Chapter 6 - The Man in the Blue Jacket
"Stay here!" I shouted at Vance, shoving through the pneumatic double doors before she could pull her weapon.
The night air hit my face like an icy slap. The hospital loading dock was bathed in amber halogen light, empty except for two idling ambulances and a mountain of industrial laundry hampers.
"Miller, stop!" Vance shouted behind me, her boots slapping against the damp asphalt.
I didn't stop. I sprinted toward the entrance of the concrete parking garage where the shadows pooled deepest.
Footsteps echoed above me—rapid, heavy, scuffing against the oil-stained concrete ramps.
"Dave?" I yelled into the stairwell. "Is that you?"
Dave Vance was my lead dispatcher at Apex. He was the only guy with direct access to the supply manifests and the company vans after five in the afternoon.
No answer. Just the heavy, rhythmic thud of work boots climbing fast toward the third level.
I took the stairs three at a time, my hand skimming the rough concrete wall. By the time I burst through the door of Level 3, my lungs were burning.
A pair of high-beam headlights flared to life fifty feet in front of me, blinding me instantly.
The engine revved—a high, whining scream of a turbocharged diesel—and tires squealed on the slick concrete deck.
The white Transit van came straight at me.
I threw myself sideways, hitting the concrete hard and rolling behind a massive support pillar just as the van blasted past. The side-view mirror clipped the shoulder of my jacket, ripping the seam.
As the van blew past the exit gate, crashing through the wooden barrier arm with a sharp crack, I caught a clear look at the driver in the amber streetlight.
It wasn't Dave.
It was Sarah's younger brother, Luke.
May you like
The brother who was supposed to have died in an industrial accident in Philadelphia four years ago.
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