by HELEN HARDT
Bryce shuffled back a step. “Yeah? All right. What the hell’s going on, Joe?”
God, where to start? Here was my best friend in the whole world, and I was about to tell him that I thought his father was a child molester and murderer. Was our friendship strong enough to weather the storm this would bring on?
Bryce had had a good childhood. He’d always lived in town, as his father was an attorney in Snow Creek before he became the mayor. The Simpson family wasn’t super rich, but they were well off. Bryce had been a great kid—always smiling, always ready for any new adventure that the two of us could dream up.
“You going to talk?” he asked.
I nodded. “Remember once, how you said I’d changed? We were around fourteen, I guess.”
“No. Wait…yeah. You got different after that summer. More closed off. Not as much fun anymore. You’d go days without talking. You never explained why. Of course, now I know why.”
“Yeah. Now you know. But you don’t know everything.”
“What haven’t you told me?”
“That we think we’ve found another one of Talon’s abductors.”
“Seriously? That’s great!”
I closed my eyes and inhaled.
“You should be ecstatic, then.”
“I should be, yes.”
“Then why so glum?”
“Remember how Larry insinuated that you knew one of the others personally?”
“Yeah. But that can’t possibly be true. I’ve racked my brain to come up with someone I know who might be such a sick person. And Joe, I’ve got nothing.”
I breathed in, out, steadily, though my heart was beating a mile a minute. “Bryce, we have—”
The doorbell rang.
Saved by the bell again.
I shivered, relief overwhelming me. A five or ten-minute reprieve from telling my friend that his father was a psycho iceman seemed like a lifetime.
I stood. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I walked, more slowly than usual, to the door. I opened it.
Talon stood on my front deck.
“Hey, Tal. What’s going on?”
He walked in, his eyes laced with fire. “Mills and Johnson matched another set of fingerprints on that business card of Morse’s we found in Jade’s old room.”
“Great. Whose are they?”
He turned to me, meeting my gaze. “It’s not good news.”
Chapter Eight
Melanie
When I woke up, I was in an ambulance, an oxygen mask over my face, an IV in my arm. A paramedic was working on cleaning the cuts on my right hand.
I made a small croak.
“You’re awake? How are you feeling?” The paramedic removed the mask.
“About how I look, I’m sure.” I coughed.
He placed the mask back over my nose and mouth. “Don’t try to talk. We’re almost to the hospital. They’ll take good care of you there.”
“The cop?” I tried to choke out.
But he was clearly done listening to me. He didn’t remove the mask.
When we arrived, I was laid on a stretcher and taken into the ER at Valleycrest.
“We have a female, twisted ankle, multiple lacerations on her hands and arms. Says she’s been exposed to CO. No ID. We’re guessing in her thirties.”
“Thank you,” a male voice said. “Get her in room five. We need to draw some blood.”
Within a few minutes, I was in one of the ER exam rooms, and a nurse entered.
“Hello, ma’am, I just have to take— Dr. Carmichael?”
I looked up, my vision fuzzy. I recognized the nurse but couldn’t place her name.
“Is that you, Dr. Carmichael?”
I nodded and moved to remove the mask.
“No, keep that on. I’m going to take some blood for testing. My God, what happened to you?”
I couldn’t answer, and not because of the oxygen mask.
Blackness descended like a curtain around me.
* * *
I awoke again in a hospital bed. I quickly looked at my bandaged hands. No handcuffs, thank God. After the nurse—what was her name?—had identified me, I hoped the officer would believe my story. Seemed that he had.
I quickly pressed the button on my remote control to call the nurse.
A few seconds later, a young woman in green scrubs entered. “Yes, Dr. Carmichael?”
I removed my oxygen mask. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”
“It’s Thursday evening. A little after eight p.m. Your doctor’s here, doing his rounds. He’ll be in to see you in a minute.” She smiled. “Can I get you anything?”
I attempted a smile but couldn’t quite get there. “Maybe a drink? I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but for some reason, I’m craving something with sugar.”
“Of course. A soda? Maybe some fruit juice?”
“Apple juice, if you have it. Thank you.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” She turned, and a young man entered. “Here’s Dr. Hernandez now. He’ll update you on your condition.”
The tall young man approached me. “Dr. Carmichael, I’m Mark Hernandez. How are you feeling?”
I cleared my throat. It was dry and scratchy. “Thirsty. Slightly light-headed.”
“Not surprising.” He picked up my chart and examined it. “You did have carbon monoxide in your bloodstream, although not enough to do any lasting damage. I’m surprised you remained conscious as long as you did, however.”
“Adrenaline does amazing things.”
He chuckled. “Indeed, it does. The CO should completely leave your system within the next twelve hours. We’ve X-rayed you. No lasting damage to your hands, and as for your ankle, it’s bruised and swollen, but there are no fractures. Just a light sprain. It will feel much better in a few days.”
Light sprain? It hadn’t felt so light when it had happened or when I had been hopping around that garage. I simply nodded.
