by Beth Manz
"Textbook answers, David," Abby argued kindly. She leaned over him, looked down into the intelligent blue eyes. "Tell me about anthropology."
"Oh," he responded, blinking rapidly, then forcing his eyes open. He huffed out a small chuckle. "Okay. Ever hear of...Teotihuacán, Abby?"
"Teo-what?" she laughed.
"Teotihuacán. Religious center of Mesoamerica...once the largest city in...in America." He paused briefly, his eyes closing again, taking several moments to open this time. "Went to visit there...once. My sophomore year.... There are these old ruins...houses decorated with paintings...."
"David?"
He yawned, then tried to open his eyes. Failing that, he relaxed back against the pillows. "Disappeared," he breathed out.
"What? What disappeared?"
A tired smile pulled at David's lips. "Not what, Abby. Who. The people of Teotihuacán.... They left...700 AD. No one...knows...why...."
The last sentence was spoken whisper soft and as Abby watched, David's head lolled to the side and he succumbed to the powerful pull of the Ativan.
She studied him for a long time, chewing on her lower lip as she replayed his words through her mind. He knows about anthropology.
So you believe him? The words whispered in her ear and the answer came to her an instant later. No. Not completely. But something was wrong with all of this. Maybe I should just do what he asked. Part of her knew she was risking her job by going to see this Dr. Stoddard; that is, if Collins ever found out. Yet another part of her knew that the worst she could do was make a fool of herself in front of Rainier's chancellor. Or, she could save a young man's life in the event that David was telling the truth....
She glanced down at the chart again, torn between doing what her heart directed and obeying the orders she'd been given by Collins. Collins. Just the thought of the arrogant doctor disgusted her. Again, her thoughts turned to the unusual treatment he was using with David. Why does he really want to use shock therapy? Is it to help David? Or erase Blair? She was aware of the initial and most frequently documented result of ECT--short-term memory loss. Does Dr. Collins want David to lose his memory? And if so, why?
She sighed deeply as she turned to leave the room. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't made any promises to David, yet that fact was of small comfort to her. She knew her young patient was supposedly delusional, but the niggling doubts that had sprung up within her mind refused to be ignored.
She entered the nurses' station and took a seat next to her long-time friend and co-worker, Sheila Townsend. "Sheila," she began, glancing around to make sure there were no patients or staff nearby to overhear her question, "I need to talk to you about David Jacobs."
"Jacobs," Sheila repeated, her brow furrowed in concentration. "You mean the little cutie in Room Three? What about him?"
Again Abby glanced around but no one was in sight. Briefly, in hushed tones, she told her friend about David's insistence that he was Blair Sandburg and about the request he had made of her. When she finished, her friend frowned and shook her head.
"Of course he's telling you these things. He's delusional, remember?"
"But he knew about anthropology, Sheila. You should have heard him trying to talk about it."
Sheila shook her head. "For all you know, he was quoting some lecture he remembered from high school."
She gave Sheila an impatient glare. "He's drugged, fighting to string two words together, yet he remembers a lecture from high school?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. That boy knew what he was talking about."
Sheila leaned toward her, studied her. "What's going on with you, Abby? You've worked with mentally ill patients as long as I have and you know that they can be absolute masters at deceit. They can make even the most unbelievable stories sound believable. What makes this patient's line about being someone he isn't so special?"
Abby shook her head. "I don't know. And maybe I wouldn't have doubted his story in the first place if that was all I had to go on, but...."
"But what?"
Sighing, Abby picked at a loose thread in her smock. "It's Dr. Collins' treatment," she admitted reluctantly. "He's keeping David sedated when there's no need for it and he refuses to discuss putting him on antipsychotics. But worst of all, I saw a note Dr. Collins made in David's chart this morning--a note about possibly starting shock treatments."
"ECT! Why? I didn't think David was that bad off...."
