Torn (Second Sight) Read Online Free PDF Page B

at the temples. “I wasn’t aware the hospital had police officers on patrol.”
    “Oh yes,” Dadashian said, lightly grasping his utility belt with both hands and bouncing on his toes. Mac noticed he was carrying a Glock and that both his badge and shoulder patch said County of Los Angeles, not city. “Ever since the shooting,” Dadashian continued. “Ninety-four was it? Or ninety-three?”
    “I think that was 1993,” Sergeant Dixon said. “A disgruntled patient shot and killed three doctors before giving up.”
    “Really,” Mac said, not particularly interested in the inciting incident. But where there were security guards, especially armed police, there would be other safety measures.
    “Are there security cameras?” Mac asked.
    “Absolutely,” Dadashian said.  
    Both Mac and Sergeant Dixon searched the ceiling, looking up and down the hallway.
    “Not here,” Dadashian said. “Mostly places where the public can gain access to the hospital. Entrances and exits. The emergency room.”
    “And the parking structures?” the sergeant asked, quickly understanding the direction that Mac was going. Whether or not the Priest had taken Angela in the parking structure, the Priest still had to get to his own car.
    “Some,” Dadashian said. “Most. The private security guards watch the monitors.”
    Mac was already taking out his phone.  
    A private security firm, the Los Angeles City Police like Dixon, and also the County Police like Dadashian, and yet no one had asked for the tapes–probably because there was so much overlap.
    “Sharon,” Mac said when she picked up. “I need a detail down here at County USC ASAP. As many pairs of eyes as we can get. We’ve got security tapes.”

    • • • • •

    “May I ask you about the gloves?” said the young woman who had escorted Isabelle.
    Like the other residents, Anandi Patel wore a white lab coat, which she was now removing.
    “Of course,” Isabelle said, lifting the locking mechanism and opening the door to Angela’s locker. “Through the sense of touch, I psychically read the pasts of objects and people. I wear the gloves so I don’t inadvertently do a reading.”
    Anandi stopped what she was doing.
    “You’re a psychic?”
    Isabelle looked into the empty, gray locker and frowned.  
    Of course. The police have already been here. And knowing Ben, I won’t be allowed to read any of Angela’s objects at the house.
    Isabel slowly closed the door to find Anandi staring at her.
    “I’m sorry,” Isabel said quickly, trying to remember what Anandi had said. “Yes, I’m a psychic.”
    “Working with the FBI ?”
    To that, Isabelle wasn’t quite sure what to say. Yesterday, she would have said yes. Today, she didn’t really know.
    “On and off,” Isabelle replied.
    Anandi cocked her head.
    “Hmmm , ” she said. Then, as though she were filing the bit of information away for later consideration, she simply turned away and hung the lab coat in her locker. “Fascinating.”
    But as she removed her backpack, picked up the combination lock she’d initially removed, and closed the door, Isabelle watched her lift the narrow, metal, latching mechanism.
    Angela’s possessions might be gone but she must have touched the door latch at least once a day. Unfortunately, so had many others.
    Though Isabelle knew what had to be done, she inwardly cringed. Objects in public places were a daunting read. So many lives had glanced off them and left their mark. She glanced around at other closed doors. And these are doctors. Their very business centered around disease and death on a daily basis. Isabelle stared at Angela’s locker door handle but, as she did, she recalled Angela’s anguished scream. Isabelle had nearly screamed in response. Though she’d continued to say ‘hello’ into the phone, what she’d really wanted to do was run from the room. No matter how bad reading the locker would be, it wouldn’t be what Angela was enduring.
    Without