by Jonas Saul
“I did no such thing."
“Funny,” he said, his voice moving as he walked toward the end of the bed. “After you injected yourself with a foreign substance in my office, I had no other option but to bring you in for observation. You were acting deranged. Said something about killing a woman. You presented a case to me, a designated mental health professional, that you were a danger to yourself and possibly a danger to others.”
“You know as well as I do that it was your men who injected me and I never once spoke of killing anyone. What is this all about? Revenge? Betrayal? Money? Come on, you can tell me, what have I done to offend thee?”
“It’s not me you’ve offended, as you so elegantly put it. But I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough. Lastly, your denial will go on record. Your refusal to see the need for help. After your seventy-two hour stay, unless you show signs of regaining your mental health, I can invoke a fourteen-day hold. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be classified as gravely disabled and I’ll order a thirty-day hold after that. Wouldn’t it be nice? Spend almost the next two months locked up on this bed, injected routinely, in different areas of your pretty little body, if you know what I mean.”
His threats drew concern, but focusing on them would anger her and ultimately give him the power to keep her, as she would become a danger to others, namely him.
Her eyes remained closed. She let her mind wander, trying hard to come up with a name. The name of the person who could orchestrate this, or had the power to. Most of the people she had dealt with in the past that would want her dead were already dead themselves. Maybe it was a relative of a long-ago enemy.
“You’re in the Amy Greg Psychiatric Hospital,” Williams said. “The office of patients’ rights is in Sacramento, about three hours drive from here. I’ve looked you up online. Since you’re such a badass, a danger to others—” he used air quotes on danger— “I won’t let you get your required phone call. Although I am legally bound to tell you that this is not a criminal arrest.” He slapped his hands together as if to brush crumbs off them. “There, I’ve done what was required of me to keep you.”
As if to back up that claim that she was in a psychiatric ward, someone shouted a warbled cry from beyond the walls of her room until it was suddenly cut off.
“You’re in the acute ward for the mentally ill,” he said.
Sarah rolled her head toward his voice. She opened her eyes to slits without too much pain flaring. “Which means?”
“The acute ward is for people who are very ill. Some refer to it as the ‘long-stay’ ward. You’re in the sectioned-off area, or what we call, legally detained. Some call it the back wards, or backwards.” He touched her leg below the knee. She fought the urge to pull away, not that she could. Sympathy had no time for weakness in a place like this. Only strength survived in this world.
His hand began to move upwards, slowly. “Even if you managed to get out of those restraints, this room will be locked and the doors at each end of the corridor will be secured. The entire area is locked down. Before your seventy-two hour involuntary committal is through, I will file the appropriate documents that explain my findings and how I deem you chronically ill.” His hand rested on the top of her right thigh now. It began to move again. “You will never leave this building.” His hand stopped beside her vagina, just below her protruding hip bone. Every fiber in her body ached to drive a fist down his throat and into his stomach.
His hand brushed softly between her legs before he removed it. Then it landed on her right breast, his lips close to her ear. “You will never leave this building,” he repeated. “But before you kill yourself, as is the plan, the man responsible for your stay with us wants to enjoy your lady parts. I understand he’s had his way with you before so he’s quite familiar with the terrain. Although you’re older now. He may not like that, but it won’t matter much to you.”
He moved away from her ear. His hand left her breast. “You’ll spend the last week of your life drugged and fucked. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? And in the end, I’ll come out of this a hero as I committed you here in the wasted effort of trying to save your life.”
Sarah remained silent, her anger making her pant now. The headache subsided some in the wake of her fury.
A door opened.
“You can come in now.”
Two pairs of footsteps entered the room. She opened her eyes enough to see two men dressed in white lab coats, one with a needle, the other carrying more leather straps.
“These men,” the doctor continued, “will help with the pain. Soon you’ll sleep. But first, these men need to take your clothes and burn them.” He turned to the orderlies. “Inject her first.” He turned to stare into Sarah’s slitted eyes. “She’s feisty. A severe danger to herself and others. Once she’s out, rip her clothes off, secure her to the bed as tight as you can without cutting off circulation and leave her hospital clothes in the corner. I’ll help her dress when she’s awake tomorrow.”
They nodded in unison. “Yes sir. But leave her naked?”
“That’s what I said. She’s too much of a suicide risk. Somehow she’ll find a way to take her gown off and have it around her neck within minutes if I don’t dress her myself. Leave her naked for the world to see.” He winked at Sarah. “I’ll be back soon.” He opened the door to leave. “I’m suddenly looking forward to seeing you again.”
