Which she did often, but was it only due to the drugs? he wondered. And had she committed Wells’ murder during one of those incoherent and possibly violent times?
As if on cue, she began to mumble and rock back and forth. When her eyes opened, they widened in fear as she saw him there. Almost immediately, the pale blue color of the sheets spilled onto her skin, blurring the lines between animate and inanimate objects.
Forcing him from the room.
He had to figure out what was going on.
And he had to figure out what had actually happened with Wells before he turned Shaw over to Edwards.
Shaw might be a drug-crazed lunatic, possibly even a murderer, but that still put her higher on his list than the urbane Dr. Edwards. Even if the physician hadn’t actively participated in what had been done to Shaw, he’d had a hand in it as the owner of the company.
He didn’t much care for people who took advantage of those who were weaker.
* * *
Mick tossed down his pen, frustrated by his enforced confinement.
Although he had taken care of more than one wounded comrade and enjoyed his time as an EMT, being a nursemaid was an entirely different thing. Especially when combined with the continued outbursts from his captive.
He’d been listening to them for the better part of the morning as he attempted to obtain more information on Wardwell.
He surged from his office chair, determined to put an end to the noise when he spotted his IPod sitting beside the computer.
Music quiets the savage beast, he reminded himself.
Maybe it could accomplish something, especially considering that Shaw was a musician. If she connected with the music, she might also make some kind of association with who and what she had been which in turn might trigger more recollections about the night of the murder.
He snagged the IPod and bounded down the hall to the guest bedroom.
As she had before, Shaw immediately reacted to his presence, her skin transforming before his eyes. He tempered his actions, measuring his pace as he neared the bed. Keeping his actions non-threatening and his voice even.
“I won’t hurt you, Cat.”
He slipped the IPod into the unit on the nightstand. Turned on the system and with a push of a button, Shaw’s music spilled from the speakers.
Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor. She had played the piece at the Kimmel Center last year.
“That’s you, Cat. You playing the cello,” he said in soft tones and crouched down so that he would be eye level with her.
“Do you remember? Do you remember what you were? Who you are?”
* * *
Who she was? Caterina thought and suddenly knew.
“I’m Cat,” she said brightly, but her answered seemed to displease him.
“My name is Cat,” she repeated more forcefully and tapped a spot close to her heart with her fingers.
He reached out and took hold of her hand. His hand was hard, the pads of his fingers calloused, but as he had been the night before, his touch was surprisingly gentle.
“I wish I could believe that you weren’t just repeating what you’ve heard. I’m Mick,” he offered and tapped a spot above his heart, mimicking her actions, but then seemed to regret the gesture.
He shot upright, his manner hard once more. “You’ve been drugged, Cat. It may take some time for the drugs to wear off.”
She recalled the young woman with him. The one who had stuck her with the needle. The one who had drugged her, only . . .
The music coming from the machine by the bed was so beautiful. The tones rich and melodious.
Soothing.
A smile came to her face as the music wrapped itself around her. Tangled with her thoughts to drive away some of her fear.
The man beside her – Mick – grudgingly smiled as well.
“Glad to see that you like it,” he said and then walked out of the room.
She did like it. Something about the music was . . .
Comforting. Familiar.
She closed her eyes and fragments of images spilled from her brain, filling up her limited consciousness. The black and white of notes on paper. Honey-gold wood, cold and smooth against her skin. Coarse hair, sticky with rosin.
His words repeated in her brain.
“That’s you, Cat. You’re playing the cello.”
Like two pieces of a puzzle coming together, the pictures in her mind joined with the words.
A cello. She used to play the cello and it had brought her joy. It had to have made her immensely happy before because it was bringing her a great deal of peace now.
She shifted her position, turning on the bed. Yanking on the restraints to get closer to the music.
With the notes embracing her, she released herself to the melody washing over her.
* * *
“You left the condo very early this morning or maybe it’s more accurate to say late last night,” Harrison said. From the corner of his eye, he shot a look around to see who might be in the hall in the surgical wing before he laid his hand on her sleeve.
Easing his index finger beneath the edge of her jacket, he inched it up to reveal the first hint of a bruise. “Was it because of our fight? I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, leaning toward her and speaking in hushed tones, the gesture seemingly non-threatening.
Unfortunately, Liliana knew what would usually follow.
He used his size, coupled with his proximity, to intimidate. When that failed, his fists reinforced who was lord and master in his domain. In their relationship.
It hadn’t always been that way. At first he had been a caring and solicitous fiancé. Then a few months ago, he had withdrawn, seemingly worried about something. Not that he had revealed the source of his concern to her no matter how hard she had tried to reach him.
The depression had cemented itself in him and with it he had become more possessive and increasingly angry and prone to violence. She had considered leaving him more than once recently, but feared his reaction and that of his fellow colleagues in the hospital.
Her colleagues. The people who would decide whether or not she could remain on staff as a doctor.
