The Other

by L. J. Sellers

  Had they actually made it out? Or was Marty dead and Logan transferred? “Did you see them leave?”

  “I saw the man leave. Was Logan in the cart?”

  “Probably.” Rox fought the fog that threatened her again. “We came to help Logan. He doesn’t belong here.”

  The girl thought about that for a moment. “He used to say that too, so I think it’s true.”

  “I don’t belong here either. Can you help me?”

  “You won’t hurt me if I unbuckle the straps?” Her eyes were pained and worried.

  “No, dear.” If she were normal, she’d want to kiss her for offering. “I promise. I just want to leave.”

  The girl set the flashlight on Rox’s legs. “Logan gave me this. He calls it an LED.” She reached for the left wrist strap. “Should I pull the IV first?”

  “Please.”

  “I hate needles.” The girl’s thought process was simple but logical.

  Rox respected that. “Thanks for helping me.”

  Mils struggled with the first buckle, but once she figured it out, she quickly released the second.

  Rox sat up and swung her legs to the floor, joy surging in her heart. She reached for the girl’s hand, but she pulled back. Rox understood. “Thank you so much! I hope you don’t get into trouble for this.”

  “Trouble is my middle name. My mother always said so.” The girl didn’t smile.

  Poor thing. Rox’s impulse was to rescue Amelia too, but that would be irresponsible. The girl could be an arsonist or killer. She had to get moving and get herself out, which meant making it past the security doors. Most had manual overrides, but they only worked when the power to the door went out. There might be a release-lock button behind the reception counter though. She just had to get downstairs undetected, find and activate the release, and run like hell.

  Could it be that easy? She looked around for her shoes, but didn’t see them. Her optimism plummeted as Amelia added, “I don’t think you can get out the doors at night. I’ve tried. The alarm always goes off.”

  There had to be a way.

  “I’m going back to bed.” The girl moved toward the exit.

  Rox took a few tentative steps, her body sluggish. She hoped that moving around would help clear her head. As she walked, she gained strength and tried to visualize the building and other possible exits. On the other side of the door, she found herself in a semi-circle area, the tile cold under her sock-only feet. In the dim light, she noticed two curtained ER-like rooms. Had she been here before?

  Amelia headed for a set of swinging double doors. Rox followed, her stomach growling. She was starving. How long had she been here? Food! Patients had to eat, so there had to be a kitchen. Supplies were probably delivered every day. Fresh eggs and produce, for example. An image of a fenced area on the east side of the campus came to mind. Her pulse quickened with hope.

  “Amelia,” she whispered, as they entered the hall on the other side.

  The girl turned back. “Call me Mils.”

  “Where’s the kitchen? There must be an exit there.”

  Mils shook her head. “It’s locked at night to keep us from sneaking food.”

  Rox refused to feel defeated. She was in the side of the building where some patients had off-site privileges, so the kitchen door probably had a simple household lock instead of the same level of security around the perimeter. She could pick the damn thing if she had the right tool. “Do you have a bobby pin? Or something you clean your teeth with?”

  The girl looked at her blankly.

  “Never mind. Can I borrow your flashlight?”

  Amelia hesitated for a full three seconds, then handed it over. “Please give it back to Logan when you see him.”

  “I will. Thanks. Now tell me where the kitchen is.”

  “Downstairs, in the part of the building nearest the sunrise.”

  “Okay. You should go before you get caught.”

  “So should you.”

  Right. Rox felt herself smile. “I have to go back for something first.” She jogged through the swinging doors. This was a medical unit and likely contained a tool she could use. She crossed the tile and reached to pull a curtain back. Dread filled her chest and she paused. Without a superstitious bone in her body, fear still alarmed her. Had they done something to her in this room? Rox shook it off and forced herself to enter.

