoms.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just in agony now, and I thought since I was here I’d see if you can help me. By the time I get back to Wilkes-Barre my doctor’s office will be closed, and the guy on call will never phone these meds in. They’re strong, like you said. So it’s your ER or the one in Wilkes-Barre if I want any relief tonight.”

  The doctor nodded understandingly, and Derek’s hopes rose. If the doctor gave him the ten-day taper like he’d asked for, he’d have at least thirty tablets in his hand by the end of the day. Four hundred fifty migs of oxycodone. If he could sell them himself, he’d have a small fortune. Or perhaps he’d have a little party and get really, really blasted.

  “Do you want me to send these scripts over to the hospital pharmacy?” the doctor asked after a rather thorough exam.

  “That would be great. Then I won’t have to wait at my pharmacy.” He secretly hoped the pharmacy’s system didn’t link to other networks, or they’d find different prescriptions from a few other doctors, and he’d be busted. Dr. Sales might cancel the orders for his meds. Derek had been careful, though. He got a prescription only every few months, and he just used the ER about once a year. Hopefully, that pattern didn’t alarm the pharmacist enough to place a warning call to the doctor.

  “I’m only doing this as a professional courtesy, young man. You should really see your doctor and keep these meds on hand at home for an emergency like this. Understand?”

  “I do.”

  The doctor went to do his paperwork, and the nurse came in and got his history and vital signs. It was a reversal of the typical pattern, but Derek had achieved his goal. He’d be upstairs with the EMT in a few minutes. After signing his paperwork, he hobbled to the vending machine and then up the steps to meet the patient, a rather gregarious octogenarian who couldn’t wait to get home.

  Ned was still at his task, so Derek stored the soda bottles beneath the seat and began pushing his patient toward the elevator, limping, just in case the cameras were watching. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he informed Ned, who looked up and smiled.

  “Did you get my soda?” he asked.

  Derek retrieved one bottle and tossed it his way. “I dare you to open it now,” he said, and Ned laughed.

  “You’re an ass, you know that? How about swinging by the pharmacy in the basement. They have some prescriptions for him.”

  Bingo, Derek thought.

  “I could sure use one of those sodas. Better yet, a good cup of coffee and a decent meal. This place isn’t known for its food, I’ll tell you that.”

  The patient shook his head, and Derek reached down for the other bottle, then handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  The man took the proffered bottle, then quickly handed it back. “Open it for me. Please.”

  Derek did as instructed. “What’s your name?”

  “Will. Wilbur’s probably on your paperwork.”

  The elevator car arrived. “Where you from, Will?”

  “South Wilkes-Barre, born and raised. How about you? What’s your name?”

  “Derek, and I’m from Kingston. Born and raised.”

  Will didn’t smile at the joke. “How long’s the ride gonna be? Can you put the lights on and get me home faster? There’s a nice tip in it for you.”

  “About an hour. How’d you end up here in Garden if you’re from down there?”

  “Shitty luck, young man. I came up here for the Fourth of July. My niece had a family reunion, and since she’s my only family, I let them haul my creaky bones up here for the party. Then one of those toddlers tripped me, and down I went. Broken hip. Left side. Had surgery, then therapy.”

  “Sounds like some bad luck, all right. But how are you doing now?”

  “I’m getting by, thanks to that cane there.”

  “Do you live on one floor?”

  “No, but they’re planning to help me out. I just have to get through tonight, and then the visiting nurses are coming to set me up with a hospital bed. One night on the couch won’t kill me.”

  They arrived at the pharmacy and both of them paid for their prescriptions. Derek couldn’t help noticing the thick stack of bills in Will’s wallet or the labels on the prescription bottles. Diazepam and hydrocodone. Bingo, again.

  “So you live alone, huh?” Derek asked as they reversed their steps.

  “Yeah, my wife died a while back. My niece keeps trying to talk me into an old folks home, but I don’t want that. I’m happy where I’m at, with my memories of my wife and kids.”

  “Where are your kids?”

  “One of them’s in Florida. Retired there. The other’s in Connecticut. Don’t see either of them much. Judy, my niece, comes every week to take me shopping and cleans up a little bit, though. Th
at’s nice.”

  “You’re lucky to have her.”

  “It’s not about luck. She knows I’ve got a few bucks, and she never minds the hundred I slip her when she comes.”

