DIAGNOSIS: ATTRACTION (16 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth was in back of the intruder.

“Over here,” she called out.

When he whirled, Matt hit him with another bolt, and Elizabeth added her strength.

This time the man went down.

Matt leaped on him, stepping on his gun hand, making the intruder scream. And Elizabeth picked up the lamp on the bedside table and brought it down on his head. He went still.

“What do you have that we can use to tie him up?”

“What about duct tape—like we used before?”

“Yeah.”

She hurried down the hall to the guest room and came back with a roll of tape, and Matt used it to secure the man.

He groaned and blinked.

“Whaa...?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?”

When he pressed his lips together. Matt kicked him in the ribs, and he let out a yelp.

“You’d better tell us what’s going on, if you don’t want worse.”

Elizabeth made a silent suggestion.
Maybe we can use the persuasion technique on him.

Matt focused on the man.
You don’t want me to hurt you again. You want to tell us what’s going on. You want to tell us who sent you.

The man looked confused as Matt continued to project the message.

“Who sent you?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? How did you end up in this house?”

“A contact told me the job came from New Orleans. That’s all I know.”

New Orleans!
Matt echoed.
What about New Orleans?
he silently pressed.

“What about New Orleans?” Elizabeth echoed the question.

“Someone down there wants the scoop on you. That’s all I know. I swear.”

Matt gave him another treatment, but he didn’t come up with any more information.

I think that’s all he’s got.

She nodded.

“How were you going to get paid?”

“I was supposed to leave a message at a phone number. Then I’d get the money from PayPal.”

Matt snorted. “Criminals are using PayPal?”

The man shrugged.

They left him on the floor and stepped out of the room.

“Hey,” he yelled, “you can’t just leave me here.”

“Watch us.”

Elizabeth put the baby book in the suitcase along with the clothing, and they hurried downstairs.

“Better leave the door unlocked so the cops can get in,” he said.

When they were outside, Matt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Detective Harrison. The call went straight to voice mail, which was a relief to Matt.

He left a message saying, “We went to Elizabeth Forester’s house to get some of her clothing, and we were surprised by an intruder. We restrained him, and you can find him in the master bedroom.”

“Is that legal?” Elizabeth asked.

“I hope so. But I’m not going to wait around.”

“What if he says he was there for a legitimate reason?”

“Like what? You called him to fix the water heater?”

“I guess not.”

“I’m hoping his fingerprints are in the criminal database. I’ll check later with Harrison on that.”

She sighed. “The cops are going to be all over the house.”

“Do you care?”

“I guess not. After Lang’s men came through, I don’t think I can live there again.”

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “When this is over, we’ll decide where to live.”

She nodded against his shoulder, then caught what was in his mind. “We’re going to New Orleans?”

“I was thinking we might poke into that fertility clinic. Now with this guy showing up, I think we have to.”

“Yes.”

She could see he was turning over possibilities. “You don’t want to fly.”

“I don’t want our names on a passenger list that someone could check. Which means we should drive.”

“All right. Then let’s not push ourselves.”

She knew he was anxious to get there, but he said, “Yeah, we can stop along the way to practice our skills. And do some research.”

Elizabeth checked in with Social Services and told them she wasn’t ready to return to work. It turned out she had months of sick leave she could use. And Dr. Delano was happy to say she still needed to rest. She also got a new driver’s license, and Matt checked in with Detective Harrison. When they found out the guy who’d burglarized Elizabeth’s house was a known criminal named Walter Clemens, they went down to make a complaint.

“You two seem to attract trouble,” the detective said.

“We’re hoping to change that,” Matt answered.

“How?”

“We’re going on a road trip.”

“How will that help?”

“It will get us out of town.”

Matt checked back in at Memorial Hospital and took a leave of absence.

“What if they won’t take you back?” Elizabeth asked.

“There’s always a need for doctors. I’ll be able to get a job somewhere.”

After they’d made their arrangements, they mapped out a route to New Orleans.

“It looks like about an eighteen-hour trip,” Matt said. “We could shoot for six to eight hours of driving a day.”

