by Mary Stone
“I’m sooorrry! I’m sorry! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” His small fists pounded against the wood.
A much larger fist pounded back. “You settle down right now! You sit in there and think about what you did! What did you do to earn yourself this punishment?”
Philip stopped pounding, fearful of even worse repercussion. Instead, he wrapped his skinny arms around his knees and rocked.
This would be over soon. Daddy wouldn’t keep him in here forever. He hadn’t done anything that bad.
Had he?
He couldn’t remember…couldn’t think. He wanted out. He needed out.
What did you do to earn yourself this punishment, Philip…
The cool moisture slathered across his face brought him back to the present. How many times had he woken up in a cold sweat remembering his childhood episodes of discipline and penance?
But he wasn’t in his bed. He was trapped inside this car. And he was supposed to be remembering something from his days of private practice.
He’d had so many patients during that time. And right now…he couldn’t think…needed air…
Philip’s breathing escalated to hyperventilation. A panic attack was coming on like a tidal wave, drowning him in inky, murky waters and crushing his every cell.
“How much longer do I have to be in here? Let me out! You have to let me out!” His fists were numb from beating on the trunk so hard. “Aaaaahhhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!”
The slit of light unfurled once more, and Philip dove toward what might be his only escape from this hell of nothingness. He pushed his head into the opening, intending to crawl his way out regardless of Albert’s orders.
He’d roll the dice on being shot.
The hard handle of the gun cracked against his skull, and pain forced him back into his hole. His vision blurred as he curled into a fetal position.
Dr. Trent screamed from the front seat. “Philip! Are you okay? Philip?” Her voice became a mumble as Albert closed the breach again.
But he had some company in the trunk now. The searing pain. He was going to blackout and not know what was happening, where they’d been taken, how this was all going to end.
And he was certain a terrible end was coming.
Think. Focus. Calm yourself.
Philip forced himself to concentrate on his time in private practice. So many faces and so much success…until the end.
That girl. The one who’d committed suicide. The one that prick Fed and the bitchy police chief had brought up just to throw him off-balance.
Hester. Cally…no…Coreen…no…Colleen. Colleen Hester.
Colleen had mentioned a devoted brother. She’d spoken of him often in sessions, in fact. They were very close.
Was this all about Colleen? Her suicide?
Philip froze, his trembling ceasing for the first time since he’d been stuffed into this cursed torture cell. Was this about her family? He knew some of her relatives had blamed him for her untimely passing. A few had been enraged when he was cleared of any involvement.
If that’s what this was all about…some type of revenge plot or quest for retribution…chances were good that he was seriously, irreversibly screwed.
27
Autumn brought the Camry to a stop on the paved driveway of their final destination point. An isolated farmhouse sat erect before them. The house itself must have been very old, but judging from the fresh blue paint and the well-manicured lawn, great care had been taken to maintain the expensive home.
The lot of land was quite private and surrounded by dense forest. Autumn hadn’t spotted a single neighboring house as they drove. The relief of the drive having ended flowed straight into the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
Okay, Albert. We’re here. Now what?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Albert opened the driver’s side door, grabbed her arm, and yanked her from the vehicle. He popped the back open, giving Autumn full sight of Dr. Baldwin post trunk ride.
He looked a mess. Physically, but more so, emotionally. His hair was drenched in sweat, and Autumn suspected, tears. Green eyes surrounded by puffy, reddened skin stared up at her with horror and confusion.
Albert jerked Philip from the trunk with minimal effort and threw him down at her feet.
Her instant, instinctive move to try and help the doctor up was thwarted as Albert boomed, “Stay still or pay the price.” Their abductor made a great show of stretching his legs, always with the gun trained on his pair of captives.
Autumn met Philip’s eyes and mouthed, “Are you all right?” Baldwin closed his eyes and inhaled a series of deep breaths. He then managed to roll over and raise to his feet.
He opened his mouth to answer but clamped it shut as he started to look around. Wide eyes scanned the surrounding area for the first time. “This is my house!”
Autumn swung her head toward him in alarm. Albert had brought them to a house that Philip owned? While that explained the meticulous upkeep of the grounds, Autumn was at a loss as to what the purpose of coming here could be.
Philip’s properties would be some of the first locations law enforcement checked. They weren’t just possibly going to be found here. They positively would be discovered. And in the near future.
“I’m counting on them finding you, Dr. Trent.”
But just what exactly would be left of them to find?
Albert snorted. “Recognize your own house and everything. Maybe you’re not as dumb as I thought you were.” He rammed the pistol into Philip’s back and kicked the doctor’s legs out from under him, laughing wickedly as the man fell into a pathetic heap. Again.
The orderly’s strong hand clamped down on Autumn’s shoulder. He gestured for her to walk toward the house. “Not you, Baldwin. You crawl on your hands and knees. Maybe I’ll even let you make it past the doorstep.”
Albert gave a kick to Philip’s buttocks, garnering a yelp from the already battered doctor.
