Doubt (Caroline Auden Book 1)

by C. E. Tobisman

  Annie looked furtively around the empty market, the motion so practiced and instinctual that Caroline felt a sudden wave of compassion. The scientist had been on the run so long. Grieving and shell-shocked, she’d done what almost anyone would have done. To protect herself. To protect her son.

  But what about Franklin? What machinations had he set into motion before he died? What plans had he made? Caroline had once believed that Franklin’s note to Yvonne was an apology for getting killed—for doing what he loved, at the ultimate price. But that wasn’t it. Franklin had snubbed Annie at the same time he was about to publish an article that would end Med-Gen’s profits. He hadn’t planned the timing. It had been thrust upon him. It was a perfect storm of danger for him.

  But Franklin, like Louis, was a chess player. He knew that checkmate was coming. If Med-Gen got desperate and sent its minions to contact Annie, he was vulnerable. He knew if he died, the truth would come out—Yvonne would find out about the Santa Monica house and the affair and Nolan. He was apologizing for that, as much as for everything else. But Franklin had one last chess move to make. A move that was dependent on the woman he’d snubbed. Annie was the final piece on the board. And now she needed to play.

  “Come with me to New York,” Caroline said. “Come testify. Stop hiding and end this.”

  “But they got Franklin.” Annie shook her head, her eyes wild. “I don’t care about myself, but I can’t leave Nolan without a mother. That’s all that matters. I have to focus on my son. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

  “You aren’t safe here, Annie,” Caroline said. “The way I tracked you down—someone else could find you like that, too. But you could come with me to New York and end this—”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to go.” Annie’s eyes filled with the same sudden panic Caroline had witnessed before. She knew the reason. Annie’s insurance policy had been telling the fixers that she’d hidden a copy of the article. Now her insurance policy was gone.

  “That article was the best thing you ever did with your career,” Caroline said, trying to head off the scientist’s flight instinct. “Publishing it to save lives is what you wanted. It’s why you wrote it. It’s the reason you couldn’t destroy it.”

  When Annie didn’t disagree, Caroline continued, “Everything comes down to this moment. That trial is happening right now. You can’t sit on the sidelines. Only you can prevent the deaths of thousands of people.”

  Annie stayed silent.

  “You’ve got to come with me,” Caroline said. “Please, let me take you to New York.”

  Annie nodded, but the motion was so slight that Caroline almost missed it.

  Caroline zipped up her suitcase then straightened up, mentally saying good-bye to the motel room. A room that was so much different than the last hotel room she’d occupied. With Eddie. Suddenly wishing for his presence, she consoled herself that she’d see him soon in New York. Once she got Annie Wong to New York . . .

  Through the window, the sky glowed orange with the sunset. As soon as the sun finished with the business of disappearing beyond the far curve of the planet, Caroline would pick up Annie and her son, drive to San Francisco, and fly to New York. A daunting task, but doable. If all went well, she’d still make it to New York a full day before the hearing. The pessimistic part of her mind hoped that Annie hadn’t sent her off to her motel just to give herself time to grab Nolan and drive for the Canadian border.

  She’d find out soon enough.

  She stepped forward to grab her suitcase. Time to go see if Annie Wong was really going to come with her.

  But then Caroline’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  She dug the phone out of her bag.

  The message had no sender. That meant it had come through a proxy server.

  Caroline’s stomach twisted in concern. This couldn’t be good.

  She opened it.

  Your uncle is in Northridge Hospital in a compromised state. He will be released and dumped on the streets of Los Angeles tomorrow morning. You might want to come home.

  An electric bolt of fear lanced through her chest.

  With her heart pounding in her ears, Caroline dialed her uncle’s phone number.

  No one answered.

  She tried her mother’s number.

  Joanne’s voice mail message promised a prompt response . . . as soon as she returned from her camping trip.