Their first stop was Roanoke, which had initially been called Big Lick because of the nearby salt lick that attracted wildlife. The town had been a major stop for wagon trains going west. Coal and the manufacturer of steam engines had made the city prosperous.

“Too bad we aren’t here for the Big Lick Blues Festival or the Strawberry Festival,” Elizabeth said as she looked up information about the city.

“I think we can have our own festival,” Matt answered as he drove past several chain motels.

She grinned at him, letting the images in his brain warm her, still thinking how lucky she was to have found this man.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of an upscale motel.

* * *

“H
OW
LONG
WERE
you going to keep the information from me?” Jake Harper asked his wife.

Rachel looked up from the table in her New Orleans shop where she read tarot cards. They were in the city—where they spent about half their time, when they weren’t at the plantation in Lafayette that Gabriella Boudreaux had established as a refuge for telepaths. Rachel raised her face toward her husband. “I guess I wasn’t going to keep it from you for very long.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“Her name is Elizabeth. His is Matt.”

“You found them when they were on the East Coast. Are they still there? Or are they doing what other bonded couples have done—looking for their origins?”

She sighed. “I think they’re on the way to Houma.”

“And are they a threat to us? Like Tanya and Mickey.” The first couple they’d encountered like themselves.

“I think Tanya and Mickey were unusual,” Rachel said. “They didn’t want anyone to share their powers.”

“But you don’t know for sure, because you always want to see the best in people.”

“I can’t help what I am.”

Jake walked up beside his wife’s chair and slung his arm around her shoulder. “I love what you are.”

She leaned back against him, reassured by what they were together. She was impulsive. He was cautious, which was often a good thing for both of them.

“Is the same man after them who was after Stephanie and Craig?” he asked, happy they could protect the newcomers who had recently come to the plantation.

“They ran into some bad problems in Baltimore—that didn’t have anything to do with the Solomon Clinic.”

She opened her mind fully to her husband and let him see some of what had happened to Elizabeth and Matt.

He winced. “It sounds like they’re lucky to be alive.”

“Because they’re resourceful. They’d be a big asset to our community. Especially since he’s a doctor.”

“An asset, yeah,” Jake agreed. “If they don’t want to wipe us off the face of the earth. Are they flying down here?”

“They’re driving.”

“That should give us time to prepare.”

“For the worst?”

“You know I have to think of worst-case scenarios.”

“But we know some important things about them. He risked his life treating patients in Africa. She was going up against a man smuggling women into Baltimore and forcing them into prostitution. That means neither one of them is selfish—like Mickey and Tanya.”

Jake nodded. “Those are good signs.”

* * *

I
N
THEIR
MOTEL
ROOM
, after making wonderful love with Matt, Elizabeth finally turned to the baby book she’d brought from Baltimore.

There were records of when she’d first eaten solid food, when she’d taken her first steps, and her first words—which were “dog” and “doll.”

“My mother was pretty compulsive about writing things down,” Elizabeth commented.

She turned a page, and her hand froze. There was a picture of her standing in front of a building. The sign beside the door read Solomon Clinic.

Matt stared at the picture. “I guess that must be the place. But what were you doing there? I mean, you look like you were maybe three.”

“Yes. And I don’t know why I went back there.”

“But we do know it’s in Houma.”

* * *

C
LEMENS
,
THE
MAN
who’d gone snooping in Elizabeth Forester’s house, had gotten into bad trouble. He was in jail, and Harold Goddard didn’t like it, but now he had no choice.

He was certain that Forester and Delano were on their way to Houma. He had checked passenger lists on flights from Baltimore and found nothing. That wasn’t reassuring. It just meant that the couple was being tricky. Probably they were driving, so no one could track their arrival.

Harold had been thinking about how to protect himself. Now he put that plan into action.

* * *

E
LIZABETH
FELT
THEY
were finally getting somewhere, when she went to sleep. She woke with a start in the middle of the night, her whole body rigid.

Matt was instantly awake beside her. Rolling toward her, he took her in his arms. “What is it?”