The door was about to close. One of the orderlies lifted a syringe and pushed the plunger a notch. Clear liquid spit out the tip.
“Doctor?” Sarah said as the door finally closed. Williams stuck his head back in.
“What is it?”
“You will die in this room. Come back here at your own peril.”
For a brief moment his eyes flickered. She saw caution, possibly fear.
He smiled. “I highly doubt that.” The door closed.
It all came to Sarah in a rush. She was looking for Cole Lincoln, her old babysitter who had abused her all those years ago. Her search had proven to be a daunting task as she couldn’t find him. And now she was here, waiting to meet the person who, as Williams said, has had his way with you before. That could only mean Lincoln was here and had orchestrated this entire thing.
The needle entered her right arm. She jerked in surprise.
The ankle restraints came off, but she suddenly had no fight left in her. Whatever was in the needle worked incredibly fast.
Now she understood why Vivian said it would all work out in its own time. That was why she recommended Dr. Williams, who was in fact a real doctor as Sarah had discovered through her background checks. But how would Cole know that she would go to Williams and that Williams could be bought? How Cole fit in was a mystery and one she intended to figure out before it was too late.
The pain in her head decreased to almost nothing as a wave of sleep rolled over her.
After what happened to her before she was a teenager and what happened to her sister, she had enough resolve to go after Cole with a fierce vengeance. Lately, with Vivian’s memories haunting her, Cole was all Sarah thought about.
The threat of another event to mirror the past, another rape would be too much. She would be haunted for as long as she lived if that happened to her as she lay helpless, strapped to a bed.
She had all the mental ammunition she needed to go after men like Cole. She didn’t need another event to give her more ammunition.
All another event would do to her …
She lost the thought as her shirt was torn from her body. At some point her wrists were released from the straps. She was completely free of the bed and had no strength to do anything about it.
Her bra was removed. Something cold pressed against her side by her buttock. Scissors. Then her panties were removed easily.
Oh, Vivian … where are you …
Whatever they injected in her arm took complete hold. For once in her life, it was a pleasure to go under. When she surfaced, she would deal with whatever came her way then.
&
nbsp; And what was that he said about a dead woman?
But for now, naked in a mental ward, demented caregivers planning their next move, being forced to nod off kept her from ridiculing her sister for not giving her any notice or warning.
What the fuck is this, Sis?
Chapter 12
“We have to get a MacBook Pro,” Aaron said. “And we have to do it immediately.”
They stood at the back of the parking lot in the shade as the Dodge Charger was dusted for prints. The lawyer’s office was closed and Kershaw was waiting for the key holder to arrive and allow them a tour of the premises.
“Why?” Parkman asked.
“Because we have no other leads.” Aaron wiped sweat from his brow and rubbed it on his jeans. “Wherever Sarah is, she needs us. As far as we know, Sarah could be five minutes from here or already crossing state lines. The last clue to where she is will be on her computer.”
“But her computer’s completely smashed—” Parkman’s eyes widened. “That’s why you want another MacBook. So you can back up her hard drive from that Time Capsule thing she uses.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, let’s go. They don’t need us here.”
Parkman left Aaron alone so he could call a taxi while he strode over to tell Kershaw they were leaving.
Moments later, he returned. “Kershaw has my cell number and I’ve got his,” Parkman said.
“Great. Cab’ll meet us two blocks from here.”
“Why two blocks?”
Aaron shrugged. “Don’t know. Just didn’t want to be picked up at a murder scene.”
Parkman frowned. “Hmmph. Okay.”
They left the shade and started walking. It was hot for late April, warning them that the coming summer could be a scorcher. The yellow taxi came up the street. Aaron waved and the vehicle veered toward them, stopping two feet away.
Parkman grabbed the door handle but didn’t open it. “How much of that email from Cole’s sister did you get to read?”
“Over half of it. Rebecca was about to tell Sarah where Cole is. I’m assuming Sarah read the email last night. Once we read the email, we might know where Sarah has gone.”
Aaron got in the taxi. Parkman followed.
“Take us to town. We need an Apple Store.”
The unshaven driver, whose cab reeked of cigarette smoke, twisted in his seat and looked at Aaron. “You mean apples and oranges, as in fruit? Or Apples as in computers?”
“Computers.”
“This might prove difficult,” the driver said.
“How so?” Parkman asked.
“Not many people around here can afford an Apple. Closest store is in the big city. Many hours from here. We could drive south and make it to Sacramento in three to four hours.”
Aaron shot a side glance at Parkman. “Now what?”
“It has to be a Mac?” Parkman asked.
