Page 1 of Isla by Any Other Name

Chapter one

The hospital was chaos that night. And Isla Pierce was in her element.

It was after two in the morning and Isla’s shift should have ended three hours ago. But the fog had caused plenty of accidents. She had been mandated to stay and hadn’t minded in the least. Adrenaline coursed through her body and she thrived on it. These were the nights she had dreamed of when her marriage had fallen apart. This was the reason her adoptive parents had paid her school bills. She was meant to be here.

“Isla, go home. Things have finally settled down,” her friend Declan said as he filled out a report in front of him.

“I will. Just a minute. I want to check on that last patient before I leave.”

“I’ll leave with you and walk you home. The fog is still as thick as pea soup out there.”

“Declan, you don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be fine, it’ll take me all of five minutes to walk home. You go on ahead and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Trivia night with the fourth floor nurses Friday?” Declan asked earnestly.

“Not my thing,” said Isla, shaking her long strawberry-blond hair out of her scrub cap. Her fellow nurses had been inviting her to things all year, but making friends wasn’t on her radar. Her answer would always be no. “But thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home,” he smiled as he shrugged on his jacket.

Isla entered her patient’s room and checked his vitals. She turned to leave the room and a noise made her turn back. Her patient’s eyes had followed her to the door.

“Thank you. You saved my life tonight. The doctor was just here and told me how you stepped in and brought me back. I can’t thank you enough for all you did.”

“I didn’t think you were ready to give up.”

“I wasn’t. My wife and I just had a baby three months ago. It’s because of you that I’ll get to see her grow up. I couldn’t even imagine leaving my wife and baby alone,” he said as tears streamed down his face. “Do you have anyone at home you’d die to live for?”

Isla shook her head sadly. She’d always have her adoptive parents, but still went home to an empty apartment each night. She squeezed her patient’s arm. “But you do. That’s what mattered tonight.”

Isla walked out the door and down the hall. She collected her things and walked out into the swirling thick fog.

The night was dark as pitch. The clouds touched the ground in billowing swirls. Isla felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Only two more blocks and she’d be in the safety of her tiny studio apartment.

Did she hear footsteps behind her or was it just her imagination? The sounds of the night were distorted, the thick fog was making everything sound different. She’d never had any problems walking home from work before. She’d walked the five blocks to her apartment every night after her shift for the last year. It was just her mind playing games with her. Declan’s warning. The brain fog of a long shift full of blood and close calls.

If she turned down the alley ahead, she’d get to her place quicker. It was a shortcut she usually only took in the daylight, but she just wanted to get home. A hot bath and a glass of wine were what she needed to put an end to this day.

She was halfway down the alley when she heard moaning coming from the direction of the garage two buildings away from hers. Jim Watkins’s auto garage—her favorite mechanic since she’d moved to Pittsburgh. Was he hurt? She’d just look in and check on him.

She peered in the window as the moans grew louder. She turned the doorknob and the door clicked open. “Jim, it’s Isla. Are you okay?” She moved into the doorway between the front office and the garage bay. She could see a man in an expensive three-piece suit, his black hair slicked back. What was he doing in there? He barked out an order. “Shoot him!”

And then, a shot rang out.

Isla pitched forward and looked in the direction the shot had come from. It was Jim, tied to a chair. Against his wiry chest, his disheveled salt-and-pepper head was slumped—half of it blown away.

The man in the suit looked at the body, then checked his watch as if he had better places to be. Another hulking giant of a man stood behind Jim’s body with a gun in his hand. Isla was frozen for a moment. Then her flight instinct took over as she turned and ran out the door. It slammed behind her, and she winced at the noise.

She ran down the alley. Soon, footsteps sounded behind her. Someone was following her closely. The fog felt like breath on her neck. She pushed faster. She could see the back door of her apartment. If she were lucky, she could get in and lock the door, run to her apartment, and call for help.

Luck was with her. She pulled the door open and locked it behind her. Thank God the hall light had been burnt out since last week. She stood just out of sight and watched as the giant ran past into the fog. She didn’t know how much time she had. He could turn around any second and realize where she’d gone. She crept up the stairs and turned the key, then ran into the apartment and pulled out her phone. Her fingers shook as she dialed.

“Hello, 911. What’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked tiredly.

“Hello, this is Isla Pierce, I live at 323 Neumann Street, Apartment 3C. I was walking home from work and heard moaning coming from the alley side of Jim’s Auto Body on Main Street. I thought he might be hurt so I entered the building and a shot was fired. Jim is…Jim is…dead.”

The dispatcher seemed to perk up. “You’re saying a man was shot…are you safe?”

“I ran to my apartment. But I know they followed me. Can you please send someone? Hurry!”