“Someone touched my mind.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, it’s like when you and I communicate without talking. Only it wasn’t you.” She clenched her fist in frustration. “Well, it wasn’t exactly someone communicating with me. They were...probing.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re sure?”

“I didn’t make it up. I felt another mind...skimming mine.”

“You were asleep. You could have dreamed.”

“I don’t think so. But that could be true.”

When she started to tremble, he pulled her closer.

“Something else we need to worry about,” she whispered.

“Was it a man or a woman?”

“I’m not sure. If I had to guess, I’d say it was a woman.”

“Why?”

She laughed. “Because she was delicate...subtle.”

“You don’t think men can be subtle?”

“It’s not the way they normally operate.”

He stroked her arm. “I guess you’re right.

Is this woman a threat to us?” He reached for her hand and knitted his fingers with hers, and she tightened her grip.

“I wish I knew.”

“We talked about practicing our skills on this trip. I think shielding our minds should be one of our top priorities.”

She nodded against his shoulder. She’d thought they were safe—at least for a little while. Now she was a lot less sure. And she knew she wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon.

Matt packed up on the observation. “We can start practicing now.”

“Because you know I’m worried?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He sat up, and she did the same, pulling up the pillow and leaning against the headboard.

When he climbed out of bed, she gave him a questioning look.

Better if we’re not touching.

You mean, easier.

He pulled on a T-shirt and his shorts, and sat down in the chair near the window.

I’m going to block my thoughts. You try to worm your way in.

A nice way to put it. How do you block your thoughts?

I don’t know exactly. I guess we’ll find out.

Chapter Eighteen

“I’m going to picture a wall and put it up around my mind,” Matt suggested.

“Will that work?”

“I hope it’s better than picturing a mud hole.”

She laughed. “I guess so.” She gave him a long look. “Okay, you put up your wall, then think of something you want to guard behind it.”

She could sense the barrier going into place. She could even see it in his mind. It was made of cement blocks, and he put it together block by block.

Then she knew by his expression that he’d hidden a thought behind it.

She had very little trouble breaking through. And when she did, she laughed.

“You’re thinking about the food we’re going to get in New Orleans,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Try again.”

He gritted his teeth and went back to the wall, and this time she had a little more trouble breaking through. When she did, she gave him a long look. “You’ve switched from food to sex.”

“I’m a guy, after all. Maybe I put them in the wrong order. Why don’t we reverse the process, and you try?”

She focused her gaze inward, constructing a barrier out of sturdy upright metal pieces. When she had it in place, she put an image of a beautiful garden inside, then put herself in the picture, sitting down in a wicker chair, enjoying the sunlight slanting through the trees.

It was hard to keep the wall in place and keep the image of the garden at the same time, but she managed it for a few minutes until Matt came along and started pulling her stakes out of the ground.

“No fair,” she said aloud.

“Everything’s fair.”

“Oh, is it?” She heated up the metal stakes, making them too hot for him to handle.

“Nice move,” he said.

“We’re just playing around.”

“But everything we do is practice for when we need to use it.”

* * *

R
ACHEL
HAD
ANOTHER
report for Jake in the morning. “She felt me probing her, and she’s trying to shield her mind.”

He cursed under his breath. “That means they have something to hide.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Then what?”

“Suppose you’d felt an outside presence trying to read your thoughts, wouldn’t you try to keep him from doing it?”

“That’s one explanation.”

“But you think they have evil intentions?”

“I want to keep you safe.”

“You’re always so suspicious.”

“I guess it comes from my early childhood experiences.”

She reached for his hand. Jake had grown up on the streets of New Orleans, and he’d learned never to trust anyone until he’d proved himself.

“Did you get into his mind?” he asked.

“She’s more open.”

“Why?”

“Like I said, he was a doctor in Africa. I think he learned caution on a lot of different levels.”

“And they’re on their way down here?”

“Yes.”

“I guess we’d better be prepared.”

“How?”

“Keep trying to figure out what they’re up to.”

“On the other hand, maybe it’s better if I don’t try to dip into her mind.”

