Seeking Asylum

by Mallory Kane

  “Eric’s coming,” Caleb said, waving the gun in her direction.

  “Eric, your brother?” Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off the gun. She’d heard Caleb talking about his brother the secret agent, but his medical records mentioned no family except his grandmother, who’d recently died.

  Working the night shift, Rachel had gotten to know Caleb fairly well, and had found him fascinating. From his ramblings about secret agents and conspiracies and murder, Rachel had realized just how ill the intelligent, handsome young man really was.

  “Get up. He’ll be here soon.” Caleb stuck the gun in his pocket and reached for her. She cowered, but he grabbed her feet and ripped the tape off. Then he hauled her up by her bound hands.

  She yelped in pain as he yanked the tape off her wrists. Then he pushed her ahead of him downstairs to the kitchen, where he shoved her into a chair. He was becoming more agitated by the moment.

  “How do you know Eric’s coming?” she asked him, hoping to get him to focus on her question. Maybe she could get through to him.

  His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against his pant leg. “I called him.” His opaque brown gaze met hers. “He was shocked. He thought I was dead.”

  Despite her certainty that Caleb was having delusions, Rachel couldn’t control the hopeful leap of her heart. “You called him? When?” Caleb didn’t have a cell phone. “There’s a phone in the house?”

  Caleb laughed as he gnawed on a fingernail. “I don’t need a phone. Eric is a secret agent. He can do anything.”

  “Yes.” Rachel’s stomach sank in disappointment. He was rambling. “So you said.”

  “You don’t believe me. Nobody does. They think I’m crazy.”

  He was intimidating, standing over her, his eyelids twitching, his pupils pinpointed. “Misty believed me, and look what happened to her. She’s dead.”

  “Misty?” Rachel assessed him, frowning. It had been over twenty hours since he’d had a dose of medication. “Who is Misty?”

  “Not is. Was. Who was Misty? She was Misty Norwood. We were going to get married.” He hit the tabletop, then spread his shaking fingers. “She was having trouble breathing. They took her away. He told me she died.” His face contorted. “I tried to protect her. I tried so hard. One of the patients said her parents took her home. But you can’t believe crazy people, can you?” He smiled briefly. “Besides, she wouldn’t have left without telling me. Frankenmetzger killed her.”

  “Dr. Metzger? I’m sure you’re wrong. He’s internationally renowned for his research. He’s done a lot of good for a lot of people.”

  Caleb’s face turned dark and he clenched his fists. “He is a monster.”

  Rachel eyed the bulge the gun made in his pocket and steered the conversation back to a safer subject. “Tell me about Eric.”

  Hope fluttered in her chest, even as she scolded herself. There was no secret agent brother. She was in danger of buying into Caleb’s psychosis, just as she’d done with her mother when she was a child.

  Over and over, when her mother’s mood swings would stabilize, Rachel had found herself believing that this time, everything would stay normal. Over and over, she’d been fooled.

  Growing up with a mother who’d been bipolar, she’d learned a hard lesson. Nobody was going to rescue her. They hadn’t then and they wouldn’t now.

  So she’d rescued herself. She’d become a psychiatrist, determined to defeat the type of disease that had deprived her of a normal childhood. Rachel straightened her back and prepared to do battle with Caleb’s illness.

  Just as she was about to speak, Caleb stiffened.

  A look of anticipation crossed his face. “He’s here.” He jerked her up by her abraded wrist, causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Who’s here?” Rachel hadn’t heard anything. Was Caleb having auditory hallucinations, too?

  He wrapped his forearm around her neck, pulled the gun from his pocket and pressed the cold barrel under her chin, just like the night before. He pushed her through the swinging door into the dining room, where drapes as thick and dark as those upstairs shrouded the windows.

  Beyond the archway that led to the living room, the front door opened and a silhouette blocked the bright sunlight.

  Someone had come. Startled, Rachel squinted, but there was too much glare for her to make out anything about the person. Was it a policeman?

  Caleb stopped cold, his breathing shallow and sharp.

