Seeking Asylum

by Mallory Kane

They were cutting her off from any contact with Eric.

  LATE THAT NIGHT, Rachel walked across the grounds and into the main hospital. She’d checked the duty roster earlier. The security guard who’d taken the night shift after Darrell’s shooting was new. She’d never met him.

  She strode past him with a scant nod, keeping her expression carefully preoccupied, as if she were concerned about a difficult patient. As soon as she was past the security desk, she headed straight for the service hall.

  When the Meadows was renovated and turned into a mental facility back in 1917, the builder had kept the aristocratic elegance of the original house. The carved mahogany woodwork had been stripped of years of paint and refinished. The doors through the main hallways gleamed with polish, accenting their high, ornate glass transoms. Long draperies hung to the hardwood floors and accented the rows of paned windows.

  In contrast to the main corridors, the back halls were dull and shabby. They were used to transport meal carts and trash bins.

  Stepping past bags of trash, Rachel headed west toward the neurology wing. Passing a cleaning woman pushing a mop and bucket, Rachel stopped at the elevator lobby, about twenty feet from the nurses’ station.

  She was facing the main hall of the neurology wing. It was after eleven. Most of the patients would be asleep. Gracie had just come on duty, and if she were following her usual routine, she’d be in the medication room, counting the narcotics.

  Rachel slipped down the hall, trying to think of a plausible excuse for being here if Gracie caught her. Neither Dr. Patel nor Dr. Metzger had specifically told her she was banned from the neurology ward, but the implication had been obvious.

  The counter in front of the nurses’ workstation was deserted. The door to the medication room was ajar and the light was on. Rachel let out a careful sigh of relief. Gracie was right where Rachel had expected her to be.

  Carefully, quietly, Rachel slipped up the hall to Room 3— Caleb’s room. The door was closed.

  With her hand on the door handle, Rachel considered the consequences of what she was about to do. If another nurse or an orderly were in Eric’s room, Rachel would be caught. Considering what Patel had said, she’d probably be fired.

  She took a deep, calming breath and pushed open the door. The room was dark, the only light coming from the night-lights above the bed.

  Eric lay still and pale, the sheets tucked neatly around his bare torso. His eyes were closed and his hands were at his sides.

  A pang of apprehension streaked through her. He looked so much like Caleb and yet so different. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks. His strong, stern mouth was relaxed.

  “Eric?” she whispered.

  He didn’t stir. How much sedative had they given him? She stepped closer and touched his forearm. The muscle under his sleek skin quivered and his eyelids twitched.

  She placed her mouth against his ear, trying to ignore the way his dark hair tickled her nose. “Eric. Please wake up.”

  Eric heard his name. Who was bothering him? The faint scent of something tart and sweet, something familiar, surrounded him.

  The voice that rang like a bell in his head called his name again. He opened his eyes.

  And blinked. Why was everything so hazy?

  “Eric. Thank God, you’re awake.”

  It was Rachel. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again.

  “Damn,” he whispered hoarsely. “What’d they do to me?” He coughed and tried to sit up.

  “Don’t move too fast. You’ve been sedated.”

  He fell back against the pillows. “Oh, yeah.” A fog still clouded his brain, but memories began to surface. He flexed his left arm, where he still felt the sting of the injection. “Damn big needle.”

  He licked his lips. His throat felt raw.

  Rachel picked up an insulated cup and held the straw for him to drink.

  “I can do it.” He reached for the cup but his fingers didn’t want to work.

  She put her hands over his and secured them around the cup.

  It was an automatic gesture, one she’d probably used a hundred times to help her patients, but her touch streaked through him, straight to his groin, and he felt himself stirring. He raised his drowsy gaze to hers. The damn sedative had lowered his natural defenses. Oddly it seemed to have increased his libido.

  Her eyes were sharp, assessing, but behind the physician’s scrutiny, there was something else. In the depths of her gaze was a sad look. Was it pity?

