“Are you feeling okay? Perhaps I can get you anything?”
“I need to speak with him urgently.”
“He’s off shift. Would you like me to call another doctor?”
“No, I’d like to speak only with Dr. Kyle. Please call him and tell him it’s an emergency.”
Pursed lips and a deep frown wiped away the nurse’s cheerful grin as she struggled to process the unusual request.
“Look, Mrs. Blake, if I’m going to call in Dr. Kyle when he’s off duty, he’ll need to know the reason.”
Abbie grimaced to prevent herself from snapping on the nurse. It wasn’t her fault, she was just following standard hospital procedure. Either way, Abbie couldn’t afford to let anything stand in her way. “I can’t share with you the reason. It’s confidential information that should be shared only between doctor and patient.”
The nurse nodded in sympathy rather than agreement. Her eyes widened with curiosity and concern. She picked up the clipboard attached to the edge of the bed and wrote some notes, her glasses sliding to the tip of her pointy nose. After jotting down three or four lines, she looked up at Abbie, eyes protruding in crab-like fashion above her glasses. “Mrs. Blake, with all due respect, we’re all part of your care team here at the hospital. At least four different doctors have treated you daily over the last two years. You’re in excellent hands, so there’s nothing to worry about. Dr. Whitaker is on shift, can I call him?”
Abbie puffed her cheeks in frustration. The nurse’s stubborn by-the-book attitude was uncompromising. There was no alternative except to set the cat among the pigeons.
“You’ll call Dr. James Kyle and tell him that if he doesn’t come to see me now then . . .” Abbie hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the words to describe her predicament.
“Then what?” The nurse said, her voice rife with tension.
“Then people will die.”
CHAPTER 16
23:00.
The digital clock flashed above the doorway. Over an hour passed since the nurse stormed out of the room. Abbie’s mind raced through the multiple scenarios; there was no option but to wait for Dr. Kyle and hope that the nurse called it in. She glanced down at the floor. The metal clipboard lay a few feet away, where the nurse had dropped it in panic.
She’ll call him. I spooked her.
Her medical team would think she was delusional and dangerous to herself or others. That didn’t matter much. She would explain it all to Dr. Kyle, who seemed to have a genuine care for her wellbeing. At least he would hear her out with no prejudice. Her eyelids felt swollen and heavy, overpowered by exhaustion. The day’s emotional toll was claiming its price. She fought hard to keep her eyes open, unable to rest until she had done her part.
23:18.
There was a heated conversation in the corridor, too far for her to discern the words. When the conversation stopped, she heard footsteps approaching the doorway. She dragged herself to an upright position and adjusted her frizzled hair. In her state it was hard to look presentable, but she wanted to show that she was alert and in a sound state of mind.
Dr. Kyle entered the room with quick strides, his unbuttoned white cloak flailing behind him like the expanded wings of a dove. He wore a plain white T-shirt, black tracksuit pants, and a pair of sneakers. The golden wave perched above his forehead remained unfazed, as if glued on. Despite the late hour, he was fresh and calm.
“My apologies, it took me a while to arrive. I was at home when you called for me.” He flashed her an authentic grin, not seeming bothered by being called out at such a late hour. His slick composure and warm approach calmed her panic somewhat. He picked up the clipboard from the floor and scanned through the notes. He attached it back to the edge of the bed and pulled up a rolling stool, adjusting the height so they were on the same eye level. “So, what seems to be the matter, Mrs. Blake?” he said, clasping his hands.
“I’d like to speak to the police as soon as possible. My husband and son are in danger.”
“There were gentlemen here from the FBI when you were admitted to the hospital. They requested to know once you were conscious. They haven’t been back since.”
“I need to speak with them urgently.”
“Sure, I’ll contact them tomorrow and explain the urgency of the matter.”
“I need you to contact them now!” she barked at him, losing her composure. The thought of losing Robert and Jonah sparked a death-like desperation. “You’ve no idea what I’ve been through!”
