Triggered Response

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “We’re not done yet,” he said. “We might be able to find Gage at Five Star.”

  Or at least find some information that would help. Or even some object to jog his memory.

  “Why don’t you just call the office first to see if he’s there?”

  “I don’t want to alert anyone else that I’m coming. Any of the security guards who’ve been working for us for a while would know my voice. Surprise is the best approach, the reason I didn’t try to call Gage at home.”

  Claire sighed. “No, instead we just spent more hours on the road only to find the house locked up tight.”

  Bray didn’t respond to Claire’s grousing. She’d been out of sorts since the interminable traffic backup caused by an accident on the bridge. They’d sat over Chesapeake Bay without moving an inch for more than an hour. And the first thing he’d done when arriving in Annapolis was to take the time to buy a prepaid cell phone before going on to Baltimore. Since it was now past dinnertime, Claire undoubtedly needed to be fed. He could use a decent meal himself. They hadn’t had anything to eat since leaving St. Stephens that afternoon, and he didn’t know if she’d actually had lunch.

  Though he’d like to confront Claire about her lies, Bray decided to bide his time with her, as well. He would see how long it would take her to be truthful with him, if ever. He hated lies. He’d remembered that the moment he’d placed the blonde from his dream the night before.

  Part of him regretted Claire really wasn’t his wife, considering the heat they’d generated most of the night. Every time he so much as looked at her, he had an erection. If he touched her, he might lose it and fall into that trap again. So how was he going to avoid sharing a bed later?

  Claire broke into his thoughts, asking, “Do you actually have a clue about the Five Star operation?”

  “I know a couple of guards work around the clock keeping tabs on monitors and alarms.” It seemed using his mind to think his way through his situation was making his memory less selective.

  “How are we going to get past them?”

  “There’s a rear entrance near the Dumpster.” After having touched the mystery keys on his key ring enough, he had a vague picture of the setup. “I seem to remember a hallway leading to the conference room and private offices. I don’t even know if I still have an office here since getting the contract with Cranesbrook. I obviously moved to St. Stephens to run the operation, so how often would I have reason to drive all the way into Baltimore?”

  “So your memory is coming back,” Claire said.

  “Some.” He thought she sounded worried. Good. That would teach her to lie. “Then again, if anyone would know how often I was gone, it would be you, right? I mean, who would know better than my wife?”

  “As I said, we haven’t been together very long.”

  “How long?”

  Tension tightened her voice when she said, “A few weeks before the accident.”

  “So we’re newlyweds.”

  “Yes.”

  “That would explain why your stuff isn’t all over the house.”

  Bray sensed Claire was frozen to the passenger seat waiting for the other shoe to drop. In thinking about why she would have fabricated this life together, he’d figured she must have good reason for the pretense, the main reason he hadn’t ended the charade.

  If only he knew her motivation…

  He decided to go on as if he hadn’t figured out she was gaming him.

  “The visit to the house was productive. I put some things together by going through the place, especially my home office.”

  He didn’t admit how he’d regained some memories— that touching objects had given him knowledge. As far as he could tell, the bizarre ability was a recent acquisition, and it didn’t take a genius to relate it back to the accident at Cranesbrook Associates.

  What the hell had they been testing in Lab 7?

  Did Claire know? Was that why she’d shown up in the lab the night before? What if she’d pretended to be his wife simply to keep him quiet?

  She could be working for the authorities.

  Or the competition.

  He wanted in the worst way to believe her motivation was altruistic.

  On the way to Cranesbrook, he’d stopped for coffee and hadn’t been able to resist getting on one of the café’s computers. He’d taken the time to run a security check on Claire. If she had anything to hide, he hadn’t been able to find what that might be.

  What reason would she have to go so far in her deception as to sleep with him? Unless her attraction to him had simply outweighed her good sense. Remembering the sex they’d shared, he deemed it hot enough to set the boat on fire. He was getting hot now, just thinking about it. Maybe their chemistry was too combustible to ignore.

  Even so, he tried his best.

  The Five Star offices were located in a strip mall. The security business was snugged between a vet’s office and a day spa, all closed to customers for the night. Bray drove around the back and pulled the car between two Dumpsters and two doors set near the center of the building. Either door could be the security office entrance.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Claire asked as they got out of the Corvette.

  “It’s the only one I have that might jog some memories about Cranesbrook for me. How about you?”

  Bray stared at her for a moment, until she shrugged and looked away. Then he removed the key ring from his pocket, he’d figured out the keys that didn’t belong to the car or the house must belong to the offices here. When he’d touched them earlier, he’d had the image of a bank of monitors and he’d remembered the basic office setup. He simply picked one of the doors, but when he touched the handle and got an impression of a woman with four dogs on leashes, he knew this wasn’t the correct choice.

  He automatically moved to door number two on the other side of the Dumpster.

  “You didn’t even try your keys,” Claire said. “How do you know the first door isn’t the right one?”

  “Instinct,” he responded, unwilling to share more with someone he didn’t exactly trust.

