"Yes, but they don’t cover the entire basement. They pan down the hall with the storage and medical records, and there is one outside on the dock, but that’s it."
"So if they wheeled the girl through the loading ramp, we should be able to see that on the video. I can check those tomorrow during my shift."
They descended the stairs, stopping at the second floor. "I’ll meet you at your room in five minutes." Peter nodded and continued to the basement.
Ben’s job would be to make sure they could snoop without getting caught. He didn’t want to disable the cameras in case they captured evidence of the earlier crime, but he would if necessary. He could swipe the disks in the morning to hide his and Peter’s nocturnal investigation.
The low hum of voices from the television floated in the air. Apparently Dan roused himself awake long enough to stumble out of the security booth and sprawl out on the couch. Tia watched a movie, her back to the hallway.
That’s all he needed to know.
He retraced his steps and descended to the basement.
Low-wattage security lights lined the hall, but the cold gray concrete didn’t reflect much, casting a murky glow to the space. He found Peter’s meager room and together they set off to search for hidden doors or nefarious activity.
Two hours later, they had nothing to show for their efforts.
"They must have taken her out through the loading dock," Peter surmised.
He agreed. It seemed like the most logical scenario.
Eying his watch, he said, "I’ve got to be at work in a couple of hours. Get some sleep and I’ll check the feed first thing in the morning. We know she isn’t down here and if they did take her away, there isn’t anything we can do about it tonight."
#
The best laid plans…Ben thought the next evening as he sat in the security room, keying up footage from the camera feed from last night. He intended on checking the discs as soon as he clocked in for duty but one delay after another thwarted his plans. Dan would show up for work in a few minutes, so he had to hurry.
The discs recorded on a forty-eight hour loop. He removed the ones he needed and replaced them with fresh ones. The first disc he popped in showed April’s wing. He rewound to lights out as Tia exited the room and closed the door. Punching the fast forward button, he watched for the slightest movement. Glancing at the timer, he noted that it was about the time April said the girl disappeared.
A blur of movement caught his attention and he fumbled for the stop button on the remote. Gary appeared and wandered down the hall. He watched as Tia escorted him back to his room. Before they got to the door, they disappeared off the frame. He sat up straight. Gary lived in the room directly across from April. Why wasn’t it in the shot?
He froze the shot and zoomed in to the closest room number. 218. April’s room number was 220. Swiveling around to the live cameras, he hit the button to pan out. The camera didn’t move. He hit zoom and it narrowed down the hallway but when he tried to scan out again, it settled in the same place.
He checked the other three hall cameras. They covered every room. Interesting.
He tested every feed, but found no cameras posted in the stairwells or freight elevator. Inserting the disc from the basement, he punched fast forward. Nothing until Peter passed by on the way to his room and him following soon after. No one else came or left and no one used the loading dock.
Ejecting the discs, he slipped both in his pocket. He would have Jake test to see if they had been doctored in any way, but he didn’t have much hope. He removed them from the machine early this morning. That didn’t leave much time for someone to sneak in and splice footage together.
Standing, he reached his arms overhead and stretched. He needed some high-tech toys, but first, he wanted to check on Rachel.
He passed Tia at the nurse’s station as she clocked in for duty and a thought struck. He backed up and plopped his forearms on the counter.
"Hey, Tia."
She looked up, surprise quickly turning to seduction. She leaned forward with a wicked smile, giving him an incredible view of her ample cleavage. A red-tipped fingernail traced across his forearm.
"Hi there, gorgeous."
He smiled back, needing information but not wanting to lead her on. "I must be losing my mind or something because I swear I saw a new girl wheeled into April Collins’ room yesterday."
Her nail continued its lazy pursuit. "You wouldn’t be more interested in a mental patient than me, now would you?" she pouted.
"Course not, darling," he said in his best good ol’ boy drawl. "Just curious." Casually he shifted away from her touch.
Vexed, she planted her back against the seat and fisted her hands on her hips, seriously taxing the buttons between her breasts. Red lace peeked through. He swallowed and tore his gaze away.
Realizing her attempts weren’t working, she sighed. "There was a girl yesterday. Donna or Dora something."
She got the name right. Dora Pearl. April recorded the name from her bracelet.
"She refused treatment and left on her own this morning."
Did Tia know the truth?
"What happens with the record if a patient decides not to stay?"
She looked at him funny but answered. "If they haven’t gone through an evaluation, they won’t have a permanent file. We get quite a few people that just spend one night. We wouldn’t have room to keep all the files. We destroy the preliminary copy."
"What if someone stays for a week or longer, goes through the evaluations and then leaves? Would they have a record on file?"
"Yes. But those are usually moved to the basement storage room after a couple of months."
“What about computer files, surely most records are kept on a hard drive somewhere.”
“Some, but Dr. Bexley prefers hard copies…he’s not very computer savvy. Dr. Butler does most of her work electronically. The doctors decided to hire a firm to input the older records for safekeeping a few weeks ago. That’s supposed to happen next month. Then we will do almost everything on the computer.”
He turned to leave but stopped. "One more question, Tia. Who told you the girl declined treatment?"
