Autumn's Rage

by Mary Stone

  Dr. Baldwin couldn’t outlaw smiling.

  “Good.” Justin held his knees to his chest. “My meeting with Dr. Trent is tomorrow. I’m very excited for her to help me get better.” He began to rock, a slow rhythmic movement that could gain speed depending on his level of agitation.

  She was used to this habit, one of his coping mechanisms.

  “The BAU agent?” Evelyn scribbled on her chart. “That is exciting. Anything I can do for you? Your dinner was okay?”

  “Acceptable.” Justin grinned, and Evelyn joined him. His rocking slowed, an encouraging sign that he wouldn’t escalate.

  “Good to know.” She was pleased to catch Justin in such high spirits. The dark-haired young man was in peak physical condition, and she held high hopes for his full recovery.

  All we have to do is fix that mind.

  As she continued to chat with him, Justin calmed…almost serene. Evelyn was convinced in her heart of hearts that Justin Black was going to get out of this place. Her instincts supported this upbeat certainty as she included his visible positivity in her observational notes.

  Turning to leave, Evelyn shot Justin one last grin. “Great luck at your appointment tomorrow.”

  He smiled back at her, but just as she grabbed the doorknob, he called out, “Nurse Evelyn.” His voice changed with the words, and Evelyn swiveled to meet Justin’s gaze. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she looked into now vacant eyes.

  “Be careful out there, Evelyn. The world is a dangerous place.”

  Why did his smile suddenly seem like a malicious leer? Why wasn’t he even blinking?

  Forcing herself to refocus and pull away from his magnetizing sapphire gaze, she left the room, giving the door a swift pull.

  Click!

  She sighed with relief. Automated locks were a godsend on occasion.

  Maybe Justin Black wasn’t such a likely candidate for rehabilitation after all.

  She decided to forego her routine last glance through the observation window of the door and pushed the aluminum cart hastily down the hallway.

  That horrible smile.

  I was wrong. I was wrong about Justin.

  Of course, she couldn’t let his behavior derail her. How ridiculous would that be, considering her place of employment? She had been privy to far too many disturbing things to be this terrified of one young man’s smile.

  And yet…her fear was palpable.

  Darkness.

  Evelyn stared out the sole window of the nurses’ station. Barred like all the rest, the ancient panes gave view to a dull, inky evening sky. Virginia winters, especially in January, ensured that by the time Evelyn’s shift was over, the sun had completely abandoned the day.

  She decidedly disliked this time of year.

  Following her normal routine, Evelyn entered the employee restroom, locked the door, and peeled off her uniform. Fresh jeans and a soft sweater provided a sense of separation from the previous ten hours.

  The germs, dirt, stress, and sadness stayed in the hospital where they belonged.

  She walked to the punch out clock, typed her code, and retrieved her coat and purse from the nurses’ closet.

  Home. Forget Baldwin’s lecture. Forget Justin’s smile. I’m going home.

  Evelyn walked to the stairwell exit, which was her habitual custom for making her way to the parking garage. Stretching her legs helped relieve a bit of the pent-up tension amassed in her muscles throughout the day.

  Each landing was lit by a single low-watt bulb screwed into the ceiling…on any normal evening. Tonight, of course, the lights were out. She fiddled with the switch by the entry.

  No luck.

  Was this some type of joke? Was she being Punk’d? What else could possibly go wrong in this godforsaken building?

  Just some faulty wiring. Not a new problem for this ancient dinosaur of a hospital.

  Evelyn went up and down these steps so often she was confident that she could maneuver them blindfolded. Lights be damned. She was going home.

  She traversed the first flight of stairs, beginning to breathe easier as she stepped onto the landing.

  “Just get out of this building,” she lectured herself in a harsh whisper. “Bad days happen. Tomorrow is a new—”

  A hand clamped over her mouth.

  Even before adrenaline hit her system, Evelyn launched an immediate struggle against the powerful grip. An arm curled around her throat like a snake and lifted her off her feet. A punch to her temple followed, annihilating her strength to battle.

