Sudden Insight

by Rebecca York

“Who was he?” Jake asked, thinking there was something familiar about him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

  Rachel’s brow wrinkled. “It was hard to tell with his face covered.”

  Jake shifted in his seat. “When did it burn?”

  She shrugged.

  “There should be some way to find out.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot and headed back the way they’d come, then found a coffee shop with wireless network. While he got a table, Rachel ordered them both medium-size lattes.

  When she came back with the drinks and set them on the table, he gestured for her to move her chair around to his side of the table where she could see the screen.

  “I had enough information to get a date,” he said, careful to reveal nothing aloud that other patrons might overhear.

  She looked at the news article he’d found. “That’s a few years after we were there, I think.”

  “That sounds right.”

  She quickly read the article, which said that the Solomon Clinic in Houma, Louisiana, had burned one night. Although the fire was judged arson, there was no indication who had done it.

  Jake watched her face when she came to the surprising piece of information that he’d already seen.

  It was a fertility clinic! Not some place where they were running medical experiments.

  Yeah. A fertility clinic, run by a doctor Douglas Solomon. He leaned back and took a sip of the latte. So it was a place where couples came who were having trouble conceiving a child.

  She nodded, a faraway look in her eyes.

  He didn’t have to ask what she was thinking because he was able to follow along.

  My mother told me that she had a hard time getting pregnant. She told me she had expensive treatments.

  And she made you feel guilty about that because you weren’t more…loving.

  Rachel sighed. I tried.

  He reached across the table and took her hand.

  We’re getting off the subject. I guess my parents must have been there for the same reason if we both ended up at that clinic.

  What kind of techniques were they using?

  He shrugged. You say it was your mother who couldn’t conceive?

  I don’t know that for sure.

  What else did she say?

  Not a lot. I think she was always embarrassed about it—like she’d been a failure when it came to something that should be natural.

  Jake kept scanning the article, then raised his head.

  It says here they were using in vitro fertilization. Where the sperm and egg meet in a petri dish.

  Why would people be afraid to talk about the clinic so long after it burned down?

  There must be some other factor.

  It could have been an issue in town. Some people might not have approved of tampering with God’s will.

  That’s possible. Or the clinic was questioned for other reasons. He leaned back, thinking, and knew she had followed his silent question.

  Why did they make the kids go back, over and over? she asked.

  You remember having tests?

  Like IQ tests?

  Yeah.

  They both considered various explanations.

  I mean, what if he wanted a lot of fertilized eggs to experiment on?

  They were both silent for long moments.

  And do what?

  To create telepaths? he finally asked. But would anyone have thought of that so long ago?

  Or even now.

  True.

  If we had a bunch of IQ tests, it sounds like it had something to do with brain function. Maybe this doctor had some other effect in mind, and he didn’t know the ultimate result?

  Jake went back to the computer, until he was interrupted by a powerful thought from Rachel.

  It was her. I mean the guy who set the fire.

  He turned around and stared at her.

  Rachel went on, her excited thoughts coming out in a fast stream. It looked like a man with a mask, but Evelyn Morgan was the one sloshing the gasoline around the clinic. Evelyn.

  Jake brought back the picture Rachel had sent him. They’d both thought it was a guy, but someone short and slender—who could have actually been a woman.

  I thought there was something familiar about the arsonist.

  The limp. You remember her limp?

  Yes, but why was she burning the place down?

  To hide evidence, Rachel answered immediately. More reason to think the in vitro fertilization was a cover for something else.

  They both sat silently, mulling that over, but they were unable to come to any conclusions.

  We made some assumptions about Evelyn that might not be true.

  She wasn’t such a sweet old lady.

  Back when she burned the clinic, maybe she had job to do—and she followed orders.

  Jake went back to the computer, looking for more information on the fire.

  He found another article that quoted a nurse who worked there, saying that it was fortunate the fire had been at night so that no parents and children had been injured.

  “Maven Bolton,” Rachel said the nurse’s name aloud.

  “Maybe she’s still in town.” Jake went to one of the search engines and found a listing in Houma for a woman with that name.

  “You think it’s the same person?”

  He did some more digging. “She’s a retired nurse. She worked at the local hospital for fifteen years. It says she was at a private clinic before that.”

  “So what are we going to say to her?”

  He thought for a moment. That…after my parents died, I found some information about the Solomon Clinic, and wanted to talk to someone who had worked there.

  And who am I?

  My fiancée. You wanted to come with me.

  Although she nodded, he knew she was unsure.

  It’ll be safer for us—and her—if we don’t tell her anything more.

  She sighed. You’re right.

  As they left the coffee shop, Jake checked the area again but didn’t see anyone paying attention to them. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were going to run into trouble—sooner rather than later.

  Beside him, Rachel shivered, and he reached for her hand and squeezed.

  Sorry.

