Part 11 Out Damned Spot.
The doors of the two elevators opened only fractionally apart, officer Campbell and the medical team emerging fractionally before Jesse and Nathan. No time was wasted on conversation as they moved at a brisk run pushing the trolley and gurney out into the lot.
"This way," Campbell shouted, taking the lead as they moved passed the rows of cars. He led them to the row where he had left Mark and Steve. Stepping back and pointing, to allow them to reach Steve first, as his body came in sight. "Down there," he stated unnecessarily, mildly surprised to find that the older doctor was not with his son where he had left him.
Jesse had overtaken the rest of the medical personnel, and Nathan kept pace with him. They caught their first sight of Steve together and both drew in a sharp intake of breath, the pooling blood was visible even from a distance, as was the plate size smear of bright red that contrasted sharply with the pale pastel blue of his shirt.
"Oh God," Jesse whispered, as he rushed to kneel at his friend's side. A myriad of thoughts and emotions vied for his attention as he knelt down, but he suppressed them all as he forced his brain into professional mode. Once more drawing on years of experience and training to allow him to function, despite the personal nature of the trauma.
It was always hard treating Steve, always hard repressing the emotions that welled to the surface when he saw his best friend hurt and in pain, but he had, until now, always managed to control those emotions. In the present circumstances, it was nearly impossible. With a monumental effort he pushed everything back, knowing that if he allowed any of the stray thoughts or emotions through the barrier he was rapidly erecting, he would not be able to function and that simply was not an option.
One question, however, was too persistent, too demanding to be blocked or ignored. He looked up, and caught Nathan's gaze only momentarily, before focussing back on his patient. "Where's Mark?" He asked, fearfully. He looked back down on Steve, there was no way Mark would have left his son in this condition, no way. So where was he?
Nathan had no answer, was momentarily stunned by the amount of blood, the sight of his stricken colleague. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He felt firm hands on his shoulders as he was gently but firmly grasped and moved out of the way by one of the nurses. Shaken out of his stupor he stepped back further and looked round. He caught the eye of officer Campbell who was moving up to join them having waited for all of the medical team to pass. With a last glance down at Steve who had now become the centre of a whirling mass of activity, he moved to ask the young officer about Mark.
Jesse was rapidly giving instructions as he attempted to stabilize Steve's condition enough to move him. Something he could not risk until his blood pressure at least registered.
Several times as he was working the same question passed his lips, not really crossing through his conscious mind as he uttered the same two words, punctuating his instructions. "Where's Mark?" When he removed Mark's handkerchief and inspected Steve's wound. "Where's Mark?" As he finished listening to his chest. "Where's Mark?"
Finally Jesse deemed that they could not wait any longer, that Steve was stable enough and they lifted him on to the gurney. They were just about to move off when Steve's eyes fluttered open, he weakly moved his left hand as though reaching for something, his mouth moving as he tried to speak.
Jesse took hold of the hand and gently squeezed it. "Easy, buddy, don't try to talk," he said soothingly, the same gentle tones as Mark had used.
Steve had lost all sense of time all sense of reality, even the pain seemed detached, as though it wasn't really a part of him, part of his mind told him that his father was there, another part that he had left moments ago, or was that hours ago, he needed to know, he dragged himself back to consciousness, forced uncooperative eyelids to open. "Dad?" he whispered.
Jesse caught the word even through the oxygen mask that covered Steve's mouth and nose. "No, Steve, it's Jesse," he said moving closer. "Everything's going to be all right."
Steve had a moment of lucidity, full consciousness returning fleetingly, "Dad?" he asked again, some instinct telling him that something was wrong, but he could not hold onto the thought, darkness encroached on his world once again, even as he heard Jesse's soothing reassurances that would not quite form into coherent sentences. They drifted away until they were just a distant hum and then nothing.
Jesse watched as Steve drifted off again, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at him, that the rush of activity had ceased for a moment whilst he had exchanged a few words with his friend. He looked at one of the nurses who automatically reeled off Steve's latest vitals. With a renewed urgency. Jesse urged the team to move and they headed back for the elevators at a run.
Nathan and officer Campbell had been joined by other officers who were already cordoning off the area and searching for clues about the killer, the attack and the missing doctor. A small part of Jesse's mind acknowledged them on the way past. It wasn't until the elevator doors were closing and Jesse looked across at them that he let his mind focus on that question again. "Dammit Mark, where are you?"
