InSight

by Polly Iyer

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Gone Today, Gone Tomorrow

  With Meyer at a rehabilitation facility, Lucy arrived at Abby’s dying of curiosity to see who Luke had enlisted as her daughter’s babysitter. When she met Jeff, she remarked that in spite of all the turmoil, Abby’s life swarmed with good-looking men. When Jeff went out to get beer, Lucy learned he was gay.

  “I don’t believe it,” she protested. “Not him.”

  “Lucy, you’re in an artsy field. You ought to know that not all gay men are obvious. Some of them take big manly steps and do big manly things.”

  “But this one is, he’s…jeez, Abigael, he’s sexy.”

  If anyone should know, it’s connoisseur Lucy.

  “How much you want to bet his partner’s the flighty one.”

  But when Eric brought dinner, Lucy whispered that he was as macho as Jeff and almost as good looking. Her postscript: “Neither is as good looking as Luke.”

  Abby and Lucy agreed that Eric was one hell of a cook. Lucy wrote down his recipes pinch by teaspoon, promising to try them all. He’d even made a special dish for Daisy. Abby heard her dog snarf down whatever it was without taking a breath.

  “I don’t know why you’re not as fat as a pig,” she said to Jeff. “If I lived with him, I would be.”

  “If you lived with him, he’d be straight and I’d be starving to death.”

  They all had a good laugh. Jeff and Eric thought Lucy was fun. Abby agreed.

  After dinner, Jeff shooed everyone out the door to pay more attention to his job. Abby didn’t argue. With Luke sticking his neck out in Charleston, she felt guilty enjoying herself.

  Norm Archer called Friday to let her know Luke had arrived, but she’d heard nothing since. Worried, she called Norm Sunday morning. Even Daisy’s wet nose nuzzling her hand offered little comfort.

  “Luke mentioned he intended to ruffle a few feathers,” Norm said, “whatever that means. I missed his call, but he left word he’d call back later. He hasn’t. I called the hotel and received a message that Carlotta Gentry had invited Luke to her house late yesterday afternoon.”

  Dread snaked up Abby’s spine. “Something’s happened to him, Norm. He would have contacted one of us.”

  “I warned him not to do anything foolhardy, especially since he’s deaf as a rock. He didn’t want the police involved until he had a feel for the situation, and frankly, I didn’t have reason to overrule him.”

  “You’ve got to find him. He’s out there alone. I don’t know what they’re hiding, but they won’t let anyone get in their way. I can attest to that.”

  “I’ll go to the captain, but he’s not going to wade into murky waters. I can attest to that.”

  “Where’s Collyer?”

  “I’ll see if he’s around, but men like him know how to disappear without leaving a trace. He could be sitting on your doorstep right now.”

  “I’m not worried about my doorstep. I’m worried about Luke’s.”

  “I got him here. I’ll find him. I should have made sure he had backup. Get back to you.” He clicked off.

  Abby related Norm’s conversation to Jeff.

  “Luke can take care of himself, Abby.”

  “Could he take you, Jeff?” When he didn’t answer, she knew she’d struck a nerve. “Could he?”

  “Abby, I was trained to kill. Luke’s not a killer.”

  “So the answer is no.”

  “Not if I didn’t let him, no.”

  “Graeme Collyer’s a trained killer too. I’m sure his resume doesn’t read much differently than yours. Only you take no pleasure in killing; Collyer gets off on it. I bet when he was a kid he smiled when he pulled the wings off flies to watch them struggle.” She remembered her encounter with him. “That night in my yard, he enjoyed my fear, knowing I couldn’t see him, knowing I couldn’t tell what was coming next. Did I tell you that his breathing was so slow, so controlled, that anyone else would have been sleeping?”

  “Okay, okay. What do you want me to do? I’d go to Charleston, but I’m not leaving you alone. My job is to protect you. Collyer might be there, but someone else might be waiting here for the perfect moment. That’s not going to happen. I promised Luke.”

