Fear Is Louder Than Words: Her stalker taught her fear. Her suspicions taught her terror.

by Linda S. Glaz

  Funny how lives could change so suddenly.

  He peered out the window again, snow blinding his eyes. Sooner or later, she’d come out of the building and when she did, he’d be ready. His eyes rested on the sign by the parking lot entrance.

  Where Babies Become Future Leaders

  Kyle snorted pop up his nose. Wasn’t that what everyone thought about babies? They’d all turn out to be president or something or other.

  “Only if they have a future,” he mumbled. Rochelle Cassidy had destroyed his chances for a future.

  His face contorted until the muscles hurt.

  And no one, not the hotshot, not a cop, not even a janitor was going to stop him this time.

  He reached into the dashboard. Still where he’d put it. The Taurus semi-automatic he’d bought behind Three-B’s Liquor Store.

  CHAPTER 92

  MR. BERNSTEIN DABBED AT his forehead. His eyes had narrowed to veritable slits as he stared at the reports in front of him. “I can’t believe what I’m reading. Not that I understand all of it.”

  Maggie knew he’d be impressed.

  “Mrs. Reinholdt, this is … incredible. I’d like to contact a friend of mine, Jack Smith, at the DA’s office. With your permission.”

  His face was that of a compassionate man, and she was pleased he not only believed her, but would act on her behalf.

  “Of course. Whatever you need. I’d do anything to prevent him hurting one more baby.” She hesitated. “Or mother.”

  Once he put through the call, she occupied herself with a magazine so she wouldn’t appear to be eavesdropping, even though that was precisely what she was doing.

  “I’m telling you, Jack. If you could see the documents in front of me,” Bernstein said as he flipped papers one on top of the other. He nodded to Maggie once or twice and offered her a grimace she figured he’d intended as an encouraging smile. “I just had the chance to flip through all of these reports, and you won’t believe what Reinholdt’s father experimented with.”

  He frowned at the phone. “Don’t rush me, I’m getting to it.” He tapped his forehead with his fingertips and stared at the mess on his desk, sending jolts of discomfort through Maggie. Could he convince the DA?

  Peering over the top of Glitzngossip, she chewed her lip, turning pages in the magazine without seeing one word or photo. He believed her; that, she could tell, and now this friend of his would believe her, too.

  “Don’t worry about Davidson. He’s going to be thrilled to have this land in his lap. When Reinholdt’s father conducted experiments on pregnant women at Dachau, he was a Nazi, not a collaborator.”

  Bernstein sighed and took a deep breath. “Let me rephrase this. I don’t just think he exploited these people. There’s definitive, hold-up-in-court, smack-you-in-the-face proof. And the kicker is, his son, according to the wife, is carrying on the same tests right now. A different approach, perhaps, but the same premise. The perfect race of humans. He runs some designer baby clinic. PhD.”

  Maggie maintained her composure until Bernstein dropped the phone, juggled it in his hands like a baked potato, and picked it back up. “Your wife attends Reinholdt’s clinic?”

  CHAPTER 93

  ERIK COLLECTED THE NECESSARY paperwork, chucked it in a folder, and headed for his office where Rochelle waited. Tessa overtook him in the hallway.

  She stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Something’s very wrong.”

  With a roll of his eyes, he seized Tessa by the arm and shoved her away from the door. “Be careful, your genius is showing.” He gave a shake of his head. And he had once thought her a logical, intelligent woman. “No melodrama. Everything is going just fine.”

  “I don’t think so. Ms. Cassidy waltzed in here with attitude. And Caroline told me she’d been asking a lot more questions than usual about other patients.”

  Everything he’d worked for—unraveling.

  Margaret had been searching the house. He’d found proof of that, but not whether or not she’d discovered anything.

  Tessa was coming undone like so many loose threads.

  And Caroline wasn’t as stupid as she came across. With all of Rochelle Cassidy’s questions, Caroline would put together the obvious and before long, all of the women would be tying his noose.