Aaron nodded. “We can’t sit on the highway in a taxi for almost eight hours there and back to the cabin, buy a thousand dollar computer, transfer the files over an eight-hour period so we can read one email. That’s too long. Sarah doesn’t have that long.”
“Is there an Internet cafe anywhere?” Parkman asked.
The driver shook his head in the negative, the taxi still idling. Then said, “There is, but it has old PCs, not Macs.”
“We need to take it to the cabin with us, log onto her network.”
“What now?” Parkman asked.
“No idea.” Aaron said. He leaned up in the seat to read the driver’s name. “Marco, do you know anyone who has a MacBook laptop we could borrow for the rest of the day?”
He shook his head wide, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t have friends who own such a machine. My boss has one in his office, but it’s not a laptop—”
Parkman slapped the arm rest on the door and sat up straighter in his seat. “Your boss has a Mac?”
“Yes, but it’s a desktop computer. And I can’t imagine he would lend it out to go to some cabin for the day.”
“Take us to your boss.”
“Can’t do it. Waste of time.”
“Where’s your head office?”
“You’re not listening. My boss is a private man. There’s no way in hell that he would give you his computer, even if you gave him the couple of thousand it’s worth in cash. It’s his and only his. He doesn’t even let his wife on it.”
“You’re a cab driver. We’re asking you to taxi us to your boss. We’ll pay the fare and then let your boss tell us that he won’t let us on his system.”
“No.” He stared back at the two of them. “I will take you wherever you want to go, but not to my office. Either leave my cab or pick another destination.”
Aaron leaned forward again, studying the identification card on the dash of the taxi. “Yellow cab. Marco Vinetti, car number 8674,” Aaron said. “C’mon Parkman. Let’s go back and get Officer Kershaw to drive us to the cab company’s office where we’ll talk to the boss on our own terms. I’ll be sure to let him know how helpful you were as a driver for his company.”
As they exited the vehicle, the driver went on about calling in to his boss to give him the heads up. When the doors shut, the driver sped away with the required squeal of the tires.
They half walked, half jogged back to the lawyer’s office building a block and a half away. A few of the vehicles had left, but activity was still bustling around the crime scene.
Aaron saw Kershaw immediately. When they reached him, he was on his cell phone. Parkman tapped his shoulder. After a moment, Kershaw got off the call and turned to them.
“I thought you guys left.”
The air was still and calm this early afternoon. After the short jog, sweat beaded up on Aaron’s forehead again.
“We did leave,” Parkman said. “But we need your help.”
“With what?”
“We need access to a Mac, an Apple computer.”
“For what?” Kershaw swiped the air at a fly buzzing too close.
“Aaron saw something on Sarah’s computer before he was attacked.”
Kershaw frowned. Then adjusted his stance and faced Aaron. “I thought you were attacked outside.”
“I was,” Aaron said, feeling the trap closing on the lie from earlier.
“Then how did you get to see Sarah’s computer? It’s ruined.”
“Last night. When I dropped her off after the cemetery visit.”
Kershaw looked from Parkman to Aaron, then back to Parkman. Parkman kept a straight face, as did Aaron.
“What did you see?”
“An email. I think it might have information as to where Sarah is. It’s a long shot, but there could be a lead. Sarah backs everything up onto something called a Time Capsule—”
“I’m familiar with it.”
“If I can get a MacBook Pro, or any Mac for that matter, I can plug into the network back at the cabin, restore her hard drive onto the new computer, and eight hours or so later, it would be as if I have Sarah’s computer back in my hand.”
“And you say this message is in one of her emails?”
“Yes.”
“She uses a Time Capsule.” Kershaw said this more as a statement to himself. “Does she use iCloud for her email?”
Aaron nodded. “She does.”
“And if you were to restore everything from the Capsule, you know her passwords to access her email?”
“I do,” Aaron said. He looked at Parkman. “Where are you going with this?”
“Follow me,” Kershaw said.
He spun on his heels and started across the parking lot.
“You have a Mac?” Parkman asked.
“No, but you don’t need one.”
“How’s that?”
“If you know her password and her email address, you can log onto iCloud on any computer. It doesn’t have to be a Mac. Come on, I’ve got a computer in the cruiser.”
Chapter 13
Sarah screamed fo
r someone to bring her a drink. Dressed in a hospital gown, her wrists and ankles were still tied to the bed. Her bladder threatened to burst half an hour ago, and her stomach ached for nourishment, but no one acknowledged her or entered the room.
A night light offered a soft glow in the darkened room which only had one door, no windows. She had no idea if it was day or night.