“Get going. You’re leading the way.” He pointed the pistol at Autumn, guiding her forward with a death grip as they followed the full-grown doctor crawling like a baby toward his home.
Autumn pitied Philip, assuming his embarrassment, pain, and fear were most likely at all-time highs. Regardless of her personal feelings toward him, Dr. Philip Baldwin was a respected and accomplished man.
Or at least, he had been up until the murders at Virginia State Hospital.
She couldn’t imagine that he’d ever been more humiliated in his lifetime.
But worse than the current degradation was the impending danger awaiting him. Awaiting both of them. Albert had a plan, the details of which remained unknown.
Autumn inspected the ground and the front porch ahead of them, searching for a weapon of some sort. A stick. A rock. A forgotten and conveniently placed snow shovel. Anything she could use to defend herself.
She didn’t even have her purse with her. Albert had stowed the bag in the back seat with himself, along with her dead phone.
Her knowledge of Krav Maga could prove useful if Albert didn’t have his heavy hand on her shoulder, fingers pinched down into her nerves, and a gun pointed directly her way. She’d never be able to strike him before he pulled the trigger.
Even on her best day, she wasn’t faster than a bullet.
Staying calm was the only weapon she had left other than to keep Albert talking, as she’d attempted to do on the drive. But he was too preoccupied right now with his madman parade to hold an ongoing conversation.
He clearly had a terminus in mind for Philip and was going to see that he had the doctor in the exact place he wanted him.
Autumn assumed he’d already decided upon her fate as well.
Philip crawled up the porch steps of the farmhouse. Albert scrutinized the entire process before yanking Autumn up the stairs alongside himself. He pushed her against the house wall until her cheek and the front of her body were pressed against the wood, biting into her skin.
Had Albert forme
rly been in the military or a branch of law enforcement? The tactics he used to keep her under control were familiar. Her hopes sank lower as she realized the orderly might also be highly trained in some form of hand-to-hand combat.
Their chances of escaping were shrinking. Fast.
Stalling. She would have to stall this man as long as possible.
In all likelihood, the team had discovered they were missing by now. She’d been a no-show to her meeting with Justin without any warning or explanation, and her phone was off.
Her phone was never off. The career field she’d chosen to step into didn’t allow for a moment of total peace. There was always a call coming, and she understood that.
If they attempted to track her car’s GPS, they would know for certain something was amiss. And then what?
She attempted to view the situation from the other side. Philip was still the prime suspect for two murders. All the agents knew he had a special loathing for her.
The officer she’d relieved would have been forced to admit that he’d left the two of them alone in the administrative wing, and they would accurately assume that Dr. Baldwin and Dr. Trent had left the hospital together. Philip’s boxes were in the parking garage, her car was gone while his would still be on the grounds somewhere.
They’re going to think he did this. They’ll believe that Baldwin has taken me hostage. Or worse.
The idea upset her at first, and then she played the situation out further. If they thought Philip had her, they would check his properties first. The team would take quick action.
Her colleagues…her friends…would be arriving at this farmhouse today.
Albert had made himself very clear that he wanted them to be found, though the condition in which they were to be discovered remained murky.
He wouldn’t have kidnapped two individuals only for them to be found perfectly fine and undisturbed. The man wanted them to be found in a very specific way, and his devotion to this unknown yet detailed plan did not bode well for Philip nor herself.
Keys jingled as Albert reached around her to open the door. He swung the thick wood wide open with a small shove of his palm. She was next to be shoved, stumbling across the entryway floorboards.
“Sit,” Albert ordered, pointing to the floor. Autumn obediently dropped. “Stay.” This was delivered as a growling command, and she was tempted to bark in return.
Philip crawled in behind her, still in his stance of mortifying indignity. She began to examine him, wanting to ensure the man wasn’t critically injured. He’d taken two blows to the head from the gun, and kicks to—
Albert booted Philip firmly in the gut. The doctor slammed backward onto the floor, moaning in agony as he rolled onto his side, struggling to breathe.
Autumn saw no blood on her fellow prisoner, but her fears were not allayed. His internal injuries could be extensive after so many vicious blows to his body. And she had a sad suspicion that Dr. Baldwin hadn’t yet received his last beating.
They sat in an expansive foyer on beautifully maintained wood floors. White-washed shiplap walls showcased numerous framed scenes of the forest.
Autumn never would have guessed Philip to be an outdoorsman. Picturing him hiking through the woods in a bright puffer jacket softened the otherwise foreboding façade of the physician who was generally conjured up when Dr. Baldwin was mentioned.
“A man can be an asshole and still be a good person.”
Aiden’s comment came back to her, and she almost smiled, but couldn’t. They’d shared that lunch only two days ago. There was a growing possibility that no more meals of any sort would be shared by her again.
Philip’s broken gasps for air beside her were growing louder. He may very well have several broken ribs, and if even one of them punctured his lungs…
She had to get them out of here.
