by Mallory Kane
She couldn’t lie to him. “There was someone…in my apartment tonight.”
“Who?” Mitch’s voice didn’t change timbre.
“I don’t know. I surprised him and he ran out. He’d been on my computer, but he didn’t find anything.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Mitch, don’t take me away. I can handle it. I need to stay here.”
“Could he have found anything pertaining to the investigation?”
“No. I keep everything with me.”
“Good. Someone is suspicious of you. Be extra careful. Don’t give them any reason to be. I’m going to put together an extraction team, in case you need to be pulled out quickly.”
“Mitch, I swear, I can handle it. Please don’t extract me.”
“I’ll leave you in as long as I can. You’re my only link to Eric. You’ve got the blueprints, right?”
“Yes. And I handed over the physicians’ orders to Simmons.” She sounded pathetic. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes with relief. Mitch was not going to extract her. “One page, a progress note written by Dr. Green, refers to respiratory depression in a young white female. I couldn’t identify the patient, but I think it may be Misty Norwood, the girl Caleb mentioned.” As Rachel talked, her fluttering pulse began to calm and her voice sounded stronger.
“Good. Natasha will contact you as soon as she has verified any of the information. Rachel, I need to talk to Eric. Tonight if possible. Can you get the cell phone to him?”
“Yes.” Her pulse raced as she thought about going back out into the darkness. “Is something wrong?”
“I have some information for him.” His tone discouraged questions.
“Should he call this number?”
“Yes. Thanks. How long do you think it will be?”
“No more than an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”
Mitch disconnected.
The tears Rachel had held at bay during the conversation overflowed.
Wiping her hot cheeks, she pulled on the first thing at hand: stretchy yoga pants and a little T-shirt that read UN BEND.
She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She had to get the phone to Eric. It worried her that Mitch had evaded her question, that he hadn’t just given her a message for Eric. Something must be wrong with Caleb.
It was a dark, miserable trek across the grounds to the main building. The rain had stopped, but the ground was wet and slippery and the unsettling noise made by water dripping from the trees frayed her nerves.
By the time she got to the rear of the building her watch read three minutes after nine. In twelve minutes, Eric would turn on his com unit. She activated hers, but all she heard was the flat silence that meant his unit was off.
Hearing that absence of sound was worse than anything that had happened tonight. Because it meant Eric wasn’t there.
She felt isolated, claustrophobic, as if she were trapped in a sound-proofed room. She’d gotten too accustomed to having his voice in her ear.
She wanted to switch the unit off, to cut out that awful deadness, but Eric might try to reach her at any moment, so she left it on.
Without Eric’s help, she couldn’t get in through the back door, so she circled around to the front entrance and looked through the glass doors at the security desk. The guard was leaning back in his chair, talking on his cell phone.
She debated walking in past him, but given her state of mind right now, she was afraid if the guard stopped her she wouldn’t be able to give him a coherent answer, much less a plausible excuse for being in the main building this time of night.
She checked her watch. It was seven minutes past nine. She’d wait and get Eric to sneak down and open the rear door.
Just as she was about to sneak away, the guard pocketed his phone and stood, stretching. He picked up his two-way radio, and walked away from the desk.
Her pulse sped up. Was he going on a break? Or to make his assigned rounds? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had a tiny window of time to get inside without being caught.
Hurrying up the steps, she pushed through the glass doors and strode past the desk as if she were late for a meeting. She passed two physicians on their way out, but she pretended to fiddle with the strap of her backpack to avoid looking up as she headed through the lobby toward the neurology wing. Her wet hiking boots squeaked on the tile floor and the nape of her neck prickled, as if a hand hovered just close enough to reach out and grab her.
The main corridors were empty, except for an occasional housekeeper mopping floors or a pharmacy technician wheeling a cartful of medications to one of the wards. On the other side of the doors that separated the main corridors from the service hall, Rachel heard the rattle of metal and glass, the sound of evening food trays being transported to the main kitchen.
She paused outside the double mahogany doors that led into the neurology ward, taking a moment to push her fingers through her wet hair and to wipe her face. Considering what she would say if Gracie confronted her, she eased open the doors.
The com unit in her ear came alive. Her pulse jumped.
“Eric,” she whispered.
“Did the exchange go smoothly? Where are you?”
With a glance down the hall, she darted over to Room 3 and pushed on the door. It squeaked as it opened.
“Right here.”
He whirled. He’d been standing at the window, already dressed for sleep in the standard, light blue, drawstring pajamas issued to all the male patients. Like Caleb, Eric didn’t bother with a T-shirt.
“Hi.” She smiled as her eyes filled with tears. A long shuddering breath rippled through her. She was okay now. She was with Eric.
His lean body, silhouetted against the window, had the fluid grace and easy confidence of a lion. But as his soft dark eyes scrutinized her, his face creased with worry.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Before her brain registered his movement, he was beside her. He wiped his thumb across her cheekbone, then rubbed his thumb and fingers together. “This is blood. Did you have an accident on the road?”
