by Mallory Kane
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to lie in a damn hospital bed drugged to the gills while you put yourself in danger. We’ll hide in here. Together.”
Chapter Twelve
“It’s obvious what Metzger’s planning to do.” Rachel sat on the floor of the small office, surrounded by papers.
Eric agreed, relishing the fury that flowed through him like hot lava.
He’d latched on to anger to keep himself from thinking about Caleb and the emptiness he felt without his brother’s presence. He ground one fist into the other palm. “The SOB is taking his disgusting experiments to Germany, and from what it looks like, he’s planning to do it soon.”
“I know. Some of these shipping labels show a pickup date of next week.”
“Did you contact Mitch?”
She shook her head, her expression reflecting sadness and pity.
He steeled himself against it by looking away, down at the logbook she’d given him. It lay open on the desk.
“No. I was coming to tell you about finding Metzger’s formula when you—”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Give me the phone. I’ll call him now. I need to find out about Caleb. I don’t know why Mitch hasn’t called.”
She handed him the phone.
He glanced down at it and cursed. “There’s no signal in this damn mausoleum of a room.” He looked up at the metal ceiling. “We’ll have to go outside to call.”
“Eric, they’re searching for you. The police are probably here by now. In fact, I’m surprised Metzger hasn’t come down here.”
“He’s not going to chance being seen entering his hidden torture chamber while the hospital is crawling with police. He won’t come near it until things have quieted down. He’s probably in the middle of the search, terribly worried about his patient.”
“Speaking of crawling with police, it’s going to be dangerous for us to leave, as well.” She started gathering up scattered papers. “What about using Metzger’s desk phone?” Rachel asked
Eric shook his head. “We can’t take that chance. It might be a private line. It’s certainly traceable.” He walked out of the office and into the main room. Something about the layout wasn’t right. He remembered thinking that earlier, before the overwhelming pain of losing Caleb had hit him.
A wave of grief sucker-punched him. The thought had probably come from Caleb.
“What were you trying to tell me, bud?” he muttered.
Rachel’s gentle hand touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
Still stinging from her wary revulsion, he shrugged off her touch and straightened, avoiding her gaze. “I will be.”
He stepped over into the middle of the room, near the stainless-steel table. “What’s wrong with this room?”
“Besides the spooky feeling that it’s crawling with evil? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Just what I said. This room is different from the rest of the hospital.”
“The walls and ceiling are metal. It feels claustrophobic, smaller than it looks.”
“That’s it!” He craned his neck, taking in the entire ceiling corner to corner. “The ceiling is lower in here.”
Rachel looked up. “It is?” She measured his six feet of height with her gaze, then looked up. “You’re right. It’s only eight feet at the most.”
“Right. And this old mansion’s ceilings are at least twelve feet, maybe fourteen on the first floor.”
“Right. All the doorways, even in the basement, are wooden and have big transoms over them.”
“Grab the logbook and let’s get out of here.”
“What about the police?”
“I don’t think they’ll find us where we’re going.”
She glanced at him suspiciously. “Where are we going? Are you thinking about sneaking out of the hospital?”
“No.”
“Eric, you’ve been through a lot. Maybe you shouldn’t be making decisions right now.”
He felt his anger heating up, felt the pressure of the last days stretching along his nerves like a rubber band. “You still think I’m crazy? Well, you know what, Dr. Rachel Harper? Maybe I am. And when all of this is over, you can make your little report and give it to whomever the hell you want to. But right now, right here, I’m still in charge. So are you with me, or are you going to go upstairs and turn yourself in?” His throat felt raw and tight, his voice scraping harshly, as it did when his emotions escaped the tight leash he usually kept on them.
Her eyes widened in surprise and apprehension. She took a half step backward.
Chagrined, Eric almost reached out for her, but he knew she wouldn’t welcome his touch. He hated that she was afraid of him.
Closing his eyes, he reined in his anger and frustration and spoke calmly.
“I’m going to slide the door open just enough to listen. We should be able to hear anyone walking on the concrete floors. Then, if the corridor is clear, we’ll head south, toward the crawl space.”
“They’re probably going to look there. They know you—Caleb—has explored down here.”
He glanced up. “I wonder if anyone will look up there.”
Rachel followed his gaze. “Above the ceiling?”
He nodded.
“You can’t know there’s anything up there.”
Yes he could. He didn’t say it out loud. “I already gave you your choice. What’s your decision?”
She paled, but her chin lifted. “I’m staying with you.”
“Good answer.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.
METZGER PLAYED WITH his fountain pen, sliding it up and down in his breast pocket. He was itching to get downstairs to check on his secret lab, but he couldn’t leave Patel, not until he managed to calm the chief medical director down. He fantasized about calling Thomas to restrain Patel while he sedated him. No one would fault him. The man was one breath away from a total breakdown.
