The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2)

by Linda Watkins

  This made no sense and, once again, I had to conclude that the machine was malfunctioning.

  But why only on the blood samples from Jeremy and that old man?

  Steve’s blood had come back completely normal. Could it be me? Was I doing something to cause the machine to malfunction?

  I knew Steve had called the rep and he planned to bring us a new unit next week. In the meantime, I decided to test the machine again, this time using my blood.

  I checked the time. Steve was leading a class on diabetic foot management and wouldn’t be free for another forty-five minutes. I’d ask him draw my blood when it was over.

  Decided, I opened my tablet and began to read the latest volume of JAMA. I’d just begun an article when my cell chimed. It was Jeremy.

  “Hi,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Well,” he answered. “I got my work done early and was wondering if you wanted to do something different – maybe catch a flick in town?”

  I grinned. “That sounds great. I’m done for the day, too.”

  “Awesome. Why don’t you meet me at my place? We can take my boat over. After, maybe we can pick up a pizza and bring it back for dinner.”

  “You read my mind. See you later.”

  Smiling, I turned off my tablet and gathered up my things. I could do the bloodwork tomorrow. Looking forward to an afternoon in town and a good movie, I headed toward the front desk.

  “Leaving, Dr. Pomeroy?” asked Nadia.

  “Yeah. I’m going to call it a day. If you need, me I’ll be in town. Jeremy and I are going to the movies. I’ll put my pager on vibrate so if anything urgent comes up, you or Steve can contact me. Oh, and I’ll be at Jeremy’s tonight if Steve needs to call.”

  “I’ve got it, Dr. Pomeroy. Have a nice evening.”

  I smiled at her and then headed out the door, eager to put Storm Island and everything about it out of my mind.

  33

  Kate

  An Intruder?

  THE NEXT MORNING, after breakfast at Jeremy’s, I hurried back to the Carriage House to shower and change. We’d had a wonderful afternoon in town, saw a great movie, and pigged out on pizza when we got home.

  I parked my car in the driveway and hurried up to the house. Opening the front door, I stepped inside.

  Music.

  I stopped. There was music coming from my bedroom.

  Terrified, I turned and ran from the house, back to my car. I jumped inside and locked the doors. My heart was pounding. Who was inside my house? Vlad?

  I pulled my cell from my purse and dialed the first person I thought of.

  Jeremy.

  He answered right away. “Hi, you forget something?”

  I swallowed hard. “The house,” I stammered. “There’s someone in the house.”

  “Whoa, slow down. Did you see someone?”

  “No, but the radio was on.”

  “Okay, where are you now?”

  “In my car – parked in the driveway.”

  “Stay there. Lock the doors. I’m on my way.”

  Five minutes later, Jeremy’s truck pulled up behind me. He leapt from the cab and ran over to my car.

  “You okay?” he asked through the window.

  “Yeah, just scared.”

  “Good. Stay put. I’m going inside. I called Constable Stubble. He should be here any minute. And, don’t look so frightened. I know what I’m doing.”

  He kissed me quickly then jogged up to the house, opened the door, and disappeared.

  He hadn’t been inside but a minute or two when Constable Stubble’s truck came careening up the drive.

  Stubble was the only law enforcement officer stationed on the island and he only held that position part-time. I wondered if he would be equipped to deal with a hardened criminal like Sokolov.

  “Dr. Pomeroy,” he said, approaching my car. “Where’s Bradshaw?”

  “He went inside a couple minutes ago.”

  “Okay, you stay here.”

  Stubble pulled his gun from its holster and began to cautiously approach my house. He held the weapon with two hands and I wondered if he had the strength to aim and fire it if necessary.

  The door to the Carriage House flew open.

  Stubble raised his pistol.

  “Whoa, Harvey,” said Jeremy from the doorway. “Put that gun away. I promise I’m not the bad guy.”

  Stubble re-holstered his firearm. “Can I assume, Jeremy, that the house is clear?”

  “Yup, no one’s inside. It’s all okay. I checked everywhere. If someone was here, they’re long gone now. But I thank you for coming so fast and providing the necessary backup.”

  Stubble nodded and then, without any further ado, got back in his truck and took off.

  Jeremy, grinning, walked over to my car.

  “It’s okay, Katy,” he said. “Everything’s shipshape. I checked all the rooms, closets and everything. I looked at the camera recordings, too, and there’s no sign of any intruder, Russian or otherwise. You must have set the alarm on the radio by mistake.”

  I stared at him. I knew I hadn’t set that alarm. I used the alarm on my cell, never the radio.

  “Katy? What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath. “Nothing. Thank you for coming by.”

  As I spoke, I opened the car door, got out, and made an obvious effort to avoid his touch. But he wasn’t having any of that. He took my arm at the elbow, turning me to face him.

  “Katy,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. But the house is clear. I think sometimes you let your fears and memories of the past get the best of you. I gotta say it again – I think you need to see someone. Believe me, sweetheart, it will do you a world of good. It did me when I was in your shoes.”

