I recalled the look on my wife’s face a few minutes ago. Her expression cut into me deeper than any damn bullet. With Araneae’s question, I knew Lorna was remembering something from her kidnapping, and instead of being there for her, I was back on 2. The doors opened and I placed my palm in front of the scanner near the steel door.
Fuck if I wasn’t coming up short at every damn turn.
My shoes clipped across the cement floor as I made my way to the bay of computers. This wouldn’t be a job for one workstation; I began logging in across multiple computers and servers. First, I needed to scan every damn second of the hospital security feed.
Where did Ruby go?
Why would she leave the room or the floor?
I had one program following the signals Ruby’s trackers were sending. According to the GPS, she was currently headed south on Interstate 90. Weekday traffic—I tapped into traffic cams. It was then that I recalled the text Lorna sent as I left the apartment. She could be on to something—more accurately, she said it was Laurel’s idea. Credit wasn’t the issue. The idea of an ambulance made perfect sense.
Instead of texting, I hit the call button to Mason.
“Do you have something?” he asked as the call connected.
“A theory. First, what are you hearing from Sparrows on-site?”
“Fucking nothing. No one saw her leave the unit.”
It was as if she literally disappeared, evaporated into thin air.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled. “I’m still looking at the security surveillance, and I can’t fucking see her anywhere. But Laurel had an idea.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “The hospital is on the university campus. Traffic is usually busy, especially this time of day. It’s not easy to get to the interstate unless...An ambulance would be able to make it through the city faster than any car.”
“Fuck,” Mason responded. “We’re not far behind where the GPS is saying she should be. There’s not a fucking ambulance in sight.”
There was a second voice coming from the background.
“We passed one,” Mason said, “about three miles back. Fuck, Romero saw it parked to the side of the interstate.”
I looked at the screen before me. “But her trackers are still moving.”
“Did they slow?”
“I would need to go back to see that.” I began hitting keys on the keyboard before me. “You’re thinking there was a transfer.”
“They might think an ambulance is too conspicuous. We’ll keep following the trackers,” Mason said. “I’ll get capos to check out the ambulance. I have a rough idea of the mile marker.”
“Okay. Keep communication open,” I said. “Has anyone contacted Sparrow?”
“Fuck. He said he was in meetings today. I’ll send him a message.”
Neither one of us said goodbye as the call went dead.
There were multiple ideas running through my head. The interstate had cameras that the news stations used for reporting traffic issues. I could work to tap into those. First, my priority was the hospital. Pulling up the surveillance, I began checking the outside bays for ambulances. The emergency room was first and the most obvious. However, it wasn’t the only one. There was a side bay.
I looked up as the steel door opened. My gaze met Laurel’s. “It’s fucking different to see a woman on this floor.”
“Sterling offered me the space while on lockdown. I can’t do what you do, but since I’m the only one with permission to be here, I’d like to help.”
At this moment, I’d take all the help I could get. Often it would be either Mason or Patrick helping from here. Patrick was probably worried sick over his daughter while trying to keep his wife calm. Mason was on Interstate 90.
“Okay,” I said, standing and going to Mason’s workstation. I hit a few keys bringing up the hospital footage. “You can sit here.” I went on to explain how she could move from camera to camera, and also move forward and backward in time. There was one thing about explaining anything to a genius: it didn’t take much detail. In no time, Laurel was seated with her eyes set on the screens before her.
My phone buzzed with a text message from Patrick.
Patrick: “TELL ME YOU HAVE HER.”
It was a metaphoric punch to the gut. I texted back.
Me: “WE’RE SCOURING THE HOSPITAL FOOTAGE. MASON IS IN PURSUIT OF HER TRACKERS. HOW IS MADELINE?”
Patrick: “SHE’S WITH THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST AGAIN. I’M IN THE HALL.”
Me: “WHEN DID RUBY LEAVE THE ROOM?”
A rough time frame would help me follow her tracks.