  “Then get someone else to stay here with me.”

  “I don’t think Luke’d like that. Besides, I don’t know anyone better than me. I don’t know anyone around here better than Luke, for that matter.”

  She reached out her hand. “Then take me with you.”

  Jeff snorted. “Are you crazy? How do you expect me to find him if I have to worry about you? I can’t leave you standing in the middle of a room while I go play detective. He has a better chance of fending for himself than you do. You can’t see, Abby.”

  “Why is everyone always reminding me of that?”

  “Because you keep forgetting.”

  Abby stopped pleading and invoked her most serious tone. “I can get into Carlotta Gentry’s house, Jeff. You’d never get past her people, but she’ll see me.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? She wants to fucking kill you. Forget it.”

  “She didn’t want to kill me; she wanted Stewart to do it. To kill two birds with one stone without throwing the stone herself. It didn’t work out quite the way she planned, and she had to improvise. It’s different now.”

  “It sure is. There has to be another way.”

  “There is. Stewart.”

  * * * * *

  Luke heard himself screaming. Not out loud, of course. In his head, where pain thundered like the worst summer storm. He felt the accelerated thudding of his heart as the room circled, recalling a nasty weeklong binge after his accident when he sat in his silent house in his silent world and drank until he didn’t care whether he woke up.

  But this was no binge. This was something else, and he knew it even before he saw the needle stuck in the vein of his hand—a needle connected to a drip bag sucked dry, hanging over him.

  How long have I been here? He stretched to see the time. Even if he could stop the slow motion merry-go-round, his watch was out of view. He tried lifting his head, but it weighed a hundred pounds. Fighting the restraints that strapped him down weakened his already sluggish body.

  Hot, glaring lights forced him to scrunch his eyes and concentrate on one object to steady his focus. His vision stabilized. When he lifted his head, what he saw sent a wave of panic through his trapped body. He lay naked on a table, his legs splayed, ankles cuffed to the corners. Both wrists were bound, and a thick leather strap stretched tight across his chest. Stainless steel instruments lay in a perfect row on a table nearby. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out he was being readied for surgery. He struggled harder, pulling against the bonds, straining his muscles, but they felt like wet cement.

  Being a cop had conditioned him to dangerous situations—his wits and courage against those breaking the law. Good against evil; man against man. And here he was, no chance for fair play.

  He tried to yell, but his tongue and lips stuck together, the moisture suctioned from his mouth. He needed water. He needed to get the hell out of there.

  He remembered arriving at the hotel in Charleston, remembered meeting Norm Archer. But everything after was a blank. When Norm couldn’t find him, he’d begin searching, wouldn’t he? Others knew his whereabouts too. Abby knew, so did Jeff and Pete. Someone would come looking for him. Only where was he?

  A shadow moved behind him, but he couldn’t turn far enough to see. He tried, craning his neck as far as it would go. Two gloved hands entered his range of vision and replaced the drip bag with another filled with clear liquid. He felt the cold solution enter his vein and work its way upstream. Would he wake up or would he die without being found? And if he woke up, who would he be? Maybe another Stewart. Maybe…

  His weighted eyelids drooped, and it took all his will to keep them from closing. Tired, I’m so tired. No, don’t fall asleep. I can’t let myself fall asleep.

 
; “Who are you?” he croaked to the shadow before darkness engulfed him.

  No one answered.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Out of Sight, Out of Mind

  When Luke didn’t call, Abby knew he was in trouble. She needed to talk to Stewart. He was the key. She called Don Weston to check on his condition.

  “I found no evidence of surgery on the brain’s frontal lobes,” Don said, “but imaging showed significant damage to areas that produce serotonin. If, as Luke said, someone dosed your ex-husband with a derivative of the tryptamine family, and there’s a predisposition to mental illness in his genetic makeup, the drug could induce schizophrenic episodes. Psychedelics like LSD don’t generally have harmful long-term effects on the brain, although some people experience recurring hallucinations. But there’s a certain class of antidepressants that can be dangerous when mixed with DMT. If Scanlon experimented with these inhibiting drugs, and combined them with deep hypnotic manipulation, well, anything could happen.”

