“Never?”
“Never.”
Damn. Another dead end.
Time for a new line of questioning.
“Did you contact the authorities?”
The lean face hardened, his eyes guarded. “No. As I said, we’re not a prison.”
“You weren’t concerned that something had happened to him?”
“Naturally we were concerned.”
Rafe narrowed his gaze. “But?”
The director gave a lift of his hands. “But after we reviewed the tapes, it became obvious he intended to stay away for a few days.”
“Why?”
“He was carrying a suitcase.”
He sensed Annie tense at the reluctant revelation. Clearly she’d assumed that her brother had wandered off in a fog of confusion and would eventually return. Now she was forced to consider the fact that it had been a deliberate act.
And that Rafe had suspected Martin was missing before they ever arrived.
Ignoring her searching gaze, Rafe willed himself to concentrate on the man behind the desk. “Did you make any effort to trace his whereabouts?”
“No.”
Annie made a sound of distress. “Why not? He could have been hurt.”
“We didn’t want to cause any . . .” The director paused, licking his lips as he sought the best way to explain he didn’t want to piss off the people with the massive checkbook. “Waves.”
Annie scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Rafe reached to grab her hand, his gaze never leaving Dr. Palmer. “They didn’t want to risk the very lucrative fee they charge to keep him here.”
The director stiffened, but before he could protest the blunt description of his motives, Annie was speaking.
“Oh, wait.” Her brows tugged together in confusion. “How could my brother possibly afford to stay at a place like this for so many years?”
Dr. Palmer sent her a puzzled glance, unaware she didn’t have any contact with her grandparents.
“There was a trust fund set up for his care.”
“Set up by—”
“I assume the money would be cut off if Martin was no longer a resident?” Rafe interrupted.
Annie had enough shocks. The MIA grandparents would have to be saved for another day.
Dr. Palmer pursed his lips, the air vibrating with his indignation. “Agent Torres, we are a highly respected residential center that is renowned for our cutting-edge treatment and our caring staff.”
Rafe smiled. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bureaucrat in a thousand-dollar suit. “You didn’t answer my question.”
The man clenched his teeth, clearly wishing he had the balls to have Rafe tossed out on his ass.
“Certainly if Martin was no longer our patient, the funds would be transferred to his new caregivers,” he managed to respond, his tone clipped. “But that isn’t the reason we haven’t contacted his family.”
Rafe cocked a brow. “No?”
“Not entirely,” he conceded.
“What’s the other reason?”
Anxious to prove he wasn’t a heartless mercenary, the director babbled a lame excuse. “This isn’t the first time Martin has decided to disappear for a few days.”
Rafe’s gut twisted. He wasn’t entirely certain why.
He just knew something bad was coming.
“He does this often?” he demanded.
“No, not often, but I know that he did leave once before.” Dr. Palmer shrugged. “He was gone several weeks, then he returned. It’s quite possible that he will show up and everyone will be pleased we didn’t make an unnecessary fuss.”
Sickness swirled through the pit of Rafe’s stomach. “How many years ago?”
Another shrug. “Several.”
Rafe leaned forward. “Precisely.”
The man frowned, clearly sensing the sudden tension in the air. “I would have to look up his files to be sure.”
“Do it,” Rafe snapped, his hand keeping hold of Annie’s fingers as the director swiveled his chair to tap on the keyboard of the sleek computer.
It took several minutes as the man scanned through Martin’s records.
“Ah, here it is,” he murmured, lifting his head to meet Rafe’s fierce gaze. “It was fifteen years ago.”
Annie sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”
Chapter Eighteen
Annie didn’t even realize she was clinging to Rafe’s hand. She was way too busy trying to sort through the implications of Dr. Palmer’s words.
Implications that were making her palms sweat and her mouth dry.
The director easily picked up the prickles of unease in the air, his gaze shifting toward Annie before returning to Rafe.
“Is there a problem?”
Rafe rose to his feet, tugging Annie out of her seat to stand close at his side.
“Can we be shown to his room?” Rafe asked.
Dr. Palmer slowly pushed himself upright, his expression wary.
“Has something happened to Martin?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Rafe informed him, his natural air of authority making it easy for him to play the role of FBI agent.
Which was why she bit back the thousand questions that thundered through her mind.
If she accidentally revealed that Rafe didn’t have the right to demand answers, she might ruin everything.
“He isn’t hurt, is he?” Dr. Palmer demanded.
“Not so far as we know, but clearly the quicker we can find him, the better.” Rafe jerked his head toward the door. “His room?”
“Yes.” There was the slightest hesitation before the director was rounding the desk and headed out of the office. “Follow me.”
Rafe placed an arm around her shoulders as they crossed the reception room and went through the double doors that led to the private quarters.
There was a blur of hushed corridors intersected with small lobbies where the patients gathered to watch TV or play games. Distantly she was aware of the expensive artwork hung on the walls and the staff who occasionally appeared with trays of food, but her thoughts were consumed with the fact that the brother she’d just discovered was alive, was now missing.