  Derek thought back to the wallet he’d noticed in the pharmacy. Would Will notice a few missing bills? Probably not. Then he thought of the paperwork in Will’s hand. Surely the wallet had been in the hospital’s safe, and surely there was a receipt for it somewhere. It might be easy pickings to slip a few bills out, but too risky. Who else would they blame except him if Will decided to count his money when he got home?

  They reached the van and Derek loaded Will in, finishing just as Ned arrived. “Perfect timing,” he said.

  Neither Ned nor Derek said much on the way to Wilkes-Barre, as Will took total advantage of his captive audience and talked the entire time. When they were just a few blocks away, Will asked a favor. “I don’t have a thing in my house to eat, far as I know. Would you two mind stopping at the mini-market to pick up a few things for me? There’ll be a nice tip in it for both of you.”

  Derek looked at Ned, who shrugged. What was a few more minutes, right? “Sure, Will. What do you need?”

  He opened his wallet yet again and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “They’ll tell you they can’t cash a hundred, but you tell them you’re with me and they’ll do it.” Then he rattled off a list of groceries that Ned checked off on the memo pad on his phone. Ned left, and Derek was alone with Will once again.

  “This neighborhood sure isn’t what it used to be, huh, Will?”

  Will nodded in disgust. “Sure isn’t. The good people have moved. Or died, ha ha ha. You’ll see, Derek. When I die, some slumlord from out of town will buy up the place and convert it into apartments for college students. Party city.”

  Ned emerged hauling two bags of groceries in one hand and a beverage tray in the other. Three iced coffees wiggled in the flimsy cardboard, and Derek jumped out of the van to lend a hand. “I love you, man,” he said with a smile.

  “It’s his dime,” he replied, tilting his head toward their patient.

  “Oh, wow!” Will said. “I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in weeks.”

  “The lady at the counter tipped me off that you’re partial to caramel-flavored iced coffee.”

  “They’re good girls who work in there,” Will said around his straw.

  Derek looked at him, slurping down the coffee, and the thought hit him like a sucker punch. His little bag from the pharmacy was in the back of the van, away from Ned’s eyes, but close enough, the pills tiny enough to crush and slip into a drink, such as an iced coffee, if there was any left when they arrived at their destination. Those little pills were potent enough to knock someone out, permanently.

  Derek put his drink back into the cup holder and eased the van out into traffic, then pulled into the driveway beside Will’s house a block away. In the rear was a small detached garage and shrubs gone wild, giving the small yard privacy from every direction.

  “Front door or back?” Ned asked.

  “Front, I think. Close shot to the couch, where I’ll be sleeping tonight.”

  “Easy enough,” Derek said and looked at Ned. “Patient first, then I’ll come back for the food, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  The automatic lift lowered Will to the ground, and Derek pushed him toward his front door. Together, Ned and Derek lifted the wheelchair up the porch steps and then through the threshold. Ned went to work settling their patient while Derek retreated to the van.

  The oxys broke apart easily as he used the bottle lid and the edge of his phone as a mortar and pestle. He wasn’t sure how many pills it would take. With Will on Vicodin already, he might be tolerant of the drug. But even tolerant people couldn’t handle a hundred migs of oxy. Derek ground up seven tabs until they were just a pile of powder, then mixed it into his iced coffee. Grabbing the grocery bags, he closed the ambulance door and headed back into the house.

  “Just sign here, sir,” Ned was saying to Will. Will had taken a seat in a worn and comfy-looking recliner by his television, and the iced coffee was sitting on the coffee table a few feet away. Derek quickly switched the cups and then headed to the kitchen with the groceries. After emptying the contents of both bags onto the counter, he returned to the living room.

  “Hand me my coffee, would you?” he demanded of Derek.

  Derek happily complied and held his breath for a second as Will took a big swig from his drink. He didn’t release his breath until Will looked up at him with a smile on his face. “Deeelicious!”

  “Good. Now, how about your medication? Do you have any pain from the drive?”

  He nodded. “Just a little. I’m more worn out than anything.”

  “Maybe you should take your pills now just to be on the safe side.”

  “Do you think so?”

  Looking to Ned for support, Derek paused.

  Ned answered for him. “It’s been a long day for you, and a long few weeks. I think you should take your medication and lie down on that couch and call it a day.”

  “How about if I use the bathroom first?”

