by B. J Daniels
“How do you know this?” Delaney asked, turning to Slade.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you undo it. I know you’ve worked with hypnosis and de-programming.”
Delaney let out a sigh. “This isn’t the same thing. If Holly’s memory loss wasn’t hypnotically induced, putting her under will do no good.”
“I guess there is only one way to find out,” Slade said, “but first let’s search the house,” he said motioning with the weapon.
The house did appear to be empty, just as Delaney said.
When they returned to the main floor, Delaney motioned to the den. “Come on in here,” he said to Holly.
“I’m coming too,” Slade reminded him.
“I never doubted it. But put the gun away. It won’t be necessary.”
“I hope not.”
Delaney stepped over to the police scanner and turned it off, then closed and locked the door behind them.
“Why do you have a scanner?” Slade asked.
The doctor gave him a pitying look and said sarcastically, “I secretly work for the police.” Delaney shook his head in disgust. “Have you always been so paranoid?”
“More so lately,” Slade admitted.
“You can sit here,” the doc said to Holly. “This might surprise you Slade, but even though I’m trying to retire, if there is an accident or some reason the hospital might need assistance, I still go in to see if I can be of help.”
“I was just wondering,” Slade said. “The bell ringer, the one you had outside my office, did he call you on Christmas Eve? Or Carolyn Gray?”
Delaney shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Slade narrowed his gaze at the doctor. “And why didn’t you just lie when I brought Holly to you to be examined? If you’d told me she hadn’t had a baby, I might have just dropped the case.”
“I had no reason to lie,” Delaney said. “I’d never seen her before and knew nothing about any of this, but I don’t expect you to believe that.” Delaney looked at him, obviously irritated. “I suppose it would be too much to ask you to sit over there.” He pointed to a spot off to Holly’s right. “If I stand any chance of helping, you can’t distract her in any way.”
Slade nodded and took the seat Delaney suggested, but kept the revolver out, resting on his thigh, ready. He listened for any sound beyond the room, recalling how the doctor had locked the door behind them and the dog was outside. It would bark if anyone came around, warn them in time.
Delaney dimmed the lights, put on some soft music and took a chair facing them. Slade watched the doctor take Holly’s hands in his. “Try to relax. Hypnosis is a state of increased suggestibility and concentration,” he began, his voice low and soft.
“Under hypnosis you never relinquish your free will,” he said, then looked over at Slade. “Hypnosis works on suggestion, but as with its use in weight loss or quitting smoking, it takes repeated attempts, and even then it is only viable if the patient accepts the suggestion. Although it is widely used, the success rate over a long period of time is poor.”
Got the message, Slade said with a look.
Dr. Delaney turned his attention back to Holly. “Relax. Try to clear your mind. Make your mind peaceful. Quiet. Serene.”
Slade rubbed the back of his neck. The room was almost too warm. He tried to focus outside the room, listening for the dog to bark, listening for any sound that might mean they were no longer alone.
“Holly,” Delaney continued softly, as melodic as the faint music he had playing. “Hear only the sound of my voice, the sound of your own breathing. In and out. In and out. That’s it. I’m going to help you to remember everything. You do want to remember, don’t you?”
She nodded slowly.
Remember.
Slade shifted in his seat, still holding the weapon on his thigh, wondering if he hadn’t heard the dog bark. Delaney shot him a look of warning and motioned for him to be quiet.
“Concentrate,” Delaney said. “Hear only the sound of my voice. Nothing else matters. Just the sound of my voice and what I am going to tell you.”
Slade let his attention shift back to Holly and Dr. Delaney’s voice, the music now almost part of the room.
He watched Delaney, spellbound, as the doctor’s voice dropped in the darkened room. Slower and slower, softer and softer came the flow of words until the beat of the words seemed to match the beat of his heart.
Remember.
Remember.
The weapon slipped from his hand, fell in slow motion to the floor, hitting, but without sound. Slade thought about picking it up. Then lost the thought.
Chapter Thirteen
Remember.
Remember.
At the sound of Dr. Delaney’s voice, Holly came awake in an instant, but she didn’t move, barely breathed. With her eyes still closed, she tried to remember. Some of last year came to her as if it had never been missing.
But not the birth of her baby. It was just as elusive as it had been before, she realized with aching disappointment.
She started to open her eyes, but stopped at the sound of Delaney’s voice again.
“You probably won’t believe this, but I’m doing you a favor,” Delaney said, off to her left.
She held her breath, wondering who he was talking to, afraid to open her eyes and find out. She realized she was sitting on something hard and cold and damp. From the air around her, she was no longer in the doctor’s warm den and she knew without looking that that was a very bad sign.
“You really made a mess of things this time,” Delaney said.
She could hear him moving around on the concrete floor, the scrape of his soles. He stopped directly in front of her. Her heart thundered so loudly in her chest she thought for sure he would hear it. She waited, afraid he knew she was awake.
“This is the best I can do for you,” Delaney said.
