by Rebecca York
He brought up a town directory and found that the morgue was at St. Stephens Hospital. From there he went to a schematic of the building, amazed at how much you could just pull off the internet.
Pointing to the screen, he said, “You go in the south entrance of the main building. Then the cold storage is straight down the hall and to the right.”
“Always a good idea to look like we know where we’re going,” she answered, putting bravado into her voice.
They stowed the luggage and the boxes of papers in the car. Although they’d rented the cabin for two nights, they wouldn’t be coming back.
First they stopped to mail the duplicates of Luke’s manuscript and his research materials. Then they went to a discount department store for “business casual” attire.
Back on the road, they discussed several options.
“How ambitious is this operation?” Luke asked.
“Let’s go for the easiest scenario and see if we can pull it off.”
They stopped at a copy shop, where Luke used one of the computers to scan his driver’s license, then substitute a different header and a different name instead of Luke Buckley.
Then he printed out the results and cut out the new ID. On brief inspection, it looked like some sort of official document, but he knew it would never hold up to scrutiny. He was praying that their mental powers would make the difference.
They arrived at the hospital complex just as it was getting dark and drove around the access road. After getting the lay of the land, they parked in the visitor’s lot and walked around to the south entrance.
They’d agreed that he would do the talking, with her giving him the extra force he’d need to pull off the illusion they’d discussed. Of course, if it didn’t work, they’d better be prepared to run like hell.
He knew Gabriella caught the thought.
Just kidding.
You’re right. We may need to leave fast. Should we have a smoke bomb ready to hide our escape?
I hope we won’t need it.
A guard was standing at the door.
Luke strode up to him as if he owned the place. “FBI Special Agents Simons and Mosley,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, then showing the altered driver’s license through the plastic window.
As he did, he sent the guard a message. I am Special Agent Simons. That’s what it says on the card. I am FBI Special Agent Simons. Gabriella pressed her shoulder to his. He could feel her sending him energy, adding to the strength of his charade. Still he felt his heart begin to pound as he waited to find out what would happen next.
The guard looked from the card to Luke, his brow wrinkled. Luke watched the man’s lips move. It had his picture and the right words, but it wasn’t any kind of official government ID.
Special Agent Simons. Special Agent Mosley. Luke silently repeated, striving to beam the name at the guard. It was difficult to do, when he didn’t know exactly what would work. But the energy he could feel flowing from Gabriella was reassuring.
His breath turned shallow as long seconds passed while the guard considered the two people standing in front of him. Luke kept his face impassive as he continued broadcasting the false information.
Finally the man nodded. “Go on in.”
“Thank you.”
Luke and Gabriella stepped inside and walked purposefully down the hall.
When they had turned the corner, he heard her breathe out a little sigh.
We did it.
And he didn’t ask why we were here.
He squeezed her hand, then pulled his arm away, striving to look like they were professionals.
They found the refrigerated room where the bodies were stored.
Luke felt Gabriella shiver as she looked around the darkened area.
Finding the switch, he turned on a dim overhead light, then watched her zero in on the wall of stainless storage drawers.
As a reporter, he’d been in places like this before. He knew from her thoughts that she’d only witnessed similar scenes in the movies.
The room was cold, and there was a faint odor that made both of them take shallow breaths.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
She might have reached for his hand. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and rubbed her palms up and down her arms.
Luke gave her a concerned look. He’d caught some of her thoughts, but he knew that she was blocking some of what was in her mind.
“What is it?”
“This place spooks me.”
“Yeah. Let’s do it and split,” he said as he walked to the wall and started reading the labels. There were three dead bodies in here. When he found the right storage compartment, he pulled it open.
Gabriella hung back for a few seconds. Then, with teeth gritted, she hurried forward and looked into the drawer.
Her indrawn breath had him pulling her close.
“It’s him all right,” he growled. “And he’s got a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.”
She stared down at the man who had tried to kidnap her, a look of distaste on her face. “He was a scumbag. He could have gotten shot trying to rob a gas station,” she whispered.
“Then why would he end up dumped in the swamp?”
She made a strangled sound. “I was just trying to put…a spin on it.”
“Like I said before, I think we have to assume he was working for someone who got frustrated with his failures.”
“You mean to grab me.”
Luke nodded. “We confirmed he was murdered. Let’s get out of here.”
He knew she wanted to leave, but she stood where she was, indecision whirling in her brain.
“Gabriella?”
A split second before she moved, he caught her intent and tried to snatch her away from the storage drawer. But he was already too late. She reached out and put her hand on the man’s cold shoulder.
He watched in horror as her eyes fluttered closed and her knees buckled.
Before she hit the tile floor, he caught her, his curse filling the little room.
