Page 82 of Hidden Hero

Her hand gripped the scalpel tightly behind her back as she prepared for whatever came next.

36

Jeremy’s heart had been lodged in his throat for the past thirty minutes. He and Pete had just wrapped up a report after speaking with Donna Grissley when Elizabeth Perez came sprinting into the DTF office.

“There’s a hostage situation at the hospital,” she said, breathless. “It’s happening in the morgue.”

Before she could utter another word, Jeremy was already out of his chair, racing for the exit with Pete close on his heels.

In the car, Pete gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity while Jeremy barked into his phone, getting updates from the first deputies on the scene. The news came fast and fragmented, ratcheting his anxiety higher with every passing second.

Colt, Elizabeth, John, Brad, Mark, Sam, and Aaron were on their way. Jeremy didn’t pause to consider whether this kind of response was overkill. His friends, seasoned detectives and officers, knew one thing—the woman he cared for was in danger.

The hospital was already in lockdown by the time they arrived. Jeremy and Pete flashed their badges to force their way through security, weaving through panicked staff and locked doors. He ignored the sideways glances, his focus laser-sharp on reaching the morgue. Updates continued to pour in, each worse than the last.

A shot had been fired. Someone was injured. Jeremy stumbled. Pete grabbed the back of his body armor and steadied him.

When they finally reached the reception area outside the morgue, a group of hospital security and deputies had already gathered, forming a tight perimeter. Jeremy spotted Officer Emilio Gomez, the sheriff’s department’s trained negotiator, standing near the doors. One of the early arriving deputies broke away to brief them.

“It’s Buford Grissley,” the deputy said. “A local minister from?—”

“Goddammit!” Jeremy swore, his frustration boiling over.

Pete cut in, his tone sharp. “We know who Buford Grissley is.”

The deputy nodded curtly and continued, “He’s got a gun. He’s already shot one man, but it looks like he’s letting a doctor take the injured guy out.”

Jeremy’s gaze snapped toward the wide doors leading into the autopsy lab. Through the glass, he recognized Dan Lyles, his movements purposeful as he guided someone toward the exit. Then he heard Cora’s voice—calm, steady, and composed. It came through the intercom, threading its way directly into his soul.

His knees almost gave out. Pete reached for him again, this time with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Pete whispered. “Don’t say a word. Grissley’s on edge, and the last thing you want is to put Cora in more danger.”

Jeremy clenched his jaw, his chest heaving as he forced himself to breathe. Pete was right. The slightest misstep could shatter what little control Grissley had left.

The doors to the morgue pushed open, and a young man in a white coat emerged, dragging Carl. Blood soaked the man’s shoulder, but he was alive. Dan began working on him, and his years of experience in the ER showed his calm efficiency. Jeremy was grateful Dan was there, but he couldn’t shake the bone-deep need to storm in and protect Cora himself.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Amid the flurry of activity as Carl was treated, Jeremy edged closer to Gomez. Stepping into his line of sight, he mouthed, “Are we off auditory?”

Gomez glanced down at the intercom panel, then nodded. “We’re clear,” he murmured.

Jeremy took a steadying breath. “We know the intruder,” he said. “Pete and I were just finishing our report, preparing to go to the magistrate for a warrant when this happened.”

Gomez’s brows lifted. “What’s the situation?”

Pete jumped in, his words clipped and precise. “Grissley’s been selling prescription drugs on the black market. He convinces seniors to give up their pills, claiming it’s for a good cause—helping people who can’t afford medication.”

Gomez absorbed the information with a grim nod. “Why today?”

Jeremy continued, his voice tight. “We interviewed his wife earlier. He’s been depositing the drug money into a bank account under her name. She’s terrified of him but admitted she overheard him talking to one of the church members who found out what Grissley was doing. We think Grissley might have killed him to cover his tracks.”

Gomez’s face darkened. “He seems upset with the medical examiner. Any idea why?”

Jeremy froze, his professional facade fracturing. The words caught in his throat, his chest constricting painfully.

Pete stepped forward. “FYI, Cora Wadsworth, the ME, is involved with Jeremy,” he said bluntly, jerking his head toward his partner. “Cora’s autopsy work uncovered patterns that linked several cases to Grissley. It’s how we started piecing this together. But we don’t know why he’s targeting her today.”

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