Chapter Seven
Steve looked into each patient's room as he passed the doorways, growing more discouraged and despondent with every step. They were all single rooms, in which he saw nearly a dozen different patients....but not Jaime. With nowhere left to go (the penguins were all over on the floors above him), he pulled out his datacom.
"Oscar, you get anything else from Courtney yet?"
Oscar's voice was hesitant and soft. "Maybe you'd better come up here, Pal."
"Just tell me," Steve pleaded. "I've run out of places to look."
Oscar couldn't bear to break the news – not like this – and handed the datacom to Hansen. "Steve," he began slowly, "it appears she may have been given an overdose. I am so sorry -"
Mutely, Steve shoved the datacom back onto his belt and turned to stare out the window. Off to the side was the unit's linen storage and – barely visible in an alcove next to the closet door – was something that looked like a cross between a wheelchair ramp and a tunnel. Steve grabbed a passing nurse by the arm, almost hurting her in his urgency.
"What's that?" he asked. "Where does it lead?"
The nurse eyed him curiously. "That passage? Nothing down there that you'd wanna see. It leads to the morgue."
- - -
"Alright, Courtney," Oscar said gruffly, shaking him awake, "tell us exactly what happened. How and where did you did you make the switch?"
"She was....leaving Doctor....Wells' lab. We...had chloroform."
"Keep going," Oscar commanded. If he gave in to the urge to throttle Courtney, they might never learn the needed facts.
"Parking garage...we put her...in the van..."
"And Lisa took her place?" Hansen concluded.
"Yes..." Courtney took several shuddering breaths, staring at the needle that Rudy still threatened him with and at Oscar's tightly-balled fists. "Gave her...just....a...sedative...."
"To get her on the plane?" Oscar deduced.
Courtney nodded. "But....she...never...woke up...."
Oscar grabbed him again, slamming him to the floor. "I'd promise you the Electric Chair, but you may not need it when I get through with you!"
- - -
The hallway/tunnel was gloomy, unadorned by any signs (or even any lights) and sloped slowly down the entire four stories, into the ground below. The steel door was padlocked and bolted – but proved no match for Steve. The autopsy table was empty and rows of drawers, also made of steel, lined two of the walls. With grim determination, he began opening the drawers, finding most of them empty – and Jaime in none of them.
There was an alcove on either side at the far end of the room, and the door on the right opened easily, into an office without an occupant. The desk was devoid of any sort of files or paperwork and the phone was dead. Steve turned back toward the second alcove and found its door didn't open as readily as the first. He pushed hard, then kicked with all his strength...and didn't make so much as a dent.
"Oscar!" he called urgently into the datacom. "Do you have Courtney's keys?"
Upstairs, in the inner office, Courtney was gasping for breath. "My...desk...top drawer...." he gulped, grateful for even a temporary respite.
"We do now," Oscar confirmed.
"I'll be right up." Steve bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs, taking them at bionic speed – not caring at that point if anyone saw him. He grabbed the keys from Oscar's hands and turned to run back.
"Steve!" Oscar called to him. "You found something?"
"Maybe!" he hollered back, already running. "Meet me in the morgue! And hurry!"
- - -
Steve was almost shaking as both hope and dread welled inside him. There were so many keys – and three locks to open! It was taking far too long! Rudy, Oscar and Jack came panting up behind him as one of the last keys finally turned in the final lock. Even then, it took everything he had to force the door open. The room was small, dank and bare, with only a cold, metal table against the rear wall. Lying on the table, covered to her chin by a white linen sheet.....was Jaime.
She wasn't moving.
- - - - -