“Gabriella? Gabriella? What is it? What happened?”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak. When he tried to reach her thoughts, it was as if a solid barrier had dropped into place, separating her mind from his.
As he cradled her against his chest, a primal fear he had never known clawed at him. He was still calling her name, but nothing changed. She was completely unresponsive, and he had to get her out of here. But where were they going?
Not to the car. He’d have to drive somewhere, and he knew she needed him now.
Desperately, he tried to remember the schematic of the morgue. He’d been interested in getting to this room, then leaving the same way they’d come in. But he remembered that there was a back entrance into the hospital. Should he take her out that way?
Or was there some place in here where he could lay her down?
He gritted his teeth, hating not knowing which way to go. Finally, he turned to his side and pushed the drawer closed with his shoulder, then carried Gabriella into the hallway.
The guard would still be at the front door, which meant he couldn’t leave that way carrying “Agent Mosley.” Instead, he turned in the other direction and found the door that led into the hospital basement.
Above it was a sign that said “No return entry.”
If they went out, they weren’t coming back this way.
Making a snap decision, he pushed on the bar that opened the door, then stepped through into a dimly lit corridor with steam pipes along the ceiling.
What if he met somebody? How would he explain that he was carrying an unconscious woman?
No sooner had the thought popped into his mind than he heard footsteps coming in the other direction. He rushed forward to the next door he found along the corridor. To his vast relief, when he turned the knob, it opened.
He stepped inside, probably just in time, an
d breathed out a small sigh as he heard whoever it was walk past. He felt along the wall and found a row of switches.
When he flipped one on, dim light came from an overhead fixture. They were in a large storage area with supplies on shelves that were laid out in rows with narrow aisles. He made his way through them until he came to an area where he couldn’t be seen from the door. Then he grabbed some packages of blankets. Still holding Gabriella, he awkwardly spread out several blankets. After lowering her to the makeshift bed, he eased down beside her.
Her color was good and her breathing was even, but she showed no signs of waking up.
“Gabriella,” he murmured. “Come back to me.”
When she didn’t stir, fear gripped him. Over the past few days, he’d forged a connection with her that he’d never expected to find with anyone in this life or the next. Now he understood on a deep, gut-wrenching level that he might lose her.
The idea was so terrible that he tried to shove it away, but it hovered at the edge of his thoughts.
Leaning back against a shelf, he picked her up in his arms and cradled her in his lap, hugging her to him. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to raise his voice and tell her she’d been a fool to touch that dead thug.
But what good would that do? It was over and done, and he had to deal with what had happened.
He struggled to calm his roiling emotions. There was no point in blaming her. His only option was to bring her back. Because the alternative had become unthinkable.
He closed his mind to everything around him, shutting out the world as he hugged her to him, unconsciously rocking her in his arms as he focused only on her.
I can’t lose you. Not now. Come back to me, he pleaded. Just come back. If you don’t, I’ll die.
Chapter Thirteen
From far away, Luke thought he felt something stirring in Gabriella’s mind, and his heart leaped. She’d been in some place where he couldn’t reach her. Now it was as if a crack had opened up in the wall between them. Just a small chink, but he could shout through it and know his words were penetrating.
Gabriella? What happened? Where are you?
She didn’t answer, but pictures flashed in his mind. They were blurry, but he thought they might be the man’s memories. Somehow Gabriella had picked them up.
You saw what happened to him?
Again, she didn’t answer, but the images continued. George was riding in a car. Lying in the backseat, his hands and feet tied. The car stopped in a swampy area. A man Luke didn’t recognize hauled George out and dragged him toward the swamp.
Do you know him? Luke asked urgently.
Again, there was no answer, and all Luke could do was keep watching the video roll.
The new guy looked to be in his sixties, with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, piercing hazel eyes, wide lips and a determined expression that made Luke’s stomach knot. After seating his captive on a fallen log, he pulled a gun and pointed it toward George, who was now talking rapidly. Luke couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he appeared to be pleading.
The man responded.
George spoke again.
The conversation ended abruptly when the man with the gun pulled the trigger.
He felt Gabriella’s body jump. Felt her shock. Her terror. Her pain.
And at the same time, she was silently calling out to Luke.
“I’m here. You’re with me. You’re going to be okay,” he said, praying that it was true. “Wake up. You saw what happened to him. You can wake up now.”
For long moments, nothing changed, and he held her with his heart pounding and his breath like fire in his chest.
Then she moaned and began to writhe in his arms. All he could do was cradle her against himself, soothe her, because he knew that the next part was worse.
He saw darkness, felt George’s abject terror. The man was dead. But his mind was still working, and he was seeing a long, endless horrible future stretching in front of him.
