The Common Thread (11 page)

Simon circled the perimeter of the hospital, again driving Angelica’s Ford sedan. He owned another car—bigger and flashier—but was forced to leave it parked all too often. Big, flashy cars drew the attention of the police, and he didn’t want or need that. He’d been able to operate his business right under their noses for years by blending in with the crowd instead of standing out among his peers.

Pulling his car to a halt in front of the large, brightly lit sign, he scanned the area. All was quiet, with the exception of a few people huddled in the smoking hut. At the moment, two ambulances were parked at the emergency entrance, their rear doors left open but lights and engines turned off. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t find a vacant parking spot. He pulled his car next to the coroner’s and sat, watching for a moment.

Katie would have to make her entrance here, through the emergency room. All other entrances were locked at this hour. Her escape route, though, was entirely unpredictable. She could easily slip through one of the dozens of emergency exits and be long gone before someone came to investigate the alarm her departure had triggered. His best shot of finding her was just as Angelica had suggested—to find the kids.

Katie was beyond his ability to comprehend. She was a beautiful girl, and smart. She could have had a decent life with Billy if she hadn’t chosen to have those damn kids. Abortions were easy to arrange, but instead of opting for the simple solution, she’d gone and gotten a job and rented an apartment and played mommy to not one, but two little brats. And all his sources said she was happy. She never dated, just worked and took care of her kids.

Simon knew she’d been trying to make a better life for them, but where had it got her? The kids she loved so much were baiting the trap. In the end she was still going to die by the bullets she’d vowed to avoid. Coming clean hadn’t done her or Billy any good, and Simon was willing to bet the kids would one day meet the same fate as their parents. There weren’t many people who could climb their way from the bottom. Sure, he’d done it, but he was the exception, not the rule.

He’d made it out, and made a great life for himself—and he planned to keep it. He needed to silence Katie. Only a handful of people in the world could identify him, but he wasn’t concerned about that. If he was ever arrested, he was prepared to leave the country on a moment’s notice. A murder charge would be harder to dodge, though, and his avenues of escape could be cut off. Katie was the only witness who could link him to Billy’s murder, and she had to be eliminated. Soon.

It was time to put this miserable night to an end. It’d been a disaster from the beginning. If it wasn’t for the money, Simon would have had one of his associates do the shooting. But he couldn’t trust any of them with the kind of money Billy was talking about, so he’d gone to the house himself. And of course, as soon as Simon demanded the cash, Billy had told him he didn’t have the money yet. Simon had no choice but to silence Billy, which was relatively easy. He’d never seen it coming. Katie, though, continued to be a thorn in his side. First he’d had to jump off the roof, then shoot up the neighborhood, and the police had nearly stopped him as he was driving away. He’d be so happy when she was dead.

Dressed in a suit and shiny black shoes, Simon thought he looked like an official from Children and Youth Services. After showering and shaving, he could have been a teacher or a lawyer or even a social worker. He certainly didn’t look the part of a gangster, unless he went back in time a century to the age of Dillinger and Capone. Those boys knew how to dress. The punks these days had no style.

His plan was twofold. He’d watch for Katie and shoot her on sight. The hospital had so many corridors and exits, he’d easily escape into the night. If she didn’t show up, he’d monitor the children’s movements and learn the address of the foster home where the children would be placed. It would be too risky to try to abduct them from the ER, with hospital security and the Philadelphia PD both a threat. He might be able to get out alone, but not with two little brats in tow. No, he’d let them get to the foster home, and once they were there, abducting them wouldn’t be hard. When they were in his custody, Simon would put out the word on the street that he had them and force Katie out of hiding.

The waiting area was crowded with patients and family members, and Simon ignored them all as he walked past, trying to look professional and important. Too late, he realized he should have brought a briefcase or some papers. Weren’t social workers always filling out paperwork?

The receptionist behind bulletproof glass was talking on the phone. He tried to appear nonchalant as he waited, staring at the clock. The longer he was there, he figured, the more likely the hospital staff would think he belonged. He wouldn’t rush the woman, even though he’d just watched two minutes tick by on the clock on the wall over her head.