  He responded to her unspoken thought. You’re right. Something bad is coming.

  They drove to the address he’d found, which turned out to be a one-story red brick building that was an extended-care facility for the elderly.

  “I hope her memory’s all right,” Rachel said as they pulled into the parking lot, and Jake cut the engine.

  They walked up a path through nicely landscaped grounds where native plants were interspersed with beds of colorful flowers.

  Double doors led to a reception area, where an efficient-looking young woman was sitting behind a desk. She was wearing a name tag that identified her as Sarah Dalton.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “We’d like to visit with Maven Bolton.”

  “Are you relatives?”

  “No. We’re old friends,” Jake said. “We were passing through town, and we thought we’d drop in on Maven.”

  “She doesn’t get too many visitors. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you,” Ms. Dalton said, standing up and checking her watch. “Maven should be in the dayroom now.”

  They followed the woman down a hallway, and Jake noted that as senior residences went, it wasn’t too bad. It looked clean, and he didn’t detect any unwanted smells.

  Rachel gave him a sideways glance, and he shrugged as they stepped into a large, sunny room. Potted plants were arranged around the walls.

  A lot of old women and a few old men were sitting around the room. Some were in wheelchairs, others in easy chairs, watching television or at tables playing cards or working puzzles.

  The employee led them to a woman who was sitting by the window with a magazine in her lap. She had short gray hair and a wrin
kled face, but she was wearing a nice-looking flowered blouse and tan slacks.

  “Some people to see you, Maven,” Ms. Dalton said.

  The nursing home resident looked up inquiringly.

  “It’s been a long time,” Jake said. “I’m Jack Le Barron. And this is my fiancée, Reagan…” He paused for a moment, realizing that he hadn’t thought of another last name for Rachel.

  “West,” she supplied.

  Maven nodded, probably trying to place him, but to his relief, Ms. Dalton turned and headed back toward the front of the building.

  “Thank you for seeing us,” Rachel said.

  “I don’t remember you,” she said in a tentative voice.

  “That’s all right.”

  “It isn’t!” the old woman objected.

  Rachel and Jake both pulled up chairs and sat down. “We don’t want to bother you, but we’d like some information, if you have the time.”

  “What kind of information?”

  Jake glanced at Rachel, then said, “My parents had trouble conceiving me, and I didn’t want to run into the same problem when we get married.”

  The old woman looked wary.

  “I think my parents went to a fertility clinic in town,” Jake continued.

  “It’s been closed for years.”

  “You worked there?”

  Her face tightened.

  “You were quoted in a newspaper article about the place when there was a fire,” Rachel said gently.

  Maven looked away from her.

  “The Solomon Clinic,” Rachel prompted.

  The woman’s lips compressed. “Dr. Solomon doesn’t like us to talk about it. He might get angry with me.”

  “He’s still alive?” Jake asked.

  Her gaze darted away from them. “I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

  When she folded her arms across her chest, Jake continued in a soothing voice, “The clinic did a lot of good work, helping childless couples.”

  “Yes,” Maven murmured.

  “But they were doing something else, too,” Rachel said.

  Maven shook her head vigorously. “We’re not supposed to talk about that.”

  “Okay.”

  The woman looked agitated and lowered her voice. “Don’t tell Dr. Solomon that I said anything.”

  “Of course we won’t.”

  The woman’s expression turned secretive, and she lowered her voice. “He wanted to make smarter children. That’s a noble goal, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Rachel asked.

  “Smarter children.” The old woman’s expression changed abruptly. “I want you to leave now,” she said.

  Rachel and Jake glanced at each other. They’d just confirmed one of their speculations, and they both wanted to keep pressing her.

  “I’m already in trouble. Please leave,” she said.

  Some of the other residents were looking at them. Which was probably their cue to leave.

  They both stood. “Thank you for your time,” Jake said. “It means a lot to us.”

  Maven nodded tightly, then looked down at the magazine in her lap.

  They both walked toward the door, then into the hall.

  She’s afraid, Rachel said.

  Was she warned not to talk, or is she trying to protect her role at the clinic?

  There’s no way of knowing. But we do know what the clinic was doing. Trying to increase the intelligence of the children conceived there.

  If it’s the truth, Jake answered.

  It makes sense—with all that IQ testing. She stopped and thought for a moment. But wouldn’t all that be illegal?

  He answered with a mirthless laugh. The government and private research groups have done a lot of things that are illegal—or stupid—in the name of experimentation. You’ve heard about soldiers lined up to watch nuclear explosions. Or doctors who deliberately didn’t treat a bunch of black men with syphilis to find out what would happen to them. Somebody paid a lot of money to fund Dr. Solomon’s research. Would a small-town doctor have those kinds of resources? I think we have to assume someone with deeper pockets was footing the bill. The government or a pharmaceutical company, maybe. But I think they were dissatisfied with the results. I mean, back when Solomon had a working clinic. Maybe they sent Evelyn Morgan to check on the doctor’s progress. And she reported that there wasn’t anything unusual about the children’s intelligence. The experiment was a big failure.

