Very little glass.
Someone might have cleaned up, but if the glass had shattered as badly as indicated in the police reports, he would have expected a fairly large area where bits of the window glass would have been broadcast by the force of the blow.
He stood and surveyed the area in a six-foot-or-so radius from the window.
Nothing, which didn’t seem possible to him even if someone had cleaned up. Human nature being what it was, they would have focused on the area close to the window and likely missed the pieces scattered farthest by the impact.
The lack of glass raised another possibility in his mind—that the window had been broken from the outside, spewing bits of window glass inward.
He made a note to review the police reports again when he returned home.
The files in the briefcase were heavy, dragging at his arm as he rushed back to his car. Dragging on his conscience as he recalled how many red terminated labels there had been in the two drawers.
If either he or Franklin had completed their mission, would Shaw have been the next patient with the Terminated designation?
He intended to find out just what that status meant and who was responsible for the deaths of so many.
Later, Mick paced the length of the living room in his home, his booted feet sounding loudly on the polished wood floors, making him wish for once that he had put carpet down. The carpet would have muffled his sounds, but then again, it would also provide stealth to an intruder.
Not that he had ever meant for his chosen profession to intrude in this place, even though he had secured this home as thoroughly as he had his apartment/office.
A car door slammed outside and he went to the door and peered out the spyglass.
Liliana was hurrying up the walk, medical bag in one hand and a white paper bag with the familiar logo of his family’s Mexican restaurant in the other. His stomach growled in anticipation of what was in the bag.
At the door he disarmed the security system and admitted his sister. Re-armed the system once she was safely inside.
“You’ve got news—”
“And nachos in addition to some other goodies,” Liliana said, holding up the bag. Inclining her head in the direction of the stairs, she said, “How’s the patient?”
Mick shook his head. “Determined to get free, and luckily more coherent than yesterday.”
“Considering the dissociative properties of some of the drugs she’s received, that’s surprising.”
Liliana walked down the hall toward the kitchen and Mick followed. She placed her medical bag on a kitchen chair and went to the oven. After she turned it on, she placed the contents of the bag inside.
It occurred to Mick as he watched her that his baby sister had the mom act down pat.
“We can eat and talk about the test results after I check out… You said her name was Cat? Any last name?”
He hesitated, unsure of just how deeply to involve his sister.
“Let’s leave it at just Cat.”
“Justcat? An unusual surname, wouldn’t you say, hermano? But it seems appropriate for such an unusual woman.” She grabbed her doctor’s bag and brushed past Mick on her way to the guest room, stopping short at the foot of the stairs.
“Has she had a chance to relieve herself? Or to move about to avoid the risk of DVT?”
“About an hour ago, she relieved herself and took a shower, although she was none too pleased with my company in the john. Also gave her some of my sweats to wear.”
Seemingly satisfied, his sister went to check on her patient.
At the door to the room, Liliana stopped, surprised by the sight of the cello in the corner and the sound of the softly playing music. “Is that—”
“Tony’s old cello,” Mick called as he climbed the stairs to follow his sister. “I snuck by the house and borrowed it. Left him a note that I needed it for a friend.”
“I can’t remember the last time our baby brother played it,” Liliana said.
“That’s why I figured it wouldn’t bother him. Thought it was worth getting the cello, since Cat responded favorably to the music.”
Liliana nodded, proud of her brother for making such a kind, albeit surprising, gesture. She went in and walked to the bed. As she had the night before, Caterina grew fretful at the sight of her.
Placing her medical bag on the ottoman by the chair where Mick had slept the night before, Liliana sat down and laid her hand on Caterina’s pale blue forearm. In her best bedside manner, her voice soothing, she said, “How are you feeling today, Cat? How is your arm?”
Caterina eyed Liliana up and down before her movements quieted and, as they did, the camouflage staining her skin receded like the wash of a wave along the shore.
“Please let me go,” she said.
Mick muttered a curse under his breath.
His sister glared at him. “Why don’t you go get some dinner for Cat?”
Caterina looked from the young woman sitting beside her to Mick. Her captor, since she recognized now that she had escaped one prison merely to end up in another.
Mick shot an annoyed look at them, but did as his sister asked.
Liliana scooted to the edge of the chair and patted Caterina’s arm reassuringly. “Don’t mind my brother. He means well.”
Caterina examined the doctor more carefully. She and the man shared the same dark brown hair and eyes, but Mick’s skin was a darker color, like the burnished wood of her cello.
Yes, her cello. She had remembered that during the many hours that she had lain in the bed, listening to the music that continued to play softly. Recalling how her fingers would shift along the strings while her bow worked against them to bring forth the strains of a symphony.
When Mick had brought in the beat-up old instrument, she had known it wasn’t hers, but despite that had twisted on the bed until she could touch the wood, feel the cool of the varnish beneath her fingers, pluck a string or two only to wince at its out-of-tune sounds.
“My name is…” she started to say, but then her mind processed another thought that yanked a wide grin to her face. “Caterina. Caterina Shaw.”
CHAPTER 14
“Caterina Shaw, the cellist?” Liliana was taken aback by the revelation.