  He took a long swallow of water, shivering as the cold liquid hit his empty stomach.

  His head felt as heavy as a rock. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. “What happened to that whopping dose of narcotic antagonist medication they gave me at the hospital? I thought it was supposed to counteract these sedatives.”

  “The antagonist is a long-acting drug. Its effects will increase as your body builds up its own resistance to the drugs. Remember, they think they’re medicating Caleb, and his system is quite resistant to the drugs’s effects. He requires larger doses.”

  “I can’t operate like this. What else can you do?”

  She didn’t say anything. With a huge effort, he lifted his heavy eyelids and looked at her.

  The sad look was gone and in its place was worry. “I can’t do much, Eric. You’re just going to have to fight it. Plus, you have to be careful what you say and do. The more out of control they think you are, the more they’ll medicate you.”

  “Isn’t it unethical to use drugs to restrain patients? Is this how they treated my brother? Is this how they treat other mentally ill people?” His senses sharpened as his anger grew. That was good to know. “Who gave them the right to control people’s minds and bodies?”

  “It’s not as inhumane as it seems to you right now. Just try to work with it, and please, be careful what you say. They’re watching you.”

  “Work with it.” As the bite of fury pushed away the drugged haze, he sat up. “I’ll work with it, all right. Just enough to find out what kind of heinous experiments are going on in this snake pit.” He licked his lips and reached for the water. This time, using all his concentration, he managed to hold on to the cup. He took a long drink. He couldn’t let Caleb come back to this place.

  Caleb. His brother’s name sparked a memory, or a dream. “I heard something.” He took another drink of the refreshing water. “Right after the nurse gave me the shot.” He rubbed his face. “Who was in here? An orderly held me down. The male nurse had the syringe. Somebody was talking. Was it Metzger?”

  “Dr. Metzger went to check on you while I was talking to Dr. Patel.”

  Eric tried to force his brain to work, but a fog still clouded his thoughts. “Something about Germany.”

  “Germany? Were you dreaming? Maybe your brain was trying to place Metzger’s accent.”

  “Maybe.” He frowned. He’d have to think about that later. Right now he needed information. “Are they going to keep me sedated? Is this a locked ward? What should I expect?”

  Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off him. The sheet had slid down as he’d sat up, revealing the sleek planes of his chest and shoulders. His long, blunt fingers encircled the plastic cup, their ragged nails jarring in contrast to his elegant body.

  Her reaction to him disturbed her. Eric was Caleb’s brother. With his torn fingernails and short haircut, he could be Caleb.

  As far as she was concerned, he was her patient, just as Caleb had been. And as much as she cared about her patients, there was no way she’d ever be physically attracted to one, much less emotionally involved. Caring too much would only lead to heartache.

  She’d been down that path, with her mother. When she’d taken her oath as a physician, she’d made a private vow to remain detached. She would do everything in her power to give her patients the best of care, but she would never, ever, involve her heart.

  Chapter Five

  Rachel swallowed as Eric’s gaze met hers, his dark eyes flashing
. For an instant she had the feeling he could read her mind.

  She lowered her gaze and needlessly adjusted the position of the cup on the bedside table.

  “Rachel? My daily routine?”

  Composing her face, she gathered her cloak of professional detachment around her. “You’re not on a lockdown ward, so your mornings will be fairly ordinary. You’ll shower, dress, go to breakfast in the dining room. Tomorrow, you’ll probably have a session with Dr. Metzger.”

  “So how do I act? How do I convince Metzger that I am Caleb?”

  “Have you ever had any…experience with mental illness? Yourself, I mean?”

  Eric’s face closed down. His shoulders grew rigid with tension. The aura of safety and trust that emanated from him dissipated. “No. No, I haven’t. Just dreams.”

  “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

  He shot her an ironic glance. “No psychoanalysis needed, Doctor. Just dreams.”

