#
Rachel glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The nurse would appear any minute, followed by lights out. After both physical and mental evaluations and then a two-hour briefing on the rules of the facility, exhaustion weighted her down, but she couldn’t afford to sleep. She needed to utilize the hours after dark to search for Molly.
Jen departed after the psychological evaluation to meet with other patients but promised to stop by in a couple of days. Rachel wanted to beg her to stay so she could ask about her missing friend but Jen already sacrificed her morning to hold her hand through her exams. Maybe she would uncover information on Molly’s disappearance before Jen returned. Then she could confide in her case worker.
Right on time, the beautiful raven-haired nurse wheeled in the medicine cart. Little did Tia know Rachel had seen much more of her than she brazenly displayed in yet another skin-tight uniform.
Did the nurse know Ben Smith carried around an explicit picture of her naked body? She snorted in her head. Stupid question. Of course she did. Tia looked like the kind of woman who would pass out the pictures herself, followed by a private viewing.
Rachel hoped the swirling sensation in her stomach was leftover effects of the exams, not jealousy.
"My pill supply was refilled, so you don’t have to worry about a shot," Tia said kindly as she handed April her medication. April accepted the cup and another filled with water. She waited for Tia to turn her back before she went through the charade of hiding the pills.
Rachel vowed to follow suit, wondering if April would let her stash her medication for the janitor to dispose of in the morning. They planned on faking sleep when Tia arrived, so she didn’t think to ask her earlier. But Gary, the patient across the hall, became agitated, causing a disturbance that crushed their plans.
More upset than usual, Gary ranted and raved about his nemesis, the bogeyman. Rachel knew he suffered from delusional disorder, but her heart broke for the man. Ben raced down the hall to restrain him as Tia injected a sedative. Had she not been drawn to Ben’s deep caring voice as he calmed Gary down, she might not have caught the nurse’s eye.
Tia pushed the cart next to her bed. She had no intention of swallowing anything. Surely it wouldn’t be a problem to hide her pills with April’s.
Before she could ponder the thought further, Tia grabbed her arm, swabbed a cotton ball doused with alcohol over a vein and whipped out a syringe.
"What is that," Rachel cried in alarm.
"Medication prescribed by Dr. Bexley, along with a mild sedative."
Tia squirted a small amount out of the top of the needle and then grasped her wrist. "All patients get their medication intravenously at first," she explained. "Most have a hard time adjusting to the facility at first. The sedative helps with that problem."
Rachel tugged at her arm. "Please, I’m begging you, I’m deathly afraid of shots."
Tia’s brows arched. Placing the shot on the cart, she lifted Rachel’s chart and scanned the contents. "Your profile doesn’t list Belonephobia."
"Belone-what-ia?"
Tia smiled. "Belonephobia. It’s an excessive fear of needles."
Rachel latched on to the excuse. "Yes, that’s what I have, Belonephobia." She nodded with certainty.
Tia looked uncomfortable. "I’m really supposed to follow procedure and dispense your medication this way, especially since your chart did not indicate the disorder."
"Please," she implored.
The woman studied her, obviously picking up on the sheer terror in her eyes. She didn’t have to fake it…she did not want that shot.
"Well, I guess I could give you pills," she conceded. "But I have to mark in the chart that I gave you a shot or I will get in trouble."
"I promise I won’t tell."
Tia glanced at April, who snapped her eyes shut and feigned sleep.
"Well, I guess that would be okay. I’m a little afraid of shots, myself," she confessed.
Rachel sagged against the pillow in relief as Tia pulled bottles from a shelf on the cart and counted out several tablets. She dropped the pile into a clear plastic cup and handed them over with water. As she scribbled on her clipboard, Rachel hid the medicine and swallowed the water.
"Thank you, Tia. I really appreciate it."
Tia winked conspiratorially. "Our little secret. Goodnight." She flicked off the light and departed.
Rachel waited a few minutes and then whispered, "April?"
"Shh," her roommate warned.
There was a scuffling noise and then a light snapped on and blinded her.
"Sorry." April quickly lowered the beam. She carried the desk chair to the door and shoved it under the handle. Satisfied with her work, she motioned for Rachel to follow her to the narrow closet.
Her nose wrinkled at the musty scent of mothballs. Maneuvering around her roommate, she copied her movements and dropped cross-legged on the floor. April pulled the doors closed and positioned the flashlight on a shelf.
"We can talk in here without being overheard," she said in a low voice.
"Are the rooms bugged?"
April shrugged. "I don’t think so, but I don’t want to take chances. Mr. Smith checked the other night and he didn’t find anything. Still, I’d rather be careful."
Rachel ignored the jolt of awareness that zapped her each time she heard Ben’s name. Forcing the image of his handsome face and chiseled body from her mind, she grasped April’s hand. She had been locked up for forty-eight hours already and she didn’t know anything more now than she did the day she arrived. It was time to take a risk and confide in her roommate. But first, "Do you mind if I stash my pills with yours for the janitor to remove?"
April tensed and withdrew her hand. "J-janitor? What do you mean?"
Although it was dark inside the closet, she could practically feel the heat of April’s blush. "I saw him, April. I know he disposes them for you."