  She inhaled the stink of the man as she was forced to lean against her attacker, her vision dark around the edges. She tried to strike out, tried to claw at his eyes, but she could barely lift an arm as he dragged her backward.

  Through her mental fog, Evelyn remembered her personal duress alarm, her only weapon against a hospital full of mentally deranged criminals. She wore the device for every second of every shift…and she always removed the life saver when switching clothes at the end of the day.

  Purse. It’s in your purse. You have to…have to…

  Her right hand dug in the satchel hung across her body while her left pulled at the relentless grip of her assailant’s arm. The temple blow left her mind dazed, her body feeble.

  Evelyn’s instincts screamed that none of that mattered. You must fight!

  Regardless of what her mind desperately wanted her to do, she was no match for the physical strength overwhelming her.

  The attacker drug her through a doorway and into a dark utility closet.

  Grab something…hit…you can hit…you have to…

  Realization hit her like a fist. She wasn’t in a closet at all.

  Cables. Gears.

  She was on top of an elevator car.

  Understanding intensified her panic and horror, and Evelyn desperately lashed out, trying to injure her assailant with her arms, fists, clawing nails. She kicked and scuffled. Opened her mouth to scream.

  Two gloved hands wrapped around her neck.

  Act! If you don’t, you will die right here, right now!

  No matter what she did or how hard she struggled, the hands squeezed without mercy, preventing the slightest bit of air from reaching her lungs.

  You’re going to…going to…

  Evelyn Walker’s world went dark.

  2

  The Booby Trap really wasn’t so bad when Dr. Autumn Trent considered that the world was full of war zones and natural disasters.

  And cults. Baby-snatchers. Severed hands in swamps.

  She gazed around the Florida strip club, focusing in on the oversized disco ball spinning rays of neon light onto the stage below. If she tilted her head just right, she could even make herself believe that it resembled a high-fashion runway.

  But in The Booby Trap, the models were naked, and they didn’t walk so much as they gyrated around tall metal poles.

  Autumn spotted a platinum blonde holding on to a glittery pole with nothing but her thighs. The, um, talented woman hung completely upside down, breasts flailing as she lip-synced to one of Autumn’s favorite songs…“Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.”

  Impressive.

  Even as Annie Lennox wrapped her in the warm embrace of her voice, Autumn fought a sudden desire to turn and run through the door. She didn’t. She gave herself a mental shake instead.

  None of these women mattered. Nor did the men leering at them. Boobs and butts didn’t factor into her being in this building at all. She was here for one thing and one thing only…her sister.

  But damn…how did Sarah end up working in a place like this?

  Not now.

  Autumn didn’t have the time or patience to crawl down that mental rabbit hole. Now, she had a mission. Find Sarah. Save Sarah. Once that was accomplished, Autumn could ask all the questions she wanted.

  She glanced at her watch. The airplane heading back to Virginia would take off at the crack ass of dawn. She didn’t have time to overthink why she was h
ere. She didn’t even have time to think about why she was in Florida in the first place.

  Dead women. Missing babies.

  Aiden Parrish had asked Autumn to consult on the case just moments after she learned that her sister might be in Central Florida. Though she believed wholly in science, she also knew that some things couldn’t be explained. And just as Autumn could feel a person’s emotions through a simple touch, she knew that meaningful coincidences could occur through the magic of synchronicity.

  Two birds, one stone.

  Or so she’d hoped.

  Autumn and the team had managed to take the bastard who was killing pregnant women down. Heck, Autumn had jumped from a helicopter in the attempt to save a baby. So why was she afraid to walk into this cozy little establishment and ask for her sister?

  She even had her two best friends as backup.

  A quick glance at Special Agent Winter Black confirmed her premonition that the scene would be entirely too ridiculous to fuel the jealous flair the woman had displayed just before entering this lovely establishment. Winter’s lips were pressed together, and Autumn knew the dedicated FBI agent was fighting off a strong fit of nervous laughter.

