She wondered again about his visit to the hospital. Something didn’t feel right.
Her eyes returned to the van, and she remembered the flash of gold she’d seen on the floor. She looked over her shoulder. No sign of Dr. Bellows. He was likely preparing for the afternoon session.
Eden stepped up to the passenger’s side door and peered in, letting her forehead almost touch the glass as she strained to see in. Her pulse quickened at the sight of the delicate gold chain shining up from the dark carpet.
Could it be? Could that really be Kara’s chain in Dr. Bellows’ van?
Eden forced herself to step back and take a deep breath. She was being ridiculous and paranoid.
Why would Kara’s necklace end up in Dr. Bellows’ car? It didn’t make sense. The chain likely belonged to his wife, Terri.
Yes, it’s got to be Terri’s chain. And I’m sure Kara will show up at any minute still wearing the chain her father gave her.
But doubt followed Eden as she made her way back inside the recovery center determined to call Kara’s sister. If Kara was okay, she would have called Anna. And if she hadn’t called, Eden would know for sure that Kara was missing.
Chapter Eight
Doc opened the door to his house with an exaggerated sigh, relieved that he’d managed to oversee the group session without incident and leave the recovery center without seeing Eden Winthrop again, and without having to answer any more questions that he wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Terri, honey? I’m home!”
He dropped his backpack on the floor and walked into the room off the hall that acted as Theresa Bellows’ study. Sunlight flooded in through a big picture window, surrounding the woman sitting at the desk in a warm glow.
“Sorry, dear, almost done with this article. Give me five minutes and I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Terri looked around with a cheerful smile, her hands still flying across her computer keyboard, as Doc crossed over and kissed the top of her head, enjoying the silkiness of her dark curls against his cheek.
“Sure, no rush. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
The last drops of coffee dripped into the pot just as Terri pushed through the doorway and crossed to a kitchen counter that had been lowered to accommodate her wheelchair.
She stopped in front of an oversized bread box that dominated the countertop. The wood was worn, and the words Fresh Bread had faded into pale blue smudges on the front long ago, but Terri had inherited the box from her grandmother, and she refused to give it up.
“I made a fresh loaf this morning,” she said as she cut off two thick slices. “Whole wheat just like the doctor ordered.”
Doc watched her prepare the sandwich with a mixture of pride and sadness. She was a resourceful woman, refusing to let her medical condition, or her wheelchair, get in the way of the things she loved to do, but he knew it was hard on her to be confined at home so much of the time.
“Well, I’m glad you did. It smells delicious in here.”
He poured them each a cup of coffee and set one cup in front of Terri before taking his sandwich and coffee over to the little table by the window.
“So, how’re things at Hope House? Everyone getting settled in?”
Doc knew his wife wished she could help out at the new recovery center, too. Before her accident she’d volunteered at several community centers and charitable organizations, always willing to give her time and talents to help those less fortunate.
It was hard for her to see him out making a difference while she was sitting at home writing the odd article for medical journals and healthcare websites.
“Things are still pretty unorganized over there, but I’m helping them out the best I can.”
“Really? Is it that bad?”
Doc took a big bite of his sandwich, enjoying the fresh taste of the whole wheat bread, and tried to decide how much he could risk telling Terri. He finished chewing and assumed a look of worry.
“Well, just yesterday one of the residents got hold of a bottle of methadone and took an overdose. Luckily I thought to ask why she hadn’t shown up for the session and they found her in time for me to give her naloxone before it was too late.”
He shook his head and grimaced, liking the way her eyes widened at the story.
“Oh my god, is she okay?”
“Yes, the naloxone did the trick and she pulled through. But if I hadn’t been there I doubt anyone would have noticed. The poor girl would probably be rotting at the morgue right now.”
Terri put her hand over her mouth, visibly horrified at the image he’d conjured, then reached over to pat his hand.
“They sure were lucky to have you there, and it’s a good thing they had the naloxone on hand. I’m glad it all worked out.”
A prickle of irritation edged up Doc’s back at Terri’s words. It sounded as if she was giving nosy Eden Winthrop and her amateurish team at the recovery center half the credit for saving Kara.
“Actually, they didn’t…have the naloxone I mean. I had the antidote with me.”
“What…you carry around an injection kit with you all the time?” Terri’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
Doc felt the irritation bloom into anger at the skepticism he heard in her voice. He’d heard that tone before, usually when she thought he was lying.
“No, not all the time, just when I’m volunteering at an addiction treatment facility run by incompetent people. But you wouldn’t understand what’s needed at a place like that anymore, would you?”
He regretted the harsh words as soon as he’d spoken. After everything they’d been through together he knew he shouldn’t take his anger out on Terri. She didn’t deserve it.
It’s all Eden Winthrop’s fault. That bitch has got me worked up.
Terri lowered her eyes to her cup of coffee.
“No, I guess I don’t know what it’s like. It’s been a long time since I worked at the community health center with you. I’m sure everything’s different now.”
Doc stared at his wife’s lowered head with a familiar sense of helplessness and anger.