Patel hung up the phone and slapped his palms against his desktop for about the fifth time. “This is intolerable. Gerhardt, I must insist that we call in the local authorities. It’s been over two hours. That was Wilson again. How long do you think I can stall my own chief of security? He’s a retired police officer. He knows the procedures. We are required by law to report missing patients.”
Metzger held up his hands. “I can assure you, if Baldwyn is in this hospital, Thomas and his team will find him.” He gave a huge sigh and shrugged. “I can’t be responsible for what Caleb will do if he’s confronted by police. Not to mention that the damage to his psyche, after the events of the past week, could be devastating. And of course, there is always the possibility that he is sleepwalking and will turn up anytime.”
“I never liked having him here.” Patel shoved his chair back as he stood. “Not from the very beginning. He was too young. Eleven years old. He should have been treated by a children’s specialist.”
He paced, muttering to himself. “But Olivia Stanhope was adamant. She said she wanted the best of care. In over twenty years in this business, I’ve dealt with other people like her. All about social position—appearances. She wanted to hide the child. The taint of mental illness in her family was intolerable, an embarrassment.”
Metzger stared out the window, only half listening to Patel’s rambling. He glanced at his watch. Thomas should be reporting any minute. That was good, because Metzger wanted to send him to make sure nothing was amiss in the secret lab.
“Who in their right mind would turn down a multimillion dollar endowment?”
Metzger heard the creak of leather as Patel sat and leaned back in his executive chair.
He groaned inwardly. When Patel settled back in his chair, it was a sure sign that he felt the need to discourse. He’d been known to talk for hours. Metzger had to get out of here.
As soon as Thomas called, he would excuse himself to speak to the nurse in person.
“But nothing is ever free, Gerhardt. Nothing. I knew there would be a price to pay one
day. Then after Olivia died, I actually expected Caleb’s brother to show up, even though Olivia assured me a dozen times that the brother thought his twin was dead.”
Metzger almost dropped his fountain pen.
Brother? Twin?
It took Metzger a few seconds to absorb Patel’s meaning. Once he did, his entire body began to buzz with shock. Had he understood correctly?
“Twin? Did you say twin?”
When Patel frowned in puzzlement, Metzger realized he’d spoken in German.
“Are you telling me that Caleb Baldwyn has a twin brother?” he repeated in English. “Why was I never informed of this?”
Patel’s dark face turned a sickly yellow. “I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. I’m distraught.”
Thoughts were crowding into Metzger’s brain too fast to process. He took a long, shaky breath and tried to consciously slow down his racing heart. He shoved his fisted hands into his lab coat pocket.
“Rajid, you cannot unsay what you have said. Now explain. Caleb Baldwyn has a twin? Why was none of this information in his medical records?”
Patel dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face. “I just t-told you. The endowment his grandmother gave the Meadows was more than enough to build and maintain the Women’s Dependency Center. The stipulation on the money was that no one was to ever know that Caleb Baldwyn was alive, much less that he had any family. As far as his brother knows, Baldwyn died in a fall twenty years ago. Gerhardt, you must promise me that this information will go no further.”
Metzger didn’t even respond to Patel’s plea. He leaned forward. “Where is the twin? Are they identical? How can you be sure the twin is unaware of the existence of his brother?”
Patel stood and rounded his desk, looking down at the shorter man. “You must forget what I have said. Please. Olivia Stanhope wanted the other boy to believe Caleb had died. That was her decision to make, not ours.” He fingered his tie. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. We could lose the monies she entrusted to us for Caleb’s care. It is a very large amount of money. And Eric Baldwyn is now Caleb’s legal guardian. And if that happened, the Meadows would be ruined. We could not possibly liquidate that amount of cash.”
“That’s an administrative problem. My interest is clinical. Do you have any idea how important this information is to my—” He’d almost said, my research. “To Baldwyn’s treatment? Knowing he has a twin brother makes all the difference.”
Metzger rose. Ignoring Patel’s plaintive voice ringing in his ears, he left the director’s office. He had to find Thomas. Now he knew why Caleb’s behavior had been so abnormal since his return to the Meadows.
The answer was so simple, now that he understood.
It was because he wasn’t Caleb Baldwyn.
RACHEL TOOK ERIC’S hand and used it to leverage herself up and over the wooden break wall that had been built to stop erosion of the dirt crawl space at the front of the basement.
He gripped the waistband of her jeans and hauled her up as she fought for a foothold on the packed dirt.
Finally she was sitting beside him in a cavelike hole that smelled of earth and mold and rats.
“This is not a good idea. Anyone with any sense who’s looking for a missing patient would look up here.”
“We’re not staying here.”
She coughed and wiped her face, then dusted her hands together. “I can feel spiderwebs,” she complained, shuddering, even as she admitted to herself that she’d rather lie in a vat of spiders than go any deeper into the darkness.
Unfortunately she was afraid that was what Eric had in mind.
In the distance, muffled by walls and dirt, she heard the familiar creak of the service elevators. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “They’re searching down here.”
“Come on,” he whispered, hardly loud enough to reach her through her com unit. She barely made out his outline in the darkness as he put out his hand. “Watch your head.”