*

Glancing from her kids’ room into the hallway, Katie saw her opportunity and seized it. Nan was still on the floor, and in addition to the police officer, a nurse was now offering assistance. She slipped out of the room and walked briskly in the opposite direction. After looking around to confirm that no one was watching, she slipped back into the bathroom she’d reconnoitered earlier.

After locking the door, Katie retrieved the suitcase. Only a few minutes had passed since she deposited it there, but she was relieved to find it where she’d left it. Plans A, B, & C were in the suitcase. If someone had come along and stolen it, she’d have been forced to resort to plan D, which she hadn’t written yet.

Stripping off her scrubs, she pulled Nan’s old dress from the suitcase. It had weathered the journey well, with no wrinkles, and Katie easily slipped into it and raised the zipper in back. The dress was white and covered with large, colorful blossoms. A flower adorned the wide fuchsia belt attached at the waist, and blooms of all colors peeked out from flared pleats at the calf-length hem. Next, she pulled up her hair and fastened it with several pins, then placed the matching hat on her head. It was covered with flowers, a perfect match for the dress. A layer of bright-red lipstick, large, bold earrings, and tortoise-shell eyeglasses completed the picture.

Stepping back to inspect herself in the mirror, Katie was pleased with what she saw. The image that greeted her was so obnoxious and loud it was hard to see beyond the clothing to the woman who wore it. Even a close friend wouldn’t have recognized her in this costume.

It had been Nan’s idea.

Hide right in front of them! Get in their face and make them notice your loud voice and what you’re wearing, so they don’t notice you. The police won’t expect that and you’ll catch them off guard.

With her briefcase in one hand, Mary Weeks, MSW, used the other to open the door.

Both Nan and the police officer were now gone from the hallway, and Katie strode purposefully toward the door of the room where her children awaited, wondering what would happen, knowing it was too late to turn back. Would they jump up and call out to her, blowing her cover? Would the real social worker show up and expose her? Would the police officer recognize her? It was possible a photo of her had already been circulated. It would be an old photo, but she hadn’t changed enough since her last mug shot to make her unrecognizable. Katie shook off the doubts; she just had to keep moving.

Feigning confidence and making as much noise as possible, Katie made her entrance. “Anybody here?” she demanded as she walked into the room. Her children were awake, expecting her. As she’d instructed them, they remained silent, and Katie was relieved.

The dim light was still the only light in the room, and that would work in her favor. The police officer, sitting in a corner chair, was less likely to recognize her in the shadows it cast.

He rose to meet her, and Katie made a conscious effort not to recoil. Police had been her enemy for so long, and every time an officer came into the clinic she nearly panicked. This night was no better. This one towered above her and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. On his left hip a long gun hung in a black plastic holster. A variety of weapons draped from his duty belt—pepper spray, a baton, a heavy flashlight—and for a fraction of a second Katie wondered which he’d use on her.

Looking to her children, she found her strength. She was armed with just her wits, but she was ready to fight for them.

Katie thrust a confident hand forward and went straight to business. She and Nan had decided that the personality of the woman wearing this dress was overbearing and demanding, and that’s how she intended to play the part. “Mary Weeks, Social Services. I came as soon as I could,” she announced with authority.

“Marty Edwards,” he responded, assessing her as he did. He seemed to make an effort to hide the smirk on his face as he took in the obnoxious dress and matching hat. The plan worked, though. The disguise and aggressive posturing completely threw him off balance, and whatever questions he might have asked or protocols he might have followed were forgotten as Mary Weeks took over. He backed up into the chair he’d previously occupied.

“Well, Officer, I understand the doctor has checked the children and found them to be healthy. I just have a few papers for you to sign and I’ll be on my way with them.”

“Sounds good to me.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles.