  While Ned waited by the door, Derek volunteered to grab a pillow and blanket. “Upstairs on my bed. First door on the left.”

  Derek bounded up the stairs, not daring to snoop around but observing everything anyway. There were multiple items of furniture in this room and what appeared to be three additional bedrooms on the second floor. A door halfway down the hallway probably led to the attic he’d seen from the street. Who knew what he’d find when he came back later?

  With the pillow and blanket in hand, he retreated to the first floor and arranged a comfy nest for Will on the old, worn couch. Then he pulled the television stand over a few feet and angled it toward the couch, and turned the end table so it was easy to reach. The iced coffee was the final addition to the arrangement.

  Derek surveyed the scene. It would be a nice place to die.

  “I’m going to use the facilities myself,” Derek said. In the bathroom, he raised the window and unlocked the screen, then lowered the window to within an inch, allowing enough room to slip his fingers underneath when he returned later.

  In the living room, Will had just reached his destination. Before he settled into the couch, he reached into his wallet and pulled out two bills. After handing one to each of them, he thanked them for their kindness. It wasn’t until they were outside that Derek looked at the bill. It was a fifty.

  He couldn’t wait to search the house later. With Will either dead or in a deep, deep sleep, he’d have plenty of time to search for more fifty-dollar bills.

  Chapter Eight

  Witness Protection

  Mac was on her deck when the alarm on her watch began chirping, announcing the official start of her day. It had unofficially started an hour earlier, when she’d pulled herself out of bed, ending the torture of fragmented sleep she’d endured since turning off her lamp at midnight. She’d never been a sound sleeper, but with details of a new case nagging her neurons, sleep was virtually impossible.

  The details of the Hawk case were quite troubling. Sipping her coffee, she stared at the black surface of the lake, still and smooth in the distance. Above and behind her, an evergreen’s broad, prickly branches hid her vision of the sinking moon and dampened the sounds of this early morning. Birds called out to one another, but they seemed respectful of the humans sleeping in campers and tents around the lake, and they kept their chatter to a minimum. Soon, the din of early risers would mark the beginning of the day, and then their children would shatter the quiet, crying and yelling in rage and delight as another day unfolded at the Endless Mountains Wilderness Resort.

  The campground along the Susquehanna River had been in Mac’s family for seventy years, and she’d spent her childhood here, helping run the camp from the time she was old enough to organize kickball games. Even though she had nothing to do with the operation of the business now, she still owned
one of the premier spots along the lake. She’d leveraged her sweat equity for a little slice of land off in the corner of the lake, where the stream that gave it life curled through the woods. She’d built a cabin here, just three rooms, but her own personal paradise. It could be noisy at times, but eventually, all the campers went to sleep and she had this view, and this peace, and it grounded her, as it had since she was a little girl.

  The grounding was helpful, a necessity. Her job gave her an inside look at the horrors of everyday life—violence done unto man by each other, by the machines they created, and, occasionally, by Mother Nature. No matter what the cause, it was awful to witness life cut violently short, and while she was determined to find justice for the people whose lives were destroyed, she didn’t pretend it was free. Justice was pricy, paid for with the ulcers in her stomach and the circles under her eyes. She’d seen her colleagues die too young, from stress and the alcohol they used to manage it. It was yet another tragedy she’d witnessed firsthand.

  Getting caught up in work was easy, and Mac knew she had to take time to relax. She did relax. She forced herself to. Once a week, she met with friends. In the summer, she played golf. In the winter, they watched a game on TV. She practiced martial arts and occasionally taught self-defense. She didn’t date, though. She’d never found a woman who understood the commitment she’d made when she took her oath, and she’d stopped trying. Instead, she settled for an early morning view of the lake, or a good book, or a tough workout. She hoped her morning coffee with nature was neutralizing whatever evil forces were working against her.

  At the moment, it seemed a very evil force was working against her, and his name was Edward Hawk. The Hawk case was promising to gray her hair. The matter had seemed relatively simple at the onset; Hawk had kidnapped three people and held them at gunpoint. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, except none of it made sense. No money was involved, and no domestic violence. The perp was a physician, a professional with a lot to lose. Either he’d cracked up, or he had more to lose by doing nothing than he did by committing the kidnapping. As she’d started digging into his motives, she realized Dr. Edward Hawk had a lot to lose. Although the preliminary evidence was circumstantial, it seemed the good doctor was a serial killer.