  One touch of the second doorknob and he knew this was the right entrance. Putting a finger to his lips to keep Claire quiet, he unlocked the door and opened it a crack while listening intently for any sounds in the hallway. When he heard none, he opened the door a bit wider and peered into the dimly lit interior to make sure no one was there. All clear. He signaled Claire and led the way inside.

  Somehow Bray knew the offices and conference room were on the left side of the hall, but he didn’t know which door led to which room. The first one opened to the conference room. The second to an office so neat he knew it had to be in disuse. His, then. They had to pass the windowed door to the main office. He stopped and carefully peered inside so as not to be seen. Two uniformed security guards sat at their stations, one of them on the phone, the other adjusting a monitor.

  He sensed neither of the men was Gage. Damn! He could use his partner now. They’d always watched each other’s backs.

  Another memory suddenly zapped him. One from Afghanistan. The source of his nightmares.

  His head began to throb and burn.

  Before he could tumble over that edge, he shoved away the past and continued on to the front office, Claire so close behind him, he could practically feel her against his back. He turned to face her and she brushed up against his chest. Her eyes widened and the breath caught in her throat, making a funny little noise that zapped him with renewed lust. For a moment he gave in to the personal heat, imagined taking her in his arms and kissing her right there.

  Muffled laughter coming at them through the wall cut through the moment. The security guards must be sharing a joke. He frowned, hoping that didn’t mean they were shirking their responsibilities.

  Pushing Claire into his partner’s office, Bray followed, closing the door before turning on the light. They were alone. He wanted her again. He had to stop this, had to learn to control the raw attrac
tion he felt toward her.

  “Your partner isn’t here,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.

  Bray steeled himself against the memories of her—fresh, raw and undeniable. “But his computer is.”

  The CPU was silent but a glowing light told him it was set to hibernate. Bray turned on the monitor, tapped the mouse and a screen came up demanding a password.

  “Do you know his password?” Claire asked, crowding him.

  Did she have to stand so close? Was she doing so on purpose to distract him? Bray wouldn’t put it past her. But distract him from what?

  He touched the keyboard and concentrated on the screen and password request. It was as if he could see Gage two-fingering it in.

  “Got it.”

  “How?”

  Ignoring Claire, Bray typed s-c-i-e-n-c-e-g-e-e-k. Seconds later, he was in.

  “Bray, how did you figure that out?”

  “I’m psychic.”

  “No, really?”

  “Gage is my partner.”

  “So he gave you his password? When? You haven’t even spoken to him since the accident.”

  Not answering, Bray quickly acquainted himself with Gage’s setup. When he found the Cranesbrook folder, he called it up. These were shared files, so it would stand to reason that most of what was here was information he’d entered. He would have looked at these files at home…if his computer had been there.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  Bray opened the view to get details, then went through one subfolder at a time. He was looking for any file that had an entry dated after the accident.

  There was only one, dated a few days before. He opened it and Claire leaned over his shoulder, giving him a whiff of a scent that was at once subtle and sensual.

  “What did you find?” she murmured, her warm breath stirring the flesh around his ear.

  “Looks like Gage made some notes about the accident.”

  And staring at them, Bray realized the listing seemed familiar somehow. Concentrating, he remembered his partner sometimes used shorthand messages to himself when he was trying to figure things out. The memories kept coming. He could hear Gage telling him that putting his thoughts in writing stimulated his right brain, which led to some creative solutions, especially when working on one of his electronic inventions.

  Gage was a gadget junky. Bray remembered this clearly. Trying not to get too excited, he concentrated on the notes in front of him on the LCD monitor.

  —alarm goes off and brings Bray and me running to Lab 7

  —smoke fills the area, Vanderhoven out on floor, then some kind of explosion knocks me out

  —I wake up at Beech Grove loony bin, Vanderhoven likewise, Bray missing

  —Riddell sneaking around—to see Vanderhoven? co-workers/friends from Cranesbrook

  —held prisoner but find I have a new gift

  —I escape by using my mind to open doors and take Lily on the run

  By “using my mind,” did he mean telekinesis? Combine that power with his own ability to see the past by touching things, and something really weird was going on.

  Hoping to learn more about what had happened to them, Bray continued reading.

  —Beech Grove janitor dead, Detective Rand McClellan after me

  —Riddell confined to Cranesbrook, doesn’t leave

  —Detective Richard Francis killed

  —Edmonston definitely guilty—Lily gets him on tape—but did he have help? Bray?

  —Bray guilty? if not, where? injured? dead?

  —police officer killed at Cranesbrook

  —Edmonston dead, but body count mounting—why? who else has investment in experiment?

  —Kelso and Morton seen together having dinner

  —McClellan asks strange questions about Vanderhoven—can the lab assistant open doors with his mind, too?

  —Zoe taken and Bray is the ransom

  “Ransom!” Bray exclaimed. “What the hell?”

  “You’re the ransom? I don’t understand. Why would the villain who took Zoe do so to get to you?”

  “Maybe I know too much.”

  Maybe he was guilty.

