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“Theo, I have another call coming in,” Brook said as she reached for her cell phone. “Go. Enjoy your evening.”
Brook pressed the red and green circles that overlapped to end her call with Theo while switching over to the other caller at the same time. Before she could extend a greeting, another blinking dot came online over a shopping center not too far from Bit’s apartment. Brook emitted a sigh of relief as she closed out the application.
“Sloane.”
“Brooklyn Sloane?”
“Yes.” Brook stood from Bit’s chair and made her way to the door. “What can I do for you, Mr…”
“Detective Beeson, ma’am,” a man replied with a heavy tone. “I regret to inform you that Sylvie Deering was attacked in her apartment this evening. She is being transported to the hospital with multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. We got your name and number from…”
Brook continued to half listen to the detective’s briefing on what had occurred this evening while leaning against the door that she had just shut and made sure was secure. Swallowing had become difficult, and it was as if she had been forced back to those vulnerable times when she had discovered Sally bleeding out in a cornfield and Cara lying dead on the floor of their college dorm room.
There was one slight difference between her past and her present, though.
Brook wasn’t the same person who feared retribution from her brother, and the detective hadn’t mentioned Jacob’s gruesome signature—slashing his victims’ faces until they were unrecognizable to only then slash their throats deep enough for them to bleed out.
“Brook, I just spoke with Bit,” Arden said with relief as he stood at the end of the hall with a half-smile on his face. He had even rested his hand across his chest. “Can you believe that he dropped his—”
Arden broke off his sentence as he recognized from her body language that something very bad had occurred in the last few minutes. He lowered his hand and began to rub the clasp of the watch that he wore every single day. The accessory had once been a present from his wife, whom he had lost to ovarian cancer years ago. Unfortunately, the soothing gesture wasn’t going to make this situation disappear.
“Detective Beeson, I’m leaving for the hospital now,” Brook managed to say before she dropped her hand without ever disconnecting their call. She had given herself as much time as she could afford to collect her emotions. It was now time to take action. “Arden, you’ll need to get Bit back on the phone. Call Theo, as well. Have them meet us at the hospital.”
By the time Brook had finished giving Arden directives, she had already passed him in the hallway. She stopped before entering her office. He was still waiting to hear what had taken place, and now she needed to verbalize it.
“Sylvie was attacked in her apartment, Arden.” Brook despised the aftertaste that lingered after her statement. “She was stabbed several times in the abdomen. I’m sure she’ll be in surgery by the time we arrive at the hospital, so prepare everyone. It’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter Three
Brooklyn Sloane
February 2024
Thursday — 10:14 pm
The hospital’s hallway stretched out like a sterile ribbon, its polished linoleum floor reflecting the fluorescent lighting from overhead. Soft echoes of hushed conversations were continually interrupted by the irritating squeaks of shoes as the soles navigated the shiny surface. Along the walls, framed artwork that was intended to offer a semblance of comfort showcased fields of wildflowers. The colorful paintings only served as a reminder that life rarely adhered to predetermined plans.
“Sylvie is still in surgery,” Brook said softly as she leaned a shoulder against the doorway of the waiting room. “The last update we received was that the surgeon was still reconnecting the part of her intestines that were nicked by the blade.”
Leveraging their FBI consultant status, Brook had managed to convince the nursing staff to move the team to a more secluded area of the hospital. The room they were given was basked in golden hues cast by elegant table lamps, which was a welcome departure from the harsh glare of the standard fluorescent tubes suspended from the ceilings. Despite the lingering discomfort of the chairs, the persistently bitter taste of the coffee, and the prevailing unease fueled by the unknown, the private waiting room gave the team the ability to work in private.
“I should be there in around six hours.” Graham paused after his statement, and Brook closed her eyes briefly to guard against the barrage of emotions that made an effort to wash over her. Hearing his voice only served as a reminder that she wasn’t alone anymore, and that was a difficult adjustment to make. “Have you eaten?”
“Arden managed to have someone bring us four meals from the cafeteria.” Brook didn’t need to divulge that she hadn’t touched her tray. Graham knew her well enough that she couldn’t stomach food during situations like this one. His question was merely his way of displaying affection. “The police are searching for one of the aides hired through an agency that Sylvie chose to help take care of her father. According to Nigel, the woman’s name is Erin Smith. She wasn’t with hospice, though. The company she worked for is a home health agency designed to help caregivers when they can’t be home for either work or to simply run an errand.”
It didn’t need to be said aloud how odd it was that Sylvie had been attacked, yet her father had been left alone and unharmed in the bedroom. The paramedics had found Nigel on the floor attempting to reach Sylvie, only the ailing man hadn’t had the strength to crawl such a distance. It had been his cries for help that the neighbor had overheard in the hallway that had finally gotten attention.
“What do you know about this Erin Smith?”
“Nothing much, other than Smith would sit with Nigel when Sylvie couldn’t be home.” Brook focused on Bit, who had make-shifted one of the side tables into a desk. He motioned for Theo and Arden to look at the screen of his laptop. “While someone from hospice stops in every afternoon, they aren’t there twenty-four-seven.”
“I take it that Bit is doing what he can to locate Erin Smith?”
“Yes, and as soon as we get word that Sylvie is out of surgery and stable, we’ll join the police in their search.” The second that Theo glanced in Brook’s direction, she was confident that Bit had discovered some information that would lead to the capture of Sylvie’s attacker. Had Erin Smith wanted money? Revenge? Had she suffered a psychotic break? A drug habit? Unfortunately, no one would have any answers until Smith was in custody. “Hold on a second. Bit might have found something.”
Brook entered the room and held her cell phone away from her ear. She was wearing the same black pantsuit that she’d put on this morning. The hospital’s security guard had stopped her and Arden at the sliding glass doors when he’d caught sight of her holster. The wind had been whipping the snow around fiercely, and a gust had separated the fronts of both her dress coat and suit jacket. Once she’d shown him her credentials, he’d stepped aside.
“Erin Smith’s photograph doesn’t fit the description that Nigel gave to the officer,” Theo replied with an edge to his tone. “I’ll reach out to Detective Beeson.”