--
Amanda made her way down the corridor that led to one of the two, still functioning, ORs with some trepidation. It hadn't been long since she'd been given the news about the attack on Steve. She had been on her way to help join in the search for him when she had received the simultaneously devastating news of Steve's injuries and of Mark's disappearance. She had been attempting to deal with the emotions that invoked when the latest call had come.
She approached the young nurse standing in the doorway softly, not wishing to startle her She spoke to draw the woman's focus from inside the sluice room "Nurse Dane?" She asked touching her gently on the arm.
The nurse turned, relief spreading across her face as she spoke. "Dr. Bentley, I'm so glad you're here." She nodded into the interior of the room. "We weren't sure who to call, Dr. Taylor is in Surgery with Lieutenant Sloan and. . ." there was a slight pause, "With Dr. Sloan missing we. . ." She faltered.
"It's all right," Amanda said trying to sound more reassuring than she felt. "I'll take care of him." She turned her attention to the familiar figure, dressed in green scrubs over the opposite side of the room. She looked back at the nurse. "Could you leave us alone, I'll call if I need you."
Nurse Dane nodded and moved out of the doorway, allowing Amanda to pass through before letting the door close behind her.
Amanda moved towards the large sinks where Jesse stood, her stomach doing lazy somersaults, as she dealt with the fear that, whatever was wrong, it would be beyond her capacity to help.
She stood and watched him for a few moments as he went through the well practiced ritual of washing his hands in preparation for surgery. At the point where he should have stopped, he looked down at them turning them over as if fascinated, then he shook his head, turned the tap back on with his elbow and started again.
"Jess," Amanda said softly, there was no response and she wasn't sure if he had heard her or not, he certainly hadn't acknowledged her presence. She swallowed and forced herself to remain calm. "Jess," she repeated a little more loudly.
This time there was a slight pause just after she said it, then he continued to rub his hands which were beginning to redden under the continuous scrubbing.
"Jess," she repeated once more. "Look at me."
For a moment she thought that he was going to continue to ignore her, as he had ignored the nurses who had tried to get through to him earlier, or was he so lost in his thoughts that he really didn't know they were there? She was about to speak again when he turned to look at her. Relief flooded her system that there was a spark of recognition in his eyes.
"Amanda?" he said as though surprised to see her. Why was Amanda here when he was preparing for surgery? The reply hit him like an express train. Of course, the surgery was on Steve, she was worried about him. He searched through his memories, what could he tell her? He drew in a deep breath before speaking. "We got Steve stabilised but it looks like the knife nicked his lung, and he lost a lot of blood."
'Blood,' the word rattled hollowly around his skull. Blood, Steve's blood, he looked down at his hands, Steve's blood was all over his hands, he needed to clean it off so that he could get into surgery. So that he could try to save his friend's life. "I'm sorry I. . ." He turned back to the sink and began to wash his hands again. "I need to get cleaned up. I'm needed in surgery."
Amanda had been encouraged by Jesse's initial response, but watched in dismay as he stared at his hands again, before returning to soaping them. She moved closer to him placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Jess, I need you to stop for a moment," she said, "I need you to tell me what happened."
Jesse turned his gaze and met hers. "I can't, I'm needed in surgery."
"No," she stated, her tone soft but firm. "Dr. Taylor is in there and Dr. Hope is assisting, Steve's being taken care of."
Jesse studied her eyes for a moment, noting the sincerity, as his brain processed the words. Dr. Taylor was a good doctor, Dr. Hope more than competent, the surgery was straightforward, Steve would be fine. Even as the thought served to calm him, his confused mind was throwing up more fears, but what if there were complications, things they couldn't handle? He really needed to be there, if only he could get his hands clean.
"It's all right Jess," Amanda tried again with the reassurance, as Jesse looked back at his hands. She wondered what he kept seeing there. "Steve's going to be fine." She took the opportunity, whilst he was staring again, to gently take hold of his wrists and turn him away from the sink. "You can stop scrubbing up now."
Jesse stared at his hands pulling gently but not hard enough to break her grip. "You don't understand," he said quietly, "I. I . . can't get them clean." He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "They're covered in blood," he looked at them again with an almost horrified fascination. "Steve's blood," he barely whispered, "And I can't get them clean."
Amanda didn't know what to do, the tears she had been suppressing welled in her eyes, her heart almost breaking at the frightened, lost quality in Jesse's tone. So she did what came naturally to her, allowing her maternal instincts to take over, she let go of Jesse's wrists and pulled him into a hug. One hand moving to the back of his head and cradling it on her shoulder. She put all of her emotions and part of herself into the embrace, willing the comfort to flow into her friend, to give him the release he needed from the guilt and the pain. "It's all right Jess, they'll come clean. It's not your fault. It's all going to be all right."