  The man stepped into the living room, away from the glare of the door. “Caleb?”

  Rachel stared in disbelief at the sight in front of her. The man had Caleb’s face. They were identical.

  Her body tingled as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her brain worked to catch up with what her eyes saw.

  “Eric,” Caleb said. “You came. I knew you would.”

  Eric. Caleb was telling the truth?

  The newcomer’s face was pale, his eyes bright. He seemed as shocked by Caleb as Rachel was by him.

  “Caleb. God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—” His low rasp was very different from Caleb’s harsh voice. “I thought you were dead.”

  Suddenly, Caleb released his hold on her. She stumbled and backed away, her attention divided between the two men.

  Eric’s gaze flickered briefly toward her, as if to make sure she was all right, then his attention turned back to Caleb.

  “I know you did.” Caleb laughed briefly, then his face grew solemn. “Grandmother lied to you. She lied to me, too, but I knew you weren’t dead. You were always in my head.”

  Eric nodded, looking shocked, apparently trying to placate Caleb by agreeing with his nonsensical ramblings.

  Caleb’s breath caught in a near sob. “Eric, Grandmother died.”

  “Yeah. I know, bud.” The tension emanating from Eric was palpable.

  Rachel felt dizzy. She blinked, forcing her brain to accept what her eyes saw. The two men were practically identical: both around six feet tall, with wide shoulders and long, lean muscles. Their faces were beautifully structured, with high, prominent cheekbones, big dark eyes and strong chins.

  But Eric’s stance was watchful and expectant, and graceful, very different from Caleb’s jerky stiffness. There were other differences, too. Eric was leaner, fitter. His face had more lines than Caleb’s and he was more… Rachel couldn’t put it into words.

  Not more handsome exactly. Still, something intense and elegant about him stirred a response in her that went far beyond relief that at last a rescuer had come.

  As if he sensed her scrutiny, he turned his full attention to her and a shiver ran up her spine. His gaze gleamed with a light that was missing from Caleb’s. The light of reality.

  Those chocolate-satin eyes assessed her, lingering on her hair and mouth before meeting her gaze again.

  She shivered. She’d never been looked at like that in her life—as if he knew everything about her. As if he understood her.

  “Dr. Harper, are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded, but Caleb waved the gun. “Don’t talk to her. Talk to me.”

  Eric’s smoky gaze held hers for a beat. Amazingly her body responded somewhere beyond the fear. She felt a deep, visceral awareness stretch across the space between them. A purely sexual instant out of time.

  Eric’s brows shot up and a faint spot of color rose in his cheeks. His gaze drifted down, sliding over her body like a caress.

  He’d felt it, too.

  He turned his gaze back to Caleb, as if compelled. Caleb’s wild, dark eyes devoured his brother. Rachel felt the link between the two men who’d been born of one zygote, their bond closer than any physical bond on earth because they shared the same DNA.

  Identical twins.

  Caleb had been telling the truth. He did have a brother named Eric. Was Eric a secret agent?

  A disturbing thought occurred to her. If Caleb’s outlandish story of his brother was true, what about everything else he’d told her? What if Misty had died and the h
ospital had covered it up? What if Metzger really was conducting secret experiments?

  Everything inside her rose up to deny that possibility. Metzger had been her idol since medical school. She couldn’t allow a sick young man to sway her. Caleb was mentally ill, possibly dangerous. He had a history of delusional ravings.

  “Caleb? Put down the gun.” Eric’s quiet, rough voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Eric, I killed him. Killed him.” Caleb chewed on his thumbnail. “What am I going to do now?”

  “We need to go back,” Eric said softly. “We’ll explain that it was an accident and—”

  “No!” Caleb snapped, then shook his head. “No. No. No.”

  “Caleb—”

  “I can’t go back there. I can’t take any more of his poison. I try to stay in control, so I can get better. So I can go to the ILC.”

  He wiped sweat out of his eyes. “Every time I get out— Frankenmetzger gets me back. He switches drugs, so nobody will know. The experimental drug makes me sick.” Caleb’s attention had turned inward. He breathed in shallow gasps.

