She stood and walked over to the room’s door. She paused for a brief moment as she turned and looked at the crumpled boarding pass lying on the floor.

“Ken will make sure Thomas is fine. I just know it.”

Janet made her way to the poolside bar. She ordered a double vodka martini, then found her place in a lounge chair overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean.

Spending two hours in a Thai restaurant turned out to be significantly more difficult than Derek expected. He dragged out ordering his meal for as long as he felt would be tolerated, ordered several glasses of iced tea, and ate as slowly as he could. An hour after he walked into the restaurant, his waitress dropped off his bill and asked if he needed anything else.

“Not right yet,” he responded. “I just want to let my food digest before heading back out.”

At the ninety-minute mark, the owner of the restaurant stopped by Derek’s table to see if everything was okay and asked if Derek needed directions to wherever he was going to.

By the time the second hour drew to a close, the waitress and owner both suggested that Derek find a more comfortable place to finish his digestion.

“I’m actually thinking about getting another order,” he said.

“Kitchen closed now. Come back in three hour,” the owner said in an accent more similar to someone from China than from Thailand.

It was close to four o’clock when Derek started walking down the road that led to Hilburn. He veered off the road and followed an overgrown path that seemed to lead behind the largest of the Hilburn campus’s buildings and up a small, tree covered hill. When he reached the highest point of the hill, Derek sat down and surveyed the area. He could see a marked patrol car parked near the side of the obviously abandoned hospital, several cars parked near other smaller buildings, and a few people walking around the campus. He trained his eyes on the darkened windows of the hospital, hoping to catch some movement.

With the combination of the afternoon sun, the patrol car, and the people walking around the campus all as factors, Derek decided that waiting another few hours for the sun to set would be his best course of action.

He laid down on the path, being sure to conceal his body from anyone looking up towards the hill. After setting his iPhone alarm to vibrate in three hours and using his backpack for a pillow, Derek fell asleep. After only forty minutes, his iPhone began to vibrate.

“Derek, it’s Ralph Fox. Where the hell are ya?”

Still drowsy, Derek told Ralph where he was and what his plans were.

“Well you better be damned careful. Just got word that your prime suspect Ken O’Connell was found dead in an old warehouse down your way.”

“What?” Derek said, too loudly for someone trying hard not to make his position known.

“Fire department got a call of a structure fire. Got there quick enough to put the fire out but not quick enough to save your boss from dying of smoke inhalation.”

“Anyone else in the warehouse?”

“Nope, and before ya ask, ain’t got no leads about who the arsonist was.”

“Think Alexander turned on his dear old dad?”

“Hell of a turn, if you ask,” Ralph said. “Not sure exactly what you expect to gain by getting yourself into that old hospital, but it don’t seem like there’s much reason for you to risk your own neck.”

“I’m kind of invested in this whole thing at this point. Plus, I feel like I owe Stanley and Michelle some peace of mind.”

“You don’t owe them nothin’, in my opinion.”

“Maybe not,” Derek said, “but I feel for Michelle. Kind of have a connection.”

“Ya just gotta make me one promise,” Ralph said.

“What’s that?”

“If things start to get ugly, you get your butt the hell out of the area and let the police handle things.”

“I still need to find out about Thomas O’Connell. If he’s at risk, I am obligated to keep him safe. But if things do turn, I’ll get out.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

William Straus was awake. Thanks to his usually sharp but currently cloudy mind, he knew that he had to keep perfectly still with his eyes closed. He needed to think, to determine his next move. To do so, he needed to know exactly where he was, who was around him, and what was near him that could be used as a weapon. The gun that he had packed as part of his Plan B was in his duffle bag that he placed on the desk in the hub room of ward C. If he was anywhere close to the hub, his first move would be towards the duffle bag.

He thought back to his last memory. He remembered that Alexander had suggested that they should visit Ward C. He recalled throwing himself out of his car, screaming to get someone’s attention, then everything turning black.

His logical conclusion was that he was in Ward C, probably on Alexander’s old bed, based on the familiarity and the lack of pillows. He listened but could hear nothing. No movement, no breathing, and no sounds coming from outside of his immediate area. He lifted his right eye lid just enough to afford him a view and confirmed his thoughts. From what he could see through the dimly lit room, he was alone.

He opened his eyes fully and slowly let his sight roam as far as he could without turning his head. When he was confident that he was alone, he lifted his head. The pain he felt was immediate. Sharp, stabbing, shooting pain. It started from the back of his head and traveled down his entire spine, sending the muscles in his lower back into contractions. Despite the extreme pain, Straus lifted his head off the mattress, glanced around the room identifying familiar objects and shapes, then tried to sit upright. It was then that he realized that his left arm was tied securely to the bed’s frame. So tight that his attempt at testing the knot caused the thin rope to dig into his wrist.

But he was alone in the room. He wondered if Alexander had been apprehended by the police or if Alexander’s father had shown up and was now speaking with him, discussing what terms for release they would present.

Straus rolled to the left side of the mattress, sat up, and began exploring the rope’s knot with his right hand. The battery powered lights that he had positioned in the room had either spent their battery’s life or had been turned off, making his attempt to loosen the knot an entirely kinesthetic attempt. The pain in the rear of his head was throbbing, reminding Straus that something, perhaps something serious, was wrong. He tentatively reached his free hand to his head and felt examined his skull.