  When she saw an ECT machine on a rolling cart, images flooded her mind. A screwdriver, an electrical panel, herself strapped to this table. Had they given her a shock treatment? Fuckers! More determined than ever to get out, Rox yanked open drawers until she found a pair of suture clamps. The grip was similar to scissors, but its components were thin and curved on the ends. Perfect. She snatched up the clamp and used her freakish strength to twist the two pieces apart.

  Feeling empowered, Rox ran into the hallway and, in the dim light, saw Amelia near the end. She hurried toward her, passing the elevator, which she didn’t want to use. The girl held open a narrow door. “Take these stairs down. Nobody uses them, but it’s faster than going through the dorms.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to make eye contact with the girl. “Be well.”

  “I wish.”

  Rox pounded down the steps and exited the narrow door at the bottom. The hospital was quiet except for the hum of an old heating system. She turned east and ran until she reached the wide entry to the dining room. Dodging around tables in the near-dark, she crossed the big room and pushed through the swinging doors. An industrial-sized dishwasher with rolling trays took up most of the small, pass-through space. On the other end of the narrow room, she spotted a door. That had to be the kitchen. Rox trained her flashlight on the doorknob. A pretty simple lock, but she grabbed the knob and tried to open it first anyway. No luck.

  Holding the flashlight in her mouth, she stuck one of the suture prongs into the keyhole and put pressure on the cylinder. With the other half of the broken clamp, she jiggled the pins. Nothing. She tried again. And again. Damn, she was out of practice. She’d only done this twice since she’d learned the skill in the CIA a decade ago.

  Rox tried again. Then counted six more efforts. Finally, the lock gave with a reassuring click. She pushed open the door and hurried into the massive kitchen. The room was darker than the rest of the hospital, with the only illumination coming from her flashlight. She made her way carefully past tall ovens and recessed refrigeration units. Abruptly, she encountered a back wall. Where was the damn door? In the dark, she turned and stumbled past stacks of boxes and crates, then entered a large garage-like space with a high ceiling.

  A green EXIT light glimmered on the wall. Yes! Rox rushed forward. Next to a tall overhead door meant for trucks was a set of double doors meant for humans. She didn’t see an alarm, but a long dowel held the doors in place, effectively locking it from this side. She braced for a siren sound anyway. At least running from this exit, she might have a better chance. They probably wouldn’t look here first. She would stay off the entry road and run across the field instead. She would keep moving until she could find a phone and call Marty.

  Rox took a deep breath, yanked out the dowel, and pressed against the aluminum bar. The door opened and she rushed outside. No alarm sounded. Heart pounding and surging with hope, she charged toward the metal fence and started to climb.

  Chapter 29

  Thursday, October 18, 11:15 a.m., Portland

  Rox wolfed a sandwich and washed it down with coffee. Marty sat across from her, watching her intently. “I think you should go to urgent care and get checked out.”

  “And tell them what?” she asked between bites. “That I accidentally shocked myself, had a full-blown seizure, and took too much sedative? Then zapped my brain later just for fun?” She still felt weird but hoped the coffee would help.

  After running from Mt. Angel, she’d made her way to the freeway, hitched a ride from a truck driver, then called Marty with the guy’s cell phone when they reached the south Portland
exit. After arriving home at dawn, she’d passed out for a few hours and was now trying to get moving again. Her feet hurt from running in socks, but she was glad to be alive and free.

  “You could give the ER doctor a modified version.” Marty reached for his coffee, seeming to give up his request. “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you behind.”

  “You did the right thing. Don’t make me keep saying it. You know I have no patience for that.” Still hungry, she got up and retrieved the Cheetos she’d stashed. “Getting Logan out was our objective and you succeeded.”

  “Which may have been a mistake.” Her stepdad rubbed his head. “Why the hell hasn’t Shay Wilmont called us?”

  Rox didn’t understand either, but she realized there could be valid reasons. “Shit happens. Maybe she got in a car wreck.” She munched a handful of Cheetos.

  “Shay lied to us about her sister,” Marty argued. “Now the governor’s missing son is sleeping on my couch. I don’t trust Shay.”