Why did this happen to Terri? Why is she the one stuck in a wheelchair?
He reached for her hand and held it, shame washing through him at the thought of his careless words causing her more pain.
“You know you mean everything to me, don’t you? Without you I’m nothing. Absolutely worthless.”
His softly-spoken words made her tighten her hand around his.
“That’s sweet of you, Doc, but you shouldn’t think that way. If something happens to me you’d still have your work. And you help so many people. Just think how you’re helping the women at Hope House. That’s worth a lot.”
Doc looked into Terri’s trusting brown eyes and knew he could never tell her how he really felt. She wouldn’t understand.
Those women don’t deserve my help; they don’t even deserve to live.
✽ ✽ ✽
After finishing his sandwich and draining his coffee cup, Doc headed out to his real job. The one that paid the bills and ensured that Terri had access to the best medical care and latest therapeutic treatments available.
The Behavioral Health Group of Willow Bay was a private counseling clinic for those who had the money or insurance to pay for premium care. Doc had founded the clinic after medical school. He’d decided to open his practice in sunny Willow Bay rather than his gloomier hometown of Ft. Wayne, Indiana.
There were too many bad memories back home, and besides, he had connections in Willow Bay that made the little town seem like a safe place to start fresh.
Doc had designed the modern, clean lines of the clinic himself, wanting the practice to appeal to a certain type of patient, hoping the exclusive clinic would attract people who had money and were looking for new ways to spend it.
A few well-chosen words could persuade such a person that weekly therapy sessions would change their lives, for a substantial fee.
Of course, the patients of his private practice had to be coddled and pampered, and they couldn’t go missing without instigating a high-profile search. He’d known from the start that there would be no hunting among his private clients.
Better not to mix business with pleasure in any case. Any hunting would be done away from his home and away from his business.
Doc had found that community health centers, homeless shelters and government-funded rehab facilities offered up the easiest selection.
A few weeks volunteering at a new place would often allow him to pick a target that met the strict criteria he and Ace had agreed on years ago. And sticking to their guidelines had prevented even a hint of suspicion or interest in their activities.
No one had ever suspected Doc was anything other than a selfless volunteer. No one had ever come to him inquiring about the young women he’d taken. No one until Eden Winthrop.
He gritted his teeth at the thought of Eden’s interrogation that morning. Who did she think she was? Where he went and what he did was none of her business.
The memory of his impulsive response to her questions nagged at him. He’d told Eden that he had been with Terri at the hospital. What if she asked Terri about it? How could he explain why he’d been there? How could he explain why he’d lied?
Their mission was now in jeopardy and Doc needed to tell Ace. Ace would be mad, but he’d know what to do to fix it. Ace had always been able to fix their mistakes in the past.
But Doc didn’t have time to call Ace just yet. The clinic’s eating disorder support group met every Saturday afternoon, and Doc was scheduled to lead this week’s session.
He could see some of the group members already arriving as he pulled the van into his reserved parking space and jumped out.
He hurried around to the passenger seat to retrieve his backpack then froze in confusion when he saw the gold chain on the floor. It must have fallen off in the brief tussle he’d had with Kara.
But how had he missed seeing it? A frightening question popped into his mind.
Did Eden Winthrop see the chain this morning?
He tried to remember their conversation, tried to picture where’d they’d both stood. But he’d been rattled by her sudden appearance and intrusive questions, and his mind now refused to cooperate.
He knew she’d stood next to him on the passenger’s side of the van, but he couldn’t be sure if she had been in a position to see the floor.
Even if Eden Winthrop did see the necklace, she couldn’t know it’s Kara’s, could she?
“Dr. Bellows? Do you need us to help carry anything?”
Doc spun around to see two of the girls that attended the session staring up at him, their eyes hopeful. He produced the warm smile he always wore at his private practice and pocketed the chain. He’d give it to Ace later to dispose of properly.
“No, thank you, ladies, I’ve got this.”
Doc swung his backpack over one shoulder and ushered the girls inside the sleek building. He kept a pleasant smile affixed to his face while watching the young women and girls file in and take seats in a circle of comfortable chairs, but the spark of panic he’d felt upon seeing the gold chain was growing.
He wasn’t worried about the police. They wouldn’t waste time looking for a runaway drug addict with a record. They never had before.
But what if Eden Winthrop talks to Terri? Will she expose my lie?
The phony smile fell away at the thought of his wife discovering another one of his lies. He needed to talk to Ace before things got out of hand.
“Okay everyone, take a seat.”
Doc clapped his hands and stood at the front of the room waiting for the group to settle. He had to get away for ten minutes so he could call Ace.
“I’d like everyone to spend a few minutes writing down what you hope to achieve by being a member of this support group,” he called out, picking up a notepad and ripping off pages to pass around. “Come up with at least three specific goals that you can share with the rest of the group.”
All eyes looked at him in confusion. This wasn’t the normal routine. Doc ignored their surprise and handed out pens with the Behavioral Health of Willow Bay logo before checking his watch.