"Gosh, I don’t remember." She tipped her nail against her plump bottom lip. "Carl, maybe."
Carl. Of course. The brawny aide definitely had a hand in the disappearances. Time to corner him and find out what he knew, which might be easier said than done. He rarely saw the other man. He kept unusual hours.
"Do you know where I might find Carl tomorrow?"
"Uh, uh," she chided, her finger ticking back and forth like a metronome. "That’s two questions."
"So it is," he agreed with his most charming smile.
Tia sighed and checked the employee schedule. "Let’s see…he’s playing golf with Oscar and Frederick tomorrow."
Ben blinked. Carl was a golfing buddy of the Bexleys, the men who founded the Institute where patients disappeared at an alarming rate. And Carl lied this morning saying Dora left of her own free will.
More pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place.
"I’d better get going. Thanks, Tia." He winked and walked away.
#
"Got some presents for me?"
Jake tossed Ben a package, idly scanning the area as he walked around him. "Cameras, recording devices, GPS tracking. Toys that would make any electronics geek salivate with envy."
Ben snagged the envelope out of the air and peeled open the sides. "Then you must need a bib buddy," he quipped. "You are the biggest electronics geek I know."
"And you’re an ass," Jake replied without heat. He dropped down on the park bench. "You’re sure another one’s gone?"
He took a seat beside his friend. He briefed Jake earlier on the phone, including the bombshell about men also vanishing. "I didn’t witness it but one of the patients did. The girl disappeared from her room."
"You can trust her?"
"Yes. She isn’t taking the prescribed medication."
&n
bsp; Jake nodded. "Okay, give me the details."
He uncapped a water bottle. "They wheeled the girl to the freight elevator at the end of the hall and took her to the basement. I’ve scoured every inch of that place and can’t find a damn thing."
Removing the security discs from his pocket, he handed them to Jake. "Video didn’t log anything. And get this…the camera is permanently fixed so it doesn’t monitor the last two rooms at the end of the hall next to the service elevator."
"Let me guess, the rooms people disappear from?"
"Bingo."
"Interesting," Jake mused.
"Isn’t it though?"
"Were you able to check the records, see if they charted the new girl before she vanished?"
"I casually asked one of the nurses about patient files and she said if a person refuses treatment before they have a complete evaluation, the records are destroyed. She was told Dora decided she didn’t want to stay and left on her own."
"Someone’s lying."
He agreed. "I’m pretty sure Carl is in on whatever is happening. And he just happens to be golfing buddies with Oscar and Frederick."
They watched silently as an attractive woman ran by in black spandex and a sports bra, her brown ponytail gently swaying back and forth. She smiled and wiggled her fingers. Both men waved back.
Jake waited until she jogged out of earshot but his gaze followed her rapidly fading form. "So the janitor phoned in the anonymous tip?"
"Yeah."
Reluctantly, Jake spun back around as the woman rounded a curve.
Ben tipped up his bottled water and took a healthy swig. "They kept the roommate, April, heavily drugged. When Peter started suspecting the disappearances, he watched closely and realized all the missing women had been taken from her room. He weaned the girl off drugs so she is alert but she pretends to act out of it so they will keep using her room to filter the patients through. So far, she hasn’t been able to identify who comes in to take the girls out, but this last time, she got the nerve to follow them."
"Did she get a description?"
He shook his head.
"So, counting the roommate, you have three other people inside who suspect something. Sounds like you got your back pretty well covered."
He chuckled. "Who would have thought?"
Jake slapped him on the arm. "So, how are you enjoying your first gig as a private dick?"
He took another drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "You know, I think I’m really going to like the job. All the excitement minus the damn politics and paperwork."
The biggest plus was the opportunity to work with his oldest brother Luke. Luke raised Ben, his other brother Grant and baby sister Kaitlyn when their parents were killed in a plane crash. Luke had been eighteen at the time, a pro football prospect and the starting quarterback at Notre Dame. He gave it all up to move home and take care of his younger siblings so they wouldn’t be separated. He worked on his degree at night and graduated from the police academy. Ben had been twelve at the time and he idolized his brother—still did.
"I miss having you as a partner."
"Right back at you, buddy." Jake stretched. "And who knows, I could decide to join you."
His brows lifted. "Seriously?"
Jake shrugged. "I’m getting tired of the bureaucracy, the restrictions, too. My head would be served up on a platter if they found out I’m helping you. Hell, this is a legit case and I have to pretend like I don’t know jack shit."
"You know you have a job with my brother." Luke extended an open-ended invitation to Jake to join his firm at any time. "They have more work than they can handle right now."
Jake stood. "I might just take you up on that." He slapped Ben’s hand and slid on a pair of sunglasses. "Be careful and keep me posted."
Jake jogged away. Ben chuckled. He had no doubt his friend would catch up with the beautiful brunette.
#
Rachel decided she resided in the right place after all seeing as how she was slowly going stark, raving mad.
If she didn’t get out of this bed soon, she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions. She counted every hole in the acoustic ceiling tiles at least fifteen times, recited the lyrics to every song she could think of, and replayed her favorite movies over and over in her head.
And it had only been one day.
She would never last another six or however many her sentence required.
