Chapter 6 - LooseEnds
1729 Words
Chapter 6 – Loose Ends
Alexei keyed the code into the rear entrance of the Center for Life Science building.
Tucked along the back wall of the first floor, near a service exit, was a plain metal door
with no signage.
Only a keypad.
He entered 22422. His father’s date of death.
Also, the official start of the Ukrainian–Russian war. A neat alignment of history and convenience. A perfect
moment to kill a man, and plenty of innocent collateral with him.
Inside, the office was spare but deliberate: a sleeper couch, a low credenza, a small table
with a desktop computer, a locked closet, and a second door leading to a compact bathroom.
No windows.
No sound.
His phone. Dedicated to Nik alone vibrated once. A single ping. Nik had entered the
lobby.
Alexei tapped the computer awake.
The security feed showed Nik standing just outside the door, glancing down the corridor before stepping in.
Nik entered, already bristling. “I’m in the middle of making plans with pure lusciousness
at the bar, and in walks that motherfucker Vlad.”
Before he could continue, his phone rang.
“Yeah. Okay. Too bad, huh. Last night? First time on crew. No. Thanks.”
Nik grimaced. He should’ve powered the phone down before entering the building, let
alone Alexei’s safe office.
“Sorry.” He held it up, made a show of shutting it off so Alexei could see.
They’d known each other since childhood. Nik had always been the muscle to Alexei’s
mind, even as boys.
Alexei’s blue eyes, cool, assessing, had a way of cutting straight through
people.
Nik trusted him completely. He lived on the second floor of the Ritz Carlton Residencies,
close enough to be useful, far enough to be separate.
Still, the code to this place belonged to
Alexei alone.
The moment passed.
Alexei nodded toward the couch. “Sit. What did he want?”
“Verbal message donkey. Kos says he’s pleased. Other ten deposited. Supplies
delivered.”
“Ah, Uncle Kos is pleased,” Alexei said, dryly amused. “And somehow knew where I’d
be.”
“Tailed you,” Nik confirmed.
Alexei leaned back. “Was Beth Israel the only hospital available last night?”
Nik frowned. “Luka tried to get out of city limits. Fucker was screaming, puking,
shitting. Closest ER we could reach. Why?”
“Sandy Smith,” Alexei said. His eyebrows lifted a fraction, “She was on duty.”
Nik absorbed that, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. That call just now? One of our
cop contacts. The guy was found dead this morning.”
Alexei’s expression didn’t change. “How?”
“Drunk. High. Walked into traffic on the 90. They say he’d been at the ER last night.”
“So why are they calling us?”
“He was reported loading freight. They wanted to know if an accident report had been
filed.”
Alexei exhaled slowly. “Then we should talk to his friend. Rico. If he knows nothing, we
know everything.”
After four quiet years, an attempt on their freight wasn’t a coincidence.
His mind drifted back to Friday.
The three men Kos had set him up to meet, who never showed.
Timing, freight, the dead man… nothing about this was random.
“Do you think it’s Anton?” Nik asked.
Alexei shook his head. “He’s not giving orders. He’s repeating them. It’s a manipulative
move."
“Wednesday, we move the next shipment in the afternoon instead of at night. Once it’s loaded
and the tarmac is clear, you go to Serbia with the cargo.”
Nik shrugged. “Okay. Great.”
Alexei waited a beat. “It’s not a w***e holiday,” he said. “Jan wants a face-to-face. Too
dangerous any other way.”
Whoever was orchestrating this knew exactly how to push the right buttons.
And the three men? They were pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t finished assembling.
By midweek, Sandy arrived already tired. This was the usual part—the part where no one called back.
Annie was explaining how to bandage second-degree burns to two nursing students when she glanced up.
Sandy stood near the nurses’ station in green scrub pants and a white coat, hair pulled back, stethoscope and hospital ID neatly arranged, ready for the evening shift.
Signaling for an orderly to wheel the injured patient out of the ER and dismissing the nursing students, Annie strode straight toward the nurses’ station.
“It’s Wednesday.”
Sandy didn’t look up from the trauma bay intake screen.
Annie stopped on the opposite side of the counter and stared at her. “It’s Wednesday.”
“And I asked to be scheduled just once this week,” Sandy said, a touch too quickly.
“One day a week, eight days a week. I don’t care.” Annie lowered her voice. “So. What happened?”
Sandy scrunched her face. Annie opened her hands wide. An offering. A shrug. Patience wearing thin.
“About Sunday?” Sandy asked.