  One length of rope at a time.

  His gaze narrowed. Face tightened. Lip twitched into a curl.

  His entire clinic had come down to that nosy journalist wanting to do a story. And she couldn’t stop digging. Things that were none of her business.

  Take care of matters. His father had always told him, “Don’t lose sight of the goal. Handle matters one at a time. Just one. Then move on to the next. If you dig away, one shovelful every day, you eventually have a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.”

  Erik knew exactly what had to be done.

  Tessa was still whining when he shoved her into a small room and pressed within inches of her face. “Get yourself together. She still thinks she’s doing a show about our clinic. I might not like it, but it’s not unusual for her to ask questions. She’s in my office right now. I offered to help anyway that I can. Ms. Cassidy and I are going to have a very interesting conversation.”

  She tried to break his grasp. “I don’t like it. I’ve got to go.”

  More melodrama. He should have fired her years ago and hired that researcher with the blonde hair and ambition to match his. “We’ve been over this. You’re up to your neck as deeply as I am.”

  She stepped back. “The difference is, I’m willing to ’fess up. You still believe these experiments can go on and on. It’s over, Erik. We’re all done here. We should torch the place and leave.”

  His jaw muscles sawed away until his head pounded and he thought he might snap from the inside out; his skin crawled like thousands of insects dancing over each and every nerve. Tessa drove him mad. After a calming breath, he grabbed her arm and shoved her out of the room.

  When she stopped, unsure of what he expected, he pointed toward the second level. “Go upstairs and remove any incriminating evidence that might be left.”

  “Remove it?” Her face paled. “All of it?”

  “Right now. And Tessa, give me a ring in the office in about five minutes.”

  “What?”

  “Do what I say, woman!”

  #

  Dr. Reinholdt’s office, which had always seemed masculine, but cozy, now set Rochelle’s nerves on edge. She clutched her arms across her chest and a ripple ran over her shoulders and down through her stomach. She should get up and walk out the door and go home. She didn’t even want to go back to the hospital.

  As she rose to leave, Reinholdt entered the office, filling the doorway with that hideous smile neatly set in stone on his face.

  With hand extended he said, “Ms. Cassidy. Allow me to apologize for inconveniencing you so long. I had to give Ms. Borland her final duties for the day. We won’t be bothered in here.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now, to your questions.”

  She swallowed hard, but her thoughts remained unclear. She’d envisioned their meeting differently. “I spoke with Brooke Kirnan—”

  “I’m sorry she’s involved you.” He sat in his chair with fingers poised, leaning against the back, posing. “Poor child lost her baby and now she’s convinced we might have done more. This is one of the tragedies of running a clinic like ours. People expect me to be a miracle man when, in fact, nature controls more than I do.”

  Wasn’t that what he enjoyed the most, being thought of as a miracle man? “And then there’s the matter of Lindy Lange. Here’s a woman with no apparent mental-health issues who suddenly takes her life. When I spoke with her husband…”

  “You bothered that poor man after his wife died?”

  “Listen, Dr. Reinholdt. I’m not a fool. Your clinic is not at all what people think it—”

  The phone on his desk pealed, interrupting her again, and he lifted his hand with a smile.<
br />
  “Excuse me one minute.” Reinholdt picked up and pressed in a number as she squirmed in the chair.

  To be a magician and simply disappear. She could tell he didn’t plan on divulging any information.

  “They are what? Well, I can’t subject Ms. Cassidy to that.”

  She looked up. “What’s wrong?”

  “I am afraid some newsmen have found their way to the clinic, no doubt to accost you about Mr. McGrath’s condition. No need to go around. Allow me to show you out the back door. That way you will be directly in the parking lot.”

  Newsmen? Here? Ed had told her about the paparazzi hounding him day and night, and though she’d had some experience with it, not to this extent. She wasn’t up to answering reporters’ questions again about Ed. Maybe they should talk to his actual girlfriend, Alicia.