  Forcing herself to keep breathing, Caroline pulled up the phone number for Northridge Hospital. When the receptionist answered, she asked for the charge nurse of the emergency room. A woman’s weary voice answered, and Caroline started straight in.

  “I’m calling for a patient, Daniel Hitchings. I’ve been led to believe he’s there. He’s my uncle.”

  The line went silent while the charge nurse checked her computer. Then the weary voice came back. “Yes, he’s in room 3217. They’re readying him for discharge tomorrow morning.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “I’m afraid not. Mr. Hitchings isn’t fully lucid.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I’m sorry, but privacy regulations prevent me from giving you that information.”

  “Who’s he being discharged to? That’s not a medical question.”

  “He’ll be going home with the gentleman with the affidavit stating that he’s the home-care nurse your mother set up for him. The gentleman is here now, in the waiting room, actually. We told him that we couldn’t discharge Mr. Hitchings until we finish processing the paperwork, but he said he’d wait.”

  “You can’t release my uncle to him,” Caroline said. “He isn’t really a home-care nurse.”

  “He’s got credentials showing he works for Hugo Home Care,” the nurse said. “He brought written instructions from your mother. Perhaps you should discuss this with her.”

  “My mom’s camping in Oregon. She isn’t reachable. She didn’t arrange this.” Caroline heard her tone grow frantic. She took a breath. “What does the guy look like?” she asked, trying to keep the nurse on the line.

  “Tall guy. Green scrubs,” said the nurse. “He’s got a big red birthmark next to his mouth. Kind of looks like a turtle on its back.”

  Caroline’s blood froze in her veins. It sounded like the man from the airport shuttle.

  “Do you hold your uncle’s power of attorney?” the nurse asked.

  “No,” Caroline said.

  “Then you can’t stop the discharge.”

  “But they’re going to dump him on the street!” Caroline shouted. She took another breath and ordered herself to calm. “What can I do to stop this discharge?”

  “We’d need a doctor’s order from someone on staff,” said the nurse.

  In the background, Caroline heard an alarm buzzing at the nursing station.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to go,” the nurse said.

  The line clicked off, and suddenly Caroline sat alone in a Mendocino motel room.

  Caroline paced from the chipped enamel dresser to the yellowing posters of Mendocino on the opposite end of the room. But she saw none of it. Her mind spiraled into a tornado of second guesses and doubts. How could she have left her uncle alone?

  She grabbed her phone and dialed 911.

  “Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher’s voice asked.

  “There’s a man down at the hospital trying to get them to release my gravely debilitated uncle to him so he can dump him,” Caroline said. “I need someone to stop it from happening.”

  “Please start from the beginning, ma’am. Where are you calling from?”

  “Mendocino, but my uncle’s in Los Angeles and I—”

  “You’re in Mendocino, but you need to prevent a discharge of a patient in Los Angeles?” The dispatcher’s voice held a note of disbelief.

  “Yes,” Caroline said, her eyes raking across the digital clock on the bedside table. She didn’t have time to debate the dispatcher. She
needed action. Now. “The hospital thinks my mom authorized the discharge, but she didn’t.”

  “And you know this because . . .”

  “Because she’s camping in Oregon,” Caroline said, trying to control her exasperation.

  “And you know your uncle is disabled because . . .”

  “I got a text from the people who are doing this.” Caroline realized she was shouting at the same moment she realized the call was useless.

  “Never mind,” she said, hanging up.

  She ran her hand through her hair.

  She needed another way to stop the discharge. She needed a doctor’s order. She scanned her mental roster for someone who could help. College friends. Law school classmates. Acquaintances from her days as a software engineer. Anyone with any link to Northridge Hospital.

  Suddenly, she stopped.

  Picking up her phone, she dialed the phone number for Hale Stern.

  “Deena Pensky,” Deena answered.

  “This is Caroline. You know, from work.” Caroline took a breath. She needed to make sense. “I need to ask a huge favor.” She paused, hoping that Deena had a soul somewhere beneath her designer clothes.