  “What’s the ILC?” Eric’s questioning gaze sought Rachel.

  She swallowed, taken aback by Caleb’s words. “The Independent Living Complex,” she said. “If a resident does well there, he can move to a halfway house. Then eventually to outpatient treatment.”

  “And my brother?”

  “Caleb copes well in acute care. So well, that about every six months or so for the past few years, the board has approved his transfer to the ILC. But time after time, as soon as he’s settled, he begins to relapse.”

  “Why? Isn’t their medication still supervised, even in an outpatient setting?”

  Rachel’s shoulders rose in an automatic shrug “Yes. No one seems to understand it. Dr. Metzger is very concerned. Given Caleb’s health and age, he should be an ideal candidate for outpatient treatment.”

  “And yet he’s been locked up for twenty years.” The pain in Eric’s voice ripped at Rachel’s heart. “So what about this new experimental drug?”

  She shook her head sadly and met Eric’s gaze. She spoke as gently as she could. “There is no experimental drug.”

  “Yes there is!” Caleb shouted.

  Eric’s eyelids fluttered and he turned pale. He was obviously still in shock over seeing his twin.

  Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. She resolved to find out the story behind the twins’ separation. She knew Caleb’s grandmother had died, but there had never been any mention of a brother. Maybe the trauma of being separated from his brother so young explained Caleb’s volatility.

  She stepped toward Caleb. “He’s had no medication for almost twenty-four hours now. He’s showing signs of—”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Caleb swung around, waving the gun wildly. His frantic gaze landed on his brother’s face. “I know what’s real and what’s not. Eric, I called you to help me. Tell the pretty doctor you’re a secret agent.”

  “Caleb, listen to me.”

  “Tell her!”

  Eric rubbed his temple and sighed. “I’m Special Agent Eric Baldwyn,” he said to her. “With the FBI.”

  Rachel nodded, too stunned to reply. Caleb’s brother was with the FBI. He was a secret agent.

  “See,” Caleb said. “I told you my brother can do anything. Eric, Frankenmetzger’s going to kill me. You’ve got to stop him.”

  Eric held out a hand. “Nobody’s trying to kill you, bud. We’re going to take care of you.”

  He spoke to Rachel. “What medication is he on?”

  Rachel felt as though she’d walked in on the middle of a play. She concentrated on answering his question. “Fenpiprazole, a brand-new atypical antipsychotic drug. The only known withdrawal symptoms are increases in negative schizophrenic effects. For instance, withdrawal, concrete thinking—”

  Eric interrupted her. “I know what they are. So he shouldn’t be having increased paranoia, right?”

  She was surprised at his knowledge of schizophrenia. “That’s right. Nor rigidity, nor hallucinations.”

  Rachel noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, beyond where Caleb stood. Another silhouette darkened the open front doorway. This man was bigger, taller and carried an air of authority that emanated from him like a scent.

  Eric acknowledged him with a slight turn of his head. Was he another FBI agent?

  Caleb jerked his head toward the door and Rachel froze. She knew better than anyone how Caleb reacted to surprises. At the same time, Eric stepped forward, pulling Caleb’s attention back to him. A smart move.

  She took a deep breath. “Caleb,” she said softly. “Remember I said I’d explain that the shooting was an accident?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t go back there. Frankenmetzger will never stop his experiments.” He leaned closer to Eric. “He knows I know what he’s doing.”

  Eric took another step toward Caleb. “I’ll go with you, bud. We’ll—”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes at Eric. “No!”

  Eric’s head jerked backward.

  The older agent glided silently into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw a gun in his right hand. A dizzying sense of fear-soaked déjà vu engulfed her. Darrell had come at Caleb with a gun and ended up in a bloody heap on the floor.

  “Don’t, pl—” she started, but the big man cut her off.

  “Caleb,” he said in a deep voice that resonated with calm authority. “Why don’t we talk?”

  Caleb whirled and pointed the gun toward the door. “Who are you? Eric, who is he?” He gripped the weapon in both hands, the barrel quivering.

