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Dammit. The man had called 911. Nelson didn’t have much time.
He grabbed the briefcase that Granger had dropped on the doorstep, then ran down the steps and around to the bush. He had to get on all fours to reach under and extract the phone. Immediately, he ended the call, cutting off the voice of the dispatcher. Working quickly, he shut off the phone, pulled out a faraday bag, and slipped the phone inside to block all tracking. He would turn the device over to his employer for analysis. There might be information from the phone that they could use, once they removed GPS tracking.
Nelson walked briskly away from the house. The man was dead; he had the documents and his phone; as soon as he turned them over, he would be paid the second half of his fee.
A hefty price because of the tight deadline.
“He has to be dead by eight Monday morning. Any means necessary. Collect the documents.”
And so it was done.
When his money was in hand, Nelson would return to his South Carolina retreat and wait for another call, another job. That might be a day or a month. Could even be a year.
But inevitably they’d call, and he would come. Nelson Lee owed his life to his employer; they owned him until the day he died.
Two
At eight that night, Jenna Johns ended her shift at the hospital. For a blissfully busy twelve hours, she had focused solely on the hectic routine of emergency room triage. Most nurses wouldn’t call the ER blissful but compared to the last couple weeks of her personal life, Jenna was grateful for the organized chaos of her vocation.
She loved being a nurse. The last few years had been difficult, to say the least, but the trying times had made or broken hospital staffs across the country, leaving behind the best of the best. Jenna had learned that not only was nursing her calling, she actually thrived in the fast-paced bustle of the ER. The highs were amazing, and the lows she dealt with as they came. Lucky for her she had a great group of friends who, like Jenna, loved their jobs.
She stayed a bit after her shift because she wanted to check on Mrs. Reynolds, a sweet elderly widow who had been brought in via ambulance with a broken hip. Mrs. Reynolds reminded Jenna of her grandma Jeannie, whom Jenna was named for, who lived in an assisted living facility thirty minutes away. Jenna visited her at least once a week and wished she could have taken care of her. Unfortunately, her grams needed full-time help because she couldn’t walk, but her mind was sharp and witty. She was a whiz with her smart phone and sent Jenna funny memes every day, plus shared all the gossip at the care facility.
It seemed all the white-haired women over a certain age reminded Jenna of her grams.
Mrs. Reynolds’s daughter lived in Boston. Jenna had talked to her a few hours ago, and the daughter booked a flight for tomorrow morning. Mrs. Reynolds was trying to keep a brave face, but Jenna could tell she was scared.
She glanced at the info board outside Mrs. Reynolds’s room, noted she was scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning with Dr. Varma, one of the best orthopedic surgeons on staff. Good. The X-ray showed a clean break below the femoral head, which meant they didn’t have to do a full hip replacement, but they needed to put in a rod down the marrow of the femur and anchor it with screws.
Jenna entered the room with a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Reynolds,” she said brightly when she saw that the patient was awake, watching a game show on the small television in the corner.
Mrs. Reynolds looked away from the TV. “Are you my nurse tonight? Don’t you get time off?”
Jenna laughed. “I’m off duty but wanted to check on you. Did your nurse tell you I spoke to your daughter?”
The woman smiled. “Yes. Melanie will be here in the morning, but they say I’ll be in surgery when she arrives.”
“You’re in good hands.” She glanced at the board in the room listing the nurses assigned to Mrs. Reynolds. Tami was the floor lead, and Lance Martelli was assigned to her for the overnight shift. “My best friend is taking care of you,” said Jenna with a wide smile. Maybe too wide—Lance always made her smile.
“The handsome young man?”
“Don’t let Lance hear you say that! It’ll go straight to his head,” Jenna laughed. “Don’t let his good looks fool you, either; he’s as smart as they come.”
“Ah, the perfect entrance line.” Lance walked in right then, saying to her, “You’re never living that down, Jenna.” He poked her in the ribs and she stifled a giggle.
She winked at Mrs. Reynolds. “Don’t you worry. By the time you’re out of surgery, your daughter will be here.”
“She’s been wanting me to move to Boston to be close to her, even found me a place that seems nice, but I love my little house. Herb and I moved in to it right after the Korean War. I was eighteen, he was twenty-one. We raised two kids in that house, had thousands of meals, we laughed and cried. Now...she’ll probably use this stupid fall as a reason to try and force me to come.”
Jenna lightly squeezed her fingers. “She loves you and is worried about you.”
Lance chatted with both of them as he took Mrs. Reynolds’s vitals, asked her about her pain level, swapped out her IV, and made sure she was comfortable.
Jenna told her, “You’re in good hands with Dr. Varma, so don’t worry about anything, Mrs. Reynolds. You’ll probably be out of here before I come back on shift Thursday, but if you’re still here, I’ll stop in to see you.”
“Thank you, dear, you have been so kind.”
Once Jenna and Lance were out at the nursing station, he turned to her. “This is what, the two hundred, sixty-seventh old person you’ve adopted?”