A task made easier by the sensation of Rafe’s strong grip on her hand.
For today, he was her anchor.
They reached the end of the hallway when the director shoved a hand into his pocket to pull out an I.D. badge, swiping it against the electronic reader beside the door.
She heard a faint click and then the door swung open to reveal a long, narrow room that doubled as a bedroom and small sitting area.
Hesitantly she stepped inside, feeling like an intruder.
The furnishings were elegant and the decor was dominated by shades of gray and silver. Across the room, a large window allowed the fading afternoon sunlight to brighten the space, at the same time emphasizing the air of sterile emptiness. As if whoever lived here hadn’t bothered to stamp the place with his own personality.
Annie frowned as she felt the air heat as Rafe moved to stand directly behind her, his hand resting on her lower back.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this fiercely tidy room that looked like a model home.
There just for show.
“This is it?” she muttered.
“Yes.” The director stepped toward the middle of the room, the practiced smile returning to his thin face. “As you see, we offer each of our guests a private apartment with all the comforts of home.”
Annie grimaced. “It’s so . . . bare.”
Dr. Palmer shrugged. “I believe the therapist did try to encourage Martin to surround himself with pictures or books that gave comfort, but there are some patients who prefer to keep their private space uncluttered.”
Annie gave a reluctant nod. It seemed reasonable that Martin might be bothered by too many distractions in his living space. But this . . .
There was nothin
g on the walls, nothing on the empty shelves, nothing on the low coffee table.
Nothing that could connect her to the brother she’d thought she’d lost.
Or answer the questions that were making her stomach twist with dread.
Standing close at her side, Rafe was studying the room with an unreadable expression. “Did he leave anything?”
Dr. Palmer waved a hand toward the door next to the bed.
“There are clothes in the closet as well as his private diaries,” he said, then he pointed toward a curio cabinet in the corner of the room. “As well as his pictures.”
Annie’s breath was trapped in her lungs. Even at a distance she could see that the matching silver frames held pictures of her.
And not just when she was a baby.
They were school pictures, as well as a few candid shots of her on a tractor and one of her picking apples.
Where the hell did he get them?
“Good Lord,” she breathed.
“Those pictures were his most treasured possession,” the director said. “That’s why we assumed he would be back.”
Rafe nodded. “Do you mind if we have a minute alone?”
The older man hesitated before catching sight of Annie’s pale face. Then, with a grudging nod, he headed across the room, pausing at the door to send him a questioning glance.
“You haven’t said what interest the FBI has in Martin.”
“As I said, I’m a friend of the family,” Rafe smoothly lied. “We want exactly what you want. Martin found and safely returned.”
“Yes.” There was no missing the fervent sincerity in the director’s voice. Whether it was genuine concern for Martin’s welfare or the fear the clinic was about to lose the mystery money that was paying the no-doubt outrageous fees was debatable. “Quite right.”
“We’ll return to the reception area after Annie has a chance to leave a note for her brother,” Rafe said.
It was an unmistakable dismissal, and with a last nod of his head the director left the room, closing the door behind him.
They waited in silence until they heard the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway, then Annie turned to meet Rafe’s dark gaze.
“Did you suspect he would be gone?” She blurted out the question that had been burning the tip of her tongue since Dr. Palmer had been forced to confess that Martin had been missing for the past three weeks.
Without warning Rafe yanked her against his body, burying his face in her hair. “Annie, we don’t know if this room is secure,” he muttered in low tones.
Her heart stuttered with excitement until she belatedly realized he was using their embrace to pass along a warning.
Good Lord.
She had it bad.
“What do you mean?”
His lips brushed her ear, sending tiny tingles down her spine. “As much as this might look like a hotel, it’s a very expensive clinic. I’m sure the patients are monitored twenty-four seven.”
She stilled. Damn, she should have thought of that herself.
“There are cameras?” she muttered, trying to covertly glance toward the ceiling.
“We have to assume there are,” he said, speaking directly into her ear. “We’ll discuss Martin later. First I want you to cover your face as if you’re crying.”
Crying?
“Why?”
“It will give us an excuse to go into the bathroom.”
Without hesitation, she pressed her hands to her face, her head bowed. For now she was willing to let him take the lead.
It wasn’t like she had any experience in covert ops.
But once the danger was over, she was going to have a word about his habit of snapping out orders and expecting them to be obeyed.
“Like this?”
“Perfect.” He turned, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist. “Lean against me.”
With slow steps they crossed the floor and entered the small bathroom. Reaching behind them, Rafe pushed the door shut and released his hold on her.
Annie took a brief inventory of the white tiled shower that was surrounded by glass walls and the toilet tucked in one corner before returning her attention to Rafe, who had squatted down to pull out the bottles of shampoo and soap and shaving cream from the cupboards beneath the long marble vanity.