In complete contrast to the panicky nurse, Dr. Kyle kept his cool and maintained eye contact throughout her outburst. It was unnerving.
“Mrs. Blake, you’re right. I’ve no idea what you’ve been through,” he said, his tone tranquil like a children’s lullaby.
Abbie’s panic eased. This man exuded a sense of control and security.
“I’m sure there’s a rational explanation why you’d think your family is in danger.” His tone was firm but soft-spoken. He leaned in closer to her. “But please note this. You’ve been unconscious for almost two years, and during that period, your family was safe. There’s no sign that they’re in any imminent danger.”
She bit her lower lip to fight back the tears. He was right, but to a degree. The fact that they were safe until now didn’t guarantee their future safety. He didn’t know the full picture. She had learned something today, a minor detail with a potentially fatal consequence. She looked down at her bony frame, avoiding the pity in his eyes. “I’m not crazy. I have my reasons.”
He stood up, the wheels of the stool squeaking along the smooth surface as it glided away from her. He ran a hand through his lustrous hair, causing the wave to rise and fall to the same position.
“You’re likely suffering a bout of intense post-traumatic stress, which is normal in your condition. For what it’s worth, I believe you. You’re a brave fighter who battled for life over the last two years. I’m a witness to that.”
She looked up at his glistening hazel eyes, and they said much more than his kind words ever could. Rarely had she met a doctor who cared so deeply for his patients. A moment of uneasy silence ensued as their eyes locked. Indeed, there was an unusual bond. She wasn’t imagining it.
He cleared his throat and adjusted his white coat. “I’ll ensure that there is someone here from law enforcement in the morning.”
“Thank you, James,” she said, relief embracing her like a warm blanket on a winter’s day. He was her guardian angel.
“Here, drink this. It’ll help you sleep. You’ve had a long day.” He brought a glass of water and a single pill toward her lips.
She swallowed the pill without hesitation; a good night’s sleep beckoned. Her throat was still so raw that even the small pill hurt on the way down. She grimaced and took a larger sip of water.
“You should feel the tension slipping away. Let yourself flow with it.” His voice sounded like a distant echo. She closed her eyes, slipping away into a blissful and painless state of tranquility. For the first time in years, the warmth of love and compassion cocooned her, and it was wonderful to feel human again.
A warm, dry kiss caressed her forehead, creeping down toward her lips. It was soothing and surprisingly passionate. The affection consumed her body and soul, not wanting it to end. Her eyes obeyed desire, remaining closed, her mind wallowing in the love. Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped, leaving her with nothing but the cold darkness, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes shot open, a moment of brutal lucidity.
00:25
The red digits of the clock illuminated the darkened hospital room. She propped herself up using her elbows and glanced around the room, perplexed, the kiss still lingering on her lips. Dr. Kyle had vanished.
Delusion, hallucination?
One thing she was sure about, the kiss was real.
CHAPTER 17
&
nbsp; “Rise and shine, Mrs. Blake.”
The curtains drew wide open, flooding the hospital room with bright early morning sunshine. Abbie squinted and placed a bandaged hand over her eyes, adjusting to the sunlight.
“Good morning, I hope that you slept well. I’ll record your vitals and take some blood. Then we’ll bring in your breakfast.”
It was the same annoying nurse she had encountered the night before, and she was in no mood for sarcastic politeness. “Good morning,” Abbie said, attempting to sound cordial. She woke up groggy and weak, her mouth dry with a strong metallic taste. In contrast, the nurse went about her tasks with a spring in her step and a natural arrogance. Abbie looked on in envy, craving the mundane. A typical day at work wasn’t trivial; it was something to appreciate. She reached for the plastic cup on the nightstand and took a few sips of water to wash away the taste and any disturbing thoughts. It was a futile task wishing back the past, when the road to recovery was long and relentless. She focused her thoughts on the positive. Robert and Jonah were alive, and that was far more than she could have hoped for in her situation.
