by Cate Beauman
“Good,” he said glancing toward the tail end of the police cruiser through Jenny’s window. The faster they packed up, the sooner they could leave.
“We’re going to have to wash everything when we get home.” Reagan started opening and closing empty drawers.
“I do have a washing machine.”
“We’ll certainly be putting it to good use.” She moved to the next dresser, doing the same thing she’d done with the chest of drawers. “I want to make sure Chase didn’t forget anything.”
“Sure. I guess I’ll take care of the pack-n-play.”
“Let me finish the drawer checks and I’ll help you with the rest.”
“Okay.” He grabbed the pack-n-play and activity mat Chase had wrapped in trash bags and went outside, starting toward the Pajero.
Officer Swift got out of his vehicle. “Can I give you a hand?”
“I appreciate it, but I think I’ve got it.” He went around to the back, setting down the stuff, and popped the trunk as Officer Swift joined him from the other side.
“Do you have much left in there?”
“Nah. Just a few things—mostly the baby’s stuff.” He lifted the pack-n-play and set it inside. As he did, he noticed the small hole in the waist of the officer’s uniform. He zeroed in on the soot pattern and the drops of drying crimson, recognizing the signs of a close-range gunshot. His eyes darted up to the man’s face as he moved to reach for his weapon.
“Not so fast, Fed.” Officer Swift, or whoever the hell he was, pulled out the taser and fired, sending Shane to the ground in a helpless heap.
Shane groaned as his muscles tensed with the surge of searing electricity. Before he could recover from the shock, something smacked against the side of his head. The pain was instant and intense, and the world went dark.
~~~~
Reagan peeked in the last of Jenny and Faith’s drawers and pushed them back in place, satisfied that Chase had done a thorough job. She moved to her own room, grimacing as she breathed in the nasty stench of smoke, stronger in the boarded up space. She glanced at the melted alarm clock among the mess on her torched area rug, set her laptop case on the bed, and opened the first of her drawers, ready to inspect them all.
When she and Shane drove through town a few minutes ago, she’d experienced a wave of regret, finding herself saddened to leave The Gap behind. Her entire life had changed here. She and Shane had met for the first time right outside, and Jenny and Faith had been thrust into their care not long after. When she signed on to oversee the clinic in Black Bear Gap, she had no idea she would find her family.
Now that she was back among the ruins of a place she wasn’t welcome, she was eager to do the inventory, speak with Detective Reedy, and get the people she loved out of Kentucky.
The side door opened.
“We’re going to have to give Chase a medal. He really did a great job,” she moved to the desk and peeked in more drawers, frowning when Shane didn’t respond. “Shane?”
She turned and gasped, stumbling back as she stared at the police officer pointing a gun at her. It was the same man who’d worn the brown leather jacket and followed her around Lexington. “Where’s Shane?”
He smirked. “He’s busy. Where’s your laptop?”
Her heart thundered in her chest as she looked toward the bed, struggling to remain calm. “Right—right there.”
“Open it and access your files.”
She took a shaky step to comply and stopped. “Where’s Shane?”
“He’s napping. Now get the laptop.”
Her gaze darted from the gun mere inches from her face to the spatters of blood on the waist of his uniform, and her stomach roiled with the retched pangs of wild fear. “I want to see Shane,” she shuddered out.
He took another step closer. “You’re not really in a position to bargain.”
Shane was bleeding somewhere. “Did you kill him?” Her voice broke. “Did you kill him?” she asked again, not certain she could bear to hear the answer.
“Did you hear the gun go off?”
There was more than one way to murder a man. “I won’t put in my password until I see for myself that he’s okay.”
“I heard you were a pain in the ass.” He yanked the case from the tangle of sheets. “Let’s go.” He gestured with the weapon.
“Where is he?” she asked, hurrying down the hall, taking the steps outside quickly. “Where—” Her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her lungs when she saw the soles of Shane’s shoes by the back tire. “Shane! Shane!” She ran to where he lay crumpled on the dirt, pressing her lips together against the need to weep as she crouched down, touching her trembling fingers to his neck.