  She winced as Reinholdt grasped her arm and led her quickly past a medley of rooms. Although she drew her arm back twice, he continued the iron grip. At last, wrenching his hand from her elbow, she asked, “How much farther?”

  “Through this hall and you’ll be at the back of the building next to the parking lot. Call the office and set up a meeting for next week. That way, perhaps you can let me know how our Cody is doing.” He gestured to the left.

  As they started through, Rochelle realized she wasn’t being escorted through an exit. Her panic meter registered in the red. She formed a fist and hastily ran through the list of ways to protect herself.

  She spun around. Recognized a blank, unyielding stare.

  Dr. Reinholdt raised his hand and growled from within like an animal. “I’ve had enough of all you meddling women.” Sharp pain exploded in the side of her neck. She sucked back air. Sound stopped. Light dimmed. And she was…

  CHAPTER 94

  KYLE ARRIVED AT THE back door and glanced about. No witnesses, just like before. He’d find out where the doctor was hiding Rochelle and bam! Dead doctor. Rochelle would be his.

  Doing his best to be quiet, he discovered the door slightly ajar. He waited and listened, time on his side. If personnel asked, he’d tell them he’d been called there for security for one of the big-name patients.

  The door to the building slid effortlessly open under his grasp. Kyle eased in past the coats and utility items. His eyes adjusted to the muted lighting after a few seconds giving him a respite from the snow-blinding sun outside.

  “Hello?” he whispered. “Anybody here?” Where did they go? He craned his head to the side. No sounds. He wanted one voice. The voice of Rochelle Cassidy. This would be the last time she’d ever have to see or hear from him.

  He’d make sure of it.

  With his hand resting on the large flashlight at his side, he slipped across the floor and edged his way toward the front of the building. Halfway there, he heard noises and slipped into the men’s room and shut the door.

  Leaning his head against the frame, he breathed deeply, organizing his thoughts. Then Kyle opened the door to the men’s room and peered out. Sweat tickled the back of his neck and dripped into his eyes until they burned. Turning back to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and looked up.

  He jumped.

  A cop!

  “Fool, it’s just you!” he whispered to the mirror.

  CHAPTER 95

  WITH AS MUCH EFFORT as Rochelle could muster, she struggled to move her hand. Nothing. She attempted to wiggle her toes. Nothing, and she couldn’t turn her head.

  As she stared straight ahead, a bright light went on, and she heard a voice whisper in her ear. “Don’t have anything to say for once, eh? Big talk show host has everyone figured out. But not in time. See the line I put in?” He held aloft the IV drip running into her hand. “Once I hook this up, you’ll be getting a refresher dose of succinate every few minutes until you won’t care anymore. Don’t worry, the sucs will eventually wear off. But by then you’ll be in a hole in the ground, and it really won’t matter. If you’re good, I might give you another dose of Propofol before I bury you. Then you won’t know what’s happening. Of course, I’ll have to give that some thought. And don’t hold out much hope for those newsmen. There weren’t any.”

  Tears trickled from her eyes; she couldn’t wipe them. She began the rapid, shallow breathing only fear brought with any consistency. And more tears.

  “Oh, look at that. Here, let me help you, my dear.” He smudged her eyes with a hankie, still playing the gentleman. She couldn’t shut out the sinister expression on his face. She had seen a similar face before, one that could kill at a moment’s notice. The face of the man who had beaten her and left her to die.

  “I taped you up, just in case. If you had come around too soon, you would have spoiled all my plans.”

  She tried to open her mouth to scream, but her lips didn’t move and nothing came from her throat. She was in some kind of cabinet. In a kitchen?

  Reinholdt turned her head to the side and leaned in, his words like daggers.

  “You are my biggest regret. You see, if you had married your hockey player, you would no doubt have come to my clinic. Your intelligence, McGrath’s competitive nature, and my preparations would have produced a super baby the likes of which the world has never seen. My greatest achievement yet. He would have been perfect! My life’s work would have been proclaimed all around the world. And yes, it would have been a he, or I would have disposed of the brat. And instead of having you as a client one day, here you are, drugged so you can’t even move. Such a pity really.”