  “They used Stewart as a guinea pig, didn’t they?”

  “If we find that to be the case, I will personally see that Scanlon’s put away for a very long time. That said, we have no proof he’s engaged in any such practice. Given his medical history, whatever Stewart says is suspect.”

  “I know. Something’s not right, though. I need to talk to him. Tell me where he is.”

  “You told me not to.”

  “Things have changed. Luke is missing, and I need Stewart to help me get him released. That’s if it’s not too late.”

  * * * * *

  Abby knew of Dayton, a small, private psychiatric hospital near Columbia. Don Weston admitted Stewart under an alias to safeguard his identity, but that showed up only on the entry form. Stewart was confused enough that he shouldn’t have to answer to another name. The staff expected her.

  They left Daisy in the car, and Jeff led Abby inside. She never thought she’d want to spend extended time alone with Stewart, but that’s exactly what she planned. The psychiatric nurse on duty led her to Stewart’s room.

  “What’s he doing?” Abby asked before entering.

  “Gazing out the window,” the nurse said. “He does that a lot, but he’s calm.”

  “Has he had any episodes? Anything I should worry about?”

  “That first day was tough, but he’s been docile since. Of course, he’s medicated. He has moments of lucidity; other times he’s incoherent. Hopefully, today is the former.”

  Jeff took Abby’s arm. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No. Is there a chair near him?”

  “I’ll pull one up,” the nurse said.

  “I’ll be right here,” Jeff said. “One sign he’s losing it, and you’re out of there.”

  Abby nodded and the nurse brought her inside.

  Before she could say anything, Stewart said, “Hello, Abby.”

  His voice always triggered painful memories, but Abby had conditioned herself to be prepared. The nurse left after positioning Abby in the chair she pulled next to Stewart. She turned on her recorder. “Are you feeling better, Stewart?”

  “I’m tired. I’ve slept a lot since I’ve been here.”

  “I need to ask you some questions, and I want you to try to remember. Can you do that?”

  “I think so.” She heard him change positions. His leg brushed hers. “I like it better when I’m sick. When my thoughts are all jumbled and I can’t remember anything. There’s peace in the confusion. I know that sounds crazy.” He stopped talking for a minute, and when he began again, the pain in his voice cut deep. “When I’m like this, clear, the agony is far greater because I know what I’ve done. I wish we could turn back the clock. I wish…”

  “Stop. Please stop. I can’t go there.” Not now. Not ever.

  “I know. I know we can never go back. I know.”

  She needed to maneuver him back on track. “Tell me why you left the hospital in Charleston.”

  “Because I didn’t want to kill myself there. Not in that place. I took a supply of pills. I thought I’d take them all or maybe quit taking them altogether. Whatever did the trick. Anything to stop the chaos inside my head. Do you understand?”

  She felt his hand on hers, and she had to force herself not to pull away. His touch was warm and shaky, then he stilled.

  “Yes. I do.” She remembered feeling much the same way eight years ago. Just a different chaos. “What did you do then?”

  “I bribed an attendant to help me escape.”

  “But how? You didn’t have any money.”

  “I gave him a painting. Of you. One of my best, I thought. I said it was worth a lot of money and would be worth more when I—”

  “Don’t!” Abby marveled at Stewart’s ingenuity. Even in his madness, he’d retained a certain presence of mind. “Let’s go back to when you left the hospital.”

  “Yes, the hospital. I put on a doctor’s jacket and walked out. The attendant watched. No one paid attention. He gave me some money and the keys to an old car parked nearby. I thought I’d drive to Asheville.” He paused. “Beautiful place, Asheville. But I never made it. I got tired near Saluda. Couldn’t keep my eyes open. I bought a paper and found the cabin. It seemed like a good place to die—secluded and quiet.”