  He read the last entry.

  —I raid Cranesbrook files again looking for connections outside the institute—one of Riddell’s employment references is Dr. Martin Kelso

  “Riddell and Kelso—that makes sense,” Claire said. “Dr. Kelso only calls certain employees by their first names. Hank Riddell is one of them. What are you thinking?” she asked as he printed out the list.

  “That I have to turn myself in.”

  “Would that be wise?”

  “My niece is missing, Claire.” He shut down the file, then put the computer back into hibernate. “I would give myself directly to the bastard who has her, but I don’t know how to do that. The authorities do.”

  Claire didn’t say anything as he returned the room to the way he found it, but he could feel her tension.

  He pressed an ear to the door to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone on the other side. Then he grasped the handle and was frozen by a vision of two men. His memory kicked in, making him certain the muscular, seasoned-looking guy with the military haircut was Gage. The other man—a natty dresser—he didn’t recognize.

  “I know I agreed to stick around Baltimore in case you need me, Detective McClellan, but…”

  “You planning to take a trip?”

  “Just over the state line in Delaware. Rehoboth Beach. A place called the Sunrise Bed and Breakfast.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  Gage shrugs. “I’ll bring my laptop. I promised Lily we’d spend some uninterrupted time together. And I need to know she’s safe.”

  “Not a bad idea. With some of the strange things going on around here…”

  Gage can’t hide his surprise. “More strange things?”

  The stranger shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Bray, are you all right?”

  Jarred back to the present by Claire, Bray frowned down at her and thought he certainly wanted to know what kind of strange things the cop meant. Odd that he’d had more than the quick images he normally got. The scene had played out as if he’d seen it in live action. He tried the door handle again, but this time it gave him zero.

  “Fine. I’m fine.”

  He led the way out to the Dumpster area and his car, wondering what other strange things were going on. Gage was able to open doors with his mind. He himself was able to pick up on other people’s memories by touching objects.

  What could Wes Vanderhoven do with his mind? Bray wondered, remembering the dreams.

  Vanderhoven must have been the guy out cold on the floor. Whatever breathing in those chemicals had done to him and Gage, they had done to the lab technician, too.

  Once in the car, Claire said, “Turning yourself in could be the biggest mistake you ever make.”

  “A baby is at risk—my niece. I can’t let anything happen to her because of me. I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Let’s go directly to your sister, then. Or we can call Echo…”

  “I tried that last night. The cops are glued to her side. One of them will answer.”

  “I know that. But I’ll do the calling and ask for her, get her to talk to me. It’s worth a try.”

  Claire must really be desperate not to let him get away from her. But he had to admit she had a point. If he went to a police station, they would just keep him locked up until maybe it was too late.

  “All right. Try,” he said, driving toward the highway that headed south.

  Claire got out her cell phone and made the call without contacting directory assistance, leaving Bray wondering how she knew Echo’s number in the first place.

  “She’s not answering.” Claire’s voice was filled with frustration. “Why wouldn’t someone whose kid was missing answer?”

  “Maybe she’s
not there. Call the police, then. Ask to speak to whoever is in charge of the kidnapping case.”

  “We have some time,” she said. “At least an hour and a half before we’re in the vicinity. I can try your sister again before putting your fate into the hands of the authorities.”

  Before losing him and whatever she hoped to get out of him. Bray hated not knowing Claire’s motives, but he didn’t argue. He wasn’t anxious to be locked up, either. Besides, he didn’t mind spending more time in the redhead’s company.

  Claire reached for the radio and turned it on. “Some music will ease the tension.”

  If only. “Getting my memory back will go a longer way to make me feel better.”

  True for him. But for Claire, the game would be over. He could call it now if he chose, tell her he knew the truth about their so-called marriage. He didn’t know why he didn’t put an end to her charade. Maybe because he sensed that, despite her lies, she wasn’t a bad person. She must have some powerful reason for hooking up with him.

  He would wait and see a bit longer.

  “You are still getting some memories, though, right?” she suddenly asked. “When you touched the door handle in Gage’s office, what exactly did you remember?”

  Realizing she meant just a normal memory, not one of the chemically enhanced ones, Bray was saved from answering by a news bulletin cutting into the music.

  “This just in. The Amber Alert for missing child Zoe Sloane is off,” a newscaster said. “The baby was returned to her mother, Echo Sloane, a few minutes ago. The police are not yet releasing details, but we do know that Wes Vanderhoven, an employee of Cranesbrook Associates who was involved in that lab accident two weeks ago, had the Sloane baby. Vanderhoven was killed during the rescue. More details as we get them.”

  “Thank God, Zoe is safe,” Bray said, then felt Claire’s hand trembling on his thigh as though she were trying to share in his relief.

  Glancing at her, Bray swore that despite the dark, he saw Claire’s eyes glitter as if they’d filled with tears. She cared about the outcome of the kidnapping. He could see that for himself. So she couldn’t be a terrible person. As he thought about Zoe, his throat grew tight for a moment, but he quickly got back under control.