“Did the blood test show anything else in my system?”
He glanced at the chart again. “Nope. Why do you ask?”
“I was…drugged. Injected with something late Tuesday afternoon.”
“Looks like they ran the standard drug panel. We can run it again, but if it was something like Rohypnol, it’s probably left your system by now.”
Of course. Rohypnol. The date-rape drug. It induced amnesia, impaired judgment, and left the system quickly.
I’d been wondering how the masked man had gotten me out of my apartment without anyone noticing. I hadn’t passed out after all. I’d walked out of the apartment on my own. I just didn’t remember. That was also why he hadn’t given me any food until quite a bit later. I would have thrown it up.
“Run the test again anyway,” I said. “Please.”
He nodded. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “All we know from the police officer who wrote you up is that you said you were kidnapped from your home and then forced into a garage with a running car.”
“Yes, that’s correct. And if today is Thursday, I was gone for almost forty-eight hours.”
“I see. Now that you’re awake, we’ll bring in a police officer, and you can make a statement.”
“At the time I was pulled over, Doctor, the officer in question wanted to arrest me for grand theft auto. So you can understand if I’m not too excited about speaking to the police again.”
“We’ve verified your identity,” Dr. Hernandez said, “and your injuries are commensurate with what you described. I don’t think you’re going to be arrested.” He gave me a big smile.
“Still, you don’t know for sure.”
“If the police thought you were any kind of risk, they would have someone posted at your door. Possibly have you cuffed to your bed. I’m pretty sure you’re in the clear. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes. When can I get out of here?”
“I’d prefer to keep you overnight, for observation. We want to make sure the CO gets
Since I had no idea what my loft would look like when I got there, staying another night in the hospital didn’t sound too bad. “Can you get me some food?”
“Of course. There’s no reason why you can’t have a little something to eat.”
“Great. Thanks.”
The nurse entered. “Here you are, Doctor.” She handed me an apple juice box, the straw already inserted.
I took it quickly and sucked down some of the cool juice.
“Betsy, can we find Dr. Carmichael something to eat?” Dr. Hernandez said.
She turned, looking at him with stars in her eyes. “Of course. Right away.” She giggled and left the room.
Crushing on the doctor. I was too tired even to smile.
Dr. Hernandez was busy writing some notes in my chart. “Is there anyone we should contact? Are you married? Live with someone?”
He didn’t ask if I was in love with someone. Of course he wouldn’t. But I was. I was in love with Jonah Steel, and I might have lost him forever because I’d sneaked out of his home.
I shook my head. “No. And I’ve taken a leave of absence from my practice, so no one will be missing me.”
Had Jonah missed me? He hadn’t answered my call when I’d tried desperately to contact him while the intruder was in my loft. I had no idea if he even cared. And because I hadn’t memorized his phone number, I couldn’t get in touch with him.
“Things are looking good here.” Dr. Hernandez put down my chart and turned. “Oh, and here’s the police officer to speak to you.” He looked at the woman in blue. “Not too long, okay? Dr. Carmichael needs her rest.”
“For sure,” the officer said.
My memory was fuzzy, but this definitely wasn’t the officer who’d stopped me on the highway, since she was a woman. She was uniformed, her black hair pulled back in a severe bun from a pretty, although non-made-up, face.
She sat down in the chair next to my bed. “Dr. Carmichael, I’m Officer Ruby Lee. I just need to ask some questions about what happened to you.”
“All right. I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s all I ask. If you start to get too tired, just let me know, and we’ll continue another time.”
I nodded.
“All right, just start from the beginning.”
“I was in my loft, in the shower, on Tuesday, when I heard some scuffling. I got out of the shower, but left it running, and grabbed my purse on my dresser and ran to my closet. I tried to dial 9-1-1, but I got a busy signal. Twice. Why did that happen? Someone is supposed to be there to help in emergencies.”
Officer Lee nodded. “I sympathize. It does happen sometimes, however.”
“I have no way of knowing whether help would have gotten to me in time anyway, but it would’ve been nice to know someone was trying to help. No one knew what was going on.”
“Someone did. Your call was logged, and the police went to your apartment. They recovered your purse and your phone, and there was evidence of forced entry.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “So you know I’m telling the truth.”
She smiled. “Of course we know you’re telling the truth. The officer who stopped you was being a little bit of a vigilante, and trust me, he’ll hear from his superiors.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in.
“The car you were driving was reported stolen by a Dr. Rodney Cates.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. But don’t let that fool you. I’m pretty sure Dr. Cates was behind this attack.”
“Why would you say that?”
God, I didn’t want to go through the awful facts again, but I had to tell the truth to the police. “His daughter was a patient of mine. She ended up committing suicide, and Dr. Cates blames me for it, even though a practicing psychotherapist and an attorney reviewed my file and concluded that there was nothing in my notes to indicate she was suicidal.”