His pulse beat steady and strong, but she worried about the nasty contusion and trails of drying blood along his temple. “Shane, wake up,” she whispered, sliding her hand over his hair, willing him to open his eyes, too afraid to roll him to his back. Then she noticed the taser probes still embedded in his side. She grabbed hold of the first, pressed firmly on the surrounding skin beneath his shirt, and pulled quickly, dislodging the first barb. Sniffling, she yanked the second free.
“See? He’s fine—”
“He’s not fine.” A tear tracked down her cheek with the weight of utter helplessness. She needed to clean his wounds and get him to the hospital for a CT scan.
“He’s good enough. Now get up. We’re going for a walk.”
She touched Shane again, looking toward the road, wondering where Detective Reedy was. He should’ve been here by now. “Where are we going?”
“Just get up.” He tapped her shoulder with the barrel of the pistol. “You got to see your bodyguard, now you’ll do what I say, unless you want a bullet in his brain.”
“No.” She rushed to her feet, glancing down at Shane, wanting to stay with him as much as she wanted to put distance between him and the animal holding her hostage. If Shane regained consciousness now, he would die before she could do anything to help.
“Walk this way.”
They moved down the overgrown path she and Shane had taken the day they found the old hunting cabin. She kept her eyes to the ground, on the lookout for bear traps as her mind raced, trying to think of a way to get back to Shane. She froze in her tracks when something among the brush caught her attention. Gasping, she hurried toward the man dressed in a white t-shirt and boxers, sprawled out and bleeding from the waist. Her gaze trailed over SWIFTY tattooed into his left forearm. This was Officer Swift, and he was bleeding to death. “You shot him.”
He shrugged. “It’s a rough day to be in The Gap.”
She pressed her fingers to his weak pulse and lifted his shirt, rolling him slightly, studying the entry and exit points of his wounds. She then struggled to tear at the hem of his top in an attempt to apply pressure and staunch the bleeding.
“We don’t have time for you to play wilderness doctor.”
“He’s going to die.” She tossed him a look, finding some of her cool as her brain automatically clicked into professional mode.
“You’re all going to die, so I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” He pointed the pistol at Officer Swift’s heart. “Get up and get moving.”
Reluctantly she did as she was told, keeping her eyes open for anything she could use as a weapon. Two men needed her help. “How long has Officer Swift been laying there?”
“For a few minutes. Since he hung up with your buddy. I guess that’s what you get for not paying attention.” He chuckled. “I snuck up right behind him like a sleek cat. I’ve got wilderness skills none of these sissy city boys have.” He snorted out another laugh, shaking his head. “Pulled his gun before he had a chance to turn. Sure as hell didn’t have much time to get myself ready.” He gestured to his stolen uniform. “Made it into the cruiser just before you drove up.”
Reagan clenched her jaw, repulsed by his disregard for another life.
“Now I want you to listen real careful, Doctor Rosner. Real careful
,” the man said as they stopped in front of the small hunting cabin she recognized from the day she and Shane went on their boat ride. “You’re going to hold this gun.” He smiled as their eyes met. “We’re going to hold the gun together,” he clarified. “I see that sparkle in your eyes. You think I’m stupid enough to let you put a bullet in me?” He shook his head as he pressed his chest to her back and forced her to grip the gun between his gloved hands.
She pushed against him in an attempt to knock him off balance, trying her best to turn, more than ready to shoot him, but his size made her efforts laughable.
“Nice try.” He held her tighter against him, preventing her from moving. “Now fire it.” He bumped against her. “Fire it!”
She slammed her eyes closed and pulled the trigger, the deafening sound echoing into the forest.
“Good. Now go inside.” He pushed her up the steps, and she walked into the small musty space absorbing a new wave of dread as she stared into Doctor Jacobson’s cool eyes.