Needing distance from him, she took a step back and inched her head up to meet his gaze, refusing to be cowed. His light blue eyes chilled at her actions and the muscles of his jaw clenched tight. She knew she needed to avoid confrontation at all costs. Especially now when Mick and his guest needed her help, but she would not let him control her with fear any longer.
“I wanted to check up on one of my patients before rounds,” Liliana finally answered.
“Is that right?” He took a small step toward her, the tightness of his body causing an instinctive response in her to avoid the threatening gesture. Unfortunately the wall was at her back and he had effectively cut off any forward retreat.
Stiffening her spine and pulling back her shoulders, she tilted her head and defended herself in the only way she could at that moment. Calmly she said, “Do you really want to do this here and give the hospital even more to gossip about?”
He narrowed his eyes, considering her.
“What do you mean? Gossip?”
The squeak of a rubber-soled shoe on the gleaming tile floor intruded.
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter Twelve
Harrison’s head snapped around and as the nurse turned the corner and came into view, he took a step away from Liliana. With that step, his entire persona morphed.
“See you at home later, honey,” he said, the tones of his voice light and cheerful. A movie star bright smile on his face.
She barely controlled the flinch when he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and sauntered away with that phony smile.
“Morning, Nurse Edmonds,” he said, his tones almost too friendly.
The nurse nodded curtly and shot a chill look at Harrison. As Liliana stopped at the nurse’s station to slip the patient’s chart into the chart rack, the nurse offered her a warmer g
reeting. “Good morning, Dr. Carrera.”
When the nurse’s gaze met hers for one brief second, understanding blossomed there.
“Good morning, Sara. How is Mrs. Rodriguez this afternoon?”
“Better than you are, I suspect,” she said beneath her breath, removed the Rodriguez chart from the rack, and handed it to Liliana.
Liliana buried her gaze in the papers, reviewing the patient’s vitals and progress. “Looks good. I’m going to pop in and check on our patient.”
“By the way. Dr. Rojas was looking for you. She came up to the floor about half an hour ago.”
With a quick nod, she walked away, chart in hand to see to her patient, but all the time wondering what Carmen could want since her friend hadn’t been expecting the results of any of the other tests any time soon.
At the patient’s door, she stopped to see if Mrs. Rodriguez was awake. The hip replacement surgery had gone well, but had taxed the older woman.
When Mrs. Rodriquez noticed her waiting by the door, she grinned happily and waved her in. “Come in, niña.”
The welcome on the older woman’s face filled her with satisfaction and confirmed yet again the reason why she had gone into medicine.
Something which whoever had worked on Mick’s friend seemed to have forgotten.
* * *
Continuing his investigation was being hampered by having to babysit the unpredictable Ms. Shaw.
Luckily his sister’s schedule had some freedom for the next few days. In the meantime, Mick had figured out what to do to keep Caterina contained which was why he was waiting for his cousin Ramon. Sheriff Ramon Gonzalez now that he was all grown up. Head of one of the local police departments.
Ramon had agreed to meet him at the Dunkin Donuts in Belmar which was buzzing with an assortment of the resident clam-diggers and the Bennies who rented shore homes in town during the summer months, inflating the town’s population and filling many of the local shops along Ocean Avenue.
The Dunkin Donuts was crowded, but far enough away from his usual haunts that it was safe to meet Ramon there.
At Mick’s request, Ramon was dressed in civvies to avoid attracting attention. His cousin slipped onto the cement bench opposite him at the outdoor table where Mick had settled down to wait for him. On top of the table – Ramon’s favorites: black coffee with a chocolate frosted donut.
As his cousin noted the treat, his eyes lit up with joy, reminding Mick of a younger Ramon when they were children.
“Thanks, mano.” He picked up the paper cup and took a sip, wincing at the heat of the coffee. His hand was headed for the donut when Mick stopped him.
“Did you bring what I asked?” Mick said.
Ramon rolled his eyes. “When you called me, I thought, Miguelito is finally going to do the right thing and join the force.”
Mick shook his head. “You know that I can’t consider joining the force – ”
“On account of your parents? Because of the money they need?” Ramon immediately challenged. He braced his hands on the edge of the thick cement tabletop and leaned forward. “They’re almost finished paying off that bank loan. You don’t need to keep on sacrificing what you want – ”
“No sacrifice, Ramon. It’s what I like to do,” he replied and picked up his own cup of coffee to take a sip.
“Bullshit, mano. You were always a White Hat. You can’t have changed that much over the years.”
A White Hat, he thought, clenching his jaw to contain a retort. If he was, that hat was way muddied and grey in spots. Life had taught him nothing was ever black or white.
“Did you bring what I asked?” Mick repeated.
Ramon looked from side-to-side, clearly cautious. Then he plopped a plastic bag from a local grocery store on top of the table. “Everything you need is in the bag, but if you get caught – ”
“I’ll explain how I stole it from your police station. Does Mabel still leave the women’s bathroom window open so she can sneak a smoke?”
