Jodi opened her eyes in time to watch him disappear into his office. This can't be happening, she thought. He wouldn't, would hec' As she waited, her cell phone jumped to life. Jodi twisted her neck in the direction of her purse, wishing she could somehow manage to
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reach over and answer it. Whoever you are, Vm here! I need help! She mouthed the words, hoping the caller would somehow magically receive her message.
The phone stopped ringing after four rings.
A minute later, Dr. Blackstone returned wearing rubber-looking gloves on his hands. He held something large and orange-colored. He began to speak as he approached the operating table.
"To begin our little game, Jodi, did you know there are more than thirty-five thousand known species of spiders? About eight hundred are true tarantulas. Take this one, for instance." He held out his hands near her face. "Meet Delilah. She's the Goliath Bird Eater you noticed in my office, the largest spider in the world, I might add. Pretty, isn't she?"
Jodi turned her head away
"Humor me," Dr. Blackstone said. "If you look closely, you'll see she's got eight eyes on a small bump right there on the ft-ont of her body, just above the fangs. As you can guess, she's not your pet store variety spider."
Jodi closed her eyes. "What do you want?"
He ignored the question. 'As a member of the American Tarantula Society, I've discovered I'm not the only person who enjoys owning such a unique pet. Thousands of other individuals, like me, marvel at these misunderstood creatures."
"You know I hate spiders," Jodi said, breaking into a cold sweat. "I even told you so. Why are you doing this to me?"
He dodged the question again. "Did I mention that Delilah's leg span is about twelve inches? That would be as large as a dinner plate, although by the looks of it you've lost your appetite." He laughed.
"You're not funny," Jodi stammered. She stole a glance in his direction. If fire could shoot out of her eyes, he'd be toast.
"I should also point out that these fine, orange hairs that cover her body are called setae," Dr. Blackstone said, carefully rotating the
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spider. "With them, Delilah can sting, like a bee. It's mainly a defensive reaction when confronted with hostility."
Jodi wanted to spit. "It's amazing she doesn't sting a snake like you."
"Come now, Jodi. This is very educational," Dr. Blackstone said with an evil grin. "Oh, there's one more thing. Delilah hunts by relying upon sensory organs located on her legs. When she feels the vibrations of her prey, she'll spray her dinner with a venom that serves a predigestive function. The venom isn't lethal, exactly. But the allergic reaction to it can be life-threatening."
Jodi's heart tried to leap out of her chest. She tossed back and forth trying to break free, but the more she wrestled with her bindings, the tighter they seemed to get. Her forehead began to drip with sweat.
"Now, let's review the rules of the game." Dr. Blackstone took a slow breath. "In a moment, I'll place Delilah on your stomach. Naturally, you don't want to make her skittish with any movement. Even a puff of air can agitate her. If you don't move, you don't get hurt. Any questions?"
Jodi had lots of them, but all she could manage was, "Why?"
"Because, Jodi, I'm trying to help you understand the position you're in. You're sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."
He placed the spider on her stomach.
Although still fully dressed, Jodi froze. She didn't dare provoke the spider. Oh God! Please help me! she whispered.
"Right now," Dr. Blackstone said, "all you are is an interesting piece of new terrain. Move, and you become a threat, or, perhaps you'll resemble dinner. One can't predict such things. Of course, neither option is particularly good. So when in doubt, my advice is, don't move."
As Delilah made its way across Jodi's chest and up her neck. Dr. Blackstone maintained his icy narrative. "Of course, insects are at the top of their list. Crickets. Moths. Grasshoppers are a special treat.
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Makes the meal more interesting when it runs, I suppose. Sometimes she'll eat pieces of beef heart, baby mice, or small snakes."
Jodi wanted to scream.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to cover her face with her hands. But the underside of the spider, and its armlike appendages, was already doing a good job of covering her face. Jodi kept telling herself, Don't move... don't move . . . move and die! It was then—her eyes directly under Delilah's hairy abdomen—that a new thought jumped into her mind. The cell phone. What if the caller tried again? Would the ring startle the spider? Would it overreact and, in panic, shoot Jodi with venom?