And Gabriella was too close to that vision. It was sucking her in.
“It’s not you. It’s him,” Luke said, struggling not to shout as he fought his own fear and desperation. “Don’t go there with him. You’re seeing his punishment for the immoral life he’s led.”
He knew she heard his words. Still, he felt her sway in the balance, her mind trying to come back to earth yet attached to the man whose death she had experienced.
“Gabriella! Stay with me.”
When she didn’t answer, he felt despair welling inside him.
It’s not you. It’s him.
Is it?
Yes!
But it feels so…bad.
He knew he must make her understand how much he needed her. With no other option, he gathered her close and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with a desperation that bordered on madness.
For long moments, nothing happened, and his desperation grew.
Then, finally, she began to kiss him back, and he felt tears sting his eyes.
Thank the Lord. You’re back.
Yes. Oh, yes. Luke!
He raised his head and saw her eyes blink open. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was.
“In the hospital. A storage room. I carried you here after you touched George.”
She clutched his arms, pressing herself against him. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I think you almost died.”
She nodded against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I think you had to do it. I mean, you would have always wondered if you could get information from him.”
Again she nodded.
“How do you get into a dead man’s memories?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I was thinking about trying it.”
“I knew you were thinking about something you didn’t want to share with me.”
“Yes.”
“How did you keep me from knowing?”
“I don’t know. I just tried to avoid letting it stay in my mind for long. You know, like when you’re trying to remember a name, so you focus on everything else and it finally comes to you.”
“Well, you fooled me. You kept me from finding out about it. I guess that’s something else we need to practice. But we’re getting off the subject. How did you know you’d get into his mind?”
Her mouth twisted. “I didn’t. Not really. But the idea kept growing. When I saw him, I had to try it. And I did find out some things. We know that other man shot him.”
“George and the other guy were talking. I couldn’t hear anything.”
“I could.”
“Do you know the other guy’s name?”
“George called him the Badger.”
He made a low sound. “I don’t think we can look that up on Google.”
Gabriella reached for his hand and knit her fingers with his. “Before he died, George was trying to keep the guy talking. He was thinking he might get away, but it didn’t work out like he hoped.”
“Yeah.”
“He asked the guy’s real name, and the Badger told him. I guess because he figured George wasn’t going to share the information with anyone. It’s Bill Wellington.”
“Bill Wellington,” Luke repeated.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
He turned the name over in his mind. “Not yet. But now there’s something we can look up, although it may not be his real name, only the one he’s using now.”
“Terrific.”
She kept her hand on his arm. “They talked a little, before Wellington pulled the trigger. I guess this really is wrapped up with that clinic in Houma. He told George that a crackpot named Dr. Douglas Solomon had been running illegal experiments.”
Luke swore. “What kind of illegal experiments?”
“All Wellington would say was that they hadn’t turned out the way Dr. Solomon expected.”
Gabriella lifted her head toward Luke, her eyes bleak
. “So I could be some kind of freak. Well, that’s what I always thought. Now I’ve got confirmation.”
“Stop it! You don’t even know if the Wellington guy was telling the truth.”
“I think he was—from his point of view.”
Luke thought about that. “Maybe we should assume he was after you because he was trying to get more information about the children from the clinic.”
She nodded.
“We need to go to Houma.”
“Later. First we need to go somewhere you can relax and recover from your trip into George’s last memories. But we can’t go back the way we came,” he added.
“Why not? You think the guard will realize we’re not FBI agents?”
“Maybe we could have, but the door to the morgue locked behind us when I brought you here. I guess it works that way to keep hospital staff out. We’re going to have to walk through the hospital.”
“Okay.”
He helped her up.
When she stood swaying on her feet, he steadied her. Just as they started toward the door, it pushed inward, and Luke froze at the sound of someone entering the room where they’d taken shelter.
Chapter Fourteen
Luke felt Gabriella shudder. She was in no shape to confront anyone. For that matter, neither was he.
Could we hide in here? she asked.
Don’t know.
The option was taken away from them when a man stepped around the corner and gave them a startled look. He was in his thirties, with sandy hair and a spray of freckles across his nose. He was pushing a supply cart. Probably a stock clerk. His name tag read Calvin Jerrold.
His gaze fixed on them. “What are you doing here?”
“I am Dr. Simons, and this is Dr. Mosley,” Luke said, using the same names as before and gesturing toward Gabriella.
Jerrold’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. I think you’re stealing hospital supplies.”
“No,” Luke answered, still madly projecting the names he’d just given.
But it wasn’t doing any good. He felt Gabriella trying to feed him energy, but after her ordeal with George Camden, she simply couldn’t muster the power she’d had before.
The guy took a step back and reached for the cell phone on his belt.