  Rachel’s instinctive armor came up and her pulse fluttered with apprehension. She blew out a breath and immediately quelled the thoughts that had formed in her mind. Eric was not schizophrenic, like his brother. He was sane and safe. He was here to play a part.

  “If you’re right about Metzger—that he’s giving Caleb drugs that make him worse—you may experience some dissociative episodes. You may feel alienated, disconnected from reality—”

  “I’m familiar with dissociation.”

  “I’m just trying to warn you, to help you cope. It’s going to take all your strength to fight the effects of the medication. If you’ve ever had any symptoms, I need to know that now.”

  His silence gave her the answer she didn’t want to hear. The flutter of her pulse made her lips quiver. She tightened them.

  After a moment he took a long breath. “Don’t worry. I can fight the drugs.”

  His voice chilled her like a winter wind. She couldn’t read his expression. Was he angry at her for asking about his mental health? Or was her first instinct correct? Was Eric in danger of succumbing to the mental illness that had stolen his brother away from him?

  Suppressing a shiver, she stood. “I’d better go before someone sees me.”

  She hated the flash of unease that crossed his face.

  “When will you be back?” he asked.

  “I’ve been assigned to the Women’s Dependency Center. They’re watching me, so it’s going to be difficult to get in here. I want to study the blueprints, see if I can find an unguarded door. This is the oldest building on the grounds. It was once a billionaire’s mansion. There are probably several entrances.”

  “Call Natasha. She’s going over the layout. If there’s anything, she’ll find it.” He gave her Natasha Rudolph’s telephone number.

  Eric watched her as she jotted the number down on a small notepad. He realized how worried he’d been about her.

  While he’d pretended to panic as they’d strapped him to the gurney and hauled him away, the chief medical director had waylaid Rachel. It hadn’t occurred to him that Rachel’s job might be in jeopardy until that moment. He’d been too worried about his brother.

  His pretense of panic had turned terrifyingly real as the sedative had overpowered his brain. He’d feared he might never see her again.

  “We need to plan how we’ll meet.”

  Rachel’s worried face tightened. “Eric, I can’t figure out a way to do that. I’m being deliberately separated from you. Until your—until Caleb’s arraignment, you’ll be under suicide watch.”

  “Suicide watch!”

  She nodded, dropping her gaze. “They consider you volatile, a danger to yourself or others. You probably won’t be restrained, unless you misbehave, but your privileges will be restricted, and at night you’ll be on hourly bed checks.”

  Eric cursed. How in hell was he supposed to find out anything under these conditions? A shard of doubt embedded itself in his chest. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

  Frightening images popped into his brain. Dark corridors, rows of shelves, a secret passage. Was his drugged brain hallucinating? Or was he seeing things through Caleb’s eyes?

  Thanks for the reminder, bud.

  He had to do this. He had to protect Caleb. And now he was responsible for Rachel’s safety, too. With his brother’s help, he’d come up with something.

  Sending Rachel an assessing glance, he considered her actions while she’d been held captive by Caleb. She’d been brave, resourceful, clear-headed.

  And tonight she’d managed to get in to check on him. “So, how did you get in here tonight?”

  “I walked right in.” A smile of triumph lit her face. “There’s a new security guard at the front door.”

  “That won’t work many times.”

  Her eyes darkened and her face turned solemn. “I know. That’s why I’ve got to find another entrance.” She checked her watch and sucked in a sharp breath. “Meanwhile, I’ve been here too long. Like I said, you’re probably on hourly checks, and Gracie takes her job seriously. I’d better get out of here.”

  “Did you bring the microcommunicators?”

  She retrieved two tiny silver cylinders from her pocket, turning them over in her fingers. “Do these things really work?”

  He nodded, then rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Damn this drug.” He sucked more water from the plastic cup, the cold shock hitting the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat, helping to clear the fog from his brain.

  “As long as there’s not too much interference, they can transmit within about a five-mile radius.” He glanced around the room. “Does this place use wireless networking?”