April seized her hands in a crushing grip. "You can’t tell a soul what you saw. Peter would get in so much trouble. I don’t want anything to happen to him. They would fire him…or put him in jail - especially if my stepfather found out. He would—"
"April."
She paused. "What?"
"Can we be honest with each other?"
"Yes".
"I know we just met a couple of days ago, but I feel like I can trust you."
"You can," April confirmed.
"Then I want you to know you can trust me, too. I would never tell on Peter. He’s doing this to help you."
April’s shoulders relaxed. "Thanks."
Here goes nothing. "This is a very personal question, and you don’t have to answer, but I’ve noticed you act different in front of the nurses."
"I’ve noticed the same thing about you," April returned.
"Touché," she acknowledged. Sobering, she asked, "Why are you here? You don’t seem like you belong."
"Any more than you do," April replied and then paused. Rachel feared she stepped over the line, pushed too soon. Finally April spoke.
"After my father died, my mom married a rich doctor. I overheard him talking about something really bad, only I don’t remember what it was anymore, I just knew I had to tell my mom. He got to her first."
April adjusted her legs and continued. "He didn’t want me around from the beginning. Oh, he was never cruel, he just ignored me. As soon as he married Mom, he worked on her relentlessly, convincing her that he was worried about me. He insisted that I displayed all the signs of bipolar disorder. He said that I was both paranoid and delusional."
She didn’t prod April, she let the girl tell her difficult story at her own pace.
"My mom thinks he walks on water and of course he is this great doctor who just happens to be on the board of directors of Bexley. He persuaded her and somehow, he convinced me, too.
"I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think he slipped me hallucinogenic drugs. I began acting like the paranoid, delusional person he claimed.
Overhearing that conversation sealed my fate. He had me committed and I’ve been here ever since."
"You are one of the sanest people I’ve met here."
April smiled sadly. "Once I quit taking the medication, my mind began to clear for the first time in years. I realized how he manipulated me, drugged me. I still don’t remember everything, like what I overheard or if it even happened, but I get better each day. Hopefully I’ll remember soon.
"Peter, the janitor, he is the one who convinced me to quit swallowing the pills. He’s my savior, my best friend."
Rachel smiled at the obvious love April felt when she spoke of Peter.
"How long have you been here?"
"Going on three years." Resolution made her voice strong. "And I’m getting out. I am going to figure out what my stepfather did and I am going to prove it. Peter said he would help me."
"I will help you too, April, any way I can."
"You will?"
"You bet."
April hugged her and then pulled back. "You don’t belong here any more than I do, Kellie."
She was not going to lie. April had been honest and up front with her, she deserved no less.
"You are right, I don’t belong here. And my real name is Rachel. Rachel Bancroft. Do you remember a girl named Molly Miller?"
April’s eyes widened in surprise. "Yes. She was my roommate."
A glimmer of hope fluttered in Rachel’s heart for the first time since she arrived. She was finally getting somewhere. Maybe her investigative skills weren’t so awful after all.
"Do you know what happened to Molly?"
"Yes, I know what happened to her," April stated flatly. "They killed her."
Chapter Eight
Rachel reeled with shock, all of her hopes plummeting faster than a broken elevator. "Molly’s dead? Are you sure?"
"Well, I’m not positive," April admitted. "But they took her, just like they did Kimmie and Deena and Donelle and so many others. Look."
April pried a fingernail beneath a board, lifted it and stuck her hand inside to remove a notebook.
"I’ve been completely off drugs for three months now. I started keeping track. Look at how many girls disappeared."
Rachel flipped through the pages. There were quite a few names. April pointed to a list. "These girls were my roommates too, but I don’t remember them. Peter kept tabs."
Rachel’s mouth sagged in shock. If what April implied was true, this was huge—way bigger than anything she could ever have imagined.
She entered into this believing Molly caused trouble as usual and crossed the wrong person. An isolated incident.
Not picking up on Rachel’s tension, April continued. "I think they use my room because they see me as this meek, out-of-it person who won’t notice. That’s what I want them to believe until Peter and I can figure out what is going on."
"And me," she added numbly.
"And you," April confirmed.
#
Wide awake, Rachel tossed in bed wanting to sleep, knowing she might not be able to again. April’s words kept running through her head.
They killed her.
This could be the break she needed. It might not be the ending she hoped for, but if it uncovered the truth about what happened to Molly, she needed to know.
She would never forgive herself for turning her back when her friend needed her most. She would live with that heavy burden the rest of her life. If Molly had been killed, Rachel would seek vengeance on the person or people responsible. It was the least she could do for her long-time friend.
Using the moonlight filtering through the small window, she sought out her roommate.
"April?"
The effects of last night’s sedative still lingered in April’s system and she fell asleep quickly. They were partners now, but Rachel couldn’t lie here and do nothing. She had to find out the truth - the sooner the better. It wasn’t safe for either of them to stay here any longer than necessary.
Peeling away the covers, she slid soundlessly out of bed. Her loose blue scrubs brushed softly against her skin. April told her that she slept lightly so she tiptoed away quietly.