Jesse offered only a slight resistance before leaning into the embrace, confused thoughts rapidly giving way to the bursting damn of emotion that he held so carefully in check. The shock of finding Steve, of Mark being missing, on top of the trauma of the last two days had simply been too much to bottle up, manifesting itself in illusion as the only means of release when Jesse had tried to carry on unaffected. Amanda being there for him somehow gave him permission to release that emotion as she held him.
The sobs started slowly, softly, until his whole body shook and Amanda could feel the tears soaking through her lab coat to her shoulder, all the time she simply held him, rocking him gently, occasionally reassuring him that everything would be all right, until eventually the sobs died down and there was only silence in the room.
Jesse cried out the pain and the shock, the guilt and the fear, until his thoughts became more ordered, coherent. He lifted his head from Amanda's shoulder and pulled back slightly. "Thank you" he said softly.
"You're welcome." Amanda studied him, the concern evident in her eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking down at his hands in an involuntary reflex.
Jesse looked at the red, slightly raw skin. "I'll be OK," he said, "But I'm kinda tired." He admitted as a crushing weariness overtook him.
Amanda nodded, it was a natural reaction to the emotional release, if she could get him to get some sleep then she might have succeeded in getting him over the worst of this emotional crisis. "Come on we'll get you somewhere you can rest and then I'll check on Steve."
--
Amanda sat in the corner of the room and watched the two men, who were the closest thing she would ever have to brothers, sleep. Steve had come through the surgery remarkably well. The knife had only caused slight damage to the lung and, although he'd needed a chest tube to allow it to reinflate properly, they had managed to avoid having to put him on a ventilator. The main problem had been the blood loss, they had found him with very little time to spare and it was the initial efforts of Jesse and the medical team that had saved his life, by the time they'd got him to surgery the rest had been fairly straightforward procedures. It was no wonder that Jesse had had such an extreme reaction.
Amanda had managed to get Jesse readmitted and he had been given a mild sedative, which he hadn't had the energy to object to, and was now resting peacefully. She had spoken to Dr. Carter, the hospitals principal psychiatrist about Jesse's earlier behaviour and she had confirmed that it was probably a reaction to the high levels of stress at the situation, and nothing to be too worried about as long as the symptoms did not persistently reappear. Nonetheless, she had agreed to come and see Jesse when he was feeling a little stronger.
It was only now that Amanda allowed herself to consider the fact that Mark was also missing. The only logical conclusion that could be drawn from the circumstances of his disappearance was that the killer had taken him, but why? And more importantly what did they intend to do to him? Amanda had to block out the many possible answers to that question, most of the things her mind came up with were just too horrible to contemplate.
"Amanda," Jesse's voice startled her from her thoughts and she greeted him with the warmest smile she could manage.
"Hey, feeling better?" she asked.
Jesse pushed himself to a sitting position. "How long have I been out?"
Amanda looked at her watch. "About four hours."
Jesse nodded and stretched, before looking over at Steve's bed. "Steve?"
"Is going to be just fine, he should be out until morning though, Dr. Taylor's got him sedated, doesn't want him pulling on the wound or risking dislodging the chest tube."
Jesse nodded, knowing that part of the reason for the sedation would be to prevent Steve from trying to move, which he would do, once he found out that his father was missing. He already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask anyway. "Any sign of Mark?"
Amanda shook her head. "Not since officer Campbell left him in the car park. The CCTV camera from that level had been interfered with and they haven't found any other witnesses."
Jesse sighed and looked thoughtful, after a few moments he turned to her. "Do you mind getting a few things for me."
"Sure what?"
"Well I need to see the latest chapter of the story and the personnel files are still in Mark's. . . ."
"Jess," Amanda admonished, "You're getting as bad as Steve, you need to rest."
"No, Amanda, I really need to be doing something. Please, I can't just sit here not when Mark's missing and. . ."
She held her hands up in defeat. "All right, I'm going, just try to relax while I'm gone."
"Thanks,"
--
The killer watched silently as Amanda entered Mark's office alone. It was getting late and the corridor was deserted except for the odd staff member who passed without giving her a second glance.
Perfect, with Dr. Sloan out of the picture and his friend the cop out of it, it was time to remove Dr. Travis' last line of emotional support, and with that thought the killer stepped towards Mark's door.