Katie wished for a distraction so he’d look somewhere else but at her, but no such luck came her way. When he offered to turn on the light, she nearly screamed. “Don’t disturb the children,” she ordered him, and he retreated to his chair. He studied her in the shadows as she sorted through the paperwork she’d compiled at the clinic. When she’d pulled all the forms from the files she’d packed into the briefcase, she turned toward the bed.

Chloe and Andre stared at her, a mixture of fear and disbelief on their faces.

“Tell me your names,” she instructed the children.

They looked at her and remained silent. Good! They were following their orders. Katie had feared that when they first saw her they’d welcome her just as Chloe had—with an exuberant greeting—and the game would be over. But sneaking into the room to prepare them for their role had worked. Just as her mother had produced the church theater productions when she was a kid, Katie did now, and her children were no strangers to role-playing. She’d told them she planned to return, dressed in a funny dress and hat, and they had to pretend they didn’t know her. They weren’t going to talk at all, until Katie said, “Simon Says!” It was a game they played often, and they would be able to follow her instructions.

“Tell me your names,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Andre began to speak, but his sister reprimanded him. “Be quiet. Don’t talk.”

“I got it here,” the officer interjected, handing Katie a police report. He didn’t even bother to read the paper. Katie hid her anger as she accepted his offering. He’d been with her children for nearly two hours and didn’t even know their names.

“Thank you, Officer,” she replied, feigning gratitude.

After copying her children’s names onto the paperwork, she produced the ID bracelets and instructed Chloe and Andre to hold out their wrists. Katie nodded discreetly to her daughter and Chloe offered her arm. Andre followed, and Katie placed a band on each of them. “I don’t like to take any chances with any kids getting misplaced.”

“Yeah. That’d create a lot of paperwork.”

Katie chuckled at the thought of the paperwork this jerk would have when his superiors found out she’d stolen her children from him.

“Sign here,” she ordered Marty Edwards. Without looking at the paperwork she’d so carefully crafted, he did. “Now here.” And that was it. Katie handed him his copy and turned to her children. “All right. It’s time to go now.”

Katie held out a hand to Andre and he accepted it, pulling himself out of the bed. Both kids wore their pajamas, with Crocs on their feet. “Simon says hold your brother’s hand,” Katie told Chloe.

“That was fast,” Officer Edwards commented.

“It’s late for these children, Officer. And they’ve been through a great trauma tonight. Best to get them settled as quickly as possible. Good night.”

He nodded and walked in the other direction as Katie and her children began their escape.

*

Seven minutes. The stupid bitch had been on the phone for seven fucking minutes. The urge to shoot the door lock and break into her secure booth and strangle her was becoming hard to ignore when suddenly she hung up the phone and stared at Simon. No smile, no apology, no explanation. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Forcing a smile, Simon played the part of charmer. “I’m Mr. Irving, from social services. I’m here about those two little children involved in the shooting.” Simon often used the name Irving when he needed an alias. Dr. J had been one of his childhood heroes, and it was a show of respect for him.

“Hold on. I’ll see if you can go back.”

Again he waited and watched the woman as she held the telephone receiver to her ear. Although she smiled into the receiver for the benefit of the person on the line, when she hung up, she had no smile for him. She pointed a finger toward a locked door next to the security booth. When he’d entered the waiting area, the booth had been empty. Now, a large, heavily tattooed man sat within. Simon approached him with the same confidence he’d shown the woman at the booth.

Reaching for his wallet, he took a proactive approach, hoping to avoid questions and scrutiny. His gun was safely tucked in a leg holster, but he didn’t want to take a chance and get frisked. Or shot. “Let me show you my ID, Officer,” Simon said. The driver’s license in Julius Irving’s name had come in handy over the years, and he always kept it hidden in his wallet for just such occasions.

“Oh, okay,” the man said, and looked at the ID. He was too young or too stupid to recognize the name, for he didn’t comment. “Let me buzz you through,” he said. “We’ve had a little commotion for a few minutes. Some old lady got dizzy and fell, but everything’s okay now.” At the push of his finger, the door buzzed loudly, and that easily, Simon was through the doors and in the emergency department.