To her dismay, Rachel almost broke down. She put her hands over her mouth, fighting to control the sobs that tried to escape from her throat. She shook her head.
“Damn it, Rachel. Look at your hands.” He pulled them away from her mouth and bent his head to examine them. When he looked up, concern darkened his eyes. “What happened?”
She shook her head and swallowed. “The meeting with the agent went fine. I got the blueprints and I turned over the medical records.”
He nodded, his face grave. “Good.” Holding her hands gently in his, he waited for her to explain.
“When I got back to my apartment, someone was inside. He knocked me down.”
Eric’s grip tightened. The cuts burned and she flinched. He let go and grasped her shoulders.
“Tell me.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “When I unlocked my apartment door and went in, I must have surprised him, because he knocked me down and ran. I fell onto some glass.”
He cursed under his breath, but through her com unit she heard every word.
“What was missing?”
“Nothing, as far as I could tell. He’d checked my computer, but nothing seemed out of place.”
“They were probably looking for anything that might connect you with the FBI.”
Her breath shuddered out. “Do you think they know?”
“No, but I think Metzger suspects, based on some of the questions he’s asked me. So there was nothing in your apartment that would confirm their suspicions?” His gaze burned into hers.
She shook her head. “The Meadows provides a cleaning lady once a week. I didn’t want to leave anything around that she might find.”
“That’s good,” Eric said absently. He began to pace, grazing his knuckles with his teeth. “Something doesn’t add up. Breaking in doesn’t sound like Metzger’s style. If Metzger was suspicio
us of you, I’d think he’d just have you killed.”
Rachel went white as a sheet. Eric immediately wished he could jerk back the words.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Rachel lifted her chin. “No. You’re right. Dr. Metzger is very results-oriented.” Her throat moved as she swallowed.
He frowned. “I’m beginning to think it’s too dangerous for you here.”
Her eyes snapped with blue fire. “I can handle it.”
Eric eyed his beautiful, stubborn partner. Yes. He believed she could handle it. “That’s not the point,” he said, folding his arms and staring down at her. “The point is, you’ve been hurt twice already and I have no intention of allowing you to be hurt again. They suspect you, that means we need to get you out of here.”
She shook her head and a strand of hair fell across her forehead. “If I leave now, won’t that seem even more suspicious? And what will you do alone? You need me.”
Eric’s eyes roamed hungrily over her, taking in her snug pants and figure-hugging black T-shirt, the graceful slope of her neck, the black hair that, even wet, curved under her chin, and those amazing, brilliant blue eyes. His body reacted to just the sight of her.
Yes, he needed her. But what he needed from her he couldn’t have anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to put her in danger just because with her at his side he felt complete for the first time in his life. He’d always thought Caleb was the other part of him, and he was. Eric had a connection to his identical twin that had transcended their separation. But he was beginning to realize just how important Rachel was to him.
“Give me the phone. I’m calling Mitch and telling him to get you out of here before you get really hurt.”
“Oh, Eric.” Her face turned pale. “Mitch called. That’s why I came. He wanted to talk to you personally.”
Eric went still. “Why didn’t he just give you the message? Was it about Caleb?”
Her fingers looked pinched as she held out the phone. “He didn’t say.”
As Eric took hold of the phone, his fingers brushed hers. She held fast and looked up into his eyes. “I told Mitch what happened. He agreed to let me stay.”
He started to speak, but she interrupted him.
“Please, Eric. Don’t ask Mitch to have me removed. I need to do this. I need to help Caleb and…and you.”
There was a passion in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore. He knew that passion. He understood it. She needed to prove to herself that she could make a difference in someone’s life. He even knew where it came from. The same place as his need. The feeling that in the past, she’d failed the one person in her life who’d depended on her. For her, it was her mother. For him, it was Caleb.
Eric pulled the phone from Rachel’s unsteady hand. She was obviously shaken by her experience. He had to admire her for being so determined not to give up.
As he keyed in Mitch’s number, Eric wondered who was growing suspicious, and how much they had figured out. He knew if Metzger gave him a physical exam, the doctor would immediately realize that he wasn’t Caleb Baldwyn. The scar under his ear would prove that.
Mitch answered right away.
“What is it?” Eric didn’t waste time with niceties.
“We obtained the complete autopsy report and evidence box on Charles Green. Laurel reran some tests, considering the possibility of murder. She found extremely high levels of morphine, but she also discovered a lethal level of potassium.”
“Potassium? A tox screen wouldn’t normally test for that, but what about injection sites on the body?”
“According to the autopsy report, the morphine and alcohol were found in his stomach contents. So the blood tests were run on those. The medical examiner didn’t test for other substances.”
Eric lifted his gaze to Rachel. “I’ll bet he didn’t check for hidden injection sites, either, like under the tongue or in the scalp.”
“Nope.”
“So Dr. Green was fired for talking to a reporter, and he apparently died of a drug overdose. Yet now it appears that someone dosed him up with morphine and booze, and injected potassium into his bloodstream. That’s murder.”