Caterina nodded. “I play the cello. I’m a musician.”
“Dios mio,” Liliana whispered before recovering her poise. “I’m Liliana. Mick’s sister and a doctor. May I look at your arm?”
Caterina moved her wounded arm and experienced a slight pull, but little pain. Feeling an unexpected sense of security with the other woman, she nodded and permitted her to check the wound.
“It’s knitted closed and almost completely healed,” Liliana said with some surprise in her voice. “I’m going to take the stitches out, so it may feel a little weird.”
As Liliana cut the stitches and pulled them out, Caterina felt like someone was tracking a thin string over her flesh, but there was no pain. When she finished, Liliana placed a fresh bandage on Cat’s arm and returned to her seat.
“Are you feeling better? You seem more alert.”
Amazingly Caterina was feeling almost… human. The long periods of rest had allowed her to focus, and with that focus had come more and more memories. Despite that, there were still some ideas that failed her, and she was frustrated that communicating her thoughts remained difficult.
“I feel… well, but… confused at times.”
Liliana nodded and grasped her hand, the gesture comforting. “Someone has drugged—”
“You did. And Dr. Wells. Edwards,” Cat offered, remembering that they, too, had regularly injected her during her stay in their lab.
“Did Dr. Wells and Edwards hurt you?” Liliana asked even as her brother walked back into the room with a tray.
“Dr. Wells was my… friend.”
“We’re your friends also, Caterina,” Liliana said.
“Caterina?” Mick immediately chimed in.
Liliana shot
him a sisterly look filled with condemnation. “Caterina Shaw. The world-famous cellist. She seems to finally have remembered who she is.”
As Caterina glanced at Mick, she caught part of a look between the two siblings, but like so many things, she had trouble understanding the meaning of it.
Mick stood by his sister, holding the tray of food, but he shifted his attention to her. “If I undo the ties so you can eat, do you promise not to put up a fight?”
The idea of being free, if only for a short moment, firmly pushed away any ideas she might have been having about how to get away from this place.
“Promise,” she said and held up her bound wrists.
With an annoyed exhalation, he handed his sister the tray. “Hold this.”
He went to the legs of the bed and one ankle at a time, untied the restraints. Then he shifted to her arms, removing those ties as well.
“Thank you,” she said, relieved at even the smallest liberties he had provided.
A second later, he placed the tray over her lap and the aromatic smells teased her nostrils, creating a deep loud rumble in her stomach.
The scents kindled memories from the deepest recesses of her brain. Suddenly she was a child again, her mother beside her.
Mick sat on the edge of the bed, examining her as she contemplated the food. “You remember something.”
“Mami,” she said, straining for more, and he helped her along.
“Your mami was Mexican. Did she cook food like this for you?”
She had, Caterina realized, only it had been a long time since she had eaten such food. Since she had seen her mother. With that realization, a wellspring of sorrow rose up, bringing tears to her eyes.
“My mami’s dead.”
Liliana squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
With the barest hint of sympathy Mick advised, “It happened a long time ago. When Cat was six.”
“If anything, that makes it harder,” his sister scolded.
Her dad was dead as well, she remembered, but that knowledge brought only a scintilla of the pain of her earlier enlightenment.
Mick motioned to the food on the plate. “Eat up. You need to build your strength.”
She dug into the meal with the plastic fork he had provided.
An enchilada, she recalled. The corn tortilla was filled with flavorful cheese and covered with a delicious chili pepper sauce. Beside the enchilada rested refried pinto beans and yellow rice with vegetables.
With each forkful she ate, her hunger grew until the plate was clean.
“Still hungry?” Mick asked, arching a brow as she contemplated the empty plate.
“Sorry, but it was good. Can’t remember eating anything so good. Long time ago.”
Once again, Liliana reached out and offered a reassuring pat on her arm. “Don’t be sorry. My mami will be happy that you enjoyed the food.”
“Drink,” Mick commanded. She did, gulping down the sweet grape juice in the plastic cup he handed her.
When she was done, he tied her back up. She wanted to protest, but at her first chirp, Mick silenced her with a threatening glare.
“We’ll be back later,” Liliana said and grabbed hold of her brother’s arm, dragging him out of the room.
Caterina lay back against the sheets, the music from the iPod relaxing her once again. The fullness of her stomach was satisfying, until the tastes that lingered on her tongue elicited more memories of her mother.
She did something she knew she had not been able to do before.
She cried for her mother’s loss until the pain emptied from her body, leaving behind only the memories of precious times shared.
Then she waited for her captor to return.
CHAPTER 15
In the kitchen, Mick placed the dirty dishes in the sink while asking his sister, “Can you fill me in while we eat?”
“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” Liliana challenged. She set the table while Mick removed the aluminum take-out plates from the oven.
He paused, faced her, and leaned his hands on the edge of the counter. “Actually I was hoping you could stay the night in case I need help.”
His sister hesitated, then surprised him by saying, “To be honest, I was hoping you’d let me crash here for a little bit. Just until I can find somewhere else to live.”