“Okay, I’ll give you ten minutes.”
He backed out of the room, waiting until the door closed behind him to take out his phone and tap in Ace’s number.
“Yeah?”
Ace’s voice was impatient, but at least he’d answered. Doc had been afraid Ace would be too busy with the new girl to pick up.
“Someone came looking for Kara Stanislaus.”
Doc glanced back over his shoulder, even though he was sure no one else was in the hall. He’d learned the hard way that you could never be sure who might be listening in.
“Who was it?”
“Some nosy bitch from the rehab center came around asking questions, saying the girl is missing.”
The silence on the other end of the line scared Doc more than an angry outburst would have. What was Ace thinking? What would he do?
“I know exactly who she is. She’s caused trouble before.”
“It gets worse.”
“Stop fucking around and tell me.”
Doc took a deep breath and stared through the glass door, watching the women in the meeting room. A few were looking around as if they’d finished writing.
“She saw me leaving the hospital this morning. But before you get too upset, she didn’t see who I was with.”
“So, she knows you were there, and she knows the girl is missing.”
“Right.”
“Anything else I need to know?”
Doc thought about the gold chain in his pocket. He needed to get rid of it. He needed to give it to Ace.
But what would Ace say if he knew Doc had been careless enough to let Eden Winthrop see it?
“Well, I found something in the van that I need you to take care of. I’ll give it to you and explain everything when we see each other.”
“We can’t meet here. Not until I make sure this isn’t going to turn into a problem.”
“Is it going to be a problem, Ace? Are we going to be okay?”
Doc cringed at the fear he heard in his own voice.
“Pull yourself together, Doc. As long as you let me know what’s going on, I can take care of it, like I always do.”
After Ace had ended the call, Doc sucked in a deep breath of air, then exhaled slowly. He had to finish the session as if all was well.
Everything will be okay if I just keep calm and follow orders.
Ace had never let him down, and he wouldn’t start now.
All heads turned to him as Doc walked back into the room. Instantly he plastered on the obligatory smile and surveyed the group.
“Okay, everybody ready to share?”
But as the women started to talk, a feeling of impending doom took hold and Doc recalled the look of determination he’d seen in Eden Winthrop’s inquisitive green eyes.
Chapter Nine
Pete Barker shifted the weight of the box he was carrying and used his elbow to ring Nessa’s doorbell. When he didn’t hear sounds of life from inside, he sat the box at his feet and knocked on the door with a big fist. Within seconds he was rewarded with the sound of footsteps approaching. The door opened a few inches and a small boy looked out at Barker with suspicious eyes.
“Hey there, buddy, how you doing?”
The eyes blinked at Barker’s cheerful greeting and the door closed. The chain rattled and then the door swung open all the way. Cole Ainsley stood in the doorway holding an Xbox controller in one small hand. He held out the other hand to Barker for a fist bump.
“Hey Mr. Barker, whatcha’ doing here?”
“I’m here to see your mother. But I thought I’d bring over this stuff for you and your brother since I was already making the trip.”
Barker turned to pick up the cardboard box that he’d finally found in his garage that morning after an
extended search. It had been hidden by stacks of old Newsweek and Time magazines that he’d never gotten around to reading. The box had collected dust for years and held nothing of real value, yet Barker had to swallow a lump in his throat as he carried it into the foyer. It held the remnants of Taylor’s childhood: games, toys and sports gear that she’d left behind long ago.
“What’s in there?” Cole asked with big eyes.
“Some toys and gear that my daughter doesn’t need anymore. Thought you and Cooper might want some of it.”
“Why doesn’t your daughter need it anymore? Did she get new toys?” The boy’s curly red hair and questioning gaze reminded Barker of Nessa.
This little apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.
“Well, she’s grown up now and…gone. But I’m sure she’d be happy to see you guys enjoying this stuff.”
“I’m in here, Barker!”
Nessa’s voice called out from the kitchen and Barker moved down the hall, giving the cardboard box a sideways look as he passed. There was still time to carry it back out to the car if he wanted. But he shook his head and kept walking.
Just let it go, Pete. No more holding on to the past, and no more moping around and feeling sorry for yourself.
An acrid smell greeted Barker as he entered the kitchen.
“Something burning in here?”
Nessa looked around from the stove with an exasperated expression, picking up a towel and waving it around.
“Yeah, it’s called lunch. I tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches and I guess I left the darn things in the pan too long.”
Barker crossed the room and opened the window before pushing the fan button above the stove. He picked up a file folder on the counter and began fanning the smoke toward the window. The radio on the windowsill was tuned to a local country station and Barker recognized the song. It was a sad ballad that Caroline had liked. He switched off the radio.
“I was listening to that, Barker,” Nessa complained, dropping the smoking pan into the sink and turning to face him. “There’s a storm coming if you hadn’t heard and I want to be prepared.”
“Yeah, I know. I watch the news. But it sounds like it’s still days away and it’ll probably make landfall north of here.”
Girl Eight: A Mercy Harbor Thriller Page 5