"That's just the point," Abby jumped in. "I've spent ninety percent of my last few shifts with David Jacobs, and he hasn't exhibited any behavior that makes me think he qualifies for shock therapy."
"Still," Sheila argued, "If Dr. Collins is thinking about it, there must be something he knows that we don't."
Abby huffed out a sound of derision. "I think there's a lot about David Jacobs that Dr. Collins knows and we don't."
"Hey, you watch yourself," Sheila warned in a guarded voice, looking up to scan the surrounding area herself this time. "Collins hears you talking like that and it could mean your job! You do or say anything to ruffle his arrogant feathers and"--Sheila reached up and made a slicing motion across her throat--"you'll be axed before you know it."
Abby hung her head. Sheila was right. But it all seemed so unfair. Something was wrong with David's treatment and deep in her heart she just knew he wasn't the delusional man Collins made him out to be. She'd seen the intelligence in the brilliant blue eyes--rational intelligence that Collins was suppressing with the ongoing regimen of Ativan.
"Are you listening to me?" Sheila's voice roused her from her thoughts. "Collins has the power to fire you, Abby. You just keep your mouth shut and do your job, you hear?" Reaching out, Sheila placed a gentle hand against her arm. "David Jacobs is not worth it!"
But that's just the problem, Abby thought to herself as she turned to the stack of reports that needed to be filed, I just can't shake the feeling that David is worth it...
Part Five
Jim Ellison pulled up in front of the dentist's office and cut the engine of the truck. It was the campus dental office, located in the student infirmary. The same office Blair had been using when he first met Jim, but the doctor was different. In fact, this particular doctor was the latest in a long line of Rainier dentistry students and graduates who interned at the campus office then rotated out into their own practices. Blair had only seen this particular dentist, Dr. Harrison, on one occasion that Jim could recall. He was young, just graduated last year if Jim remembered correctly. He would be the perfect target for a payoff--young, ambitious...and deep in debt.
Jim walked through the front doors of the office, flashed his badge at the college-aged receptionist at the front counter, then strode past her without uttering a word, heading directly into the examination area.
"Hey, you can't just go back there," he heard her call out. He easily ignored her and continued forward.
Moments later he walked into a small cubicle and found Dr. Harrison. The doctor was conferring quietly with a young woman. The sterile white bib was still secured around the woman's neck, but it was obvious that her dental work had been completed and that Dr. Harrison was simply giving her some last minute instructions.
"Harrison," Jim ground out.
The young dentist glanced over his shoulder, scowling at the unannounced interruption. "Excuse me, but I'm with a patient."
Jim held up his badge. "Now you're with me."
"I tried to stop him, Doctor," the receptionist's voice came from behind the detective. "But he just walked right past me."
"What is this about?" Harrison demanded, standing to his feet. His voice was edged with impatience, but Jim could see the small tremors that shook his hands and the light sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
The man is guilty as hell.
"This is about Blair Sandburg," Jim stated flatly.
Instantly, the man's heart began pounding in his chest, the sound filling Jim's ears. Gotcha! Jim thought to himself. "You have an office?" the det
ective bit out. "Somewhere private where we can talk?"
"Yes," Harrison answered, all of his previous bravado now absent from his voice. He glanced at the receptionist. "Patty, I'm finished with Ms. Shaw. Could you please escort her to the front desk, schedule a follow up appointment?"
"Of course."
Harrison assisted his patient from the chair, handed her over to the receptionist, then led the way down the narrow corridor to a small office at the back of the building. Slipping inside, he closed the door behind himself and Jim. As soon as they were alone, the detective straightened, glared down at the shorter man and said, "You submitted false dental records for Blair Sandburg when the city medical examiner requested them for identification purposes. I want to know why."
Harrison stared at Jim and narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he bluffed lamely.
Jim grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him into the wall behind him. "You make a lousy liar, Harrison, and I don't have time to fool around. Dr. Sandburg's life is on the line here. I want to know why you submitted false records and I want to know now!"