“Doctor Rosner.” Doctor Jacobson nodded cordially as he leaned casually against the wall. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
With no other choice she sat in the rickety chair by the old table, darting a glance at the pen and blank piece of paper. “Why are you doing this?”
“You didn’t really think we were going to let a loose end leave the state did you?”
She stared at him, not bothering to comment, fully aware there was no point.
He smiled. “I’ve got to give it to you: You’re tenacious, a real go-getter.” He punctuated his statement with a sarcastic fist pump. “You’ve certainly kept us on our toes over the last few months. More than a few times you made me sweat, Doctor Rosner.” He shook his head with a laugh. “But now we’re here, and you’re going to write a little note. You’re going to tell everyone how you just don’t have the will to live.”
She swallowed. “What?”
Doctor Jacobson’s partner pointed the gun at the back of her head.
“Pick up the pen, Doctor,” Doctor Jacobson repeated, “and tell everyone how you can’t live with your mistakes anymore. Tell them that the guilt over the little girl—”
She glared, fighting back a fresh wave of anger and fearful tears. “You did that. You spread those lies about me.”
He shrugged. “I had my brother do a little digging.” He gestured to the man with the pistol. “We got the rumor mill rolling at the mine, and Billy started dropping subtle hints along with his sermons at the church, and the rest, Doctor, is history. Such an unfortunate blemish for someone so dedicated.” He shook his head mournfully. “Anyway, you need to tell everyone how you couldn’t stand dealing with the death of that little girl and so many misdiagnoses here in The Gap. You’ll also need to mention how you had Henry cremated before anyone could find out about his COPD. Write it, Doctor Rosner, or your boyfriend will die now instead of later.”
Tears tracked down her cheeks as she wrote what the doctor told her to.
“Excellent. Now I want you to add that you had to kill what’s-his-face—”
“Shane,” Doctor Jacobson’s brother added.
“Shane,” Doctor Jacobson repeated, “because you couldn’t live, but you couldn’t let him live either.”
“No.” She rushed to her feet. “I won’t write that. You leave him alone. You leave Shane alone, dammit.”
“You, Doctor Rosner, should’ve left this alone. We warned you several times—phone calls, dead animals, and graffiti, yet you kept on going. Your constant need to help has caused more harm than anything. Henry suffered. Doctor Schlibenburg died a most horrible death—”
“You didn’t have to kill him,” she spat, clenching her fists. “He wasn’t going to help me.”
“There are few guarantees in life, Doctor, but killing a man will certainly keep his mouth shut.” He grinned. “And just think—you led us right to him.”
She shook her head, pressing her lips firm against the need to weep.
“Doctor Schlibenburg was going to rat us out.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “He was going to blow our little network wide open with his paper, but Doctor Schlibenburg understood our warnings loud and clear and hightailed it into hiding. You, Doctor Reagan, helped us track down our biggest threat, and now you’re the only one left.”
“He was an old man.”
“Now he’s six feet under.” He pointed to the chair. “Sit down and finish up your note, or the next step will be going after the blond and her baby.”
“Jenny and Faith,” the man supplied again.
“Whatever,” Doctor Jacobson said.
“What about Officer Swift?” She stalled for more time, certain Detective Reedy had to be here by now, hopefully helping Shane.
Doctor Jacobson shrugged. “He got in your way, so he had to go too. You don’t have to write that. We can’t spell everything out, or things will start looking a little suspicious. A double murder-suicide?” He whistled through his teeth. “They’ll be talking about Doc Reagan for years to come.”
Doctor Jacobson’s brother chuckled.
“Write, Doctor Rosner.”
With no choice, she scribbled down the words as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Doctor Jacobson came over, scanned the words and smiled. “Perfect. Now access the x-rays in your files.”
She hesitated, holding his gaze.
“Access the files, Doctor Rosner.”
She swallowed, knowing she was running out of time. “How do you live with yourself?”