She felt more than heard something drop beside her. Whatever it was hardly made a sound when it hit, but kicked up the cool, damp musty air. She felt her hair move. Her eyes flickered. She tried desperately to breathe slowly and not move. Not blink.
Then she heard him move away. She opened her eyes to slits and peered through her lashes, willing herself not to move another muscle.
She saw Slade sitting directly across from her and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were open. He was staring at her, but it was clear he wasn’t seeing anything! Oh my God! A scream rose up her throat—
Then she saw his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. He was alive. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to dam the tears of relief.
She could hear Delaney off to her left working on something metallic. It clicked as he moved.
Cracking her eyes open a little, she tried to see where she was and what Delaney was doing without moving her head. She and Slade were in a small concrete room with no windows. It would have felt like a basement if it wasn’t for the battery-operated lamp overhead and the massive steel door that Delaney was standing by. In the middle of the door was a mechanism that looked like the lock on a vault. Only the dial was on the inside! And Delaney was turning it.
He stopped, as if sensing her watching, and started to turn in her direction. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to move. Instinctively, she knew he was looking at her, watching her closely. It was all she could do not to hold her breath. Not to twitch.
Her mind raced. She’d seen a place like this before when she was a kid. Panic filled her. It was a bomb shelter—like the one her grandparents had built in the nineteen-fifties. Why would Delaney put them—
She heard the metallic click, click, click and opened her eyes. He was planning to seal them up in here! She frantically looked around for a weapon, seeing only the pile of blankets Delaney had dropped next to her earlier, as she scrambled to her feet and rushed at him.
Dr. Delaney looked back in surprise, his hand on the door.
“No!” She threw her
self at him, but he’d seen her coming. He slammed the door. It clanged shut, a deafening, final sound, just as she hit it. “No!” she screamed, her cry echoing in the tiny room.
She pounded on the door, knowing it was senseless. Pressing her palms and her cheek against the cold steel, she listened, thinking she might be able to hear if Delaney was still out there. As if from that, she could determine whether or not he’d ever be back.
She tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t move. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. No one knew they were down here. No one knew what Dr. Delaney and the rest of them had been doing to her mind for over a year. And no one knew about her baby. Her—and Slade’s—baby girl.
And now Slade was gone into that other world. And she had no idea how to reach him. She’d never felt so alone. Or so defeated.
REMEMBER.
Remember.
Slade woke to a loud clang. He blinked, instantly aware that he was no longer in Dr. Delaney’s den and that he no longer had his weapon.
Remember.
Remember.
He sat up, cobwebs of confusion clouding his thoughts. A voice inside his head kept repeating: remember. And yet he could remember little of what had happened in Delaney’s den.
He blinked again, taking in the concrete room, the steel door and the woman standing in front of it.
“Holly?” he asked, his heart in his throat at just the thought that he might have lost her. Again.
She spun around, her eyes flying open. “Rawlins!” And then she was on the floor and in his arms.
He cupped her head in his hand as she pressed her face to his chest, his arm crushing her to him.
“I thought you were gone.” She was crying, her head against his chest. “I thought I’d lost you the way we’d lost each other last year.”
He rocked her, turning his face up to the heavens, a silent prayer of thanks on his lips. Wherever they were, whatever they were locked inside, however much time they had, they had each other right now.
He lifted her face, wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs, as she stared at him, her eyes wide and dark. She seemed to hold her breath. He imagined that he could hear her heart pounding beneath her breast, but he knew he couldn’t have heard it over his own.
“Holly.” He said her name like a prayer. Like a promise. “Holly.” He gently touched her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, thumbing away her tears, then trailing across the silken skin to her lips, her full, lush lips. She kissed the pad of his thumb, her eyes locking with his.
He felt a stab of desire so sharp it cut to the heart of him. The heat moved through him, a hot lava flow that ignited him. Drawing her onto his lap, he dropped his mouth to hers, opening her, entering her as her lips parted in invitation. He cradled her head in his hands, deepening the kiss, feeling the aroused throb of her pulse through his fingers, the sudden spurred quickness of her breath against his mouth, her small gasp as he drew her lower lip into his mouth, caught it between his teeth.
Her eyes filled with liquid fire, lighting up like stars. Or sparks. He thought his heart would burst from his chest.
“I’ve missed you, Rawlins,” she whispered breathlessly against his mouth. “I’d forgotten how much.”
HOLLY TREMBLED at the look in his eyes. He buried his hand in her hair and pulled her down onto the blankets for his kiss. His mouth, his wonderful mouth, moved from her lips down her throat, leaving a trail of fire across her skin. “Rawlins,” she whispered, feeling an urgency.
He opened her blouse, baring her breasts, his breath warm, as he moved down her, pushing aside her clothing to make way for his mouth as if he too couldn’t bear them being apart another moment. His lips found her breast, provoked her nipple to a hard, pulsing point.
She arched against his mouth, her body melting against him. Then she drew him back up to her. His gaze locked with hers. They needed no words. Only this coupling of bodies, of hearts. A bonding that affirmed life.