"How interesting," Dr. Blackstone said. "I see Delilah must be thirsty. Who would have thought she'd drink the sweat right oflF your forehead."
Jodi thought she was about to faint when Dr. Blackstone picked the spider up. She exhaled and then repeatedly gasped for air, gulping it as fast as her lungs could handle it.
"See, no harm done," Dr. Blackstone said, his tone impassive. 'And why? Because you knew the rules of our game. Now look at me."
She looked.
"The game of life has rules, too, young lady" He paused. "Make a wrong move and you'll get hurt. In other words, it would be most prudent of you to refrain from your current course of action regarding what you saw at the rave."
He leaned his mouth close to her right ear and lowered his voice a notch. "Now, I'm about to release you. Miss Jodi Adams of 1414 Spring Creek Drive. I'm sure your parents. Jack and Rebecca, are nice people, too. Remember, further nosing around will provoke a lethal response. Have I been clear?"
A hot tear rolled down Jodi's face.
Chapter 1 9 ^ Saturday, 1 1 :57 a.m
The moment Jodi walked out the front door of the Pet Vet Wellness Center, she wanted to run. And run. And run. She wanted to go home and pack her family and move to a deserted island halfway around the world. Whatever it took to put as much distance between the evil operation of Dr. Blackstone and her family, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
How did he know where I lived? Jodi wondered, eyeing the parking lot for her car. He even knew my parents' names! Of minor comfort was the thought that her parents, thankfully, were out of town at her grandmother's house for the day.
Jodi found herself suddenly standing beside her car. She didn't remember crossing the parking lot. She was functioning on autopilot. She reached into her front pants pocket for her keys, withdrew them, and then promptly dropped them on the ground. She picked them up and, hand outstretched, pushed the remote keyless entry button several times.
Nothing. Frustrated, she stomped her right foot.
Fearful that Dr. Blackstone might have changed his mind, she stole another look over her shoulder. There wasn't going to be a Round Two of Beauty and the Beast, not if she could help it. She looked back at the locked car. Her hands shook so bad, she had difficulty inserting the right key into the driver's lock.
Get a grip, girl! she said to herself out loud. On the third try, she unlocked the car and then slipped behind the wheel. Once inside, she locked the doors and struggled to put the key in the ignition at
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the same time. In truth, she was shaking more from what she knew than what she had endured with the spider.
The engine roared to life. But Jodi, her mind racing, remained parked. She managed to put the car in reverse and started to back up when she almost rammed into a large, dark black SUV with tinted windows that sped behind her. She pounced on the brakes and took another deep breath to quiet the pounding in her chest.
More than ever, she needed to get out of there and put her hands on those photos. Nothing else mattered. Somewhere lurking in her subconscious was the notion that her photos were the proof she needed to link Dr. Blackstone to Kat's seizure and the wrongful death of the boy.
Why else would the doctor try to scare her silly?
As s
he pulled into traffic on Philmont Avenue from the clinic's parking lot, Jodi dialed Bruce on her cell phone. It rang several times.
"HeUo?"
"Bruce . . . It's Jodi. Boy am I glad I caught you. Where are you?"
"Pep Boys."
"Excuse me?"
"It's an auto parts store—"
"Uh, okay, look. We really need to . . . meet somewhere, like, now or sooner." Her voice trembled.
"What's wrong, Jodi? You sound pretty shook up? Is it Kat?"
"I am kind of a mess, and no. Kat's okay—or was this morning when I left." Was it really this morning when she had sat across from Kat in the hospital? Seemed like an eternity.
"You had lunch yet?"
"No." Jodi studied her rearview mirror.
"How about we meet in ten minutes at the Dairy Queen on Philmont."
"Perfect. That's right near, um, where I've got to pick up my film. See you then."
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Jodi hung up and then tucked the phone under her left leg. She drove in silence for several blocks. Bruce must think I'm a basket case, she thought. Mayhe I am.