“Great, we’re all done,” the nurse said, flashing another phony grin. She attached the clipboard to the foot of the bed and gathered the tubes of blood samples. “After you’re done with your breakfast, there’re some officers here that’d like to see you.”
Abbie leaned on her elbows, dragging herself higher up the pillow to a partial sitting position. “The breakfast can wait, please call them in.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Blake.” The nurse adjusted the IV and headed out the door.
Fifteen minutes later, a man and a woman entered the room. The man was stocky and bald, in his mid-forties with a stubble-strewn square jaw. He wore a cheap navy suit with a creased white cotton shirt and a striped tie. The woman was a younger, swarthy brunette with a ponytail tied up in a neat bunch. Her tailored black suit and maroon blouse stressed her authoritative presence.
“Hello, Mrs. Blake, I’m FBI Agent Molina, and this gentleman here is Agent Cunningham. Please note that we’re not here for a formal statement at this stage. So, it won’t be necessary to delve into all the details. We were notified that your family might be in imminent danger. What seems to be the problem?” Molina was courteous, but Abbie sensed traces of doubt in her voice.
“Hello officers.” Abbie composed herself as it would not be easy to relive those moments. “The person who kidnapped me . . . the beast . . . he had a recent photo of my husband and son in his house. Well . . . recent for that time. I saw it during my escape two years ago. He was watching my family.”
“How could you tell that it was a recent photo?” Cunningham interjected, his voice deep and brutish.
Molina flashed him a glance to keep his mouth shut. Her fierce brown eyes meant business, and it was clear who was the brains and who was the brawn in this partnership.
“I saw my family last night for the first time after many years. I wasn’t in the least bit surprised by their appearance. They have changed little over the past two years. My boy has grown a fair amount. He was three years old in the photo. But there are more similarities between a three-year-old and a five-year-old, than with the baby I left behind,” Abbie said, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. The tears flowed whenever she noticed the reality of her ordeal. “Please, you have to find him. I’m afraid that he’ll target my family. If he had them under surveillance before, then there’s no reason he isn’t doing it now.”
“The bureau is stepping up this investigation, we’ll find him. In the meantime, we’ll assign officers to watch over your family,” Molina reassured her with an aura of confidence, driving the message home.
Abbie breathed a sigh of relief. At least her family was safe. The conversation also gave her hope that the smart and capable hands of Agent Molina would one day bring the beast to justice.
Over the next hour, Abbie recalled as much as she could, detailing the physical attributes and behaviors of Freddy and Fiona. They were the same person, but different in so many ways it required separate profiling. The FBI would in reality be on the lookout for two individuals. She detailed the so-called asylum, its torture cells, and the surrounding area. When she delved into the specifics of the torture, Molina cut her off.
“We’ll be back for a formal statement, and then we can discuss all the details. That’ll be all for today. Thank you for your cooperation,” Molina said and snapped her notepad shut, marching for the exit with Cunningham trailing behind.
“Wait, there’s a girl.”
Both agents twisted around like they had just seen a ghost.
“Oh no, what happened to the girl?” Abbie said, aware that she had just hit a soft spot.
“She . . .” Cunningham opened his mouth to answer, but Molina convinced him otherwise with a firm grip of his bicep.
“Can you please describe the girl?” Molina said, forthright.
“She was around ten years old. Wispy black hair, cut to a shoulder-length angular bob. Cute cherub face, button nose, large dark eyes.” Abbie said, her voice trembling, fearing the worst for the girl.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Blake. When did you last see her?” Molina prodded for more information.
Abbie hesitated, recalling that a solid iron door kept the girl prisoner. There was no way she had ever seen her. But somehow, in her mind, she could see her features to the finest detail. It was a disturbing anomaly, and it left her no choice but to twist the truth. “During my escape, I heard her pleas for help. I tried to save her, but I didn’t have the key to her barred cell. I had no option but to leave her and try to get help from the outside. May God forgive me,” Abbie said, bursting into an episode of inconsolable sobbing. “Please tell me she’s okay.”