  His voice was so sincere, I felt ashamed of how quickly I’d turned on him. I nodded.

  “I’ll think about it, okay? That’s the best I can do right now. If you want, we can talk later.”

  Jeremy smiled. “Yeah, let’s do that. And, by the way, did you ever hear back from that pill expert you were going to contact?”

  I took a deep breath. That doctor had made the same suggestion that Jeremy had – that I should see a shrink.

  “No,” I lied. “I’ll email him again tonight.”

  “Good. Now, I have to get going and I think you’re going to be late to work if you don’t shake a leg.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “I love you, Katy. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah and I love you, too. Let’s talk about all this later. Okay?”

  Grinning, he kissed me once more then jogged to his truck and backed down the drive. I watched him go, knowing that, once again, I had to face my demons alone.

  I had to force myself to go back inside the house. Everything was silent when I walked into the entryway. All I could hear was the click-click of my heels on the hardwood floor.

  Jeremy had obviously turned the radio off and, as I glanced around, everything seemed to be completely normal. Carefully, I walked through the rooms, looking for anything that might be out of place.

  There was nothing.

  Noting that my heart rate was still elevated and that my palms were sweaty, I decided to take one of the anti-anxiety pills I had prescribed for myself. They were mild and didn’t cause drowsiness and I knew I could function normally with one in my system. They just took the edge off.

  I locked the front door, then, mindful of the time, walked to the bathroom, pulled the prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet, and swallowed one pill. Then I stripped down and stepped into a hot shower.

  Twenty minutes later, I was ready for work.

  I arrived at the clinic only ten minutes late. We were scheduled to have a staff meeting that morning and I hurried to join Nadia and Steve in the break room that also served as our conference area.

  “Sorry, I’m late. There was a problem at the Carriage House. Now, what are we up to this morning.”

  “N
adia is going to explain some new modules that have been added to our med records program.”

  The young woman smiled, then looked down and typed some commands into her laptop computer, projecting the presentation onto the screen that had been set up at the front of the room. She picked up a pointer and began explain how the three new modules interacted with the main program.

  I watched her presentation closely, following along on my tablet to be sure I understood how everything was configured. These new modules would enhance our medical records and give us immediate access to patient files and labs.

  The phone rang outside. We all assumed it would go to voicemail, but for some strange reason, it didn’t.

  “I’ll get it,” said Steve. “It might be an emergency. You go on. I can catch up.”

  I watched as he walked out of the room, then turned my attention back to Nadia and the slides.

  The young woman smiled, then continued speaking. The room had become strangely silent except for the sound of her voice and, as she spoke, her words echoed eerily across my mind.

  She turned toward the screen, saying something, but I couldn’t make it out.

  Confused, I strained to hear.

  I started to say something – to ask her to speak up – but the words had disappeared. My mouth was suddenly unbelievably dry and, in a moment’s time, everything else was eclipsed by the need for water.

  I tried to push myself from my chair, but I couldn’t move. Like in my dreams, I found myself helplessly caught in a giant web and the more I struggled, the tighter my bonds became.

  My eyes darted around the room looking for someone or something to help me. But my vision was narrowing and I felt as if I were trapped in a dark tunnel with no way out.

  The sound of something chittering stopped me cold.

  Waves of fear ran through my body as the chittering became louder and closer. I pulled at the sticky web tying me to my chair, trying to free myself, but I only managed to tighten my bonds. I called out for help, but, once again, my words were muffled.

  Terrified, I knew that it – the creature from my nightmares - was coming for me and I was unable to stop it. I could almost see it in the distance, long, black, hairy legs creeping closer and closer.

  Unable to escape, I screamed, then everything went black.

  I woke in one of our inpatient rooms, lying on a bed. Steve was sitting by my side.

  “Are you back with the living, Kate?” he asked.

  I blinked my eyes, trying to focus. My head was splitting. Carefully, I pulled myself to a sitting position. “What happened?”

  “That’s what I hope you’ll tell me. Everything was going along fine until I left the room. Nadia said you started to look at her queerly and began rocking in your chair. When I came back into the room, you were totally out of it. I tried to talk to you, but you didn’t seem to know I was there. Then you passed out.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened. I had a bad morning. I took a pill – an anti-anxiety med. Maybe it, combined with the stress from the incident at home, triggered something. Did you do a workup on me?”

  Steve shook his head. “I didn’t, but maybe I should have. Your eyes were dilated like you were on something heavy. Perhaps you should think about changing your prescription.”

  “Agreed. But this has never happened before.”

  “What started it? You said you had a bad morning.”

  I took a few minutes to relate to Steve what had happened at the Carriage House.

  “So, I thought I’d take a pill to smooth out the edges. I didn’t want to fall into a panic attack here at the office. Guess I made a mistake in judgement.”

  Steve smiled. “It happens to all of us. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  I nodded. “Me, too. Now, what was that phone call about?”

  Steve frowned. “It was weird. Someone calling for medical advice. I couldn’t get him off the line. Said he wanted an appointment, but none of the openings suited him. He ended up hanging up on me. I think it was a prank call.”