She shifted on the bed, careful not to dislodge the needle. She needed to be out searching for clues to Molly’s whereabouts, not wasting away in bed, pretending to be in a drug-induced sleep every time the door opened.
As if on cue, the door creaked. She snapped her lids closed.
"Rachel?"
Her eyes shot open. "April."
Her roommate slipped inside. "I was afraid you really were asleep."
"Just going stir crazy."
April sidled up to the bed and said without preliminaries, "Ben Smith knows everything."
She smiled sheepishly. "He actually caught me snooping a couple of days ago. I had to tell him. But I never mentioned your involvement. I didn’t want to get you in trouble."
"It’s okay, he knows now. Do you trust him?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about it, but she trusted him the first moment she saw him.
"I do, too. He stopped Carl from hurting you. Peter idolizes him."
Voices in the hallway froze them both in place.
April’s eyes flitted around the small room, looking for an escape. She zeroed in on the bed and dove underneath. Rachel feigned sleep, hoping her heaving chest didn’t give her away.
A nurse entered to change the IV bag. She checked Rachel’s vital signs, fluffed the pillow under her head, tucked the blanket in place and finally left.
April waited for a few minutes and then crawled out from under the bed. "I better get back to my room. I just wanted to let you know that they kidnapped another girl last night."
Rachel pushed upright. "No."
"She didn’t last one day," April whispered.
Her mind churned. Another girl missing. "Does Ben know?"
"Yes," April said. "I found Peter and he told Ben. They searched the basement but couldn’t find any sign of her." She glanced at the door. "I’d better go before I get caught. I’ll be back as soon as I can." With those hastily muttered words, she fled.
"Please hurry back," Rachel begged to the closed door.
#
"They screwed up our schedule with Kellie Mead."
Arthur Michaels reached for the bottle of Des Ribauds Hommage Au Temps, an exquisite fifty-year-old Cognac, pouring a hefty splash into the glass. The deep mahogany color coated the sides as he swirled the amber liquid around the goblet. He sniffed. Exquisite. Robust. He took a sip. Flavors exploded in his mouth: exotic spices, ripe fruit, brown sugar, honey. It slipped smoothly down his throat. Elegantly layered and luxurious, the flavor lingered, as well it should at three hundred dollars a bottle.
Only the best would do for Arthur. What the hell, he could afford it.
He crossed to the leather wingback chair and eased onto the plush seat across from his partners. He offered a silent toast to his superiority. They thought they were in charge, but they were wrong. He didn’t concern himself with the minutiae of the operation, didn’t bother sullying his hands. That was their job. His was to exert control.
What would they say if they found out he just got off the phone with a sweet little teller at a friendly bank in the Grand Caymans, transferring yet another hefty chunk of change?
He could leave now. He had plenty of money stashed away in several banks throughout the Caribbean. By the time the two people staring at him with mixtures of arrogance and disdain found out, he would be long gone.
But something more drew him in, kept him going.
Power. The ultimate aphrodisiac.
Oh, money certainly held high appeal,
and sex ranked high on the list. But nothing matched the euphoric high that deciding fate, playing God, generated.
Take Kellie Mead for example. The girl’s very existence lay in their hands. Would she live? Would she die? Life or death. His decision. His choice.
He was God.
Kellie Mead didn’t know it yet, but she would soon.
"What happened with Ms. Mead?" he asked.
"She caused trouble with one of the other patients and is being watched in isolation."
Feisty. He liked that in a woman.
"We need to wait until she is reassigned before she can disappear."
Arthur didn’t understand the dilemma. "There are other patients. Why is she so important?"
"Because you idiot, Kellie Mead is the first person we’ve encountered, either male or female, who is type AB negative."
Blood surged to Arthur’s temples, pounding with great force. His ears flamed hotly. Idiot? They actually called him, Arthur Michaels, an idiot?
How dare they deliberately insult his intelligence, flash those smug, supercilious smiles at him. Arthur inhaled deeply to calm his rage. He would not let them see how much their barb stung. He would remain in charge. He drained the remaining Cognac, savoring the cedary tannin flavors on his tongue.
"Just so you know," the other partner continued as if they hadn’t just besmirched Arthur’s intellect. "Less than one percent of the population carries AB negative blood."
When he felt in control again, he shrugged. "Translation?"
"She’s a gold mine.
More money. Now that was music to Arthur’s ears. "We will just bide our time, use someone else until she becomes available."
"Thank you for your amazing powers of deduction but we don’t need you telling us what to do, Arthur."
He ignored the dig. The Cognac worked wonders on his temper.
"I’m admitting another patient in the morning, so we’ll use him tomorrow night. But it is imperative we get Kellie Mead as soon as possible."
The solution seemed too easy. "Why don’t we move her from isolation?"
"Too many people know about it right now. We don’t want to draw attention to her disappearance. Besides, she is drugged at the moment." A disgusted huff. "As soon as the results came back, I marked her pregnant so she wouldn’t be medicated. I don’t want anything to dilute that perfect blood. But the damn chart disappeared. I know I put it back in the exact spot. I didn’t get a chance to doctor the new one before she was moved to isolation."
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