“Quite comfortably. Some people go to medical school to help others. I went because I like money. My practice keeps me comfortable, but the coal companies keep me in my yacht. A couple million a year is a small price to pay for the assurances of the wrong diagnoses. COPD, emphysema brought on by a lifetime of smoking, and let’s not forget the occasional allergy.” He shrugged. “It works well for everyone involved.”
“Except for the patients and their families who are suffering.”
“They’re going to die anyway.”
“God,” she scoffed. “You’re disgusting.”
“On that note, let’s finish this off. Type in your password, access the files, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, then Shane’s going to die.”
She raised her eyebrow. “He’s going to die anyway.”
He came up behind her, yanking on her hair “Open your files.”
She whimpered against the bite of pain. “You’re going to kill me. As soon as I open this I’m going to die.”
“You do have an exceptional IQ.”
“So why would I do it?”
“Bud, go take care of Shane.”
Bud opened the door.
“No!” She rushed halfway to her feet and fell back in her chair as Doctor Jacobson still held her hair in his grip. “Okay. I’ll open it.” She started typing in the password. “You know you won’t get away with this. There are other copies.”
“The ones at Doctor Schlibenburg’s were confiscated, but let me guess, you left a file with the other guy?” Doctor Jacobson looked at Bud. “Well, what’s his name?”
“Chase.”
“We’re going to go take care of Chase next.”
She pulled up the files.
“Delete them.”
Her finger hovered over the button.
“Delete them, Doctor Rosner.”
She hit “delete,” watching her images vanish.
Doctor Jacobson laughed. “Perfect. Gunshot residue on your hands, which will match the murder weapon and your fingerprints on the computer. You took the cop out because he was in the way, and you killed your lover because he wasn’t going to live if you couldn’t. Then you came back and ended your own life right here. It’s really quite ideal. Bud, go ahead and begin.”
Bud moved toward the old propane line, and a quiet hissing noise filled the room as he twisted it on.
“Bud’s going to sit wit
h you until you lose consciousness.”
“Is this what you did to Doctor Pattell?”
“Pretty much, but we took care of him in his car in the garage. Authenticity counts.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame you bleeding hearts just don’t get it. Luckily our secrets will die with you.” He moved toward the door. “Bud, don’t forget to give Officer Swifty back his clothes when you’re finished.
Bud nodded.
“Come on over to Willy and Billy’s after you finish up with Chase. Corpus Mining and Stygian are officially in the clear—that’s something to celebrate.” He opened the door. “Well, goodnight, Doctor Rosner.”
Bud slipped on a mask as the doctor stepped out.
“It was a pleasure working with you. Now I’m going to go take care of your lover. He’ll have died just minutes before you. Authenticity count.” He winked, smiling, as he pulled black gloves from his pocket and put them on, then caught the gun Bud tossed to him.
“Leave him alone!” she screamed, hurrying to the door as it closed. Bud knocked her back. “I’m not dying in here!” She shoved him and he pushed her, sending her sprawling to the floor. The scent of rotten egg filled her nostrils and she gagged, standing, breathing in the air that wasn’t so powerfully tainted. She covered her mouth and nose with her shirt as she swept the room, trying to figure another way out. The window was boarded, but she spotted a small crack exposed to the outdoors, walked over, and started pounding. “Help!” She rested her head against the wall, covering her face with her arms, giving into her tears, putting her mouth to the small opening, sucking in fresher air.
“Help!” She needed to think, and quickly. The headache and nausea of overexposure were already beginning to take their toll in the small space. She didn’t have much time, maybe a minute or two before she would pass out. She did her best to suck in as much clean air as possible, stumbling, falling as the room spun around her.
Chapter Forty
Shane opened his eyes, groaning, the pain in his head agonizing as he watched two blurry figures walk off. Blinking, confused, he recognized Reagan’s voice as his gaze traveled up the backs of her leather shoes and jeans, then her gray sweater, squinting as the police officer pointed a gun at her head. Then they disappeared among the trees.
