Page 82 of Fatal Fame
"Anita is going to kill Gideon. She visited me at the hospital to find out what I remembered from the well. If Gideon saw her before he got knocked unconscious, if he can identify her..." Mia's voice trailed off, then came back stronger. "I'm heading there now."
"Mia, no! Let us deal with this?—"
The line went dead.
Callie stared at her phone for a split second before grabbing her service weapon and radio, her mind racing through protocol and procedure. She should call for backup, should notify her superiors, should follow proper chain of command, but if Mia was right, if Anita Emerson was capable of murder to protect whatever secret she'd been hiding for a decade, then there wasn't time for proper procedure.
She burst through the station doors and sprinted toward her patrol car, her radio crackling to life as she called in her destination.
Sergeant Emerson pulled calmlyinto the Adirondack Medical Center. Her white Jeep Cherokee gleamed under the afternoon sun, its spotless exterior betraying nothing of the violence it had witnessed at Hemlock Hollow Farm the night before.
Dr. Patricia Wells met her at the information desk, her scrubs wrinkled from a long shift and her expression carrying the concern of someone dealing with a difficult patient.
"He's out of the medically induced coma," Dr. Wells explained as they walked toward the elevator. "Still in bad shape—multiple fractures, significant head trauma, internal bleeding that we're monitoring closely. But he keeps asking for a police officer. Says he remembers something important."
"I'll speak to him," Anita said. "How alert is he?"
"In and out. The pain medication keeps him groggy, but when he's conscious, he's lucid. Insistent, actually. Keeps saying he needs to tell someone what he saw."
The elevator climbed toward the ICU, each floor passing like seconds on a countdown timer. Anita's hand unconsciously moved to her service weapon, checking its position in the holster.
Mia's Honda Civicsquealed into the hospital parking lot with reckless speed, tires protesting against asphalt as she swung into a space marked for emergency vehicles. She didn't care about parking violations or protocol. If Gideon had seen Anita Emerson at the farm, if he could identify her as the person who'd tried to bury them alive, then his life was measured in minutes.
She sprinted through the automatic doors, her cast bouncing awkwardly against her ribs as she ran. The reception desk was unmanned, a half-eaten sandwich and still-warm coffee cup left behind.
Mia ran toward the stairwell. She took the steps two at a time despite the protests from her injured arm. Behind her, she couldhear security personnel responding to her unauthorized entry, their heavy footsteps echoing in the concrete stairwell.
Callie's patrolcar screamed through the streets of Saranac Lake, red and blue lights strobing against storefronts and residential windows. She tried calling ahead to the hospital, but the main line was busy, probably tied up with the usual afternoon chaos of shift changes and patient inquiries.
Her radio crackled with dispatcher chatter—other units responding to routine calls, administrative updates, the mundane business of law enforcement that suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the possible life-or-death situation unfolding at the medical center.
She took the corner onto the hospital's access road fast enough to feel her patrol car's suspension compress, then straighten as she fought to maintain control. The parking lot was ahead, salvation measured in yards rather than minutes.
Anita entered Gideon's room.The blogger lay motionless in the hospital bed, tubes snaking from his arms and nose, monitoring equipment beeping with a steady rhythm.
His eyes fluttered open as she approached, struggling to focus through the haze of medication and trauma. The cardiac monitor registered his increasing heart rate as recognition dawned in his consciousness.
"Hello, Gideon," Anita said, her tone carrying false warmth that didn't reach her eyes.
She glanced at the cardiac monitor, watching the numbers climb as his pulse quickened. Fear was a useful indicator, it told her everything she needed to know about what he'd seen and what he remembered.
"I was told you wanted to speak to an officer," she continued, moving closer to the bed like a predator.
Gideon's mouth moved, trying to form words through the breathing apparatus, his eyes wide with recognition and terror. The monitoring equipment's beeping increased in frequency, alarms beginning to sound as his vital signs spiked beyond normal parameters.
Mia burstthrough the stairwell door onto the third floor, her chest burning from the climb and adrenaline flooding her system. Security guards were close behind, their radios squawking with updates about an unauthorized entry.
She could see Gideon's room at the end of the corridor, its door standing partially open. Through the gap, she caught a glimpse of movement, a figure in uniform bending over the hospital bed.
She sprinted.
Callie hitthe hospital's main entrance at full sprint, her service weapon drawn but held low to avoid causing panic among civilian staff and patients. The reception area erupted into controlled chaos as hospital personnel recognized the sight of an armed police officer responding to an emergency.
"ICU!" she shouted to the security desk. "Where's the ICU?"
"Third floor, but?—"
Callie was already moving toward the elevator bank, her finger stabbing at the call button with desperate urgency. The numbers above the doors showed one elevator on the third floor, another climbing slowly from the basement level.
