Page 104 of Silent Threat
His CO would get in touch with him as soon as he got the messages. He could be anywhere. He could be over in Yemen with a team right now, rounding up the recipients of the coded Hope Hill information. Cole was on his own.
He grabbed his bag and walked out of the terminal, straight to car rental.
He reached the desk just in time. The parking lot was flooding. He got the last car they signed out before piling the rest on trailers to move to higher ground.
He drove through Philly in driving rain, going at half the speed he could have if the road wasn’t slick, visibility crap, and his mobility limited by his injured shoulder. The trip to Hope Hill took twice as long as it should have, and he found himself grinding his teeth at the delay.
He was soaked to the skin by the time he ran from the parking lot into the building.
He checked Annie’s room first. Still not there. She’d probably decided to stay at her house to make sure her animals were OK during the storm. He wanted to text her, dammit, wanted to make sure she was safe. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started typing messages to his CO. He began with the flashbacks and listed the questions he remembered having been asked.
He was typing out the fifth question, focused on the mouth forming the words, when the full face flashed into his mind at last.
Son of a bitch.
Cole hurried down the hallway as he sent the last message.
Dan Ambrose. It’s the staff psychiatrist.
The door to the hallway with the staff offices hadn’t been locked yet for the night, so Cole simply walked through. Ambrose’s office stood empty.
Right.The guy would have no reason to be here at eight o’clock at night.
Murphy Dolan’s office was empty too. Cole couldn’t see any other staff. Only two offices had the lights on, but nobody sat behind the desks.
Cole ran to the staff break room down the hall. Since the facility was inpatient, they had staff on duty around the clock. Somebody had to be here who could tell him where to find Ambrose.
Cole burst into the break room. The three women sitting at the round table in the corner looked up from chatting over coffee: Libby the reflexologist, Kate the touch therapist, and Margie from the cleaning crew.
“Does anyone know where Ambrose lives? It’s an emergency.”
“Everything OK?” Libby came to her feet.
Kate, too, immediately moved toward Cole. “What can we help with?”
“I need Ambrose’s address. I need to talk to him.”
Kate stopped. “I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose personal information to a patient. I’m sure that whatever is wrong, we can help.”
As the floor vibrated behind him with footsteps, Cole turned in time to see Murphy Dolan stride up to him.
“Where’s Ambrose?” Cole grabbed Dolan by the arm and turned him so when he responded, Cole would be able to read his lips.
“He didn’t show for your session either?” Dolan glanced down at the hand, then over at the women who looked uncertain, clearly worried about Cole’s brusque manner and demands. “Dan didn’t show for any of his afternoon patients. I left him two messages earlier, but he never called me back.”
Dolan ushered Cole out of the break room. The guy sensed a threat, and his first move was to protect the women. Cole could respect that. He meant no harm. Not to them.
He closed the door behind him.
“I came to Hope Hill undercover,” he told Dolan. Cole needed his cooperation to find the psychiatrist. “I think Ambrose has been drugging patients. He’s been getting confidential military information out of them, then passing it on to a connection in the Middle East.”
As Dolan’s eyes narrowed, the phone vibrated in Cole’s pocket.
His CO with a text.Organizing Backup.Cole clicked to call, and when the display showed that the other end picked up, he said, “I’m going to give the phone to Murphy Dolan. You need to tell him I check out. You need to tell him to give us assistance.”
He handed the phone over.
As Dolan listened, the man’s jaw went from tense to tenser. Within five seconds, his eyes glinted with murder.