  “She’s been a little off, but I think she means well.” Rox had nearly had another seizure when Marty told her who Logan’s mother was. The governor complicated things, but they couldn’t go back and undo the extraction. She hated being deceived, but she understood why his aunt had done it. “We’ll find her. That’s what we do.”

  Marty shook his head. “But is Shay the right person to take charge of that boy? I don’t think so.”

  Rox had her doubts too. “But we can’t keep him from her, and if we take him to Children’s Services, he’ll end up back in the mental hospital.”

  “Let’s go find Shay then.” Marty stood and stretched. “We tried last evening, but Logan got frustrated, and then it got dark.”

  “You go get him, while I do a quick online search.”

  Marty hurried out, and Rox went to get her laptop. Her hands were shaky as she opened it. She’d put up a good front for Marty, but the confinement she’d endured made her feel vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to get back to work, but what else could she do? They had a homeless—and possibly unwanted—fifteen-year-old boy to deal with.

  She started to log into county property-tax records, when Marty burst back in and announced, “Logan’s gone.”

  Chapter 30

  Thursday, October 18, 5:45 p.m., Portland

  After a frustrating and exhausting day, Rox called Kyle and left a message: “I need to see you. Please come over.” She knew it sounded needy and didn’t care. She felt needy. This case had almost broken her. Not only had she been drugged and confined, she’d lost the boy she’d been hired to deliver into a better situation. She couldn’t do a damn thing about either of those scenarios. The hospital would get away with how it had treated her because she’d entered it unlawfully for questionable purposes. And she couldn’t report Logan missing because she couldn’t admit he’d ever been in her custody. Not without risking a kidnaping charge. They hadn’t been able to find him after an all-day search either. So fuck it. She was taking the night off to eat pizza and get laid.

  Kyle called back twenty minutes later. “What’s going on? You sound a little distressed.”

  “I’m having a rough time with my current case. A major failure. I need cheering up.” She wished she could tell him everything.

  “I can be there around eight. Right now, I’m working a lead on the Robbins homicide.”

  Oh hell. She’d forgotten about the journalist who’d been covering Mt. Angel and Governor Palmer. Who happened to be Logan’s mother.

  “Rox? Is eight okay? I can try for earlier but I’m not optimistic.”

  “It’s fine. Bring pizza please.”

  “Will do. I have to get back to work now.” Kyle hung up.

  Rox grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat down to watch TV. But she couldn’t focus on the silly show. She opened her laptop and read back through Lexa Robbins’ news stories. The reports of abuse at the hospital were obviously true. She had to find a way to validate and expose them. Had the reporter been silenced because she’d found something serious?

  Rox’s work phone rang across the house. She wanted to ignore it, but what if Shay Wilmont was finally calling? Rox hauled her tired body off the couch and went to the kitchen where her shoulder bag lay on the table. The number on the ID screen seemed familiar. The uncertainty troubled her. She’d never been unsure about a numeral before. Had the drugs or the seizure affected her cognitive skills?

  The ringing broke into her thoughts and she answered the call. “Karina Jones.”

  “This is Ben Jaskilca. You said you would get back to me about finding my daughter.”

  For a moment, she drew a blank, which also worried her. Then chunks of their conversation came back to her. Another connection to the hospital. “Yes. I’m sorry. I was focused on rescuing a teenage boy, and it took longer than expected.” Rox went back to her laptop and opened the file with the notes she’d taken during the call. “Remind me of your daughter’s name.”

  “Lacy Jaskilca.”

  “I remember now. She went missing after a court hearing, where a county psychiatrist recommended she check herself into Mt. Angel.”

  “Correct. But apparently she didn’t. I also checked jails and hospitals around the state. Morgues too.” His voice quieted on the last part.

  Rox wanted to help him, but she was exhausted and overwhelmed. The connection nagged at her. What if Lacy had checked into Mt. Angel and something terrible had happened to her? It wasn’t farfetched to think so. She had to help this distressed father. “Can you come to my office tomorrow afternoon around two?”