  Stewart got up, walked around, sat down again, fidgeted, tapped his foot, stopped. “I slept, and when I woke up, I realized I never took any pills, and a funny thing happened.”

  “You felt better.”

  “Yes. New, like another person. How did you know? My mind cleared up. Not for very long and not like before, but enough. That’s when I knew I had to talk to you. The time at the cabin—I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I knew I wouldn’t hurt you. Not like before. I knew that with all my heart. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes, I believe you.” Knowing what she knew now, she did. Every word. And she ached for him. Why was she feeling like this, like she was going to lose it? She needed to get hold of herself. Focus. “What happened the night you came to Luke’s house?”

  “Luke? Oh yes, the cop. I knew you were there. I watched you.”

  He stopped. Abby waited and he spoke.

  “I hated leaving that cabin. I felt safe there, but I figured you’d recognize the Saluda Grade. Nothing else like it, is there?”

  “No, I knew.”

  “I found a cheap motel. Then the hallucinations started. I thought my head would explode. I got scared and took a handful of pills and went crazy. I wanted to give myself up. I couldn’t keep running, but I couldn’t go back to Scanlon’s either. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry, Abby. I shouldn’t have gone there. Shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have.” He got up again, tipping over his chair.

  She heard Jeff at the door.

  “You okay?”

  “Am I, Stewart?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m fine, Jeff.”

  “Just checking,” Jeff said. “I’ll be right outside.”

  She heard him leave, but from the sounds outside the room, he’d left the door open. She pictured him lurking outside, within a second’s reach. “Why did you leave the pills in the cabin?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if something happened to me, someone would care enough to find out what they were. Do you know?”

  “They’re hallucinogens.”

  “Yes, I figured something like that.” He sounded sad, as if nothing surprised him any longer. “The medication they’ve given me here makes me think clearer.” Stewart sighed. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you remember what happened before Dr. Scanlon first gave you the pills? Did it have something to do with your father’s plane crash?”

  “My father’s plane crash?” Then, without hesitation and with words that seemed to shatter the air, he said, “They killed him, you know.”

  Abby wasn’t sure she heard right. “What? Who?”

  “My mother and that Collyer guy who worked for my grandfather. They killed my father.”

&nbs
p; Abby’s heart pounded; her stomach cartwheeled. “How…how do you know?”

  “I heard them.”

  But the next sentence startled her even more.

  “I told you, Abby. Don’t you remember? Before I got sick.” Stewart’s matter-of-fact words trailed off. “I thought I did. Maybe I forgot.”

  Abby strained to remember. Had she blocked this out? She barely remembered Mr. Gentry’s plane crash. Her stomach knotted. Perspiration sprouted on her skin. “No, you…never told me that. I…I don’t remember.”

  “Yes. We were going to tell the police. Did we ever do that?”

  The air inside the room thickened, as if she were breathing under water. “No, we never did,” she managed to say. “Why did they kill him?”

  “I don’t remember. Everything’s behind a closed door. Sometimes, in my dreams I pull on it, but I can’t make it open.”

  She had to get out of there before the screaming inside her head escaped. Other questions perched on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t concentrate. Not now.

  “I’ll be back, Stewart. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be here, won’t I?”

  She reached out and found his arm, patted it. “Yes, you’ll be here.”

  She called Jeff and he came in. “We need to go. Now.” He took her arm and led her out of the building. On the way to the car, the nausea won and she threw up. Jeff was attentive, but he didn’t ask any questions. He’d heard everything.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening, Jeff. How could I have known and forgotten? We’re talking murder.”

  As soon as she said it, she knew Luke was in serious trouble. “Jeff?”

  “Yes, Abby. We’re going to Charleston.”

  She shut off her digital recorder.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The Bluff from the View

  Jeff drove as if he finally realized the danger of Luke’s situation. They took Daisy inside the same Charleston hotel where Luke had registered. Jeff called Norm on the way, and he was waiting in the lobby when they arrived.