"Let me go," the now trembling man managed.
Jim responded by pushing him more securely against the wall. "Not until I get what I came for. Start talking!"
"All right, all right," Harrison blurted out. "I was paid. Okay? About four months ago, I received an envelope--"
"Four months," Jim cut-in, his voice overriding the dentist's. Suddenly, everything he had thought about, everything he had theorized, fell apart. Blair hadn't discovered something that had resulted in his being abducted--Blair had been the target all along! What the hell is going on? Who has my partner?
"Go on," Jim said finally, pushing his disturbing thoughts aside and concentrating on the doctor he still had within his grip.
"Inside the envelope," Harrison continued, "was a set of dental x-rays, twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, and a note. All the note said was that if I was ever asked for Blair Sandburg's dental records, I should supply the enclosed records in their place."
"You knew for four months that someone was conspiring against Dr. Sandburg, yet you never said a word to him about it!"
"I didn't know for sure what was going on."
Jim moved in closer. "Listen to me, Ace. Someone gave you false x-rays. Why would the medical examiner ask for dental records unless he needed them in order to identify a body! And you damn well know Dr. Sandburg was declared dead just a few days ago based on those records you sent in! You let us believe he was dead!"
"I was scared!" Harrison blurted out. "I didn't know what to do. When I first got the envelope I didn't even touch the money. Not for two months. But then I got behind in my bills so I just took a little to help me catch up. Then a student loan payment came up so I took some more. When the request finally came for Blair's records, I realized that I'd used over half the money. What choice did I have?"
"You could have come to us. Did you ever think of that? The day that envelope arrived, you could have come to us."
"I'm sorry. I...I needed the money."
"Well, too bad. Because all that money is going to get you now is a jail sentence." Jim pushed Harrison again, lifted him higher until he was sure only the man's tiptoes were touching the floor. Moving into the doctor's face, he growled, "I want Blair Sandburg's records. Now!"
Harrison flinched against the harsh bite of Jim's voice. "Am I really going to be arrested?" he asked softly.
"Yes, you are. Right now the charge is only conspiracy. But if my partner dies before I find him, I'll make sure that charge is bumped up to murder. And I'll be the first in line to testify at your trial."
/
/
/
Eli Stoddard pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his tired, stinging eyes. He'd been studying the information in Ryan Collins' personnel folder for almost an hour, but thus far he'd found nothing out of the ordinary. Collins had stellar academic credentials from European universities and several very impressive letters of reference. On paper, at least, the man was impeccable.
What am I missing?
Eli closed the folder and turned his gaze toward the window. There had to be something more. Something that would give them a motive for all the things that had been happening. And as he looked out the window, he noticed one of his colleagues crossing the campus grounds, briefcase in hand. Watching the professor, he suddenly thought about the reason Collins was at Rainier in the first place. He was filling in for Dr. Taylor, who had been trying to get a grant for neurological research for nearly ten years. One of Dr. Taylor's more disappointing experiences in her professional career had been the ongoing denial of the moneys needed to send her to Boston for an advanced study.
So why did those funds finally come through?
He picked up the phone and dialed Human Resources. "Bring me Dr. Taylor's personnel file, please. At once."
He hung up and waited for the file to be brought to his office. A few minutes later a knock sounded on his office door and Karen entered with the file. "HR just dropped this off for you," she explained.
Thanking his assistant, Eli took the file and sat down at his desk. Anxiously, he flipped through the documents until he came across the paperwork regarding the company who had issued the Boston grant: Burke Pharmaceuticals. Booting his computer, Eli logged onto the Internet and typed in the name of the pharmaceutical company. From there, he stepped through the menu until he brought up the listing of the board of directors and the name of Burke's parent company. Then he entered the name of the parent company and conducted the same type of search again, once more getting to the listed names of the board of directors. But this time a name popped out at him--a name that sent a chill down his spine.
