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The pair of them walked along the hall, giving the security guard and Heather time to make their exit. There were still a few nurses going in and out of the room where the last patient had died. Cassie peeked into the room as she passed it and came to a halt.
The man in the bed couldn’t have been much older than Cassie. Someone had pulled the blankets back, and even from the doorway, Cassie could see he was missing an arm and a leg. Was that why Heather had chosen him? Fury swirled through Cassie’s veins. Heather saw people as a combination of their illnesses and disabilities. She’d played God with people who had full lives ahead of them. And even if their time on earth had to be cut short, they had the right to live it however they wanted.
For the first time, Cassie realized that ten years ago she might’ve been on Heather’s list. Lying broken and bruised in a hospital while a team of doctors tried to put her back together. She still carried
those scars with her wherever she went, but she was no lesser for it.
It was simply a part of her story.
But none of this was why she pulled up short. Next to the bed, Dr. Cohen stood over the deceased. She placed a gentle hand on the man’s arm. When she pulled back, his spirit sat up and slid off the bed. If he felt confusion or anger or sadness at what Heather had done to him, he didn’t show it. He held Dr. Cohen’s hand and didn’t look back.
Cassie watched with wide eyes as Dr. Cohen walked across the room with the man in tow. She held Cassie’s gaze, her hazel eyes as bright and entrancing as ever. They rooted Cassie to the spot. The truth dawned on her. Dr. Cohen had spent her entire life trying to save lives and now she spent her death saving souls. The Ghost Doctor had never once stolen a person from their body. She’d simply been there when it was their time to go. She helped them let go of their physical form. She knew, in the way only another spirit could, how to transport them from this world to the next.
Dr. Cohen smiled. It was a beautiful, mysterious thing. It held all the secrets of life beyond this one. Cassie had so many questions for her, but she held her tongue. It wasn’t her place, and it wasn’t her role. She stepped to the side and allowed the doctor to pass.
The man kept his eyes on the doctor, trusting her to carry him to the next life. And together, they walked down the hall, tall and sure, until they faded from view.
Jason placed a hand on Cassie’s shoulder and brought her back to the land of the living.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Everything’s okay.”
36
Detective Adelaide Harris wasn’t prone to making mistakes, but even she could recognize throwing caution to the wind. It was strange—she was as calm, cool, and collected as ever, and yet here she was, meeting the same witness who had contacted David right before his murder.
Harris wasn’t naïve enough to brush away the idea that it could be a trap. She’d confronted Aguilar the day before. The man had to know she was onto him or, at the very least, would risk everything by going after him.
She pulled over to the side of the road and shifted her car into park. When she cracked the window, a cool, night breeze and the smell of her car’s exhaust filtered in. She was a good mile from where she’d told the witness to meet her along River Street. David had met the man in private and still found himself at the wrong end of the barrel. She wanted somewhere open. Somewhere she could see others coming and going. She could use the crowds to her advantage.
It was closing in on nine o’clock. The sun had gone below the horizon hours ago. Few people would still be along the river in December, but there were always a few. She hoped that if anyone wanted to get a jump on her, multiple witnesses would dissuade them.
She’d worry about tomorrow when it came.
Harris shut the car door with a click and hit the button on her fob. A small beep emanated from the vehicle, and she listened for any movement in the shadows. Having heard none, she pulled her cap lower, stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, and headed toward the riverbank.
She didn’t have the same affinity for being on the edge of the water as most other people. Growing up in Montana meant she preferred the mountains over the ocean, no matter how many times someone tried to change her mind.
That said, she had to admit the river walk was nice, especially at this time of night. A few people milled about—couples walking hand in hand, families returning to their cars after a full day, lone travelers who stopped to stare out across the water like it held the answers to all their problems.
It was serene, to be sure, but the wind made her pull her collar up around her face. It was probably for the best. She needed to keep her face hidden long enough to scope out the area ahead of her meeting time. She memorized the faces of every person who passed her. Did she recognize them? Could they work for Aguilar? Had she seen them pass by once already?
The thought that she was overreacting pushed its way to the forefront of her mind, but she brushed it off. Maybe Aguilar had no intention of going after her. Maybe he’d already forgotten her name and face. Then again, he hadn’t gotten to where he was today by being lazy. No, he probably had someone keeping tabs.
She kept thinking of what he’d said at the restaurant about David, but she pushed that away, too. She wouldn’t second guess David’s actions until she had more proof. For now, she had to rely on what she knew. Otherwise, she’d drive herself insane trying to pull answers from thin air.
Unfortunately, she knew little about the witness. His name was Randall Sherman. He was an accountant by trade, which meant it wasn’t a stretch to think he ran Aguilar’s books. If they couldn’t get the kingpin on murder, then perhaps they’d be able to get him on fraud. The tactic had worked before.
She had seen a picture of Randall. It wouldn’t be difficult to pick him out of a crowd. He didn’t look like much—a small, mousy man who wore glasses and had a slight hunch in his back. He didn’t look like the type of person to get in bed with a criminal like Aguilar, but who knew why people made the choices they did? She wouldn’t let her guard down, regardless.
Harris stopped and leaned against the railing to look across the river. She was about three hundred feet from where she needed to be, and at least a half hour early. The chilly air drove the crowd away, but there were still dozens of partiers with drinks in hand.
Harris put her back to the water and scanned the surrounding faces. A man sitting on a bench in a baseball cap glanced her way, but as soon as his buddies joined him, he forgot all about her. He was no one. She moved on, lingering on every person, committing each set of features to memory.
When she felt safe, she pushed off the railing and kept walking. She had her backup piece tucked away in a holster on her hip, and the weight was a comfort as she closed the distance between her and Fool’s Errand, the bar she’d told Randall about. They were to meet on the bench directly across from the establishment, the one that faced the water.
She tried not to let the irony of the restaurant name distract her.