Navigating the hall, she feared a repeat of last night’s fact-finding mission when she ran into Ben…literally. A picture of the tall, handsome guard flashed in her mind and her stomach tingled. He was brutally strong and beautifully handsome. He had to have at least one decent bone in his body or he wouldn’t have stopped Carl from fondling her. He would have joined in.
Just picturing his long-fingered hands on her body caused a shiver to course through her body. He was nothing like J. Edwin Farnsworth, her pseudo-fiancé. Average height, non-descript blonde hair, green eyes, pale complexion, Eddie was an investment broker from a prestigious family. Basically everything her father wanted in a son-in-law.
She liked Eddie well enough. Handsome in a refined sort of way, he was smart, successful and well-liked by his peers. Unfortunately, she could barely stand for him to kiss her and the one time his hand wandered to her breast, she stood so fast, she knocked his glasses clean off his face.
In spite of her reactions, he still wanted to marry her. She tried to break up with him numerous times but somehow her father always maneuvered him back into the picture. Twenty eight years old and her parents still treated her like she was eight.
If Preston and CeCe Bancroft had any idea where their oldest daughter resided at the moment, her father would call in the cavalry and shut the place down. Her mother would faint delicately.
Her parents were under the assumption she currently inhabited a luxury cabin on an Alaskan cruise, painting wildlife. They didn’t understand her love of painting any more than they did her need for independence. She fought fiercely for both, her success at either questionable. While she had been told by numerous critics her paintings were good, her attempt at taking charge and doing something for herself clearly backfired.
Had she known the risks coming in, she might have done things differently, but she would not have given up her search. She was determined to uncover the truth, whether or not the outcome proved to be positive. Molly deserved to have one person in the world care.
If it turned out something bad happened to her, she would see to it that the person or people responsible would pay. That much she could do for Molly.
She approached the nurse’s station and leaned against the white concrete block walls. No sound. She chanced a look around the corner finding it empty. She quickly made her way to the admissions office where she spotted a bank of filing cabinets earlier in the day. She tried the handle and blinked in shock when it twisted beneath her hand. She paused for only a split second before darting inside.
Pulling April’s borrowed flashlight from her pocket, she snapped it on and headed for the filing cabinet.
Her heart stopped when one strong hand wrapped around her waist and another clamped around her mouth.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" her captor growled in her ear.
Oh God, she was busted. Busted and she couldn’t breathe. She was going to die.
#
Ben waited until the Bexley brothers left for the evening before making his way downstairs. He checked his watch. Two hours past bedtime for the patients. He approached the nurse’s station and stopped, surprised to see Tia alone at the counter. He needed a distraction. Where the hell was Dan?
A light above the desk flickered. Perfect.
Tia cursed as she stomped down the hall to check out the disturbance. As soon as she rounded a corner, he peeked into the security booth and his question about the missing guard was answered. Feet propped on the desk, head lolling back at an unnatural angle, Dan sawed logs like a hearty lumberjack. Ben shook his head and hurried to the admissions office, inserting the key he made from the mold into the lock and stepping inside.
Flicking on the high-powered beam of his pen light, he directed it around the room. The office served as the information processing hub for everything tha
t transpired on the second floor. A bank of filing cabinets lined one entire wall. The perfect starting point.
With the penlight clamped between his teeth, he inserted a thin, metal device into the drawer marked "Current B" and yanked it open when he heard the telltale click. He flipped through for Donelle Bendershott’s file. Nothing. He checked for Kimmie Bickle and again came up empty.
Repeating the process, he inserted the metal device in the drawer marked "Current M" and searched for Molly Miller. Also missing. On a lark, he thumbed through the files until he came across the one marked Mead, Kellie.
Bingo.
Feeling slightly guilty—after all, she wasn’t part of his investigation—he whipped out the folder and flashed the light over the contents. He skimmed the chart: homeless, severely depressed, possibly suicidal. He kept reading and passed a word that seemed odd, out of place.
As if in slow motion, his eyes traveled back up the file to the section with results. No, there was no mistake. The bold black letters jumped from the page.
Ben was so stunned he didn’t even flinch at the footsteps outside the door. Clicking off the light, he shoved the file in the back waistband of his jeans and dove behind the desk. The door swung open with a creak, a dim glow from the hallway illuminated the room for a split-second. Peeking around the corner, he watched Kellie Mead slip inside and gently push the door closed. She snapped on a flashlight and dragged the beam across the room, stopping when she spotted the filing cabinets.
He waited for her to pass before he pounced. One arm snaked around her small waist, the other her mouth to stifle her scream. Her flashlight clanged to the floor and he winced at the metallic crash. Hauling her off her feet, he leaned down to whisper angrily, "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
Her entire body stiffened and he barely avoided her wildly-flailing legs.
"Calm down, dammit."
She didn’t listen. She squirmed like a hooked fish trying to break his hold. He wrestled her to the sofa and dropped on top of her, pinning her face down with his body. He suddenly remembered her condition and eased his weight enough so he didn’t squish her. She tried to buck him off, her tight ass grinding against his groin and he had to stifle a curse. How in the hell could her efforts turn him on?
Committed Page 8