  To Winter’s right, Special Agent Noah Dalton’s head was moving around like a dodgeball as he apparently attempted to avoid looking at any and all naked body parts in the vicinity. His girlfriend was less than six inches away from him, after all, and she was armed.

  While noble, Noah’s efforts were in vain. Breasts were everywhere. All different sizes and colors—even a few oddly nonsymmetrical pairs.

  She assumed Winter would have to give her boyfriend a free pass for this train wreck.

  Autumn would have found the view embarrassing and humorous had she not known that her little sister was somewhere amongst the bare-skinned ladies. That fact effectively kept her straight-faced and sober.

  She let the initial shock pass and refocused on her mission. A purple-wigged waitress, who at the very least had a bikini top on, leaned against the bar and eyed them with cautious reservation.

  “Let’s sit,” Autumn ordered, choosing a wide cushioned booth shaped like a crescent moon.

  Winter and Noah obediently followed her. The trio slid across cracked vinyl seating that was so sticky it made her wish for an entire crate of Lysol spray to fall from the sky.

  Autumn fought the overwhelming urge to grab the nearest Booby Trap employee by the arm and gain any knowledge of Sarah that might be readily available.

  She wouldn’t seize anyone, of course. But being aware that she had the ability to get answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked was sometimes a curse she could hardly bear.

  Autumn’s abusive father had gifted her with a traumatic brain injury when she was only ten. Following the consequential brain surgery required to save her, Autumn awoke to an alien world where she possessed a sixth sense she’d never asked for nor wanted.

  A simple touch to or from another human sent instantaneous currents of information from the individual’s mind into her own. The thoughts and emotions often overwhelmed her when she was young, making her reluctant to physically connect with anyone.

  She hadn’t viewed her special ability as a positive until her college days, when a certain high-stakes incident showed her how her “superpower” could be used to help a planet full of broken souls. The experience had also made her innately curious about how the mind worked and what led some people to lives of crime while others never ventured down that path.

  Because she wanted to learn everything she could about the mind, Autumn followed her bachelor’s degree with a master’s in criminal psychology before deciding to earn her Ph.D. in forensic psychology. A Juris Doctorate made her feel as if her education was well rounded.

  Upon her graduation, her degrees made her a marketable commodity that helped her land her first job with a six-figure salary. And now, the FBI wanted her on their team. With the Bureau, her unusual “talent” could be harnessed as an advantageous yet silent instrument of justice.

  And even with all that education behind her, she still hadn’t asked about her sister.

  Pull it together.

  The waitress wasted no time walking straight to their table. Her hips swung with considerable flair as she approached them. “Take your order?” Vivid violet eyes—surely the result of colored contacts—flitted from Autumn to Winter to Noah, where they lingered long enough for Winter to narrow her own vivid blue eyes.

  “We’re actually here for…Ginger Snap.” Heat crept up Autumn’s neck as she mentioned her sister’s stripper name. The waitress, whose name tag fittingly read Violet Star, just stared at her. “Could you let her know she has some visitors?”

  Violet chomped on her gum, giving the trio a suspicious glare. “No order?”

  Autumn glanced at her friends. “Three colas would be great.”

  “You want sodas?” Violet adjusted her bikini strap. Her gaze turned dubious, then hateful. “What are y’all? Cops or somethin’?”

  Technically no, but close enough. You’re a sharp one, Violet Star.

  No response was needed as Violet put two and two together. Purple eyes wide, she shimmied away, disappearing behind a door that Autumn imagined led to the manager’s office. The agents barely had time to grin at each other before Violet was back with a man who was nearly as round as he was tall.

  Curly black chest hair popped out of his cheap satin button-down shirt like a bush. He was mostly bald but still had the George Costanza hairline growing thick and proud. Graced with multiple gold chain necklaces, a ludicrously large gold bracelet, and several gold rings, the man perpetuated his own stereotype remarkably well.

  “I’m Charlie. The manager. Can I help you folks with somethin’?” Charlie gave them a dark-eyed glare that indicated he had intentions to help them with absolutely nothing.

