A Blind Eye

by Julie Daines

  The problem was, other than Scarlett’s dream, I had no tangible proof that Wyden was behind Katie’s kidnapping—or that Katie had actually been kidnapped at all. Parker had called London, but he’d never mentioned a word about Katie’s disappearance. I needed to get into Dr. Wyden’s files to find out what she knew about Katie and Scarlett in the first place.

  I wandered out of the surgery room and pointed at a door with Dr. Wyden’s name on it. “What’s in there?”

  “That’s Dr. Wyden’s office.”

  I checked the door. Locked. “Can we go in?”

  Jenny shook her head. “I don’t have a key for that room.” She jangled her bundle of office keys.

  There had to be something in this place that explained Scarlett’s abduction and why Dr. Wyden wanted her. I guessed it was in that office. Dr. Wyden could have gotten a blind person from somewhere much closer than London. Why Scarlett?

  I jiggled the door harder, and it rattled a bit like it was loose in the frame. “Jenny, stand back.” I lifted my foot and kicked the door, right by the knob. It flew open.

  Jenny’s face went white. “Why’d you do that? You’re gonna get me fired.”

  I checked the door jam and wedged the splintered piece of wood back in place. “Look.” I showed her my repair work. “No one will notice. It was already loose. And if you get fired, I can get you a job at my dad’s law firm.” That was probably a lie. Especially since I’d just made a personal vow to never see him again. But if Jenny’s income was her main concern, maybe that would help her feel better.

  She looked confused and took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

  She really was smarter than I’d given her credit for. And scared. I put my hands on the sides of her head. “Jenny, I need to find something. Someone’s life depends on it.”

  She gave me a questioning look.

  “I’m serious. I didn’t mean to scare you. But this is important. Can you help me?”

  She tipped her head to the side, considering. I saw the same look come into her eyes as before, when she’d whispered in my ear. She’d help me, but a little incentive wouldn’t hurt.

  I figured, why not? If it might help Scarlett . . . I leaned down and kissed her. Just a quick one on the lips but good enough to make her suck in a quiet breath. I hated myself for doing it. Like I was some kind of gawky, adolescent James Bond toying with her feelings. Maybe Jay was right in his concern for my spiritual safety.

  She half smiled and said, “Fine. But you owe me big time.”

  “Whatever you want. You name it.”

  Jenny thought for a second. “Dinner. At Andina’s.”

  She’d picked one of the most popular restaurants in Portland, where they served, of all things, Peruvian cuisine. Helping me ransack her boss’s office for an experience in fine dining seemed like a fair trade. “Done.”

  She relaxed a little. “Okay, what are we looking for?”

  “Anything about what Dr. Wyden is working on for her daughter.” That had to be the connection.

  Wyden kept her office tidy and impersonal. A few diplomas on the wall and a framed article about the retinal implant—looked like she’d won some kind of award for it. No photos on her desk. Unlike my father, who kept one of his son.

  Jenny dug through the cupboards and drawers behind the desk. I sat down at the computer and switched it on. I’d already been at the clinic for more than an hour. How much longer did I have before someone showed up?

  The computer needed a password. “What’s the daughter’s name?” I asked.

  “Maggie.”

  I typed it in. Wrong. If her computer was like mine, I had two more tries before the machine would lock up. I thought for a second and then tried Margaret. It worked.

  I searched her files, looking for anything useful. Jenny finished with the drawers and leaned over my shoulder, watching the screen and breathing softly on my neck. I found a document titled Shepherd Hill.

  I opened it. It was the minutes for a board meeting they’d had recently. A few months ago, before Scarlett and Katie had disappeared. I scrolled to the bottom and found a list of all of the members of the board. Dr. Anne Wyden was listed last.

  That explained how she knew about Katie and Scarlett. But not why she wanted them.

  I checked the e-mails, assuming anything of recent importance would be there. It all seemed like regular office stuff—solicitations from pharmaceutical vendors and insurance companies. She didn’t have a lot on this computer, and I couldn’t find anything helpful. She had files laden with medical language I didn’t understand. And patient files. I checked for anything under Becket. There was nothing. She must keep her private stuff on a laptop or a jump drive.