“I’m very sorry,” Officer Lee said, not making eye contact with me. “I’m sure it is very difficult to lose a patient.”
I swallowed down the lump that had formed in my throat. “Yes, it is.”
She paused, not speaking for a moment, and then cleared her throat. “So what happened next?”
“The intruder found me in my closet. I can’t describe him, other than he had blue eyes. He wore a black ski mask and all black clothing. I tried to attack him with a shoe, but he outmanned me. He injected me with something in my neck, and the next thing I remember, I woke up, and my first thought was that I was in a hotel.”
“But it wasn’t a hotel room?”
“No. There was nothing on the walls. They were painted a very light blue. There was a bed and a bathroom with just a toilet and sink. And there was a desk.”
“How long were you there?”
“I don’t know. I was in and out of consciousness from the drug he injected me with. He brought me food a few times. But you can extrapolate the timing, I guess.”
“How did you get out of that room?”
“He came in, bound my hands behind me with duct tape, and took me out of the room. I realized why the room was built without windows. It was in the middle of a basement. He took me up a set of stairs, and I remember there was a kitchen and laundry room to my left, but he took me to the right to a door that led to a three-car garage.”
“All right.” Officer Lee scribbled on a pad.
“He opened the door to the garage, and an older-model car was in there. A tank of a car. I wish I could tell you the make and model, but I didn’t notice at the time. Besides, if it was listed as stolen, you no doubt already know that stuff.”
“Yes, it was a 1984 Cadillac Eldorado Coupe.”
“Wow. No wonder I didn’t have much trouble crashing through the garage door.” I attempted a small laugh.
“So then what happened?”
“He told me that because the car was an older model, he could turn it on and lock the door, so I would have no way of getting in and turning it off. He…”
My God… The vivid details were coming back to me like an IMAX picture. I closed my eyes against the images.
But they were still there.
“Are you all right, Doctor? Should we resume this later?”
I open my eyes and swallowed. “No, I need to get through it now.” I cleared my throat. “I tried kicking him, but it didn’t work, and he twisted my ankle. Then he bound my feet with rope and pushed me onto the floor of the garage. He turned on the car and locked the doors with it running. Then he shut the door to the house and locked it behind him.”
“What can you tell me about the garage?”
“Concrete floor, walls were painted white—like bright stark white, the kind that hurts your eyes. There was a little bit of metal shelving on the far side, across from the entry into the house.”
“So how were you able to escape?”
“Honestly, Officer, it’s such a blur at this point. My adrenaline was rushing through me. Let me think.” All I could see in my mind’s eye were images of ice-blue eyes as he turned me around and pushed me onto the concrete floor. Leaving me to die.
“Do you need to stop?”
I shook my head. “Let’s get it over with. I knew I had to find some way to get air, so I hopped around, looking at every part of the garage.”
And then it unfolded before me, like a Technicolor film. I related to the officer how I had found the pipe, discovered the nail and then the sharp edge on the old metal shelf, released myself, turned off the car, and then turned it back on and crashed through the garage door to my freedom.
It all seemed so unreal.
“You’re a very brave woman, Dr. Carmichael,” she said. “Brave and also resourceful.”
“I didn’t feel very resourceful at the time. But I suppose resource comes from gross desperation.”
“Indeed it can.” She smiled. “I have enough for my report now, so I won’t bother you anymore tonight. I want you to get some sleep. If they release you tomorrow, drop by the station and we can give you your phone, your purse, and your identification. I’ll leave my card here on the table for you. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
I opened my mouth to say “no,” but then shut it quickly.
Yes, there was something she could do for me.
Chapter Nine
Jonah
“Oh my God. Who do the fingerprints belong to?”
Talon cleared his throat. “They belong to Felicia.”
Talon’s housekeeper and cook. A young woman from the Dominican Republic who lived on the outskirts of Snow Creek in a small house with her ailing parents. Felicia had been with the family in one capacity or another for nearly ten years. This was unbelievable.
“There must be some mistake.”
“That’s what I thought too, but they’re definitely hers. I had Mills and Johnson check them twice.”
“When we all got fingerprinted, to rule out anyone with access to the house, did Felicia give you any trouble about being fingerprinted?”
“No. But that may not mean anything.”
“That means she’s not guilty. Or it’s a pretty good indication. It’s possible they could’ve planted her fingerprints on the card. Or, when Colin came over to see Jade, perhaps he handed Felicia his card when she answered the door. Do you remember?”
Talon shook his head. “I’ve been over and over it in my head. I don’t remember Felicia ever interacting with Colin.”
“Have you talked to Felicia?”
He shook his head again. “I don’t know how to bring it up.”
“You’re going to have to. Maybe he stopped by when no one else was home, Felicia answered the door, he gave her his card, and she never thought to tell anyone that he had stopped by.”
“Yeah, I suppose that could have happened.”
“We don’t know anything until we talk to her. You don’t for a moment think that Felicia is guilty, do you?”
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