The doors of the two elevators opened only fractionally apart, officer Campbell and the medical team emerging fractionally before Jesse and Nathan. No time was wasted on conversation as they moved at a brisk run pushing the trolley and gurney out into the lot.
"This way," Campbell shouted, taking the lead as they moved passed the rows of cars. He led them to the row where he had left Mark and Steve. Stepping back and pointing, to allow them to reach Steve first, as his body came in sight. "Down there," he stated unnecessarily, mildly surprised to find that the older doctor was not with his son where he had left him.
Jesse had overtaken the rest of the medical personnel, and Nathan kept pace with him. They caught their first sight of Steve together and both drew in a sharp intake of breath, the pooling blood was visible even from a distance, as was the plate size smear of bright red that contrasted sharply with the pale pastel blue of his shirt.
"Oh God," Jesse whispered, as he rushed to kneel at his friend's side. A myriad of thoughts and emotions vied for his attention as he knelt down, but he suppressed them all as he forced his brain into professional mode. Once more drawing on years of experience and training to allow him to function, despite the personal nature of the trauma.
It was always hard treating Steve, always hard repressing the emotions that welled to the surface when he saw his best friend hurt and in pain, but he had, until now, always managed to control those emotions. In the present circumstances, it was nearly impossible. With a monumental effort he pushed everything back, knowing that if he allowed any of the stray thoughts or emotions through the barrier he was rapidly erecting, he would not be able to function and that simply was not an option.
One question, however, was too persistent, too demanding to be blocked or ignored. He looked up, and caught Nathan's gaze only momentarily, before focussing back on his patient. "Where's Mark?" He asked, fearfully. He looked back down on Steve, there was no way Mark would have left his son in this condition, no way. So where was he?
Nathan had no answer, was momentarily stunned by the amount of blood, the sight of his stricken colleague. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He felt firm hands on his shoulders as he was gently but firmly grasped and moved out of the way by one of the nurses. Shaken out of his stupor he stepped back further and looked round. He caught the eye of officer Campbell who was moving up to join them having waited for all of the medical team to pass. With a last glance down at Steve who had now become the centre of a whirling mass of activity, he moved to ask the young officer about Mark.
Jesse was rapidly giving instructions as he attempted to stabilize Steve's condition enough to move him. Something he could not risk until his blood pressure at least registered.
Several times as he was working the same question passed his lips, not really crossing through his conscious mind as he uttered the same two words, punctuating his instructions. "Where's Mark?" When he removed Mark's handkerchief and inspected Steve's wound. "Where's Mark?" As he finished listening to his chest. "Where's Mark?"
Finally Jesse deemed that they could not wait any longer, that Steve was stable enough and they lifted him on to the gurney. They were just about to move off when Steve's eyes fluttered open, he weakly moved his left hand as though reaching for something, his mouth moving as he tried to speak.
Jesse took hold of the hand and gently squeezed it. "Easy, buddy, don't try to talk," he said soothingly, the same gentle tones as Mark had used.
Steve had lost all sense of time all sense of reality, even the pain seemed detached, as though it wasn't really a part of him, part of his mind told him that his father was there, another part that he had left moments ago, or was that hours ago, he needed to know, he dragged himself back to consciousness, forced uncooperative eyelids to open. "Dad?" he whispered.
Jesse caught the word even through the oxygen mask that covered Steve's mouth and nose. "No, Steve, it's Jesse," he said moving closer. "Everything's going to be all right."
Steve had a moment of lucidity, full consciousness returning fleetingly, "Dad?" he asked again, some instinct telling him that something was wrong, but he could not hold onto the thought, darkness encroached on his world once again, even as he heard Jesse's soothing reassurances that would not quite form into coherent sentences. They drifted away until they were just a distant hum and then nothing.
Jesse watched as Steve drifted off again, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at him, that the rush of activity had ceased for a moment whilst he had exchanged a few words with his friend. He looked at one of the nurses who automatically reeled off Steve's latest vitals. With a renewed urgency. Jesse urged the team to move and they headed back for the elevators at a run.
Nathan and officer Campbell had been joined by other officers who were already cordoning off the area and searching for clues about the killer, the attack and the missing doctor. A small part of Jesse's mind acknowledged them on the way past. It wasn't until the elevator doors were closing and Jesse looked across at them that he let his mind focus on that question again. "Dammit Mark, where are you?"
