Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Working night shift at the hospital in the middle of winter couldn’t be any worse for Isla Monroe.
With most of the lights switched off on her floor and the hallways as quiet as a tomb, being the only one there on the off chance someone would be admitted to the hospital and put into one of the wards overnight had been a waste of time.
A few strange things had happened to her over the last few days.
She’d arrived home twice in a row to a pool of melted snow inside her back door.
Yesterday, after leaving work, she’d arrived at her vehicle and as usual went to work removing the snow from the front and back windows.
Scrawled in the snow on the back window was a message: Next time I’ll be here.
The message disturbed her, but she drove home and made sure her security alarm had been turned on before she went to bed.
Inside her cozy little house, she should be safe and warm.
She thought about the puddle inside her back door and figured it had been snowing so hard that melted snow had likely leaked under the door to form the puddle.
She slept late as usual. Arriving home at two each morning meant her days started around noon, except on Thursdays, when she worked half a shift, which meant she worked from six through to ten.
The day went along boring as usual. The old woman who had been in the ward she supervised had been discharged.
She’d spent the day restocking everything just to pass the time.
Relieved when the clock struck ten, she headed down to her locker room.
When she opened her door, a piece of yellow paper fluttered to the floor.
She bent to pick it up and stared at it uncomprehending.
You kill people had been scrawled across the note in red ink.
Suddenly afraid, the note fell from her trembling fingers.
She ran out into the empty hallway and stopped as footsteps echoed through the hospital.
It would be unusual for anyone to be on this floor at night without patients, not even the cleaners came up here.
Panic gripped her by the throat and she ran toward the elevator, pressing the button frantically.
The numbers above the elevator didn’t change, as if it had stuck on a floor below.
Clinging tight to her phone, she looked behind her, but nobody came along the passageway.
The footsteps were getting louder. She bolted for the stairs and flung herself down the steps.
If she could get to the ER, she’d be safe.
There would always be somebody there. As she ran down the steps, she heard the unmistakable sound of the elevator grinding as it swayed its way down to the bottom floor.
Heart pounding in her chest, she kept on going and, reaching the bottom floor, pushed open the door and rushed out into the hallway.
Making her way to the ER, she relaxed a little under the bright lights and blended in with the people moving around inside.
Trembling, she peered over one shoulder, but no one seemed to be following her.
Dragging in deep breaths to calm her shattered nerves, she made her way to the restroom.
Inside she took a few minutes to compose herself.
Someone in the hospital must be playing tricks on her and she’d fallen for it.
She gave herself a little shake. She’d parked her truck just outside in the parking lot.
After pulling on her coat and buttoning it up, she took a deep breath, scanned the parking lot, and then seeing no one, slipped and slid her way to her vehicle.
She climbed inside, pushed her phone between her thighs, and started the engine.
The next moment, something came over her head and around her neck.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Dark eyes peered at her through a balaclava.
A strong smell of men’s cologne wafted over her.
As she opened her mouth to scream, the cord around her neck tightened.
“Drive.”