She fumbled to free the buttons on his shirt in a desperate demand to feel his warm bare skin against hers. Pushing back the cloth, she flattened her palms again the solid heat of his chest, breathing in the scent of him, the feel of him. He groaned and pulled her down, surrendering to her touch as his mouth took hers again, and they struggled out of their clothing, their lips never parting. She tore at his clothing, needing nothing between them. Needing him.
And then they were naked. Her body melded with his, heat to heat, her skin alive from his touch, wet from his kisses. He lifted his mouth from hers, his gaze connecting with hers, then he entered her, filling her, fulfilling her, finally bringing her home.
SLADE ROLLED HER onto her back on the thick pile of blankets when it was over and looked down into her eyes, a smile on his lips. “You are the most desirable, beautiful, enchanting woman I have ever met.”
She smiled up at him. “Rawlins,” she said with a satisfied sigh, “You don’t get out enough.”
He lay down beside her, holding her in his arms. “I’m just so glad you’re back.”
“Rawlins, we’re locked in a bomb shelter,” she said.
“I see that.” But all he saw was her, her wonderful face and eyes and lips, and her silken body next to his. He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“It appears there’s a timer built into the door.”
“I understand the concept,” he said. He didn’t dare let himself think about the fact that they were trapped, powerless to do anything about their baby or the world outside that steel door. He didn’t know how much time they had. Only that they had it together. He didn’t plan to spend that time worrying about what could have been or losing his mind over something he could do nothing about.
“The door isn’t going to open until that timer goes off,” she said. “And maybe not even then.”
“Uh-huh.” He ran his fingers from her palm up the inside of her arm to her elbow.
“You don’t seem too upset about that.”
“Holly, I’d break down that door for you if I could. Since I can’t…” He spooned her against him as he ran his fingers from her shoulder, down the long slope of her waist and up over her hip. “I spent the last year dreaming about having you in my arms again. Now that I do…I just want to make love to you until that door opens.”
“What if it never opens?” she asked, sounding a little breathless as she turned in his arms to met his gaze.
He grinned. “I think you know the answer to that one.” He drew her to him again.
HE WOKE with a start, not sure at first what had roused him from a sated sleep. The first thing he felt was Holly’s warm body curled in his arms. Before that, he’d thought he’d only been dreaming. But it all came back in a flash and instinctively, he pulled her closer as he looked around to see what had awakened him.
He’d forgotten they were locked in a bomb shelter. He’d even forgotten to worry whether or not there was sufficient air. His plan had been to make love to Holly until hell froze over. Or until they completely ran out of air in this steel-lined concrete box. Or until the door opened.
He sat up.
“What is it?” Holly asked sleepily.
“The door,” he whispered. “It’s open.”
Chapter Fourteen
December 27
Holly sat up, drawing the blanket over her nakedness as she stared out into the dark beyond the open door. Without a word, Rawlins handed her her clothes and motioned for her to follow him. She half expected Dr. Delaney to appear at any moment in the opening. Or that the door would suddenly slam shut before they could reach it.
Neither happened. She hurried out of the bomb shelter to find a set of stairs leading up. Slade was pulling on his jeans. She quickly dressed and, taking the hand he offered her, let him lead her up the stairs, tiptoeing, quiet as mice.
The house seemed too quiet as Slade pushed open a door and they came out in the laundry room.
They stood for a moment, Slade obviously
listening, his gaze warm on hers as if reminded of what they’d just shared. As if she could ever forget it.
She could see her own emotions mirrored in his eyes. Disbelief that they had found each other again. Fear that they might lose everything in the next few minutes. And hope, hope that they would still find their baby.
“My gun might still be in the den,” he whispered.
She nodded, unsettled by the quiet of the house.
Up here, they could hear the howl of the wind outside, but nothing more. Where were the cops? Surely whoever Slade had called had gotten the message by now.
He motioned for her to follow him. As if she’d let him out of her sight for an instant if she could help it.
They moved through the darkness of the house, the white of the snowstorm giving them enough light through the undrawn drapes to navigate around the furniture and realized that it was a new day.
As they drew near the den, Holly felt a chill, as if there was a draft. The door to the den was partially open. Slade gave it a little shove, keeping back as though he thought he’d find Dr. Delaney waiting there with a weapon trained on them.
But Dr. Delaney wasn’t sitting in the big chair by the fireplace. Nor behind the massive desk. Nor in the chairs she and Slade had occupied before.
Holly looked down and saw something at her feet that set her heart hammering. “Rawlins,” she whispered, terror in her voice. She pointed to the floor and the bloody partial footprint on the hardwood.
He quickly found another print, then another. They led down the hall toward the front door. She followed him and the prints, the air growing colder, the bloody footprints more distinct.
The front door was ajar. Dr. Delaney lay sprawled in a pool of blood at its base, his left arm caught in the door as if he’d tried to keep it from closing behind his killer.