  I pulled open the desk drawers and rummaged through, looking for any kind of USB device.

  I found a photograph. A picture of three people. All smiling with their arms around each other. Dr. Wyden. A girl about eight years old. And a man I’d seen before. Simon Lawrence.

  I slammed the drawer shut. “Jenny, what’s this?”

  “That’s a picture of Dr. Wyden’s family.”

  My stomach tightened. “Who is this man?”

  “That’s her husband. And her daughter, Maggie.”

  Simon Lawrence was married to Dr. Anne Wyden.

  I’d let Scarlett walk away with the person who’d kidnapped her. I’d smiled at him and shook his hand, like friends. I’d packed her suitcase and sent her away to be safe with him. She was probably already dead.

  In that half second that I’d stared at the photo, everything clicked into place. No wonder Simon was kind enough to let Scarlett bunk in his flat. An easy victim, ready to grab when the moment was right. Who in London would miss a homeless blind girl?

  I stood up, letting out a maniacal roar. In one giant motion, I swept everything from her desk. The computer flew off and gouged a hole in the drywall then shattered on the floor.

  Jenny screamed and jumped back. “Are you crazy?”

  “This is very important. Have you met this man?”

  She nodded.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “This morning. With Dr. Wyden. She came in to say that with her husband in town, she was taking the day off and to cancel all her appointments. But she only had one.”

  I should’ve left her on the highway. She would have been fine. Someone would have helped her. Even if I’d taken her suggestion the other morning to drop her off with Detective Parker, everything would’ve turned out fine. But I hadn’t. I’d taken her in my car, tried to keep her safe, and then delivered her into the hands of death.

  The front door to the clinic dinged.

  “Someone’s here,” Jenny whispered, looking with horror at the disaster on the floor of Dr. Wyden’s office. She left the room and turned down the hallway, out of sight.

  A moment later, she screamed. A piercing gunshot cut off her cry.

  Jenny! Oh no! I’d stayed too long. They’d found my car sitting in plain view outside the clinic. I recognized Deepthroat’s voice instantly as he cursed and yelled—something about trigger happy and not being paid to kill everyone. No doubt Connor had pulled the trigger.

  Jenny moaned softly. From the office door, I could see her body lying at the top of the stairs, partially concealed by the wall. I figured I had one nanosecond to make a move before the men came up the stairs after me.

  I dashed down the hall, grabbed her hand, and dragged her away.

  “He’s up there,” Connor shouted.

  I was rounding the corner into the surgery room when the gun fired again, the noise exploding in my ears. I slammed the door and locked it, hoping it would hold better than Dr. Wyden’s.

  My arm burned. I looked down. Blood soaked my shirt sleeve, just below my shoulder. Scarlett dreamed I’d die from a gunshot—in an operating room. In her dream, there were two other bodies with me. I only had Jenny, and she was still breathing. But this wasn’t over yet.

  Chapter S
eventeen

  Christian vs. The Center for Vision Repair

  I heaved the giant exam chair up against the door to brace it shut. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. A pool of blood spread across the white floor tiles.

  In the hall, Connor and his friend slammed their bodies against the door.

  I grabbed a stack of green surgical cloths from the counter and pressed them on Jenny’s chest. She was breathing hard, moaning with every exhale.

  “I got you. You’re safe now,” I lied. I would help her as long as I could, until they broke through the door and killed me. Maybe someone would get here in time to save her.

  “Multnomah County nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the woman’s voice on my phone said.

  Pound. Pound. Pound. The exam chair slid an inch or so, and I let go of Jenny long enough to slam it back in place.

  “A girl’s been shot. I need an ambulance.”

  Pound. Pound.

  “What’s your location?”

  “The Center for Vision Repair. Corner of Gleason and Hawthorn.”

