Between Limestone Ruins

Chapter Thirty-Six

Walker, to put it blandly, was not having a good time. 

He had talked his way into accompanying an unconscious Hannah in the ambulance but had yet to see her since she was rushed off the rig. That was 4 hours ago. Walker had been arguing with hospital staff since, while communicating with Johnathan who had remained at Robert's house to oversee scene documentation. 

He hadn't sat down, no he hadn't stopped pacing since she left his sight. At that moment it felt like his soul left his body. Finding her had given him a reason to push on a reason to breathe and as soon as he couldn't see her again fear gripped him tightly and whispered in his ear:

 you mother-fucking idiot.

 Walker was not Hannah Morris' family. He was not her emergency contact. He had now been officially pulled off the case, for which he and Hannah were now key witnesses. Walker would not be given information regarding her status or care until a family member personally signed off on it. 

Walker was sure to tell the head nurse how fucked up that was more than once.

Jenn had managed to get a hold of Hannah's parents from their touchdown space in the police station. Hannah's parents, despite having left immediately, still would not be there for another 3 hours. Her parents had called her older twin brothers on the road, one of which hopped on the first flight out of France, the other who rushed out of a meeting in Toronto and should have arrived 20 minutes ago. 

 In true 401 fashion, a major accident had traffic stopped in both directions.

Walker was pacing the trauma waiting room and pulling on his hair. Trying not to throw up again. The bullet hole in his leg throbbed; the adrenaline had erased the pain for days and it was catching up with him. 

And that's when the gun went off. Walker did not think. He was pretty sure his heart stopped in that moment. 

Walker just reacted; taking off down the hall, past the troll of a nurse blocking him from finding Hannah, towards the sound of the gun. Barrelling towards danger because his gut was screaming in his ear now: 

You know that was her. 

As he rounded the corner, he basically slammed into a team of security guards also chasing the sound.

"Special Agent Alec Walker, RCMP," Walker flashed his badge without stopping, .

The security guard gestured for Walker to lead the way, he outranked them in literally every sense.

A speaker blared as they jogged down the halls.

 CODE BLACK ICU LEVEL THREE. REPEAT CODE BLACK LEVEL THREE.

 "Alarm sounded in the ICU. Nurses' station called in the code black before putting the wing on lock down. That announcement means the unit security couldn't secure the gunman. They think the gun is in 408."

Walker nodded and followed one of the guards directions, leading them through the strobing halls as the lock-down alarms blared. The group followed Walker's direction seamlessly. He radiated authority even in his panic. 

Plus taking control of this operation gave his brain less time to worry if there had only been one gun shot because the victim was dead. 

"Where's 408?" Walker said gruffly, trying to calm budding panic. 

It's not her, it can't be her.

His gut told him that was a fool's belief. 

The head security guard was signalling to his guards to clear the hall room by room. Walker's question seemed to startle him out of his fire drill because he turned to glare at Walker.

"End of the hall, bu—"

Walker didn't need to hear anymore. 

He walked swiftly down the centre of the hall, watching each door as he passed for sudden movement. It was not good cop etiquette. 

Hell, it was terrible military etiquette too, but he'd waited long enough and based on the day he'd been having, the patient in 408 was indisputably Hannah.

He allowed his instinct to survey the doors as he half walked-half jogged down the hall as quietly as a large adult man can run in a hospital. Fuck you gut. You want to tell Alec Walker how to live his life than you go right ahead. 

"Buddy!" the head guard from the floor hissed down the hall after him. "We need a plan!"

"I have a plan. It's called fuck off!" Walker stage whispered back, knowing full well if the gunman knew the cavalry had arrived they would know. 

They'd lucked out; the gunman was stupid enough to not understand the dynamics of hospital security. Especially in a prison city. 

Which meant he hadn't heard the hospital security guards' shitty whispers from down the hall and Hannah was probably still alive because the gunman was distracted. All good things. Except.

Hall was definitely dead because Walker had confirmed the ID of the body himself. 

Who the fuck was this?