* * *

E
LIZABETH
AND
M
ATT
left the motel after breakfast and got back on the road, keeping up their practice sessions as they drove.

But there were some things Elizabeth couldn’t hide from Matt. The closer they got to New Orleans, the more unsettled she felt, and he picked up on her mood.

“You think we’re going to be in danger when we get there,” he said, not bothering to frame the statement as a question. “From whoever that Clemens guy is working for.”

“Unfortunately.” She turned her head toward him. “When is it going to stop?”

“Soon.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I think there’s got to be a quick resolution. Like we came to with Lang.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring.” She reached to cover his hand with her own. “I got you into a lot of trouble.”

“You know damn well we’re in this together.”

She understood that as much as she’d understood anything in her life and pressed her palm more firmly against the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t have gotten my memory back or gotten away from Lang without you, but now I’m wondering if we’re making a mistake.”

He waited for her to say more, although he probably knew what was in her mind.

“I think we should do some research before we get down there. You can use the web to look up that fertility clinic.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

W
HEN
THEY
STOPPED
for the night in Huntsville, Alabama, they had an early dinner at a ribs restaurant. Then they returned to their motel room, and Matt used his computer to get on the web.

Because the Solomon Clinic had been closed for twenty years, there wasn’t much information about the facility. But it had been run by a Dr. Douglas Solomon, and there was a piece of startling information about him.

“According to a newspaper article, he had a research facility in Houma that blew up a few months ago.”

“Did he die?”

“Yeah. He was inside at the time. Also one of the nurses that used to work at the fertility clinic died with him. And another man who apparently used to run a government think tank.”

“What was he doing there?”

“No idea.”

Elizabeth winced. “Do they know what caused the explosion?”

“The article says it was a gas leak, but I find it pretty jarring that just before we started poking into Dr. Solomon’s background, he got killed.”

“You’re saying you don’t think it was an accident?”

“I don’t know what to think, except that we should be even more cautious.”

She shuddered, wanting to say that they should just turn around and go back to Baltimore.

“Only we’ll always be looking over our shoulder, waiting for something else to happen,” he said.

She answered with a little nod, knowing he was right.

“First we’ll go to New Orleans and poke around,” she said, thinking that she was only postponing the day of reckoning.

“No. I think we’re going to find something there,” he said.

“Not the guy who hired Clemens, I hope.”

“He won’t know we’re in the city.”

“Unless he has some way of finding out who’s checked into hotels.”

“That would take a lot of digging.”

They arrived in New Orleans the next day and found a charming bed-and-breakfast in the French Quarter, a place where Elizabeth would have loved to stay if they’d been here on vacation. But she was too restless to enjoy their antique-filled suite or the old-fashioned claw-foot tub in the bathroom.

Matt looked at her with concern. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

“You know we have to. And I want to walk around a little bit and get a feel for the city.”

They headed for Jackson Square, where they watched the street performers and wandered around the stands where artists were offering to do quick sketches of tourists, and women had set up card tables where they were selling tarot cards and palm readings.

“Do you remember it?” Matt asked.

“Yes. I guess it hasn’t changed much in twenty-five years. But I want to see something else.”

“Something you remember?”

“No.” Elizabeth walked rapidly along one side of the square, then took a side street leading to Toulouse Street.

“If you haven’t been here before, you seem to know where you’re going,” Matt commented.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“You’re just...wandering?”

She knew he didn’t think that was true. Perhaps she didn’t, either. She scanned the shops along Toulouse and stopped at an inviting little storefront that offered tarot-card readings by a woman named Rachel Harper.

“You walked past the readers in the square,” Matt said. “Why are you stopping here?”

“This woman interests me.”

“Why? Do you know her?”

“No.”

“Then what is it about her? Is she more insightful because she has her own shop?”

“She made enough money to buy it.”

“Or maybe a rich husband set her up.”

Elizabeth snorted and peered at the Closed sign in the door. “I wonder when she’s coming back.”

“We can try again later,” Matt said. “If you think it’s important.”

“It could be. I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Or maybe it’s nothing.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “It’s weird. When I first met you, I didn’t remember anything. Now I do, and I’m also...” She flung her arm. “I don’t know what to call it. Having insights?”