  A siren wailed outside, and the pounding stopped. That was fast. The 911 operator said something to me. Asked me a question. I didn’t hear. I let my phone drop, concentrating on Jenny. Her breathing slowed. She looked up at me. Her eyes were wide and scared, and the light that had sparked in them only a few minutes before grew dim. Help me, she pleaded without uttering a single word.

  “It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.” I brushed her hair away from her face. “The ambulance is on its way.”

  She nodded weakly and closed her eyes.

  Her blood soaked the knees of my jeans. I pressed even harder on the wound. More gunshots, from farther away, maybe downstairs. More sirens.

  Her chest stopped moving.

  “Jenny?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Someone help us,” I yelled. I put my fingers against her throat. Nothing. Please help me, I prayed. With one hand on top of the other, I placed the heels of my palms at the base of her rib cage and thrust down in quick succession. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. All the way up to thirty.

  I put my mouth over hers, plugging her nose with my fingers.

  Breath.

  Breath.

  Still nothing. Please don’t let her die. I went back to her chest. One. Two. Three. Four.

  A knock on the door. “Christian? It’s Detective Parker. Open up.”

  Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

  “Christian,” he called again. Then he yelled to someone else. “I need help with the door.”

  More pounding, hard and heavy.

  Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

  The chair slid back, and the door opened a few inches. Detective Parker’s face appeared then disappeared. “He’s in here. Get the paramedics.”

  Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

  Breath.

  Breath.

  A few more heavy slams, and the chair scooted again. A man squeezed through wearing blue rubber gloves and carrying a duffle bag with a large red cross on it.

  I put my hands back on her chest and pumped some more. One. Two. Three.

  He skidded to the floor and laid his fingers on the side of Jenny’s neck. “How long ago did her heart stop?”

  Eight. Nine. Ten. “I don’t know.” I had lost track of time. “Maybe a minute or two.” People were still pushing against the door.

  He opened a hard-plastic case and pulled out a machine. He ripped Jenny’s shirt open and placed the metal plates on her skin. He met my eyes. “Clear,” he said.

  I let go and sat back on my heels. Her body twitched with the electric shock. More people came through the door. Another paramedic took my place, scooting me off to the side. He gave her a shot of something in her chest. Right into her heart.

  Someone pulled on my arm. “Christian. Let’s go.” I looked up. It was Detective Parker.

  “Clear.” Her body jerked again.

  Parker tugged me to my feet. “Come on.”

  “But . . .” I couldn’t take my eyes off Jenny. How could I leave her here when this was my fault?

  “They’ll take care of her. Let’s get your arm looked at.” He pulled me from the room while the second paramedic started CPR again.

  A line of red trailed down the hall, a dark smear connecting the dots of her two pools of blood. My hands were covered with it. I stumbled down the stairs, and Parker tightened his grip.

  In the back of the clinic, by the emergency exit, another body lay on the ground. He had thinning, sandy-blond hair, a scar across his eye, and a white bandage on his nose. Connor. More EMT guys bent over him. They didn’t seem to be working on saving him. He must already be dead.

  “Did you shoot him?” I asked without taking my eyes off the lifeless body.

  “Yes,” Parker said quietly.

  I felt the slightest twinge of envy. “What about Deepthroat, the tall guy that’s always with him?”

  “We’re still looking for him. Do you know his name?”

  “No.”

  Parker tugged me along and sat me on a gurney in the waiting room. A paramedic cut a nice, even slit up my shirtsleeve and started working on my arm, washing the wound with stinging liquid. My arm was on fire, but that was nothing compared to the pain in my chest, like the space around my heart was being filled with liquid nitrogen—burning and freezing at the same time.

  I plowed my free hand through my hair and said to the detective, “This is because of me. I shouldn’t have come here. This is all my fault.”

  Parker shook his head. “No. It’s not. Listen to me.” He waited until I looked him in the eye. “Bad people do bad things. It’s not anyone else’s fault. I see this all the time. Today, it happened here, to you. Tomorrow, it will be someone else. There’s no one to blame except the man who pulled the trigger. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. I understood what he meant—Connor made the choice to shoot his gun. But if I hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t have shot it at Jenny. Who then? Jay? My dad? As long as Deepthroat and the others ran free, everyone around me was in danger.