“Stop teasing,” Annie said. “Or I’ll glove you up right now and put you on manual fecal disimpaction.”
Sandy winced. “Ooo. Fine. I’ll tell.” She exhaled. “He looks like Daniel Craig.”
“The actor?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Z does not,” Annie said, snorting.
“I helped a man after I left your party Friday,” Sandy said. “He collapsed in the alley. Sent his friend over to your loud group.”
“Yeah,” Annie admitted. “We were loud.”
“The friend asked who the” Sandy lifted air quotes, “'Polynesian girl' was. Got my name. Hospital. Department.”
Annie’s smile faded. “Oh no.”
“Actually,” Sandy said, softer now, “He’s charming. English. Or at least English educated.”
Annie studied her. “When are you seeing him again?”
“He invited me to the symphony Friday night.” Sandy shrugged like it didn’t matter. “But I haven’t heard back. I’m not counting on it.”
“Why not?”
Annie walked around the counter and stood beside her.
Sandy hesitated, eyes fixed on the intake screen she had already read a dozen times. “Because he’s handsome. Sophisticated. Probably wealthy.”
Annie opened her mouth.
“Don’t,” Sandy said quickly. “No pep talk. He just wanted to thank me. And he did. So now he feels better about himself.”
She forced a small smile. “I got a delicious thirty-four-dollar hamburger."
“Monday I run the marathon. Then just two weeks to figure out which loan obligation internship I can survive. And I haven’t been involved with anyone in four years.”
She glanced down at her ID badge and stethoscope.
“From med school through now, I’ve learned how to make clean breaks. Somewhere.”
A pause settled between them.
“So,” Sandy said, steadying herself, “what duty am I on?”
Annie wrapped her arms around Sandy’s waist, twisting her into a hug.
The hug broke something open.
Sandy had not realized how tightly she had been holding herself together until her chest tightened and her eyes burned.
She stayed still, blinking hard, letting the feeling pass through her without spilling.
Not yet. Not here.
She let Annie hold her a moment longer than she normally would, then pulled back.
The sounds of the ER surged. An ambulance bay door banged open.
EMTs rolled a gurney through, talking fast as they handed off vitals. Monitors chimed. Voices rose and fell in practiced cadence.
Sandy looked down the aisle. “Who can we clear out of rooms? Anyone ready to discharge, or who needs to move upstairs?”
“Couple discharges pending,” Annie said. “Three waiting on beds.”
Then Annie cupped Sandy’s face briefly. “Before you start rounds, there’s a State Police detective in the break room. Wants to talk to everyone who worked Saturday night.”
Sandy straightened. “Why?”
“About a man brought in near the ER driveway. Hispanic. Mangled arm.” Annie dropped her hands. “They just need a timeline.”
Sandy nodded once. “Okay.”
A neatly dressed Black woman sat at the table with a cup of coffee, writing on an iPad, her posture relaxed but attentive.
She looked up and stood when Sandy entered, gesturing to the chair across from her.
“Detective Smith,” she said, showing her badge. “Massachusetts State Police.”
Sandy smiled despite herself. “Sandy Smith.”
The detective glanced from Sandy’s badge back to her face and laughed softly. “No relation, I’m guessing.”
“Pretty sure not.”
“Well,” Smith said, amused, “that makes this easy. Have a seat.”
Sandy sat. The detective waited until she did, then took her seat.
“You were on duty Saturday night?”
“Yes.”
“You recall a Hispanic male found near the ER entrance?”
“Yes.”
“What do you remember?”
“The orderly brought him in,” Sandy said. “He was conscious. Screaming in pain.”
“Did he say anything?”
She hesitated. “One word.”
Smith’s pen paused. “Which word?”
“Fuck.”
“Just that?”
“Just that. Over and over again.”
Smith nodded, made a brief note. “And then?”
“We were preparing to admit him. Multiple traumas came in.” Sandy kept her voice even. “When we went back, he was gone.”
“With that arm.”
“Yes.”
Smith closed her iPad. “If you remember anything else, even later, here’s my card.”
She slid it across the table and stood.
“Thank you,” Sandy said.
Afterward, Sandy stepped back into the quiet break room and checked her phone.
Voicemail.
Alexei’s voice was calm, unhurried.
“Sandy. I hope your week is going well.”
A pause.
“About Friday night, call me when you have a moment.”
That was all.
Was it a brush off?
He did not have to call at all if it was.
Sandy slipped the phone into her pocket.
She still had to decide whether she would call him back.
- Writer
