Page 21 of Her Final Hours (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #3)

T he young deputy had done his fair share of shit tasks while working for the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office; this was not one.

Assigned to Elizabethtown Community Hospital to watch over the girl found wandering on the tracks, Jonathan Parker breathed in the warmth of air coming out of an overhead air vent.

“Beats doing traffic duty. The roads are crazy right now,” he said to his wife. “At least in here, it’s warm.”

“I’ll leave your supper in the microwave. Don’t wake me; I have to be up early.”

“Night, hon,” he muttered before disconnecting.

He returned to browsing on his phone, pulling up a betting app, and preparing to lay a few on an upcoming MMA fight. He rarely gambled, but some fights were too good not to throw a few dollars on. Sitting there checking on the fighters’ stats, wins, and losses, he tried to predict the outcome .

A hospital porter rolled up with a trash can. Parker glanced at him as he entered the room and tossed a full bag into the garbage. “You won much?”

“What’s that?” Parker asked.

“I asked if you’ve won much. I drop $20 on every fight.”

“Oh, I’ve lost more than I’ve won.”

“How are you betting?”

“Parlays. All thirteen fights.”

“No one ever told you not to parlay beyond three?”

“These are one-dollar bets. If I win, I could bring in three million. That kind of money is hard to pass up when I have a kid on the way.”

The porter leaned against the cart. “Congrats. However, you don’t want to end up with a nasty habit.”

“And you would know?”

“Sure would. My cousin used to work on Wall Street. He had hundreds of thousands in the bank. He was rolling in the green. Blew it all on gambling. He ended up on the streets. He always thought he was going to win. You see, that’s how they get you.

That next bet. That’s why they tease us with free money to sign up for these apps.

It’s never really free. You have to read the fine print.

You accept that they will require you to have spent that amount in their app before you can claim it. ”

Parker lowered his phone, feeling guilt wash over him.

Another deputy had gotten him into it. They said it was easier than doing the lottery.

The most he’d won was his money back and a few extra bucks.

It was fun. Freedom from the mundane. A little extra excitement on the weekends.

Still, his wife, Amber, had been harping at him to watch how they were spending money now that she had a new one on the way.

Even though his position as a cop guaranteed him a steady income, as a new officer, he was at the bottom of the rung, earning just shy of fifty thousand.

It worked out to around twenty-four bucks an hour.

For someone who put his life on the line, it was pennies and a slap in the face compared to some of the hotshot doctors in here.

It would be a while before he was bringing in close to a hundred grand.

Seeing his guilt, the porter nudged him. “Hey, but no balls, no glory, right?”

The two laughed.

Detective McKenzie arrived at the hospital, eager to check on the girl and see what he could extract from her.

After hearing about Noah’s little screw-up, he figured this would add a few notches to his belt if he could convince the young lass to talk.

Besides, age trumped youth in his mind. As he came around the corner into the corridor, he stopped and watched from a distance, noticing the young deputy distracted, browsing his phone.

McKenzie furrowed his brow, then walked up all nonchalantly, expressing mock enthusiasm. “Can’t beat a good chin wag.”

Parker looked up, startled by his sudden presence, and caught his disapproving glare.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching the girl?”

The hospital porter tactfully walked away, recognizing the potential consequences of Parker’s negligence.

“I… I just…”

“Put the damn phone away. I don’t give two shits about gambling, but if you want to gamble, do it on your time.

” McKenzie sternly reminded him of the importance of his assignment, emphasizing that his sole responsibility was to ensure the girl’s safety and prevent her from leaving the hospital.

That had become even more crucial since Addie matched the deceased man’s blood to that found on the girl’s hands .

“Now, how’s she doing? Does she remember anything?”

He ducked his head into the room. Everything was quiet. Nothing but the beeping of the machine. The girl was asleep. “If she does, they haven’t told me. They gave her a sedative. That’s why I thought it was okay to…”

McKenzie slapped him on the shoulder. “Aye, I get it. I do. You’re young and just getting your feet wet.

They finally gave you the badge, the gun, and the car with the flashing lights and cut you loose from your probationary officer.

It’s all exciting. Hell, I remember it well.

But take this from someone who has been doing this job as far back as when you were just a sperm in your daddy’s ball sack.

Don’t get caught with your pants down. Your reputation is all you have in this line of work. You understand, Parker?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good lad. Now where can I get a decent cup of joe around here?”

He pointed further down the corridor. “There’s a vending machine. Not the best, but it does the job.”

McKenzie looked that way and took off to find anything that could get him through the next six hours. His mind had been a blur wading through the case files, waiting on the autopsy, and trying to get an ID on the deceased man.

Entering a room to his right, he almost slipped on the wet floor.

“Sonofabitch!” There was no sign to indicate that maintenance or cleaning was being done.

However, there was an “Out of Order” sign on the machine.

“Great, just fucking great.” He stuck his head out and called to Parker further down the hall, informing him about the malfunctioning machine.

“I thought you said this was working?”

“It was an hour ago. There’s another near the entrance.”

He grumbled, exiting with sticky crap on the bottom of his shoe. He could feel the tackiness of it sticking to the highly polished floors, making a squishing sound. “Oh, good Lord, why me,” he muttered.

Entering the lobby, he barked at one of the porters. “Your damn coffee machine isn’t working, and there is a leak. You might want to get someone on it, pronto.”