Gerald Grant, Esquire.
Suddenly, Blair's abduction made horrible, frightening sense. Pushing the file aside, Eli reached for his phone, anxious to call Jim with what he'd discovered. But before he could lift the receiver, a knock sounded at his door. A moment later Ryan Collins wheeled into his office. Eli's heart seemed to stop in his chest as he stared at the professor, knowing this man was responsible for Blair's disappearance, that he more than likely knew exactly where Blair was right now. Is he safe? Has he been harmed? Collins held all the answers, but Eli couldn't ask the questions. A sense of frustration joined his unease, and he schooled his features in an attempt to disguise his raging emotions.
But Collins simply grinned. "I hope you don't mind my barging in like this. Karen was leaving and she told me to just come on in."
"That's fine," Stoddard answered. The words sounded strangled, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.
"I just finished with my last class for the day and thought I'd stop by to see how you're doing," Collins offered.
"I'm getting by," Eli responded, doing his best to keep his tone calm, even.
Ryan nodded sympathetically. "I just wanted you to know that I'm available if you need to talk or if you need help with anything regarding Blair's work here."
"Thank you," Eli bit out, anger growing inside him at the man's arrogant lies, at his artificial concern. He froze when he noticed Collins was studying him intently now, frowning.
"I'm sorry, Eli. I seem to be making this worse for you."
Eli nearly laughed. The man had mistaken his loathing for grief! "It's all right, Ryan," he managed, allowing himself to play into the man's false perception of what he was feeling. "I...I appreciate your words."
Ryan nodded, then glanced at his watch. "Well, I have to head out now. I have an appointment later that I really can't miss."
Eli's nodded his head, tried to hide the heaviness the words brought to his heart. He's going to see Blair. The realization flashed through his mind, then renewed fear coursed through him. If I let him leave here, will he hurt Blair? Kill him? His mind raced. How could he stop him without tipping his hand?
"Um, listen, Ryan..." Pushing to his feet, he moved around the desk to stand in front of Col
lins. "It's almost dinner time. Would you...would you be interested in grabbing something to eat. Over at the student union, perhaps?"
Ryan stared up at him, studied him, and Eli's heart seemed to stop in his chest. Was I too obvious?
"Well, I do have that appointment...."
"Oh, of course. You mentioned that, didn't you?" Eli back-pedaled, frustrated at his mistake.
"Some other time," Collins suggested, turning and wheeling himself toward the door.
"Yes," Eli agreed weakly, "some other time."
Heart heavy, kicking himself for his inept stratagem at stalling the man, Eli moved behind his desk and sank down into his chair. Snatching up his phone, he dialed Jim's cell phone number. It was answered on the first ring.
"Ellison."
"Jim, it's Eli."
"Eli, I was just going to call you. I confirmed that Blair's dental records were falsified. But more than that, I found out that Blair didn't stumble onto to anything. He's been the target all along. I still don't know why--"
"I know why. More importantly, I know who. It was Gerald Grant, Jim."
"Gerald Grant!" Jim repeated. "Marcus Grant's father? How is that possible?"
"Ryan Collins is only here because he replaced a teacher on staff--Dr. Taylor, who received a grant for research. I traced the source of the research funds and found that the company issuing the funds has Gerald Grant on its board of directors. Dr. Taylor tried for almost ten years to get the funding necessary for her research. Then all of a sudden a company with which Grant is affiliated comes through and donates the money?" Eli snorted derisively. "Do you believe in coincidences, Jim?"
"No, I don't," the detective answered. There was a long pause, then Jim's voice came across the line again: "So now we know that Grant gave this Dr. Taylor the research money in order to get rid of her so Collins could step in and get close to Blair."
"Yes."
"So this has all been about revenge. Gerald Grant abducted Blair because Blair and I took his son away from him."
"Those were my thoughts. But that still doesn't tell us where Blair is, what's happening to him."
