Hostage Negotiation. Lena Diaz

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      Zack exchanged a confused look with Cole. “Everything else?”

      It was her turn to look confused. “Well, yes. The burns, the dehydration, cuts, abrasions.”

      “Burns?” they asked at the same time.

      “Dehydration?” Zack added.

      Her brows drew down. “You didn’t know?”

      “Know what?” Zack asked. “Did she burn herself in a campfire then go looking for help and got lost? Is that why she was dehydrated?”

      She looked around then stepped closer as if to make sure that no one else could hear her. “Your Jane Doe has extensive bruising all over her body. Judging by their coloration, many of the bruises are days, or even weeks, old. She’s malnourished, and chunks of her hair look as if they’ve been pulled out by the roots. The burns that I mentioned? No campfire would cause the circular patterns on her abdomen and back. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re cigarette burns.”

      From the expression on his friend’s face, Cole was just as shocked as Zack was. And just as angry.

      “Like I said, the concussion and esophageal tear,” she continued, without giving either of them a chance to ask her any questions, “can be attributed to being hit by a vehicle. But the other injuries don’t appear to be from an accident.” She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable.

      Other injuries. Did she mean more than what she’d already mentioned?

      “Miss Murphy,” Zack said, “you called her Jane Doe. Didn’t she tell you her name?”

      She shook her head. “No. She hasn’t spoken. She was unconscious when she arrived and woke up inside the CT scanner, confused and combative. We had to sedate her for her own safety. The doctor should be finished stitching her up soon. Then we’ll admit her, take her upstairs to a private room, where she can sleep off the effects of the sedative. I’d say that you can ask her questions then, but as exhausted and frail as she is, she’ll probably sleep for hours. Maybe even until late tomorrow.”

      The idea of waiting that long to question the woman certainly wasn’t welcome. But right now Zack was more concerned with discovering the details that the nurse seemed to be holding back.

      “The other injuries that you mentioned, can you be more specific?”

      She hesitated, biting her lower lip in indecision.

      “Ma’am,” Cole spoke up. “We’re both law-enforcement officers, and that young woman is currently our responsibility. If we’re going to find the person who hurt her, we need to know exactly what happened.”

      She leaned in toward them. “The bruising I mentioned...there were dark, chafed circles on her wrists and ankles. Doctor Varley believes she was restrained, for an extended period of time.”

      Zack grew very still. “Someone tied her up?”

      “We think so, yes. And the X-rays showed some hairline fractures in her forearms, basically healed now, but still recent. I’m sure you’re aware that breaks like that are characteristic of someone raising their arms to—”

      “Defend themselves,” Zack finished for her.

      She nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my patient.” She took off across the room before either of them could stop her and disappeared through a swinging door marked Authorized Personnel Only.

      “What’s going on?” Zack kept his voice low, aware that many eyes were watching them. “She was, what, someone’s prisoner? Long enough for fractures to heal?”

      “Maybe the Ghost of Mystic Glades isn’t a myth, after all,” Cole said. At Zack’s aggravated look, he held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. But, inappropriate or not, you were thinking it, too.”

      He was right. Zack had been thinking that, and remembering what else Buddy Johnson had said at last night’s ill-fated campfire story hour. Buddy had said that two women had gone missing in the swamp. What were their names? Sue Ellen something, and Kaylee Brighton? Was it possible that Jane Doe was one of those women?

      Where before Zack had assumed that Buddy had made up his claims to add flavor to his story, now he wasn’t sure. He’d have to check the sheriff’s records in Naples to see if any missing persons reports had been filed.

      Obviously, no ghost had done those terrible things to the woman they’d found. But Zack didn’t want to believe that someone was abducting women and using the Glades to hide their crimes.

      Cole’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowning at the screen. “Give me a minute.” He stepped away to take the call, covering his other ear to drown out the sounds of the busy hospital around them.

      Zack curled his fingers into fists at his sides. The young woman, their Jane Doe, whom he guessed to be in her mid-twenties, had possibly been abducted and held prisoner. She’d been hurt, abused and yet, she’d been running through the woods just a few miles from Mystic Glades. Why? Was her abductor playing games, letting his victim run while he hunted her like prey? Or had she managed to escape when she’d stumbled out onto the road?

      It seemed hard to believe that she could have been out in the swamp for very long, at least not that close to the town where he lived, without being discovered. Yes, the area was sparsely populated. But residents and even the occasional Everglades tourist were known for hiking and canoeing through the beautiful woods and canals nearby, at least when the sun was out and they could keep a careful eye out for dangerous animals and reptiles. Surely, someone would have heard her cry for help if she’d been out there long enough to become malnourished and dehydrated. Or had her abductor kept her gagged the whole time so she couldn’t scream?

      Scream. Oh, God, no. His mouth went dry. He’d heard a shriek last night when he’d been putting out the campfire. And he’d convinced himself it was the owl that had flown into the clearing. Had he actually heard Jane Doe, crying for help, and he’d turned his back on her, leaving her at the mercy of a brutal attacker? The possibility had bile rising in his throat.

      Cole frowned as he ended the call and stepped back to him. “You okay? You look a bit green around the gills.”

      No, he was not okay.

      “What was the call about?” he forced past his tight throat. “Obviously not good because you look green, too.”

      Cole nodded, not denying it. “Those pictures I took in the back of the ambulance did their job. My boss, Lieutenant Drew Shlafer, said the sheriff in Broward County recognized our girl. They’re on the way to show the pictures to her family for confirmation, in Miami.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Want to guess how long ago her family reported her missing?”

      Zack swallowed the cold, hard knot in his throat, remembering what Buddy had said last night about the Ghost of Mystic Glades and the two women who’d gone missing. “Five months or three months?”

      “Three.”

      Zack swore and vowed to take anything that Buddy Johnson said in the future far more seriously. He probably should interview Buddy to see what else the old man knew.

      “Kaylee Brighton?” Zack asked, СКАЧАТЬ