He walked to her side and cupped her cheek, applying gentle pressure to raise her gaze upward.
“You’re doing the right thing. If you want me to take care of him—”
“I appreciate the offer, big bro, but I need to handle this on my own.”
He nodded. “Use my bedroom. It’s more comfortable and I need to keep a close eye on Cat anyway.”
“Caterina Shaw.” Liliana shook her head in disbelief. “The famous cellist, and according to the local newscasts, a murderess.”
He remained silent, which prompted his sister to ask, “You’re not denying the latter?”
“Don’t have enough information to either deny or confirm.” Mick returned to the counter where the take-out containers rested.
“Lose the military speak,” Liliana chided.
“Yes, sir,” he teased as he placed the aluminum containers on the trivets his sister had laid out on the large oak kitchen table.
Liliana chuckled, sat down and quickly served them a sampling of the food their mami had prepared. It steamed on their plates and the aroma enticed. The first few minutes at the table were quiet as they took the edge off their hunger, but then Mick broke the silence. “When you called, you said you had more news.”
Liliana nodded and blew on a bite of tamale on her fork. “Surprising news. My friend wasn’t expecting any results for a day or so, but she was able to get an analysis earlier than she thought.”
“Some new test procedure?”
“Exceptionally fast DNA replication. So fast that she ran the analysis a second time to make sure it was right,” Liliana replied. She rose from her seat and pulled some papers from her medical bag, laying one on the table beside Mick.
He recognized it immediately as an electrophoresis gel result from a DNA test. A series of parallel columns contained a number of differing bands in each column. Someone had circled several of the bands on the paper.
Liliana ran her index finger along the test results. “These bands here and here are what you would expect to see in a human DNA test.”
She jabbed at the circled sections. “But not these.”
She slipped another piece of paper, showing what looked like a graph, before him. “So my friend did an electropherogram using an automated sequencer for determining the DNA series. Same weird results.”
“ ‘Weird results.’ So you’re telling me we still don’t know what’s going on with her?” he said with frustration.
Liliana whipped out one last piece of paper: a page printed from a Web site showing a photo of a Petri dish with a number of phosphorescent colors in the shape of a palm tree and ocean.
“Look familiar?” she said and walked back to her chair, sat down and resumed eating.
Mick picked up the paper and read aloud the caption beneath the photo. “This scene shows the plethora of colors available in various mutations of fluorescent protein-producing bacteria.”
“The GFPs—the green fluorescent proteins—in the bacteria physically show how genes express themselves,” Liliana explained.
“So she’s contaminated by some kind of fluorescent bacteria?” he asked, putting down his fork. But then the answer came to him before Liliana could reply. “They used the fluorescent proteins, these GFPs, as trackers for the genes they implanted during her cancer therapy. That could explain what happened to her blood.”
Liliana nodded. “Some scientists have even produced transgenic rabbits and pigs that glow in the dark because of these proteins.”
A glow-in-the-dark animal, only the woman upstairs wasn’t an animal. Although he still wasn’t quite sure what she was right now.
Or what she was
going to become.
“I’ve got her supposed medical history up in my office, but I also managed to steal her real file today.”
Liliana placed her fork on her nearly empty plate. Only a bit of beans and rice remained. “You think the scientists at Wardwell doctored the one they had given you?”
“Possibly. I’m going to review the files tonight. Compare them and see what I can discover.” Mick rose from the table. He was heading out of the kitchen when his sister stopped him. “Not so fast, hermano. I brought the food, so you’re going to clean up before you go to work.”
“You’re a hard taskmaster, Lil,” he said, but returned to the table, wrapped her in a bear hug and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
She returned his embrace, burying her head in his chest. “Tell me this will all work out, Miguelito.”
“It’ll work out, Liliana. I promise.”
Softly murmured words, spoken in Spanish, awakened old comforting memories.
Caterina fought the urge to rouse, wanting to bask in the newly recovered recollections of her mother. The gentle touch of her mother’s hand as she brushed her unruly locks at night, rousing the scent of the orange blossom bathwater she had dribbled onto her freshly washed hair; the passion in that same touch as her mother’s hands alternately caressed and struck the keys of the upright piano they had owned, playing a difficult symphony or concerto. Playful as she morphed the song into some ragtime or a variation on a mariachi tune.
Her father had said that she had inherited her mother’s ear, but hidden behind the compliment had been censure. Caterina had realized that even as a child.
He might have loved her mother at one time, but he had grown to disapprove of her, and the love, if there ever had been any, had died beneath his controlling ways.
When her father had gazed at her, she saw the reflection of her mother in his eyes. A passionate and carefree woman who had made the mistake of marrying a formidably powerful and unyielding man. One who had chipped away at her mother’s spirit with his demands.
As Caterina half-opened her eyes, wanting to return to the good memories in her head, she saw them—brother and sister—heads bent close together as they spoke softly in Spanish. Was it to avoid her understanding them? Her Spanish was rusty from years of disuse. Maybe they were assuming that, or maybe she was just being paranoid.
Sins of the Flesh Page 9