--
Amanda made her way down the corridor that led to one of the two, still functioning, ORs with some trepidation. It hadn't been long since she'd been given the news about the attack on Steve. She had been on her way to help join in the search for him when she had received the simultaneously devastating news of Steve's injuries and of Mark's disappearance. She had been attempting to deal with the emotions that invoked when the latest call had come.
She approached the young nurse standing in the doorway softly, not wishing to startle her She spoke to draw the woman's focus from inside the sluice room "Nurse Dane?" She asked touching her gently on the arm.
The nurse turned, relief spreading across her face as she spoke. "Dr. Bentley, I'm so glad you're here." She nodded into the interior of the room. "We weren't sure who to call, Dr. Taylor is in Surgery with Lieutenant Sloan and. . ." there was a slight pause, "With Dr. Sloan missing we. . ." She faltered.
"It's all right," Amanda said trying to sound more reassuring than she felt. "I'll take care of him." She turned her attention to the familiar figure, dressed in green scrubs over the opposite side of the room. She looked back at the nurse. "Could you leave us alone, I'll call if I need you."
Nurse Dane nodded and moved out of the doorway, allowing Amanda to pass through before letting the door close behind her.
Amanda moved towards the large sinks where Jesse stood, her stomach doing lazy somersaults, as she dealt with the fear that, whatever was wrong, it would be beyond her capacity to help.
She stood and watched him for a few moments as he went through the well practiced ritual of washing his hands in preparation for surgery. At the point where he should have stopped, he looked down at them turning them over as if fascinated, then he shook his head, turned the tap back on with his elbow and started again.
"Jess," Amanda said softly, there was no response and she wasn't sure if he had heard her or not, he certainly hadn't acknowledged her presence. She swallowed and forced herself to remain calm. "Jess," she repeated a little more loudly.
This time there was a slight pause just after she said it, then he continued to rub his hands which were beginning to redden under the continuous scrubbing.
"Jess," she repeated once more. "Look at me."
For a moment she thought that he was going to continue to ignore her, as he had ignored the nurses who had tried to get through to him earlier, or was he so lost in his thoughts that he really didn't know they were there? She was about to speak again when he turned to look at her. Relief flooded her system that there was a spark of recognition in his eyes.
"Amanda?" he said as though surprised to see her. Why was Amanda here when he was preparing for surgery? The reply hit him like an express train. Of course, the surgery was on Steve, she was worried about him. He searched through his memories, what could he tell her? He drew in a deep breath before speaking. "We got Steve stabilised but it looks like the knife nicked his lung, and he lost a lot of blood."
'Blood,' the word rattled hollowly around his skull. Blood, Steve's blood, he looked down at his hands, Steve's blood was all over his hands, he needed to clean it off so that he could get into surgery. So that he could try to save his friend's life. "I'm sorry I. . ." He turned back to the sink and began to wash his hands again. "I need to get cleaned up. I'm needed in surgery."
Amanda had been encouraged by Jesse's initial response, but watched in dismay as he stared at his hands again, before returning to soaping them. She moved closer to him placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Jess, I need you to stop for a moment," she said, "I need you to tell me what happened."
Jesse turned his gaze and met hers. "I can't, I'm needed in surgery."
"No," she stated, her tone soft but firm. "Dr. Taylor is in there and Dr. Hope is assisting, Steve's being taken care of."
Jesse studied her eyes for a moment, noting the sincerity, as his brain processed the words. Dr. Taylor was a good doctor, Dr. Hope more than competent, the surgery was straightforward, Steve would be fine. Even as the thought served to calm him, his confused mind was throwing up more fears, but what if there were complications, things they couldn't handle? He really needed to be there, if only he could get his hands clean.
"It's all right Jess," Amanda tried again with the reassurance, as Jesse looked back at his hands. She wondered what he kept seeing there. "Steve's going to be fine." She took the opportunity, whilst he was staring again, to gently take hold of his wrists and turn him away from the sink. "You can stop scrubbing up now."
Jesse stared at his hands pulling gently but not hard enough to break her grip. "You don't understand," he said quietly, "I. I . . can't get them clean." He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "They're covered in blood," he looked at them again with an almost horrified fascination. "Steve's blood," he barely whispered, "And I can't get them clean."
Amanda didn't know what to do, the tears she had been suppressing welled in her eyes, her heart almost breaking at the frightened, lost quality in Jesse's tone. So she did what came naturally to her, allowing her maternal instincts to take over, she let go of Jesse's wrists and pulled him into a hug. One hand moving to the back of his head and cradling it on her shoulder. She put all of her emotions and part of herself into the embrace, willing the comfort to flow into her friend, to give him the release he needed from the guilt and the pain. "It's all right Jess, they'll come clean. It's not your fault. It's all going to be all right."