Rachel pressed her knuckles against her mouth.
“We’re obtaining permission to exhume the body. Laurel says it’s theoretically possible to find an injection site on an embalmed body.”
“I hope she’s right.” Eric gripped the phone tightly. “So is that what you called about?”
“I have information from Natasha. She found a Misty Norwood. It turns out the young woman was admitted to the Meadows by her parents following a suicide attempt, and stayed there for several months. She was discharged at her parents’ request, after they became concerned by some of the things she told them. She’s now living at home with them. We’re making arrangements to interview her.”
“Mitch, Rachel could have relayed all this information to me.”
The instant of silence on Mitch’s end told Eric why his boss had wanted to speak with him personally. He’d already felt that something was wrong.
From the moment he’d heard his brother’s name on the television newscast, he’d been slowly accepting the truth. The sensations and dreams he’d always feared, the images and odd thoughts, and now the heightened awareness and instinctive knowledge of how to navigate the halls and corridors of the Meadows, were a part of the link he shared with his twin brother. But in the past twenty-four hours or so, those thoughts and sensations were becoming less and less coherent.
Sometimes he had to fight the disorder in his head just to think and act rationally. What he couldn’t figure out was if the increasingly chaotic sensations were from the daily injections he was forced to endure or from Caleb’s deteriorating mind.
“What’s wrong with Caleb?”
Oh, no, Rachel mouthed as Eric heard Mitch take a long breath.
“Your brother is having seizures. Right now they’re only lasting a couple of seconds, but they’re getting worse.”
“So that’s it. I knew something was wrong.”
Rachel reacted to his words. Her brow pulled tight in a tiny frown and she hugged herself.
“Obviously there’s no time to waste. Natasha has gone over the blueprints with a fine-toothed comb,” Mitch continued. “Rachel has them. Take a look. There’s an unexplained area in the basement. It appears to be totally blocked off. That could be Metzger’s lab.”
“We’ll check it out tonight. Thanks.”
“Eric, how are you holding up?”
Eric rubbed his eyes as he assured his boss he was doing okay.
“What about Rachel?”
He lowered his hand and looked at her. “Rachel? She’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I’d hate to have to extract her, but we can’t afford any mistakes.”
“She’s doing great. I don’t know how I’d have managed without her.”
When he disconnected, Rachel was studying him, that little frown still in place. She’d reacted when he’d told Mitch he knew something was wrong with Caleb.
Was she concerned about his brother’s health? Or his sanity?
“You have the blueprints?” he asked her.
It took her a fraction of a second to react. “Yes. In my backpack.”
“Let’s have a look at them.”
Rachel glanced toward the door. “What about Gracie?”
“She’s off tonight. The substitute nurse came around just after nine, right before you got here. It’ll be at least eleven o’clock before she checks the rooms again. She was complaining about how busy she was, and bed checks are way down on the list of priorities.”
He unfolded the blueprints on the tiny desk that sat under the window. “Look at this.”
Rachel approached, and Eric pulled out the chair for her, then leaned over her as he pointed out the area that Natasha had marked.
Her hair smelled of rain and sun and gardenias. He gripped the back of the chair until his fingers cramped, forcing himself
to remember that he was here because of Caleb.
His reminder didn’t help. Rachel’s closeness tortured him with unslaked need. Still, he knew how she would react toward him if she had any inkling of the bond between him and his twin. For her, any hint of a psychic connection would smack of insanity.
He couldn’t stand it if she looked at him with the hurt and betrayal and aversion that had darkened her eyes when she mentioned her mother.
As long as he stayed in control around her, he could keep her near him. He could ensure that she was as safe as he could possibly make her.
He concentrated on their shared goal.
He pointed with his free hand. “There don’t seem to be any doors.” The area Natasha had highlighted was located toward the south side of the building, near the dirt and stone crawl space. The north wall of the highlighted area appeared solid, and formed the back wall of the banks of service elevators, and the east and west boundaries looked like nothing more than corridors.
“Natasha thinks this may be Metzger’s secret lab.” Eric traced the boundaries of the mysterious room with his finger, working hard to ignore Rachel’s dark hair tickling his lips and cheek. “I see why she thinks it may have been a bomb shelter. This blueprint is dated 1970. And look, the walls of this room are thicker than any other room in the basement. They’re probably made of some sort of metal.”
Rachel nodded her head, torturing him with the feel of her silky hair.
“Eric? What did Mitch say about Caleb?” She turned her head.
Eric’s heart turned upside down. Her face was millimeters from his, her lips soft and inviting, her eyes wide and filled with concern. A shuddering desire ripped through him like a knife through old silk, shredding his defenses, leaving a ragged edge of hunger that could never be soothed except by her kiss, her touch.
Her gaze traveled from his eyes down to his mouth. As he watched her lashes dip, and her chin lift until her lips were almost touching his, he came dangerously close to giving in.
But it wasn’t fair to her. If he made love to her, it would be a lie. He owed her the truth about himself, about his connection with his brother. But he couldn’t tell her yet.