Ramon shook his head and in a chiding tone said, “Mabel retired last year. You might have known that if you came to visit more often.”
Mick knew that Ramon wasn’t just talking about visiting the people he had befriended while working as an EMT for the town. Ramon was guilting him about visiting his family more often.
He raised his hands and held them out in a now you see me gesture. “I’m here.”
Ramon rolled his eyes again, picked up the donut, and took a big bite. Gesturing to him with the half-eaten confection, he said, “You’re here and I bet you haven’t called your mom. You know that the last thing you want is to have your mom show up at your door uninvited.”
Mick could well imagine it. His loving, but demanding mother descending on his home in the midst of this mess with Shaw. He could picture his captive going all camo in front of his mother. Hell, he wished he could hide out when his mother was on one of her missions.
Snagging the plastic bag from the middle of the table, he opened it and peeked within. Inside was the electronic monitoring device he had requested as well as a small piece of paper. He didn’t need to look at the paper to know it held information on how to access the system to activate and track the ankle bracelet he planned on clamping on his captive.
“Thanks. What do you know about McMahon and Hernandez?”
Ramon took another sip of his coffee. “The two detectives manning the Wells murder?”
Mick nodded and Ramon continued. “Straight-up guys. Capable, but they’re stuck waiting for the state lab guys to process the evidence.”
“So they can’t release the crime scene yet?” Mick said with a smile.
“Not for another day or two. What’s your interest in the case?” Ramon asked, not that Mick intended to answer.
Instead he stood, grabbed the bag and jiggled it as he said, “Thanks again. Could I ask you to do me one more favor?”
Ramon grew serious and once again perused the area around them before he said, “You name it.”
Mick nodded, leaned forward and whispered, “Keep mom away for the next few days.”
* * *
He hadn’t been gone for long. Not more than an hour. The beep beep beep of the alarm system announced his return.
Caterina wondered where he had been while she lay tied to the bed, the soft strains of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons playing in the background. Her one hand moving against imaginary strings, recalling how to play the piece.
Summer was playing. Somehow appropriate. She couldn’t remember how long she had been in the Wardwell facilities, but recalling the heat and humidity after she had escaped, she definitely knew it was summer now.
Noise came from downstairs. His voice. Muted from the distance between her room and where ever he was on the lower floor.
Then silence.
A few seconds later she heard his tread on the stairs. Surprisingly light. She caught a glimpse of him through the open doorway as he climbed up the stairs and then he was at the entrance to the room.
He said nothing as he entered, walked to the chair and sat, a plastic bag in his hand. Opening the bag, he slipped a small piece of paper into the pocket of the button-down shirt he wore and then removed a coil of something thin and metallic-looking.
He rose, stepped to the foot of the bed and roughly grabbed hold of her heel. Held it steady as he slipped the coil around her ankle, joined the two ends and then twisted them to secure it to her leg.
“What is that?“ she asked.
“An electronic monitoring device. If you attempt to leave the area, it’ll warn me. If you continue beyond the perimeter of the house, I’ll still be able to track you down and I will.”
Caterina stared at him hard, anger vibrating through her body at his threat.
“I’m not a monster,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“Prove it. Let me go.”
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter Thirteen
Surprise and a pleased smile flickered across the harshly chi
seled lines of his face before he reined himself in. “No can do.”
He returned to the chair, stared at her intently as he said, “I have to go, but I won’t be gone long. Don’t think of running away.”
She watched him leave and immediately tugged at her restraints. Futile. The bindings held, softer against her skin than those that Wardwell had used, but no less confining.
She was imprisoned again and judging by what she knew of the hard-faced man so far, escaping him would not be easy.
And still she tried, pulling at the restraints and imagining how far she could run before he caught her again.
* * *
Mick parked the Jeep in the visitor section, taking a moment to survey the three different wings of the Wardwell facilities.
The center wing held all the corporate staff and security. It was where he had met with Edwards the other day.
The wing to the left of that housed the sterile lab areas responsible for creating the cloning products and tests Wardwell manufactured while the wing to the right held the medical complex where Caterina and the other patients were housed.
He left his Jeep and entered the center wing where he stopped for a moment to check out the guards at the security desk. As he had hoped, a different set of guards was on duty in the later afternoon hours than had been present when he had visited the other morning. If not, he would have returned to his Jeep before approaching and added a disguise.
He sauntered up to the desk and waited for the guard to acknowledge him.
The ill-fitting suit was tight across Mick’s shoulders and the starch in the collar of the shirt had chafed a spot on his throat raw, but the outfit certainly screamed underpaid cop.
When the guard finally looked up from his papers, Mick reached into the suit jacket pocket and flashed a fake badge from the local police department. Fake, but good enough to pass scrutiny.
“Detective Ramirez,” Mick said and tucked the badge back into his jacket pocket.
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