Then again, who wouldn't be? She had a friend in the hospital on life support; she'd stumbled onto a dead boy who, in turn, disappeared without a trace; she'd met two policemen who were either incompetent or on the take; and, to top it off, she'd just costarred in her own private horror movie with a giant spider.
Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe she should just drop the whole thing. Kat was safe and that's what mattered, right? If some kid died at the event, why should that concern her? If Dr. Blackstone wanted to manufacture illegal drugs, why should she care? Live and let live. Look out for Number One, right? Wasn't that the message Mrs. Meyer preached at school?
Jodi pulled her car into the parking lot of the mini strip mall, a nondescript collection of stores where the InstyFoto Mart was located. Perfect timing, she thought as a small Ryder truck was just starting to pull out of a spot in front of the store.
She slowed to a stop, allowing the truck to pass. As it approached, she thought the driver looked vaguely familiar. She shielded her eyes from the brilliant sun. The truck passed her. Boy, that guy sure looked like Reverend Bud, she thought.
What was he doing at the photo mart? Then again, maybe it was her imagination. She pulled into the vacant spot, turned off the engine and, for the first time, felt as if she could breathe without the aid of a respirator. She exhaled a long, cleansing breath.
Jodi gathered up her purse, cell phone, and keys. Grabbing the door handle, she paused. Since Dr. Blackstone knew about her encounter with the police, then Officer Dexter and Sergeant Schmidt were probably linked to him. If so, then their relationship with Dr. Blackstone was a little too cozy for comfort. Was there money somehow involved?
What's more, Carlos had said he worked for Reverend Bud. So, if
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the cops—who, for the sake of argument, probably knew Dr. Blackstone—were looking the other way on the drug dealing at the rave, it would be reasonable to infer that Dr. Blackstone and Reverend Bud might be working together somehow. But how?
Her eyebrows remained tightly knit into a knot.
And how did the syringes fit in? According to Bruce, they were an exact match to those used by the clinic. Plus, didn't Bruce say they were filling batches of syringes with that keta-stufF for other clinics? Now she wasn't so sure. What if they were never intended to be sold to other animal hospitals and instead were sold to kids at the rave? She'd run her theory past Bruce.
Jodi stepped out of the car, locked the door, and then ducked into the InstyFoto Mart. At the counter, she looked through her purse but couldn't find her film stub.
"How can I help you?" the clerk asked.
Jodi didn't answer. Piece by piece, she emptied the contents on the glass counter. "It's got to be here," she said under her breath.
"Are you picking up or dropping off?"
Jodi looked up and then examined his nametag: Mike.
"Um, Mike, I seem to have misplaced my claim check," Jodi said, shaking her head in disbelief The syringe was also missing. That's really weird, she thought. She knew she hadn't left either item at home. Maybe they fell out in the car She continued to fumble through her things.
"That's not a problem," Mike said. "What's the last name?"
"Adams. Jodi Adams. I ... I dropped off a disposable camera this morning."
Mike smiled. "Oh, well, you don't have anything to worry about."
"I don't?" Jodi stopped her search. Their eyes met.
"Actually, your brother already picked up the film," Mike said. His smile was pleasant. "In fact, you just missed him."
Jodi bristled. "I don't have a brother."
*i?w-^"ip^"
Chapter 2D ^ Saturday, 12:19 p.m.
I'm late, aren't I?" Jodi said, out of breath as she slipped into the seat across from Bruce. She ran her fingers through her hair.
"No prob. I just ordered a hamburger—"
Jodi interrupted. "You'll never believe what happened, like, a minute ago—"
"Time-out," Bruce said, making a T-sign with his hands. "You better order something. You look seriously pale."
"Do I really look that bad?" Jodi looked at her face in the stainless-steel napkin holder.
"Let's just say if you're anything like the typical female, I highly doubt you'd go to the mall in this, um, condition," Bruce said.
"Well, if you'd been through what I've just gone through—," Jodi said, touching her face.