They crawled several feet in, away from the light. Rachel’s lungs burned. Every breath was torture. Her chest and throat were squeezed so tightly that she felt like she was suffocating.
The top of her head brushed the heavy wooden beams. She imagined the weight of the entire building above her. She groped to her right, until she touched and gripped a handful of Eric’s T-shirt. “Eric, I can’t do this,” she gasped.
He took her hand in his, dirt and grit scratching the skin of her palm, and pressed it quickly to his lips. “Trust me.”
His low voice humming through the com unit held a promise she wished desperately she could believe in.
Voices echoed down the corridor below them. Eric’s warm fingers pressed lightly against her lips.
“Just a little further. Hurry,” he whispered, and pulled her forward.
Her breath caught as she felt something solid in front of them. “What is this?”
He pushed a piece of wood aside. “Put your hand out. Feel that opening?”
She ran her hand along what felt like a plank of wood, until her fingers slipped off the ragged edge. “Y-yes.”
“Crawl through.”
Terror ripped through her. “It’s too little.”
“No it’s not. Come on, duck your head.” He pushed gently.
She balked, her breath coming in short sharp gasps, the heavy darkness more and more oppressive. She glanced behind her, hungrily seeking the faint glow of light that was much farther behind them than she’d realized.
“You’ve got to trust me, Rachel.”
The voices below them were getting louder.
“I’m afraid of the dark.”
“I know.”
Taking a deep breath of musty air, and reminding herself of what Metzger would do to Eric if he found him, Rachel slithered through the tiny opening and into a large open space. She felt air moving around her and the smells of dirt and mold had faded. In here, the odor was more like the rest of the building—old wood with a slight smoky scent, probably from the fireplaces in the original house. It was pitch-black, but at least she didn’t feel the walls closing in on her—yet.
Eric slid in behind her and she heard the quiet scratch of wood against wood.
“Where are we?” she asked, reaching out to touch him for reassurance.
“Shh. Scoot over here to the side and don’t make any noise.”
He pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. “Be still,” echoed in her ear.
She buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and pretended that the only reason there was no light was because she had her eyes shut.
He cradled her head with his hand and put his cheek against her hair.
Below them, a dog barked and a voice shouted.
Eric’s arms tightened and Rachel hunched her shoulders.
“Back here!”
“Somebody check the crawl space,” a deep voice called.
Tensing, she lifted her head and saw the brief flicker of a flashlight beam through a crack in the wooden planks.
Her heart slammed against her chest. Were they about to be discovered?
The absolute irony of her situation did not escape her. She was hiding with a missing patient in the crawl space of a mental institution, holding proof that an internationally famous physician was conducting illegal and dangerous experiments on helpless patients and may have caused one or more deaths.
If Dr. Green was killed for talking with a reporter, Rachel had no doubt that her fate would be the same. She shuddered.
“Can you see through to the hallway on the other side?” the deep voice asked.
A voice that sounded as though it was just on the other side of the wall from them spoke up. “Nope. Looks like dirt and structural beams are blocking it.”
The man who had climbed up into the crawl space cursed. “Damn, I hate spiderwebs.”
Rachel heard shuffling and dirt falling as the searcher backed out of the narrow space.
“I got an
idea,” he huffed as he landed on the concrete floor with a thud. “You climb up on the other side.”
The other man laughed. “And get my uniform all dirty? I don’t think so.”
The dog barked.
“Hush, Babe. Let’s go.”
Eric held Rachel until the footsteps faded. Her body trembled against his. Her quick, panicky breathing seared the skin below his collarbone, even through the cotton of his T-shirt.
Once the corridor below them was silent, she shifted against him, sending an agony of desire surging through him.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Stay strong. They’re not gone yet.”
She nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He buried his nose in her hair and caressed her head, putting his mouth to her temple and kissing it lightly. “Don’t be sorry. I’m so proud of you,” he said softly, knowing she’d be able to hear his slightest whisper through her com unit. “I know how much the dark frightens you. I wish I could give you light.”
She tilted her head, until her mouth brushed the underside of his chin. Faintly, in the distance, he heard the searchers’ voices. They were checking out the crawl space at the end of the corridor to the east.
Eric suffered her lips caressing his skin. He knew he couldn’t bear to kiss her. It would lead to more, and more could put them in danger. So he turned his head.
She barely moved, but he felt her withdrawal. She thought he was rejecting her.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he heard the creak of the ancient elevator.
Rachel heard it, too, because he felt her tense against him. “Are they gone now?” she asked.
“I think so, but we still must be very careful.”
“Can we—” Rachel paused and Eric heard the poorly disguised terror in her voice. “Can we turn the flashlight on?”
“Yeah. Let’s see where we are.” He sat straighter and Rachel eased up beside him. He noticed she never let go of him. She’d hooked her fingers through one of the belt loops on his jeans.
He flipped on the flashlight and aimed its beam into the darkness.