  “Yes. The nurses use laptop computers to record medication administration, and the physicians type in their orders and notes on freestanding laptops. They’re all connected wirelessly.”

  “Hell. It would be easier if they weren’t.” He held out his hand and Rachel gave him the two devices.

  “Do you have the safety pin Decker told you to carry?”

  “Yes. Here it is.” She unpinned it from the inside of her lab coat lapel.

  Eric took the safety pin and manipulated something on one of the minuscule cylinder devices. Rachel could hardly believe there was anything large enough for the point of the pin to touch. He handed the cylinder back to her and worked on his.

  “There,” he muttered, closing the safety pin and giving it back to her. “I’ve activated the microcommunicators and set them to a channel that’s restricted. The hospital won’t have access to it.” He fitted the device into his ear and indicated that she should do the same.

  She looked at the tiny cylinder. “What if I can’t get it out?”

  “Don’t try. Because of its size, it won’t go any deeper than your middle ear. It can’t get lost or stuck. And it can be extracted by a pair of tweezers or forceps.”

  She eyed it suspiciously, then slid it into her left ear. She shivered. “I don’t like it.”

  He quirked his mouth. “You’ll get used to it. Now, here’s how you turn it on.” He demonstrated. “Press on your ear, toward the eardrum. One time is receive. You should be able to hear my voice in your head.”

  Her eyes widened and she nodded. “I can. It’s weird.”

  Suppressing a smile at her expression, he went on. “Press again and you can send. Say something.”

  “Testing, testing.”

  Eric heard the bell-like tone of her voice inside his head. “Good. Now press it a third time and the channels are wide open for send and receive. A fourth time will turn it off.”

  He counted on his fingers. “Receive, send, open, off. It’s not voice-activated, so we need to establish a schedule for checking in. Don’t leave it turned on for extended periods of time. It could be detected, or its battery might run down.” He licked his lips and drained his cup of water with a slurping sound.

  Rachel reached for it. “I’ll get you some more.”

  He stopped her hand with his. For an instant his fingers curled around hers and, for tha
t instant, she didn’t move.

  Something about the damned medication was playing hell with his usual composure. His footing on the tightrope he always walked between empathy and professional detachment was feeling precarious right now.

  He was reacting to Rachel more strongly than he’d ever reacted to a woman. Her voice softly ringing in his ear increased the sensation.

  Ironically, being turned on effectively countered the drug-filled haze, too. Anger and arousal, he thought wryly. At least one of them could be useful. The other might prove to be too distracting.

  He gritted his teeth and concentrated on his mission. “Where’s the camera?”

  She withdrew her fingers from his grip and patted her pocket. “Inside the tubing of my stethoscope. I hope I don’t actually have to listen to anyone’s chest.”

  Eric would have smiled, but the effort was too much. All at once, he was drained of energy.

  Rachel’s delicately arched brows knitted into a small frown. “Are you okay?”

  Fighting the fog that enveloped his brain, Eric met her concerned gaze and nodded.

  She relaxed visibly. “I’ll get that water,” she said, and picked up his cup. As she stepped into the connected bathroom, the hall door swung open.

  Eric’s pulse hammered in his skull. It was the petite night nurse. He let his eyelids drift closed as he fought not to look toward the bathroom where Rachel stood, rigid, the water cup clutched in her two hands.

  The bathroom light was on. If the nurse took one more step into the room, she’d see Rachel.

  The nurse frowned at him.

  He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t notice that his water cup was gone.

  “Hi, Nurse,” he slurred, lifting two fingers.

  She sniffed. “Go to sleep. If you’re still awake next time, I’ll have to give you something.” Then she exited, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Eric didn’t dare move. He cut his gaze over to the bathroom.

  Rachel stood there, her hands white-knuckled around the cup, her eyes wide.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, the silent shared danger like a shimmering thread connecting them. Finally, Rachel broke the spell with a long sigh. “That was close.” Her voice quavered as she carefully crossed the room.