Continuing, he went over to a machine. McKenzie glanced off to his right and observed several people entering; some tracked mud and snow inside, ignoring the sign to wipe their feet.

He took a few coins from his pocket and hit a button.

As the sludge masquerading as caffeine squirted out like diarrhea, he glanced at another imbecile ignorant of the sign.

Annoyed, he confronted him. “Hey pal,” he pointed to the sign. “You’re trailing snow and mud in here.”

The man shrugged indifferently, tapping his leg where there was a key card hanging as if the fact that he worked there made a difference. McKenzie shook his head in frustration at the lack of consideration.

As he turned back to the machine, which appeared to have stopped after filling his drink only halfway, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He fished it out along with a few more coins while shaking the machine with the other hand, then brought the phone to the crook of his neck.

“Aye, laddie, this better be bloody urgent as I’m about to bring the hammer down on this vending machine. ”

“McKenzie, where are you now?” Noah asked.

“Elizabethtown. The hospital.”

“What are you doing there?”

“Oh, you know, just making sure you’ve dotted your I’s and crossed your T’s.”

He heard Noah sigh. “Listen, we’ve got a name for the deceased guy. Joseph Collins. He was a nurse at the hospital. Payton Scott’s mother recognized him. She said he used to work over at Saranac Medical Center. He was a friend of a friend. Find out what you can and check on the girl.”

“I already have. She’s dead to the world. I mean, sedated.” Distracted, he gave the machine another kick. “Come on, you bastard.”

“McKenzie.”

“I heard you the first time. Check on the girl. Find out what I can about this Collins guy. I got it.”

“I’m thinking that’s how he got his hands on the drugs found in the girl.”

“I highly doubt they keep that in stock here.”

“Find out.”

McKenzie assured Noah that Parker was present with the girl and he could handle it, but to hurry back as McKenzie was no babysitter.

Finally managing to get a cup’s worth of brown goo out of the machine, he sniffed, took a sip, and raised his eyebrows. “Not bad. Tasted worse,” he said to one of the visitors watching him like he had a mental health condition.

As he returned to the girl’s room, he noticed Parker’s head was down, seemingly distracted again.

Growing increasingly agitated, McKenzie approached him, saying, “Didn’t I tell you to pay attention?

” However, as he drew closer, he noticed blood and hurriedly rushed to Parker’s side.

“No, no, no, kid, c’mon,” he said. “Don’t you…

” It was too late. Horror struck him when he saw that Parker’s throat had been brutally slit. McKenzie dropped his coffee.

Desperate to locate the girl and fearing the worst, McKenzie swiftly entered the room, only to find it empty.

Panic surged as he quickly reached for his radio to call for backup.

But before he could speak, the radio crackled with a garbled transmission.

Shit! Right then, McKenzie’s attention was drawn to muddy footprints leading away from the room.

Recalling the messy guy he had confronted earlier, McKenzie sprinted, pulling out his service weapon.

Bursting through a set of doors, McKenzie followed the trail of muddy footprints, his heart pounding with adrenaline. He dashed through hospital corridors, determined to apprehend the guy before the girl could be harmed. The urgency of the situation heightened as he heard a commotion up ahead.

Rounding a corner, McKenzie was confronted by a chaotic scene.

A doctor lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood spreading around her.

Several nurses were rushing to her aid. The girl remained in her bed, seemingly untouched, as if someone had abandoned her in the hallway.

McKenzie swiftly approached, assessing the severity of the doctor’s wounds.

With urgency in his voice, he asked, “Which way did he go?”

Grimacing, a nurse pointed in the direction the assailant had fled. “That way,” she managed to gasp out. McKenzie nodded, his focus unwavering as he hurriedly rose to his feet. He followed the indicated path.

Several patients pointed, even as he noticed a persistent presence of muddy footprints leading him forward. He became acutely aware of his footsteps echoing, the urgency of the chase fueling his drive.

Exiting through a back door, McKenzie entered a desolate parking lot, snowflakes falling heavily around him.

He bent down and scooped up a keycard; the name on it was Joseph Collins.

He glanced left and right, scanning the area for any movement.

In the distance, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the falling snow.

Realizing the potential escape route, McKenzie sprinted toward his car parked nearby.

With the intense cold, the engine coughed.

“Start, you sonofabitch!”

It roared to life.

His tires spun wildly in the snow, struggling to bite the white powder as he tore out of the parking space backward.

The front end spun as he turned the wheel, and then he crushed the gas pedal, fishtailing it through the parking lot.

Just as he was tearing toward the exit, a snowplow came into view, obstructing his path and blocking the exit.

He slammed his hand on the horn multiple times to get the driver’s attention. “C’mon! Get out of the way!”

The driver, seemingly unperturbed by the situation’s urgency and kept driving slowly. More honking, and finally the driver stepped out, throwing his hands in the air, unaware of who McKenzie was as he was in an unmarked vehicle.

McKenzie exited, his heart pounding, shouting with impatience. “Get that damn thing out of the way!”

“What?” the guy said, trying to hear him over the howl of the wind.

McKenzie flashed his badge as a gesture of authority and waved his arms, but it was too late. By the time the snowplow driver’s eyes widened in realization, the taillights had disappeared. McKenzie cursed under his breath, frustration gnawing at him.

He tried again to radio for backup; this time, he reached dispatch.