“Do you know how this man killed my sister, Dr. Trent?” Albert’s voice was soft, almost like he’d done nothing more than ask about the weather. The voice didn’t match his stormy expression, though. He stared at Philip, a mask of hatred and something else…sorrow maybe…freezing his features in a grimace.
She jerked her eyes away from Philip and met Albert’s steady gaze. “No, I don’t.”
She didn’t know if this was the “right” answer, but she’d spoken the truth.
Albert grinned at her. His eyes were mirthless and cold. Haunted. “Well, Pippi, you’re about to find out.”
28
Winter huffed and dropped her pen in defeat. She’d attempted to balance the damn thing on her stapler for at least the last twenty minutes.
She was barely cognizant of the fact that this was what she’d been “working” on. The universe was hazy right now. Muggy. Unsettling.
Yesterday had been an absolute shit show.
The visit with Justin had gone horribly wrong. And maybe she wasn’t so upset by that as she was mad at herself for being surprised by the downturn of events. A visit to anyone in any maximum-security facility was bound to be a bumpy ride.
And she’d gone to see her serial killing, mentally ill little brother hoping for giggles and grins. Pathetic.
She wasn’t as naïve as she’d been behaving. There was just that forever undying desire to somehow normalize and repair a situation that was completely beyond fixing. She couldn’t just Pinterest some DIY method for making her brother not crazy.
There wasn’t an app for that.
And Noah. He loved her and wanted to keep her safe. That was the bottom line.
Being around Justin wasn’t safe for her or anyone else. Noah and Autumn had both attempted to tell and show her this.
Maybe she reacted so harshly to their sentiments because she already knew what they were saying was the truth.
The truth about Justin broke her heart.
Unless her Fairy Godmother dropped out of the actual sky, waved a sparkling wand, and bippity-boppity-booed her brother into a magically better person, Justin was likely never going to return from the world Douglas Kilroy had raised him in.
The outcome just wasn’t possible. At least not now. Maybe not for many, many years.
Maybe never.
The truth was that “never” struck her as the actual answer. Deep down in that unyielding place where hope existed, she’d already suffered the pricks of that needle. Her dreams for Justin were bleeding out each and every day.
Hearing the words from Noah…from Autumn…from Aiden or anyone else, turned the needles to knives and the pricks to stab wounds.
And even when no one said anything, even when they let the matter go, their eyes continued to express the same conclusion.
Her brother was dangerous. Visiting him was dangerous. If she wanted to see him, talk to him, connect with him, he should really be shackled.
But she knew demanding the cuffing would erase any attempts her brother made to behave, to be pleasant, to not be the monster he actually was. Binding him was essentially acknowledging the beast he’d become.
He’d stop with the deception and manipulation because he’d realize that she saw him. Really saw him. If she kept pretending that he could recover, he’d keep pretending to be recovering.
Lies upon lies…just to have a few false moments of softness and peace with her baby brother.
That was the game they’d been playing. Every last second of their “happy visits” together was an illusion.
But that illusion was all she had.
Unfair. Unfair!
Winter propped her elbows on her desktop and rested her head in her hands.
She pictured the cuddly little boy with a lisp. That little boy had been headed toward being a fine young man, and then an actual man, a husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather…
He’d been just as intelligent then as he was now. He’d loved building things with Legos and blocks. He’d loved showing his sissy how to recreate what he had made even more. He might have become an architect. A teacher.
Maybe he would have
coached his own kid’s soccer team. He would have laughed and yelled and cheered at the sidelines. Maybe she would have been sitting in the bleachers with all the other families, rooting on her nephew…or niece…or both.
You’re torturing yourself. You have to stop. You have to let go.
The thoughts made her clutch the precious illusion tighter.
She knew a day would come when she was no longer able to even conjure up the fantasies. In fact, she felt that day approaching much faster with every passing week.
Winter was too level-headed, too logical to keep the wishing well operating forever.
Kilroy had pointed his evil, demented finger in Justin’s direction and forever changed the life of an innocent child. He’d stripped away all the good and pure inside of Justin and filled the holes with hate and vengeance. Simply because that was what Douglas had decided to do.
If there was any magic to Justin’s story at all, it was of the dark sort. Kilroy and his evil, spell-casting wand.
Even in death, the perverted, deranged old man remained victorious.
He still had Justin. He didn’t even have to be alive anymore to own her brother.
Winter felt the old, familiar hatred, hot as fire, stirring in her stomach.
The wrong couldn’t be righted. Justice would never prevail. Not for her, and certainly not for her brother.
Justin’s malign voice rang in her ears. She’d tried to bury the words…the horrible words he’d whispered to her just yesterday. But they were alive and well. They were loud.
“Grandpa had a hard-on for you, big sister. I do too.”
If she hadn’t pulled away, or more accurately, been released by Noah, she knew the threat Justin would have added. Or, more aptly, the promise that would have passed his deranged lips.
Winter knew what her brother was.
All this morbid ruminating was making her nauseated. She’d go to the breakroom. Eat some crackers. Maybe even visit Sun’s desk and let Agent Ming’s snark snap her out of this heavy trance.
