There were only two hospitals: one in St. Louis and the other in Springfield. The one in Springfield, in the southwest corner of the state, was closer. It was the logical place to go first.

He stood up and looked around. He figured it was the last time he would see his home. There was a picture of Tammy on the side table. He picked it up and stared at it for a long time. He decided to take it. If he got the chance, he would show it to their son.

Shutting the door behind him, he climbed into his car and raised the garage door. The sun had started to go down, but it was still stifling hot. His sunglasses took the edge off of the glare and hid the determination in his eyes.

He turned the car north, towards Missouri.

****

Detective Strong was sitting at his desk when Vanessa Layne, a fellow detective, came into the squad room. She was 5’10” and thin. Some would say skinny. Large blue eyes and straight black hair, that fell to the middle of her back, made her very attractive. They had been together on the street as beat cops, but she had moved up to detective ahead of him. She was good, real good, and Jason liked working cases with her.

“Hey, JD.” She called him by his initials. Jason's middle name was David, and JD had stuck since the academy.

“Hey, Vanessa. How's it going?”

“Good. Just ran into Dan Carpenter—you remember him, out in Hondo?”

Jason looked up from his paperwork.

“Yeah, think so. Why?”

“He was telling me about a case they have out there. Torture-murder.”

She was sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Some local named Benny Carter was the victim. Brutal stuff.”

A bell went off in Jason's head. Benny Carter. Where had he heard that name? A chill ran up his spine as he recalled the conversation with Michael Barton.

“They got any leads?”

“Tire tracks, rope left behind, and a shell casing.”

“Motive?”

Vanessa got up; the phone on her desk was ringing.

“No, nothing apparently stolen. Looks almost like a hit.”

While Vanessa answered her phone, Jason called Michael. No answer. He left a voice mail. Next, he called Michael's work. They had not seen or heard from him in several days. Jason waved at Vanessa and left. He needed to go to Michael's house.

 

Chapter 6

Springfield, Missouri was 700 miles and about 12 hours away, according to Mapquest. Michael drove all night and arrived in the Branson area just as the sun was coming up. Branson was a tourist town about 30 minutes south of Springfield, and he decided staying there would make him less likely to stand out. He found a small motel and checked in.

Worn out from the drive, he fell on the bed and slept until nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. After getting up and showering, he went to get something to eat. There was a Denny’s near the motel, and after ordering, he asked the waitress if she could give him directions. She put in his order and came back with his coffee and a local map, the route highlighted. Within the hour, was on his way to St. Luke's Hospital.

He found it easily enough, and parked near the front door. It was a modest sized beige building with three floors. One wing appeared to have been added for medical offices and it was also beige. Even most of the shrubbery was beige colored.

The inside was no brighter. Gray walls, white tile floors, and black handrails. The recent trend of cheery hospital colors had not yet reached St. Luke's.

Michael made his way across the lobby to a half-circle desk with a candy striper behind it. She seemed out of place with her surroundings. Short blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a big, bright smile. Her nametag said ‘Britney’.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“I hope so.”

Michael smiled down at her and gestured towards her uniform.

“I didn't know that candy stripers were still around.”

She appeared slightly embarrassed and made a face.

“There aren't many, but St. Luke's is big on tradition, so we still wear the outfit.”

“Well, it looks great on you. Say, I'm trying to find someone, maybe you know her. My niece and her husband had a child here and their nurse was terrific with them. I can't remember her name, but since I was in town, I thought I'd look her up and thank her.”

“Oh, how nice. I'll help if I can. What can you tell me about her?”

  “Well, as I remember, my niece said she was very short, less than five feet, red hair. Seems like my niece's husband mentioned a tattoo.”

“Oh, sure,” Britney said, her face lighting up. “That's Susan Turnbull!”

“Susan Turnbull.” Michael repeated. “Where do I find her?”

“She's a nurse in OB. It's on the third floor.”

“Okay, great. I'll see if she's there.”

“Would you like me to call and check?”

“Sure, that would be super.”

Michael leaned on the desk, while the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag called up to the third floor. He tried to look casual, but his mind was racing. He couldn't believe his luck. He knew that finding the woman in a big hospital, such as the one in St. Louis, would have been very difficult.

“Okay, I'll tell him,” Britney said, and hung up.

“She's already gone for the day. They said that she works again tomorrow.”

“Shit!” Michael blurted out and then quickly gathered himself. “I'm sorry, it's just that I'm leaving town tonight.”

Michael paused for a moment, looking as if he was deciding what to do next.

“Maybe I can catch her on my way back through, thanks so much for your help.”

“Not at all.” She leaned closer. “By the way, your son-in-law was right, she does have a tattoo. It's on her boob and it's a tiger!” She giggled.

He smiled and said goodbye.

“Goodbye,” said the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag.

****

It took Jason the better part of an hour to get across town to Michael's house. He parked across the street, got out, and went up to the garage door. There were several days’ newspapers piled up on the driveway. He peered through the garage door glass. The car was gone. Jason rang the bell but he didn't expect an answer.

The detective went around the side of the house and through the alley gate. Going up to the sliding glass door, he cupped his hands around his face, trying to see in. Nothing seemed disturbed, no sign of a struggle or a break-in.

Jason went back around front and got on his radio.

“Dispatch, this is Strong.”

“Go ahead, detective.”

“I need a black and white to help with a wellness check.”

He gave them the address, and five minutes later, a patrol car pulled up.

They used a pry tool to force the front door and entered with guns drawn.

“Michael?”

“Michael, it's Jason, you here?”

Jason moved into the living room while the uniformed officer went towards the kitchen.

“Kitchen, clear.”

“Living room, clear,” Jason called back.

The officer moved upstairs while Jason looked around the living room. The power was still on and the computer came to life when Jason touched the keyboard.

“Clear upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Jason sat down and opened the history. The last item was a search for ‘St. Luke’s Missouri’. It showed one in Springfield and one in St Louis. He copied down the search results and shut the computer down.

Moving around the house, Jason looked for other clues as to where he might find Michael. Upstairs, he found an open closet. Several dresser drawers were open with clothes hanging out. It was clear that Michael had left in a hurry.