  She breathed more shallowly, oxygen deprivation and drowsiness hand in hand. Her insides burned with pain and prickling terror. He drew back, but continued to stare into her face as his lips curved into a sickening sneer.

  “It’s too bad. With your intelligence, you might have produced something special. Maybe you still could—”

  He looked her from head to toe and she mentally shivered. No. Oh, God, no. Please.

  A noise from elsewhere in the building.

  He slammed the cabinet door before he had time to start the drip with the next dose of whatever he’d given her, and footsteps pounded the floor from the hallway. Keys jangled and a door closed as darkness settled over her again. She had to get out of here. She tried again to move, but her muscles remained fixed. What was it he had given her?

  CHAPTER 96

  ERIK STIFFENED AT THE sound of voices. He whirled in the direction of the noise and nearly choked as a man burst through the doorway of his office.

  “Where is Rochelle?”

  A brother? Surely not a boyfriend.

  He couldn’t think fast enough. “Calm down, sir. Who are you?”

  “Calm down?” He reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol. “Does this look like I mean to be calm?” The guy waved it in Erik’s face.

  His hands went up. “Okay. Okay. What is it you want?”

  “I saw Rochelle Cassidy come in here. What have you done with her?”

  He had to control himself. Defuse the situation. “What are you talking about? She hasn’t been in this clinic in days.” He retreated toward his chair and did his best to appear nonchalant. What was this man’s connection to Rochelle Cassidy?

  “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

  Erik ran his fingers over the syringe in his pocket. Comforting to know it was still half full. Already in trouble, one more busybody disappearing wouldn’t hurt. “Let’s go into the cafeteria, sit down, and talk. Perhaps you can tell me what your connection to Ms. Cassidy is.”

  “Fine. I should warn you. My mother always said I was too impulsive.” He brandished the pistol again. “She was right.”

  CHAPTER 97

  AS A DOOR OPENED, light squeaked through the crack between the cupboard and the catch and Rochelle’s eyes tried to adjust. Reinholdt had returned. Fear crackled in her veins, and she thought she opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t. Once her eyes cleared, she could see he wasn’t alone. Another man? She couldn’t see enough of the room through the crack in the
door so she listened for the voices.

  “If you’ll sit down, I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Dr. Reinholdt.

  “I don’t want any coffee.”

  Dr. Reinholdt again. “Then tell me, please. Why is it you are looking for Ms. Cassidy?” She heard footsteps. Saw a sliver of movement through the door.

  No, don’t let him touch you. He’ll hurt you!

  A small movement quivered in her foot. Feeling returned bit by excruciating bit. She worked to maneuver her feet closer to the cabinet to hit them against the wood, but she didn’t have enough control or strength yet. And her head kept trying to send her back to sleep. She fought the fuzziness.

  Suddenly, an overpowering smell that nearly choked her filled the room. Sickly sweet. That smell! Like her old college dorm or—the man who attacked her.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God, please. No! Not him! She thumped against the cabinet with all her might until the door edged open a tad.

  The other man spoke again. “What was that?”

  Who was he?

  Reinholdt’s voice, raspy and shaky, squawked out the denial. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Rochelle strained to see more. By the door. A man in uniform. But those eyes.

  CHAPTER 98

  THE MAN LEANED CLOSER to the cabinet. Should she cry out or stay quiet?

  Was her tormentor partnered with the doctor? Was he a policeman? The man she’d seen at the boutique? Couldn’t be.

  “I know I heard something. Have you got Rochelle in here?” There was a scuffling of feet. “You’d better start talking, Doc.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m thinking a little target practice might loosen your tongue.”

  Whatever you do, don’t shoot at the cabinet.

  More feeling returned. But what could she do? She had no clue who to trust. Her feet nudged the door open some.