  Rachel shook her head at Eric, trying desperately to send him a silent message.

  Don’t let him make any sudden moves. Don’t crowd Caleb.

  Eric nodded slightly, his dark gaze riveting. It was as if he’d heard her thoughts.

  “Caleb.” His low voice was soothing. “He’s my friend, and he’s going to help us. You need to put down the gun.” He sounded strained but calm as he moved slowly toward his brother, his hands extended slightly, his face white and pinched.

  Caleb took a step backward and swung the barrel toward her. He doubled his other hand into a fist and beat it against his forehead over and over. “No, no, no! Stop!” he shouted at her. “You’ve fooled them, haven’t you? You’re on Frankenmetzger’s side.”

  Rachel stared down the barrel, her chest pounding. Fear weakening her limbs. She swallowed. “Caleb, I’m on your side. Let’s talk.”

  The agent at the door moved and his shadow streaked across the hardwood floor. Caleb stopped pounding his head and whirled, swinging the gun chaotically, one-handed. Then, with a strangled sound, he lifted the barrel to his own head.

  The room went totally silent.

  “I’m sorry, Eric,” Caleb sobbed. “I can’t go back there. If you won’t help me—”

  Eric’s face mirrored the anguish in his brother’s eyes. “Caleb. Don’t, please.” Eric held out his hand. “Let me have the gun. I swear to you I won’t send you back there.”

  Caleb’s attention was divided between Eric and the man at the door. Rachel took a small step toward him, then another.

  The other agent straightened and his electric-blue eyes flashed a warning at her, but Rachel focused all her strength on holding Caleb’s attention.

  “Caleb,” she said softly, gently. His head cocked toward her. That was what she’d been hoping for. If she couldn’t get him to put the gun down, maybe she could at least distract him until Eric or the other agent got close enough to disarm him.

  “You don’t have to do this anymore.” She hoped her voice would keep him calm. “I saw what happened. I’ll tell them it was an accident. They’ll believe me. Then your brother can take you away—far away from Dr. Metzger.”

  Caleb sent her a sidelong glance. The barrel of the gun tipped as his hand relaxed just slightly.

  Beyond him, the agent moved. It took all Rachel’s control
to keep from reacting. She held Caleb’s gaze and smiled, hoping to keep his attention away from the lengthening shadow on the floor in front of them.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You’ll never have to see Dr. Metzger again.”

  The agent lunged, but before Rachel even registered the change in his eyes, Caleb twisted. The agent’s hand merely grazed his shoulder, but he recovered quickly and pushed Caleb’s arm upward.

  A shot rang out and both men fell backward, the gun clattering to the floor between them.

  “Caleb!” Eric yelled, leaping toward them.

  Caleb scrabbled for the gun but Eric kicked it out of the way and hauled his brother up.

  “Me!” Caleb screamed. “It should have been me!”

  Eric swayed, but he held on. Veins stood out in his neck as he locked his arms around his brother from behind.

  The agent lay still on the floor, blood spreading under his head.

  Rachel stared at the bizarre scene in front of her. Two men, eerily alike, yet completely different, like distorted mirror images. And at their feet an FBI agent, lying in his own blood.

  A chill spread through her. Caleb had shot another man.

  Chapter Two

  Decker was down. Eric’s nightmare had turned into skewed reality. He was restraining the twin brother he’d thought was dead, his boss had been shot, and standing in the same room with him was the beautiful hostage from his dream.

  Under his forearms, Eric felt his brother’s coarse, heavy breathing, felt the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt.

  Eric’s own chest was heaving. Caleb’s outburst had affected him profoundly. It was an echo of their childhood, when his own brain would reverberate with echoes of Caleb’s confusion and fear.

  He glanced at Dr. Harper. She was real. The realization still stunned him. Her face, so like the face in his dream, was ghostly white, her hands clasped over her mouth.

  As he watched, she straightened, pushed her silky hair back from her cheeks and started toward Decker.

  “Dr. Harper.”

  She turned. Her blue eyes were still wide and panicked, but her chin was high.