  “Just getting some refreshments, Charlie. Hot day out there.” Winter batted her eyelashes, gazing up at Charlie with innocent, brilliant blues.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, this ain’t really a soda kinda joint, and I’m sure that’s pretty obvious. Why don’t y’all roll outta here and find yourselves a McDonald’s? Soda for days, that place.” Autumn caught the glint of his golden front tooth decorating his grin.

  “Okay, Charlie, ya got us.” Noah bowed his head, as though confessing to a priest. He gave the manager a sheepish, guilty glance. “We don’t really want sodas. We’ve got a slight obsession goin’ on for Ginger Snap.”

  “All three of ya?” Charlie raised a thick black eyebrow as he peeked at Autumn and then Winter. He licked his lips.

  “All three of us. Could we please visit with Miss Snap…er…Ginger?” Noah pressed his palms together as he begged.

  Charlie turned to Violet Star. “Go get ‘er.”

  Autumn bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

  This was the moment. She was going to be face to face with Sarah in the flesh for the first time since—

  Ginger Snap sashayed to their table.

  Autumn had known there was a possibility that she wouldn’t quite recognize her baby sister, even if she and Sarah were still similar enough to confuse that drunk jackass at the trailer park a couple nights before. The man had been convinced that Autumn was Sarah, but a fifth of whiskey could twist a lot of things around in a man’s mind.

  However, this woman was one hundred percent not Sarah. Smooth ebony skin and creamy chocolate eyes blasted the fact without a single spoken word.

  She was, however, wearing a long, red wig.

  Charlie smiled, presenting them with the object of their obsession.

  “How many Ginger Snaps are there in this place?” Annoyance dripped from each of Winter’s words before she turned an icy glare at the manager. “You have to recycle your stage names, Charlie?”

  Realizing he hadn’t just pleased three paying customers after all, Charlie’s face turned surly. “Lotta people got a thing for redheads.” He side-glanced at Autumn. “Evonne fills in
when the original Ginger bails…and that’s all the damn time. Guess you already figured that out for yourself. Fuckin’ redheads.”

  Autumn’s shoulders slumped. Evonne was a beautiful woman.

  But she wasn’t Sarah.

  Charlie leaned down, giving Autumn a friendly eyebrow wiggle. “You got any dancing experience, honey?”

  Autumn stared blankly back at the repulsively hairy beast before her. Disappointment rendered her speechless.

  Winter, on the other hand, was shooting fireballs at Charlie with her eyes, and Noah had managed to turn what started as a very loud laugh into an incredibly convincing cough.

  “How about this, Charlie? Ginger got any friends we could talk to?” Noah pushed back to the issue at hand.

  Charlie’s face scrunched with confusion. “Talk to?” He threw a hand up and snorted. “Fork over fifty bucks and you can ‘talk’ to Ginger Snap’s bestie, Elvis’s grandma, and the Queen of friggin’ England. For exactly fifteen minutes.”

  Noah’s wallet was on the table in a hot second.

  “You’ll be wantin’ Angel Devine. She’s tight with Ginger.” Violet waved a hand, indicating they should follow her.

  Evonne huffed, clearly offended by the dismissal.

  “You’re very pretty,” Autumn assured her, earning a wink from her sister’s fill-in before following after Winter, Noah, and Violet Star.

  The waitress led them down a narrow hallway that reeked of certain blatant, obvious human smells that Autumn refused to identify. The velvet red carpet was bunched in places, ripped in others, and seemed to be a thousand years old.

  Violet drew back the curtain on a room to her right and ushered them in. “Only one chair. Guess you’re taking turns.” She shot Autumn a cold smile and pulled the curtain shut behind her.

  Noah promptly sat on the metal folding chair. “How’s anybody supposed to enjoy anything on this dang contraption? Reminds me of high school detention.”

  Winter placed her hands on her hips. “How often were you in there, Dalton?”

  Autumn chuckled, but Noah didn’t have a chance to defend himself before the topless platinum blonde with the impressive thigh muscles whipped through the curtain.