Mad Dog Justice Read Online Free PDF

then sighs deeply into thephone. “Roddy, you sound … I don’t know. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
    “I’m just stressed out, honey, like you. But everything’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.”
    Jesus. I’m such a lying bastard
.

Chapter 4
    S tepping out of the elevator at level four, Roddy thinks about last night’s incident, right here in the hospital garage. Were those guys at the Navigator waiting for him? Can’t be sure, but he’ll move cautiously, see if anyone’s lurking. If he sees a single soul, he’ll turn back. It would be better to park somewhere on the street from now on, or maybe use that privately owned parking lot two blocks away.
    It’s just after eight thirty, and while plenty of cars are still parked here, there are no people in the garage. It’s the middle of the three-to-eleven-p.m. shift, and visiting hours are over. So far, so good—nobody seems to be around. And there’s no smell of fumes, just the odor of damp cement.
    Were those guys last night just killing time?
Killing
could be the right word. Is he just seizing on some coincidence and interpreting it as something ominous? Since Danny got shot, Roddy’s cued into everything, anywhere—big or small. When Tracy drove him to the hospital this morning, he kept looking through the passenger’s side-view mirror to see if they were being tailed. Each time he spotted a dark SUV behind them—any model, no matter how far back—his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
    Up ahead, he spots Walt McKay, the surgical team’s anesthesiologist. Walt was in a rush to get home after they finished the last surgery—an emergency appendectomy on a ten-year-old kid.He said it was his daughter Alice’s eighth birthday, and he didn’t want to keep the family waiting. When the patient was out of the OR and in recovery, Walt tossed his coat over his surgical greens and beat it out of the hospital. He made it to the elevator about thirty seconds before Roddy, so Roddy took the next one down to level four. Walt’s wearing his surgical clogs, just as Roddy does when leaving the hospital after a long day. Walt joked that when he gets home wearing his scrubs and clogs, he’ll say he thought it was a costume party.
    Roddy’s eyes swerve left and right; he peers into each car parked on level four as he walks toward the Rogue. He’s hungry as a bear, having eaten nothing since breakfast. Tracy will be waiting for him, and they’ll have a simple dinner together.
    His eyes sweep up and down the ramp, and he reaches into his overcoat pocket for the car keys.
    Walt’s about thirty feet from his Honda, which is parked next to Roddy’s car. He reaches into his overcoat pocket and extracts a set of keys. He presses the unlock mechanism and the Honda chirps, as its lights flash on.
    Roddy hears a car engine’s rumble behind him. He can tell from the approaching sound that the vehicle is moving slowly. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. If the car comes abreast of him, he can duck into a space between parked vehicles.
    And then what?
    Jesus
,
I’m getting paranoid
.
    The vehicle pulls alongside Roddy. From the corner of his eye, he sees it’s an old-model Chevy sedan—an Impala at least ten years old.
    Roddy feels every nerve in his body firing. He’s in neural overload—totally juiced and ready to bolt between the cars to his right.
    But the Chevy passes him, moving forward slowly. Roddydoesn’t have a good view of the driver or passenger, but from behind, they look like a couple of casual guys simply cruising around, looking for a parking spot in a still-crowded hospital garage.
    As the Chevy slowly nears Walt, it angles slightly to the left and closer to him. Walt glances back, raises his right arm, and jiggles his keys, a signal he’s vacating the spot—a common courtesy. The Chevy slows and its blinkers start flashing. The driver will take Walt’s space.
    Strange though—despite slowing, the Chevy keeps moving