The Killing Game(113)

Luke’s guts churned when he considered Peg, but knew there was nothing more he could do to help her. Like the others in this drab, cavernous room with its outdated magazines, well-worn chairs, and piped-in music, he would just have to wait.

He decided he had time to find Andi. She was supposed to be here, probably in Emma’s room or a nearby waiting area, so he texted her again. He hung out in the ER area for a couple of minutes and looked at his screen a dozen times. No answer. Had her phone died?

A bad feeling settled in his gut, but he told himself he was overreacting because of what he’d just been through. It looked like the Carrera brothers weren’t about to hurt anyone ever again, certainly not today.

But what about Bobby? Robert Fisher? Who the hell was he?

Ignoring the “No Cell Phones” signs, he tried phoning her, but the call went directly to voice mail. “Come on, come on,” he said before waiting for the recorded answer to finish and leaving a message. “Hey, I’m here at the hospital, too. Call me.”

He decided to leave Emergency and find her. To hell with the phone.

When he reached Emma’s room he found her alone, lying on the bed, an IV in one arm, monitors surrounding her, a few bruises visible on her face. No sign of Ben or Andi.

Emma stirred. “Ben?”

“It’s Luke Denton, Emma. Ben was here earlier, and Andi, but they’re not now . . .”

She faded out again and he waited half a minute before he was in motion again. Andi had said she would be here, or at his apartment, but she sure as hell wasn’t answering her phone.

Luke scoured the waiting areas and the cafeteria, including the separate coffee shop, and had decided she’d already left. Did she catch a ride with Ben or did she take Uber?

He walked out to the main parking lot, searching for Ben’s vehicle, though he wasn’t exactly sure what it looked like. Every muscle in his body tense, he speed-dialed Andi’s number once more and was surprised when he heard it ringing. What?

“Andi?” he called across the dark lot.

The phone kept ringing and he headed in the direction it was coming from. Maybe it wasn’t her phone. Ringtones were often the same. But then her voice mail answered at the same time the phone stopped ringing. Heart pounding, he hit Redial. Sure enough, the phone began chirping again, and this time he jogged past the main area of the parking lot to a more secluded spot.

Once more the rings stopped suddenly. “Son of a bitch.” He pounded the Redial button, and within seconds the ringtone, louder now, began trilling from a clump of vegetation, part of the hospital’s minimalist landscaping. Digging through the vines, he located the phone. Andi’s phone. His whole world stopped for a second as all of his worst fears were confirmed.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Grasping Andi’s phone, he jogged around the building to Emergency and his truck. Before he got there, his own phone jangled. He yanked it from his pocket and saw it was Detective Rafferty’s number.

Oh. Jesus. Andi!

“Denton,” he answered sharply. He reached his truck and braced himself as he fished into his pocket for his keys.

“It’s Detective Rafferty. I heard you called nine-one-one to report a multiple shooting and that the victims are at Laurelton General.”

“I’m here, too.”

“I’m on my way, so stick around. You can fill me in.”

“An officer showed up with the ambulances; I told him everything I know.”

“But I have more questions. It won’t take long. I’m at the offices of Wren Development and was stood up by Carter.”

“What did you want to see Carter about?”

“Long story.”

“I’m looking for Andi. Maybe she’s with him?”

“He didn’t say so. My partner and I had arranged to meet him, but he wasn’t here when we arrived. The receptionist was here. She thought he might be at the hospital or the resort construction site.”

“I haven’t seen him here.” Luke was starting to feel anxious. Where was Andi?

“Why were you meeting Carter?” he asked again as he slid into the interior of his pickup and jabbed his keys into the ignition.

“A separate case we’re working on. Carter was one of the lake kids who went to North Shore Junior Camp when he was a teenager. My partner and I have been trying to identify human bones that were discovered in a home not far from the lake. We believe the bones belong to a boy who lived on Aurora Lane, Lance Patten, and Carter said he and his brother and sister all knew Lance.”

She was filling him in more than he expected, probably because he’d been a cop and was working the case independently. A lot of connecting dots, and he didn’t like where the link of those connected dots was leading. Warning bells began to peal through his head, sharp clangs that turned his heart to stone.

“Carter said he and his brother and sister knew two of the victims back then, Patten and another girl who initially appeared to have drowned in the lake, though later it was found that she’d actually been strangled.”

Luke drew in a slow breath. What were the chances? Bodies back then, when Carter was a teenager, and now bodies of women with names of birds, some in water.

The summer camp . . . He’d driven by it so many times. Knew it had been a place where the rich kids from Schultz Lake spent their summer vacations.