“We . . .” Cunningham was cut short again.
“We don’t know that yet. But we’ll sure as hell find out soon enough. Goodbye, Mrs. Blake,” Molina interjected, signaling to Cunningham to head for the exit. The agents both turned for the door and left.
Abbie sunk her head into the pillow—they were hiding information from her. They knew something about the girl. In her fragile state, maybe it was better not to know. Still, it didn’t offset the guilt that plagued her mind. She was reunited with her child, something this girl’s mother would most likely never experience. The guilt was unwarranted. She had risked her life for the girl, bottom line. She closed her eyes, replaying the rest of the conversation in her mind. The agents weren’t the only ones hiding something. She had kept another specific detail to herself. The photo she had seen during her escape wasn’t the only way she recognized Robert and Jonah. She had seen them in her flashbacks, in the black abyss. Bright as day, she saw Robert with his shortened receding hairline and new glasses, hugging Jonah on the porch in the cabin by the lake. They looked the same as last night, and it was inexplicable. If she had mentioned this to the agents, they would have disregarded her concerns, chalking her off as delusional. It was preposterous to think she had somehow prophesied their identity and that of the missing girl.
I’m not crazy.
She rubbed her temples with her bandaged hands, her head aching. There had to be an explanation for all this. Her mind was a shattered vase, but she resolved to piece it together. Experience had shown her she could and should still trust herself.
A tall male nurse with loose green scrubs rolled in a squeaky trolley carrying scrambled eggs, toast, and yogurt. “Would you like some coffee?”
Abbie nodded and used the bed railings to pull herself to an upright position. She tucked into the breakfast with purpose. If she was to have any hope of uncovering what happened and why, she would need to have her physical strength back.
CHAPTER 18
Three weeks later.
The automatic sliding doors swished open, and an early-autumn gust of wind greeted her. She raised her chin and inhaled the cool air, relishing being outside the
dank hospital room.
“Thank you. You can stop here,” she ordered the male nurse, raising herself from the wheelchair.
“All the best, Mrs. Blake,” he said, handing her the crutches.
She slipped her arms through the cuffs, gripping the handles. Walking was still difficult, but she was pushing hard with the physical therapy. She hobbled along the dew-covered sidewalk, measuring each stride with caution. She paused at the curb, raising her eyes to the sky. It was a cloudy day, but nothing could diminish her mood. She hadn’t believed this day would ever arrive. It was good to be alive and even better to be outside. She contemplated how unfortunate it was that she had to endure pain and suffering for such a long time so she could learn to enjoy every moment that life offered. All her frivolous disappointments and expectations were gone like the gust of the wind. More achievements, fewer achievements, dreams, or no dreams. She smiled at the foolishness of it all. Love, family, safety, health, contentment! That was her purpose now, and she was more than okay with it.
A black Range Rover rolled to a stop less than a foot from the curb. The tinted glass window of the passenger side edged its way open.
“I could see your smile from down the road,” Robert said from the driver’s seat. “Do you need help to get in?”
“I got this.” She leaned on the left crutch and stretched her right hand out of the cuff, pulling back the door. She bundled herself into the heated camel leather seat, placing the crutches between her knees. “Let’s go, baby.”
Robert eased the car out of the main driveway, toward the exit of the hospital.
“Mommy, I can’t believe you’re coming home,” Jonah said from the back seat.
“Me too, my boy, I’ve dreamed about this moment for a long time.” She stretched her arm over her head, reaching for Jonah’s touch. Their fingers intertwined in a loving embrace, affirming their natural bond. It was a gradual process for both mother and son, but she expedited it. Whenever she had a break from her intense physical therapy, she spent it with her family. Maybe time would not heal all her wounds, but it would give her a chance to rebuild. Everything was falling into place, and against all the odds, home beckoned.
Eye For Her: A gripping must-read thriller Page 9