Jesse offered only a slight resistance before leaning into the embrace, confused thoughts rapidly giving way to the bursting damn of emotion that he held so carefully in check. The shock of finding Steve, of Mark being missing, on top of the trauma of the last two days had simply been too much to bottle up, manifesting itself in illusion as the only means of release when Jesse had tried to carry on unaffected. Amanda being there for him somehow gave him permission to release that emotion as she held him.
The sobs started slowly, softly, until his whole body shook and Amanda could feel the tears soaking through her lab coat to her shoulder, all the time she simply held him, rocking him gently, occasionally reassuring him that everything would be all right, until eventually the sobs died down and there was only silence in the room.
Jesse cried out the pain and the shock, the guilt and the fear, until his thoughts became more ordered, coherent. He lifted his head from Amanda's shoulder and pulled back slightly. "Thank you" he said softly.
"You're welcome." Amanda studied him, the concern evident in her eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking down at his hands in an involuntary reflex.
Jesse looked at the red, slightly raw skin. "I'll be OK," he said, "But I'm kinda tired." He admitted as a crushing weariness overtook him.
Amanda nodded, it was a natural reaction to the emotional release, if she could get him to get some sleep then she might have succeeded in getting him over the worst of this emotional crisis. "Come on we'll get you somewhere you can rest and then I'll check on Steve."
--
Amanda sat in the corner of the room and watched the two men, who were the closest thing she would ever have to brothers, sleep. Steve had come through the surgery remarkably well. The knife had only caused slight damage to the lung and, although he'd needed a chest tube to allow it to reinflate properly, they had managed to avoid having to put him on a ventilator. The main problem had been the blood loss, they had found him with very little time to spare and it was the initial efforts of Jesse and the medical team that had saved his life, by the time they'd got him to surgery the rest had been fairly straightforward procedures. It was no wonder that Jesse had had such an extreme reaction.
Amanda had managed to get Jesse readmitted and he had been given a mild sedative, which he hadn't had the energy to object to, and was now resting peacefully. She had spoken to Dr. Carter, the hospitals principal psychiatrist about Jesse's earlier behaviour and she had confirmed that it was probably a reaction to the high levels of stress at the situation, and nothing to be too worried about as long as the symptoms did not persistently reappear. Nonetheless, she had agreed to come and see Jesse when he was feeling a little stronger.
It was only now that Amanda allowed herself to consider the fact that Mark was also missing. The only logical conclusion that could be drawn from the circumstances of his disappearance was that the killer had taken him, but why? And more importantly what did they intend to do to him? Amanda had to block out the many possible answers to that question, most of the things her mind came up with were just too horrible to contemplate.
"Amanda," Jesse's voice startled her from her thoughts and she greeted him with the warmest smile she could manage.
"Hey, feeling better?" she asked.
Jesse pushed himself to a sitting position. "How long have I been out?"
Amanda looked at her watch. "About four hours."
Jesse nodded and stretched, before looking over at Steve's bed. "Steve?"
"Is going to be just fine, he should be out until morning though, Dr. Taylor's got him sedated, doesn't want him pulling on the wound or risking dislodging the chest tube."
Jesse nodded, knowing that part of the reason for the sedation would be to prevent Steve from trying to move, which he would do, once he found out that his father was missing. He already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask anyway. "Any sign of Mark?"
Amanda shook her head. "Not since officer Campbell left him in the car park. The CCTV camera from that level had been interfered with and they haven't found any other witnesses."
Jesse sighed and looked thoughtful, after a few moments he turned to her. "Do you mind getting a few things for me."
"Sure what?"
"Well I need to see the latest chapter of the story and the personnel files are still in Mark's. . . ."
"Jess," Amanda admonished, "You're getting as bad as Steve, you need to rest."
"No, Amanda, I really need to be doing something. Please, I can't just sit here not when Mark's missing and. . ."
She held her hands up in defeat. "All right, I'm going, just try to relax while I'm gone."
"Thanks,"
--
The killer watched silently as Amanda entered Mark's office alone. It was getting late and the corridor was deserted except for the odd staff member who passed without giving her a second glance.
Perfect, with Dr. Sloan out of the picture and his friend the cop out of it, it was time to remove Dr. Travis' last line of emotional support, and with that thought the killer stepped towards Mark's door.