  “Yes?” Deena said, suspicion coloring her voice.

  “Your mom’s working at Northridge Hospital in neurology, right?”

  “Yes,” Deena said, her voice rising at the end in question.

  “I need you to call her. Or give me her number.” Caroline took another breath to settle her nerves. “My uncle is at Northridge. I don’t even know why or how he landed there, but it sounds like he’s in really bad shape. He’s had some drinking issues, and . . . it’s a long story. Anyway, I’m in Mendocino trying to find that missing scientist for the SuperSoy case and someone—I think someone connected to the biotech company—is trying to get the hospital to release my uncle to some creep who’s going to dump him on the streets unless I come home—”

  “I get the idea,” Deena cut her off.

  Caroline’s heart sank. Deena wasn’t going to help. Her last desperate hope was gone.

  “Hold on a sec,” Deena said.

  Caroline waited for the rebuff, but instead of words from Deena, she heard rustling, then a muffled conversation. When Deena came back onto the line, her voice was kinder than Caroline had ever heard it.

  “I told her what’s happening. She’s going to call you. She’s going to help,” Deena said.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” Caroline said.

  “No problem.” Deena paused, an uncharacteristic break in her usual staccato delivery. “My brother has had some problems,” she added quietly. “I know how it goes.”

  With those few words, Caroline’s image of the snobby New York associate shattered, making room for a more nuanced and empathic vision of Deena Pensky.

  “Good luck up there. I’ll see you when you get back,” Deena said and hung up.

  Seconds later, Caroline’s cell phone rang. When she answered it, Dr. Pensky-Levine introduced herself and said, “Your uncle was brought in by someone who claimed to have seen him wandering the streets in a state of extreme confusion. Our preliminary diagnosis is alcohol poisoning.”

  “Will he be okay?” Caroline asked, wondering at the identity of this supposed Good Samaritan and the odds that he or she had something to do with her uncle’s gravely compromised state.

  “It should resolve in the next day or so if it’s alcohol poisoning,” Dr. Pensky-Levine said. “But I want to rule out other potential causes for his condition. I’ve ordered a dozen tests. I’m requiring results before your uncle is discharged to home care. Don’t worry. He won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

  “Thank you,” Caroline said. The two words were too small to encompass her gratitude.

  “You don’t have to thank me. These tests are absolutely medically indicated.”

  Caroline could almost hear the doctor smiling on the other end of the line.

  “By the way, if anyone ever asks, this HIPAA-violating conversation never happened,” Dr. Pensky-Levine said. “Good luck getting that scientist to New York.”

  And then the line clicked off.

  Caroline sank down to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her body and held herself while she shook, the tension of the last minutes leaving her in fits of electricity. Her nervous system, keyed up to fight-or-flight readiness, twitched, looking for the hazard that had resolved itself.

  I got a lucky break, she told herself. Uncle Hitch is safe.

  She repeated these two facts over and over until gradually, slowly, the shaking stopped and was replaced with focus. Laser focus.

  Caroline stood up, exhaling slowly and deliberately, finding her center again.

  Now it was time to do what she’d come to Mendocino to do: get Annie to New York.

  Nothing was going to stop her.

  CHAPTER 15

  Caroline parked in front of Annie’s building and stepped out of the Mustang. Overhead, the moon’s silvery light reflected off the whitewashed siding of the turn-of-the-century structure, making Caroline feel as if she were bathed in a spotlight. Exposed. Dangerously visible.

  She paused, her ears straining to detect any out-of-place sounds. But she heard only crickets chirping in the pasture beyond the row of sleeping buildings.

  Slipping around the back of the building, Caroline found a door tucked in an alcove with a mail slot. The apartment wasn’t recognizably an apartment. It was obvious why Annie had found it attractive.

  Caroline tapped on the door.

  Annie opened it a crack, as if she’d been waiting by it.