  “Didn’t Nadia forward all our lines to voicemail?”

  “I guess she goofed up. I’ll speak to her about it.”

  “Good,” I said, getting up off the bed. “Let me freshen up a bit before the first patient arrives.”

  I made it through the rest of the day. Luckily for me, our patient load was light. We rescheduled our staff meeting for another time and, thankfully, I went home.

  At the Carriage House, nothing was amiss and, once inside, I bolted the doors, checked the cameras, and poured myself a glass of wine.

  Sitting on the sofa, I reviewed the day’s events. I’d had a full-out flashback at the office. Was it triggered by the medication I’d taken? Nothing like that had ever happened before. Any flashbacks I’d had were always at night when I was sleeping and came in the form of bad dreams. Why this today? What was different about today?

  I puzzled over this, then pulled out my tablet and Googled the medication I’d taken. There was nothing in the side effects anything like what I’d experienced. Oh, perhaps if I’d been drinking alcohol when under the influence of the drug, then maybe something like that could have happened. But I hadn’t had a drink since dinner the night before, so that couldn’t be a predisposing factor.

  No, the hallucination I’d had was much like the ones I’d experienced when my aunt and uncle were doping me to try to make me look insane. Could that be happening again? And, if that were so, who would be doing it? Both my aunt and uncle were dead, so that certainly ruled them out. Dr. Conway, the psychiatrist at Memorial, who was part of their scheme was securely locked away in prison in California. That left only one person and the FBI said he was on his way to some God-awful place in Russia – Vlad Sokolov. Was the FBI wrong? Was he back on Storm? But, even so, how could he have gotten to my meds? It just didn’t make sense.

  Frustrated, I put the tablet away. I walked to the bathroom and stared at the bottle of pills. It looked totally legit. The label had all the correct information and included the name, address, and phone number of the pharmacy I’d gotten them from.

  Carefully, I picked the bottle up and poured two or three of the pills into the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes trying to remember what the tablets were supposed to look like. Not having much success with my memory, I took the pills back to the living room, and Googled the brand name of the drug. I clicked on “images” and was gratified to see multiple photos of the little pills on the page.

  The tablets in my hand, while closely resembling the ones on my screen, seemed to be just a tad larger. Had someone been in my house the evening before and replaced my drugs with something else? Concerned, I walked my memory through the events that had occurred over the last forty-eight hours.

  The smell of cigarette or cigar smoke lingering in the kitchen – a dirty wine glass sitting on the side of the sink – the radio turned on that morning – and, now, my pills possibly doctored?

  That was enough for me. But would it be enough for the FBI?

  I put the bottle of pills on the coffee table and took a sip of my wine. Perhaps a visit to the clinical laboratory in town would be in order. They would be able to tell me if these pills were the ones prescribed for me or something different. And, if that were the case, I would have hard evidence to take to the authorities instead of a bunch of vague suppositions.

  Decided, I turned on the television and tried to immerse myself in a meaningless sitcom. My viewing was interrupted when Jeremy messaged me saying he was beat and wanted to stay home tonight. He also said I was welcome to join him. I messaged him back that it had been a rough day all round and that I was going to just have a bowl of soup and go to bed. I told him I’d see him the next day.

  I pressed the send button knowing that this was the second lie I’d told him today. I wasn’t really that tired. But I knew if we got together tonight, I’d have to discuss his desire for me to see a therapist and, after what had
happened at the clinic, that was the last subject I wanted to pursue right now.

  Sighing, I made myself a grilled cheese and, once again, began to Google information about anti-anxiety medications. I compared the one I had been taking to other similar drugs, checking adverse reactions and drug interactions. After reviewing everything I could find, I decided to try a different approach. There were numerous holistic treatments recommended for anxiety and I thought I might give one or two of them a whirl.

  Kava Kava looked promising, but upon review of the literature, I decided it had too many side effects. Valerian root tea seemed harmless as long as I didn’t combine it with my prescription medication and I made note to purchase some. St. John’s Wort also looked promising with the same caveat as the tea – don’t mix with prescription meds.

  Satisfied I had made a start, I went to Amazon and purchased both the tea and the pills. They would be delivered in two days’ time.

  Finally feeling fatigued, I rubbed my eyes then checked the time on the television. It was eleven p.m. Time for bed. I turned off the TV, checked the locks once again, turned on the nanny cam, and, without further ado, said good night.

  34

  Kate

  Back to Normal, Again

  THE NEXT MORNING, I felt fine. I’d gotten a good night’s sleep – without dreams. As I got ready for work, I took the bottle of prescription medication and put it in my backpack. I was done with them. Next time I went to town shopping, I vowed to stop by the clinical lab and have the pills analyzed.

  In the meantime, I was determined to stay drug-free. I’d face my demons, whatever they were, without the benefit of pharmaceuticals. I knew that, rationally, it made sense to seek professional help to manage my anxiety, but, still, that was last thing I wanted to do. My experiences my aunt and Dr. Conroy, both psychiatrists, were, unfortunately, less than optimal.