  “You should put me back in jail,” I said. “For the safety of my friends.”

  “Is she your friend?” He nodded his head in the direction of Jenny, up the stairs.

  “No.” If a deflated balloon could speak, I imagined that was what I sounded like. Limp, empty, withered, small.

  The paramedic shined a beam in my eyes, checking each eye twice.

  “You were very brave to save her.” Parker patted my shoulder in a fatherly way. At least, it seemed fatherly. I wouldn’t know from experience. “I need you to tell me what happened. Can you do that?”

  I nodded again. Where should I start? From school? From my dad’s building? I didn’t want to discuss anything about my dad with Parker. “I came here to find out why Dr. Wyden’s men were still after me, even though Scarlett went home.” I knew now she wasn’t home. Just right back in their hands. Had Connor shot her too? No. She doesn’t die by gun. She dies on an operating table.

  “Did they come to your house?” he asked.

  I flinched as the paramedic wrapped a roll of wide gauze around my arm and then secured it with white tape. Already, red showed through the cotton binding. I clenched the fist of my good hand, trying to squeeze away the pain. Pain that I deserved.

  “They came to my school. But I got away. I climbed out the window. They followed me into the city.” Fast forward. “I heard them say something about Dr. Wyden. I called the clinic and found out she wouldn’t be in today.”

  The paramedic filled a syringe with liquid. He rolled up the sleeve of my right arm, the arm that hadn’t taken a bullet, and scrubbed it with an alcohol wipe. “Morphine. You ready?”

  I nodded. He stabbed me with the needle and squeezed the burning fluid into my arm.

  “So you came here and snooped around?” Parker asked.

  “I guess. Jenny, the receptionist, gave me a tour.”

  “What happen
ed in Dr. Wyden’s office?” His tone suggested that I might have taken advantage of Jenny in there.

  “Not that. I swear.” I pulled the creased photo out of my back pocket and handed it over. “I found this.”

  He studied it for a few seconds then shrugged. “And?”

  “And yesterday, a man came to get Scarlett. A guy who used to work at her school in London. He came to take her home. She’s been staying with him for about three months because her mom skipped out. Turns out, it’s him.” I pointed to Simon in the photo.

  “What does this have to do with Dr. Wyden?”

  “He’s Wyden’s husband.” I explained about Wyden’s sightless daughter and her plans for an improved retinal implant. I told him about Katie and how I thought they kidnapped her so she would design it and that Scarlett was the next test victim. Every word that left my mouth eased the freezing burn in my chest. Now someone else, someone capable, could take the burden of figuring out Wyden’s master plans.

  “We’ve got an APB out on the other suspect, based on the description your father gave us. Do you know that man’s connection to the deceased or Dr. Wyden?”

  I shook my head.

  “We’ll search this place. Something will turn up that will lead us to him.”

  The paramedic that first worked on Jenny came out from the back of the clinic carrying his defibrillator. Detective Parker questioned him about her.

  He shook his head. “She didn’t make it. I put her down as DOA.”

  I dropped my head into my hand, covering my face. I didn’t save her. I didn’t save anyone. I lay down on the gurney. “Take me away. Take me away and lock me up.”

  Parker waved off the paramedics. “Christian, I’m sorry about the girl. But I need you to focus. So we can find Scarlett.”

  “Scarlett is dead. She already dreamed it. I thought I changed it. But I didn’t. And I’m supposed to be dead too, but she dreamed it wrong, and it was Jenny.”

  “How do you know Scarlett is dead?”

  I sat up. “Because she dreams about people dying before it happens. Like a vision of the future. And then it comes true, just like in her dream. That’s how she recognized Dr. Wyden in the first place—from her dream. She dreamed that I would get shot and die. And I did get shot, but Jenny died.”