The waitress served Bruce his burgers and fries and then turned to Jodi. "Can I get something for ya, hon?"
Jodi leaned her head to one side. "Okay. I'll splurge. I'd like one of your strawberry shakes . . . please. Thanks."
The server scribbled a note. "It'll be just a minute." She turned and left.
"So what's the big news?" Bruce gulped his soda.
Jodi looked around the restaurant and then leaned forward. "Okay, but first you've got to promise not to tell a soul."
"You know me," Bruce said, holding up three middle fingers. "Scout's honor."
"Let me tell you something, Bruce. This isn't a joke. These guys are serious—"
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"Whoa. Slow down. What guys? Serious about what?"
"Okay . . . okay." Jodi placed both hands palms down on the table. "Remember how I took photos last night?"
"Mm-hmm." Bruce's mouth was full.
"I went to pick them up, like, five minutes ago and guess who I saw?" Jodi said.
"Britney Spears?"
"Knock it off, Bruce, I mean it." Jodi stared at him.
'All right already. I'll behave," Bruce said, smearing extra mustard on his burger. "You were saying ..."
Jodi lowered her voice just above a whisper. "I saw Reverend Bud. He was there!"
Bruce shrugged. "Who?"
"Reverend Bud. The longhaired guy in charge of the rave." Jodi searched his eyes.
"Hey, like, I never met him, remember? I was at the hospital with Kat."
Jodi thought about that for half a second. "Well, anyway, he swiped my photos. I'd sure like to know why he'd do that. And how did he know about them?"
"Are we playing twenty questions?"
"Sometimes you can be so unbelievably moronic." Jodi looked away.
Bruce put his hamburger down and wiped his hands on his pants. "Listen, Jodi, I'm sorry. I ... I just got carried away. So what else is bothering you?"
Jodi wasn't sure whether to tell Bruce about her experience with Dr. Blackstone. He'd probably just make a joke of it and she was in no mood to kid around. Couldn't he see what she was driving at?
"Come on, try me." Bruce reached across the table and tapped her on the hand.
"Well, the skinny is, um, I went to see Dr. Blackstone, just like you told me to do." Jodi tested the water before jumping in.
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"Uh-huh."
"By the way," Jod
i said, "you weren't there. What gives?"
Bruce raised his hands defensively. "Dr. Blackstone told me there must have been a scheduling mix-up and I wasn't scheduled to work. He told me to go home."
"Whatever," Jodi said. "He took me to his office and asked me a bunch of questions about what happened last night . . . about the syringe and the dead boy."
Bruce nodded. "He did the same thing with me." He popped a fry in his mouth.
"Yeah, but did he spike your drink and strap you to a table?"
Bruce leaned his head to one side. "You're telling me he—"
'And that's not all," Jodi said. "When I woke up, I was strapped to the table—like I said, and he, like, scared the life out of me with his giant orange spider ... he let it crawl right over my face."
Bruce's face looked pained. "You've got to stop making stuff up, Jodi."
"So you don't believe me?" She sat on her hands. "I bet you don't know he has pet tarantulas ..."
"Sure I do, but you have to admit," Bruce said, "it's kinda far out that he'd do all that to you. Maybe you suffer from arachnophobia or something." Bruce started to pour half a bottle of catsup over his fries, but stopped and put the bottle down.
A stiff moment passed between them.
"Look, Jodi. You've got to cut me some slack here. Before you sat down I thought this was all about stolen drugs. Then, out of the blue, you're saying that my boss is a psycho. Okay, so let's say I buy what you're saying," Bruce said. "Why would Dr. Blackstone do something so stupid, you know, that could get him sued?"
"Honestly? I still think it has something to do with those syringes you guys have been stocking . . ."
"Which are just like the ones we found at the rave—"
"Exactly," Jodi said. "Which means I think somehow your boss
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and that Reverend Bud guy are, like, working together or something."
'And, if what you're thinking is true," he added, "then they might both be implicated in the death of that kid . . . Hmm." Bruce scratched his head.
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