She crouched down beside him. “What are you doing?”
He pulled out the last of the toiletries before he stuck his head into the empty space. “I’m assuming they don’t have this room under surveillance, which means if Martin had anything to hide he would put it in here,” he muttered. “Do you have your phone with you?”
“Yes.” Digging into her purse, Annie pulled out her phone. “Do you want me to call someone?”
“No, I want you to shine the light in here.”
“Oh.”
Grimacing at her lack of cool spy skills, she hit the app for her flashlight and held it toward the cupboard. Rafe ran his hands over the bottom of the vanity before he rolled onto his back and continued the search behind the pipes leading to the sink.
At last, he gave a small grunt of satisfaction.
“Found it.”
She scooted back as he wiggled his way out of the cupboard.
“Found what?”
Rafe shoved himself to his feet, holding what looked like a wad of terry cloth in his hands. Laying it on the counter, he pulled away the towels to reveal a stack of leather-bound journals.
“His real diaries,” Rafe said.
“The doctor said his diaries were in the closet.”
Rafe’s lips twisted. “I’m beginning to suspect your brother is a very, very clever man,” he said. “Clever enough to keep diaries full of crap that he would know could be easily found in the closet. My guess would be they’re meant to placate his therapists.” He tapped a finger on the thick leather journals. “All the while he hid the truth in these books.”
Annie bit her lower lip, able to see there were pictures and newspaper clipping stuffed between the pages.
“I’m afraid to look.”
Rafe studied her pale face, the hint of sympathy in his gaze sending a horrifying chill through her.
Oh God.
She bit her bottom lip, but before she could speak, he stepped forward to press the journals into her hands.
“We need to take these with us,” he said, the sudden urgency in his tone forcing her to squash the questions that were hammering through her mind. “Can you put these under your shirt?”
She awkwardly shoved the journals beneath her heavy sweatshirt, wrinkling her nose at the large bulge that couldn’t be disguised.
“Not without them showing,” she said.
“I’ll take care of that,” he assured her, leaning down to grab the purse she’d left on the floor. “Are you ready?”
No, she wasn’t ready.
Her knees felt weak and she had to struggle to breathe.
It wasn’t just the fact they were about to commit a crime. Stealing, no matter how worthless the item, was against the law, wasn’t it? Not to mention the fact that Rafe was posing as an FBI agent.
But the feel of the journals pressed against her stomach made her skin crawl.
She didn’t know what they were going to find inside them, but she was fairly confident it wasn’t going to be old family photos and love notes.
Still, staying in her brother’s private rooms wasn’t an option.
“Let’s go,” she finally muttered.
Tugging her toward the door, Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned her until the journals were pressed tight against his side. Then, without warning, he reached up to tug her hair out of its braid, spreading the strands until they partially covered her face.
“Stay close,” he warned, leading her out of the bathroom and through the living room to the outer hallway. She shivered, weirdly aware they were being monitored by some unseen security system. His arm tightened around her, his cheek brushing against her forehe
ad. “Keep your head lowered.”
“Do you think they’ll try to stop us?” she demanded.
“Not if they believe you’re crying.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Trust me, men give sobbing women as wide a berth as possible,” he assured her dryly.
She barely resisted the urge to tilt back her head so she could send him a punishing glare.
She had to settle for deliberately kicking his ankle. “Nice.”
He gave a stifled sound that might have been a laugh. “It’s the truth.” They both fell silent as they passed by various residents who eyed them with open suspicion, at last reaching the open reception area. Feeling her tense, he gave her a small squeeze. “Hang on, sweetheart, just a few more feet and we’re out of here.”
Rafe didn’t allow Annie to hesitate as he ruthlessly swept her forward, ignoring the receptionist, who rose to her feet as they headed out the front door.
Even then he continued toward the truck at a brisk pace, knowing that Dr. Palmer might very well be contacting the local FBI office to discover if they had an Agent Torres.
It wasn’t until they’d left Greenwood Estates far behind that he at last released the breath he’d been holding and glanced toward the woman sitting rigidly at his side.
“You did good, Annie,” he assured her softly.
Pulling the journals from beneath her sweatshirt, Annie carefully laid them on the floorboard before she turned to stab him with a frustrated glare. “You suspected Martin wouldn’t be there, didn’t you?”
He didn’t bother to lie. As much as he wanted to protect Annie, there was no way he could hide the truth.
She was too clever not to put two and two together.
“Yeah, I suspected.”
“How?”
“Gut instinct.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror as he circled a block and then another before heading out of town. He didn’t really think they were being followed, but it was natural instinct to take precautions.
“No.” She shook her head, her fingers twisting together in her lap, a sure sign she wasn’t as composed as she wanted him to believe. “It was more than that.”
Bypassing the merge that led to the highway, Rafe instead took the narrow county road. They would return to Newton later. For now he was looking for a remote location where they could have some privacy.
Kill Without Mercy Page 20