  And when her boss didn’t like what she found out, he told her to burn the place down, Rachel added. Which is kind of extreme, don’t you think?

  Apparently he’s an extreme kind of guy. He didn’t just come asking you or me questions. He sent a thug after us. Probably to find out what he could before killing us.

  Rachel winced. But that still leaves us with one big question—why did Evelyn try to get us together?

  Suppose she researched children from the clinic and thought they might have developed some kind of special talent when they were paired up?

  Of course, there’s another question, Rachel said. We don’t know if Dr. Solomon is really alive. He could have died years ago, and Maven’s not remembering correctly. Or he could be nearby, keeping an ear out for anyone who talks about the clinic. And then what?

  Jake shrugged. It could even be that people have heard about Evelyn’s death, and that’s got them worried.

  Rachel nodded. Do we look for Dr. Solomon?

  That could be dangerous.

  As they walked past the front desk, Jake nodded to Ms. Dalton. “Thank you.”

  “Did you have a nice visit?”

  “Yes.” He waited a beat before asking, “Is Maven often confused?”

  “Sometimes her memory is a little shaky.”

  “Thanks,” he said again.

  In the parking lot, he started the car but didn’t immediately drive away. “We have to find a place to stay,” he said.

  “And this time, we don’t mention anything about the Solomon Clinic.”

  “Unless word about us has already spread around town.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You think people are talking about the nosy couple asking questions?”

  “No. It was just my frustration coming out.”

  They drove away from the facility and headed toward the downtown area. They’d just passed the site of the old clinic when Jake made an angry sound as he focused on a man sitting in a car in the bank parking lot.

  Rachel stiffened. “It’s him. Smithson. The guy from New Orleans. He’s found us.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we’ve got to do something about it.” Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Let me think. What about—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “No.”

  “You’ve got a better idea?”

  His expression turned grim. “No.”

  As he pulled out of the parking lot, Jake took evasive action, driving down a few side streets, then checked his rearview mirror to make sure he had no tail before heading toward the highway.

  He passed a couple of large motel chains, then pointed toward a sign that said Cabins.

  “Probably not as nice as that fancy place, but we need some privacy.”

  She nodded.

  They drove a short distance up a gravel road hemmed in by cypress trees dripping with Spanish moss where they found a rustic building with an Office sign out front.

  Jake parked under a tree with low-hanging branches.

  Without being told what to do, Rachel scrunched down in her seat and waited while Jake went in.

  Inside he found an old guy wearing a pair of faded overalls.

  “Help you?”

  Jake affected a thick drawl. “My honey and I need a room for the night.”

  “Sure.”

  He paid in cash and gave a false license-plate number on the registration form.

  When the guy reached for a key, Jake asked, “You got a real private cabin?”

  “They’re all off by theirsel
ves.”

  “Appreciate the privacy.”

  “Okay. Number four, then. You go up to the end of the road till you can’t drive no farther.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jake returned to the car and drove down the road, deeper into what looked like a wilderness area.

  He could see some cabins through the foliage, but kept going until he reached the end of the road, where he found a small shingled building with a parking area in front. Behind it he could see a slow-moving bayou.

  After he pulled up in front, they both got out and looked around.

  “I guess this is as private as we can expect,” Rachel said, and he heard the quaver in her voice. “It looks like the setting for a slasher movie.”

  Jake reached for her hand and knit his fingers with hers.

  “We don’t have to stay here,” he said. “We don’t even have to stay in town.”

  “I want to.”

  He knew she wasn’t exactly telling the truth, but he didn’t challenge her as he crossed the porch and opened the door to the modest unit.

  When they stepped inside the cabin, he looked around at the rustic furnishings.

  “Early pioneer.”

  She laughed nervously.

  As he reached for her, she came into his arms, and they clung to each other.

  “Is it ever going to get any better?” she murmured.

  “Yes,” he answered with as much conviction as he could muster.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll make sure.”

  She clung to him for a moment longer before easing away. “I want to take off this damn blond wig.”

  “You don’t think blondes have more fun?”

  “Not so far.” She pulled off the wig and spent a few moments combing her dark hair so that it fell in waves around her shoulders.

  When she caught Jake watching her, she said, “We should practice communicating when we’re not touching.”

  He nodded. “And when we can’t see each other.”

  “As many barriers as possible. You should leave me alone here.”

  Fear leaped inside him. “Not yet.”

  When she walked into the bathroom and closed the door, he retreated to the wall near the door. After looking out the window to make sure no one had followed them, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and reached for her with his mind.

  It was getting easier. He got a sense of her fairly quickly, but her thoughts weren’t clear to him. However, he didn’t give up, and soon he was picking up flickers from her mind.