  Upon seeing Caroline, she opened the door and stepped aside.

  Entering the apartment, Caroline was struck by how sparse it was. No furnishings filled the living room, except for a single threadbare couch and a small, serviceable television set. This dwelling was intended to be a temporary arrangement, Caroline concluded. Even Annie hadn’t been able to convince herself she’d stay for long.

  Whether that was a good or bad sign, Caroline couldn’t yet tell.

  She glanced over at Annie, who stood with her eyes downcast and her arms folded across her chest. The overhead lighting reflected off the scientist’s black hair. Dark circles ringed her eyes. A testament to sleepless nights.

  “Are you packed?” Caroline asked.

  Annie nodded once without looking up.

  “Good. Let’s get going. We have a long trip ahead of us,” Caroline said, looking around for Nolan. “Where’s your son?”

  “Sleeping.”

  Caroline raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not so sure about this,” Annie said. “This is a huge risk.”

  “Once you testify, you’ll be safe.”

  “I know. I understand all of that,” Annie said. “I know I need to get out of here . . .”

  Caroline’s eyes traveled back to the packed suitcases by the door.

  Suddenly, she realized that Annie planned to leave. But she hadn’t decided where to go yet. Tamping down her alarm, Caroline reminded herself that if Annie had wanted to run, she would’ve already done it. The fact that Annie hadn’t left yet meant she wanted to be convinced to go to New York.

  “I know you’re scared,” Caroline said in a quiet voice. “Honestly, I am, too.” It felt good to admit her fear. Especially to Annie, who she knew shared it.

  “But this is the right thing to do,” Caroline said. “We both know it.” Again, she spoke for both of them.

  “I could leave here for two days, and then this will all end,” Annie said. “Like you said, once the hearing is over, they’ll have no reason to come for me.”

  Caroline considered what arguments she could use to try to persuade Annie to join her. She considered what manipulations or subterfuge she might be willing to utilize to win the case. But then she exhaled.

  “You’re right,” Caroline said. She was done trying to persuade. Trying to manipulate. “It’s true that it would be safer for you in the short run just to run away
instead of coming with me to New York. But I can promise you this: nowhere else will give you your life back. Only testifying in New York will let you come out of the shadows.”

  Annie’s dark eyes watched Caroline.

  “Think about it,” Caroline continued. “If you reappear after the SuperSoy hearing is over, you’ll have to answer for so much. You’ll be the reason why the SuperSoy plaintiffs got their cases thrown out of court. You’ll have to live with that. Plus, the police will have a thousand questions for you.” She held up her hand. “I stand by what I said—you didn’t kill Franklin. But the police will have hard questions.”

  “That’s the least of my worries,” Annie said quietly.

  “I understand,” Caroline said. “But this is your chance to stop running.”

  Instead of answering, Annie turned away. She walked to the bedroom where her son was sleeping.

  Caroline stood frozen in the foyer, waiting.

  Annie padded softly back into the room, her arms around herself again, hugging her body as if to stop it from shaking. She met Caroline’s eyes and said two words:

  “Let’s go.”

  Caroline led Annie and Nolan from the apartment. When she reached the street, she stopped, stretching out her senses for signs of danger. Scenting the air for predators.

  She found none. Instead, the last light of day streaked the western sky. Somewhere in the distance, Caroline could feel rather than hear the deep bass thump of waves crashing against the bluffs, their rolling power relentless even in the night. Endless vibrations rising up through solid rock, the sound was both subtle and constant.

  A sudden crack in the woods made Caroline’s breath catch.

  She froze, listening. Watching the darkness for movement.

  Beside her, she could sense Annie Wong holding her breath, too, hoping that the calm evening wasn’t about to turn into a nightmare.

  When there were no further sounds, Caroline decided it must have been a deer or other nighttime woodland creature. Even knowing the sound didn’t connote actual danger, she couldn’t relax. Standing on the street, she felt exposed.