  “Noon would be better. Or maybe later at five.”

  “Make it five. I’ll see you then.” Rox hung up and headed for the shower. After she’d had some R&R with Kyle, she would ask about his new lead in Robbins’ murder, then tomorrow she would make another effort to find Shay and Logan Wilmont. She needed closure, and that meant answers.

  Rox was wearing her sexy purple dress when Kyle arrived at 7:56. He stood in the living room and stared. “Wow! You look fantastic. That’s a great outfit.”

  “Thanks. I don’t plan to have it on long.” She moved into his arms and kissed him deeply.

  “Our dinner will get cold,” he murmured.

  “We’re used to that.” Rox led him to her bedroom and pulled off the dress.

  Later, as they warmed the pizza and joked about her wearing a non-blue color for all of five minutes, she laughed out loud for the first time in days. Kyle was good for her. Maybe she should spend more time with him; make him a significant part of her life. “We should do this more often,” she said, kissing his neck.

  “Agreed. If we moved in together, we could do this every night.” He ran his hands down her backside. “I know how much you like it.”

  Whoa! She hadn’t meant to suggest cohabitation. Rox smiled and tried to think of something sweet but noncommittal to say. “It’s a lovely idea, but we both know I would drive you crazy in two days.”

  “No you wouldn’t.” He gave her a quick kiss and took the pizza to the table. “If you’re not ready, I understand. I was just throwing it out there.”

  “We can think about it.”

  “Good enough.”

  As they ate, she eased the conversation around to Lexa Robbins’ homicide. “Can you tell me about the new lead you’re following?”

  He cocked his head. “Completely confidential?”

  “Of course.

  “You might be right about another motive.” Kyle chewed as he talked, which didn’t bother her because she did too. Kyle continued. “Her boyfriend took off for Fairbanks, which made him look guilty at first. But his texts and gas purchases support his story that he was still home around the time of Robbins’ death, then drove straight north on the freeway.”

  “So who’s your new suspect?”

  “A woman named Shay Wilmont. According to the reporter’s notes, she went to interview Wilmont right before she disappeared.

  Rox almost choked on a mouthf
ul of crust. Shay had killed Lexa Robbins? For what possible reason? Yet that could explain why their client disappeared. This case was turning into a nightmare.

  “Do you know her?” Kyle looked surprised.

  “Sort of.” Rox hoped to divert him from that line of thought—yet still extract information. “Isn’t Shay Wilmont the governor’s sister?”

  “How do you know that?” Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “Wilmont doesn’t seem to have a job or friends or social media presence.”

  Rox couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation—except the truth. “Shay Wilmont hired me, and I just found out this morning that she’s related to Jill Palmer.”

  Kyle’s face crumpled. “Oh hell. Please don’t tell me your case is connected to this homicide.”

  “I don’t think it is. Shay wanted me to find a teenage boy. That’s it.”

  “What boy?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  More distress in his eyes as Kyle pushed the pizza away. “Do you know anything about this homicide that could help me? Tell me now if you do. I can’t go through another episode of you keeping critical information from me.”

  Fear trickled down her spine. If she told Kyle everything, he would have to arrest her and their relationship wouldn’t survive. If she lied to him and he found out, he would break up with her. They were doomed. Just when they’d finally reached a new level of intimacy. Feeling depressed, Rox did what she could to salvage the situation. “I don’t know who killed Lexa Robbins. But based on what I’ve found out in my own investigation, I would bet the governor is a more likely suspect than her sister.”

  Kyle crossed his arms. “Why?”

  “Because there’s abuse and other weird things going on at Mt. Angel, and Palmer is trying to close the hospital. It may be a cover-up. Lexa Robbins was digging into all that.” Rox realized Kyle probably knew everything she had just said. He had access to the reporter’s notes.

  “Robbins went to see Shay Wilmont right before she died,” Kyle countered. “And now we can’t find Wilmont. She looks guilty.”