“Maybe part of your mental abilities.” He examined the door and window of the shop. “You’d think she’d let customers know how to get in touch with her. But there doesn’t seem to be anybody here.”

They kept walking through the French Quarter, both of them on edge, but still able to enjoy the colorful buildings, art galleries, antique shops and tropical flowers that were so different from Baltimore.

When Elizabeth stopped in front of a restaurant, Matt gave her an inquiring look.

“You want to eat here?” he asked.

“Not necessarily. But I’m getting the same kind of feeling I did from Rachel Harper’s shop.”

She stood on the sidewalk for a minute, then walked on. “Or maybe I’m making stuff up because I want to have something significant happen.”

“Maybe it’s not going to happen in the city.”

At breakfast the next morning, as they enjoyed beignets, strong Louisiana coffee and omelets with andouille sausage, Elizabeth said, “I’d like to go back and see if Rachel Harper is there.”

“Not by yourself. Not until we find out about that clinic.”

She nodded, knowing he was right. They were safer if they stuck together. But safer from what? She still didn’t know.

They both walked back to Rachel Harper’s shop, but the tarot-card reader still wasn’t there.

A woman across the street stuck her head out of a doorway and asked, “Are you looking for Ms. Harper?”

“Yes.”

“She’s only here part-time—since she got married.”

“Thanks,” Elizabeth answered, feeling let down. Turning to Matt, she said, “We should go to Houma and see what we can find out about the clinic.”

“I did some more research after you went to sleep last night,” he said.

“And?”

“I told you that a nurse who had worked there died in the explosion with Dr. Solomon.”

“But what?” She cut him a quick look. “You’re keeping me from knowing what you’re thinking.”

“Good because the technique is working. There’s another one of Solomon’s staffers living at a nursing home in Houma. Her name’s Maven Bolton. Maybe there’s something she can tell us about Dr. Solomon’s operation.”

“Did you look up Houma?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. The population is around 33,000. You can book swamp tours and fishing expeditions, eat spicy Cajun food and walk bird trails in the wildlife park.”

“The town’s not all that large. I mean for someone to locate an important clinic there.”

“Maybe he wanted a specific kind of environment. It has a long and proud past, and a historic downtown area. The Terrebonne Parish Courthouse is there, which would mean it was a center of local activity.”

“Was there anything about the Solomon Clinic?”

“Actually I know where it used to be.”

“I’d like to see it. How far away is it?”

“A little over an hour.”

“We can have lunch in town.”

They arrived on schedule and drove around Houma, noting that the historic center was probably much as it had been for years, with newer development on the outskirts.

As they crossed a bridge, Elizabeth said, “The place is full of rivers and bayous.”

“Yes. It’s almost like some of the sections of town are islands.”

“It’s got a lot of atmosphere, but just being here makes me feel...nervous,” Elizabeth mused as they drove up and down tree-shaded streets where large old houses sat on generous plots. She was silent for several moments, then said, “Can you find Dr. Solomon’s lab? The one where he was killed?”

Matt consulted his smartphone, where he’d put some addresses. “It’s not too far from here.”

He punched the street and number into the GPS, and they drove for a few more blocks, stopping in front of a large redbrick house that had been heavily damaged. Behind it was another building that was totally destroyed.

“Why did he have his lab in a residential area?” Elizabeth asked. “Did he live here, too?”

“Actually this was the home of the nurse who died.”

“Which implied that they had some sort of close relationship. I want to get out,” Elizabeth whispered. Even when she knew Matt thought it was a bad idea, she opened the door and exited the car.

Behind her, he pulled closer to the curb, cut the engine and followed her up the driveway. She stood for a moment, staring at the house with its boarded-up windows and blackened bricks, then skirted around to the real scene of destruction.

She could see an enormous hole in the ground, filled with debris. Pieces of wood, cinder blocks, medical equipment and furniture were scattered around the rubble.

“It looks like nobody’s been here to clean up,” she whispered as Matt came up behind her.

“Maybe there’s a question of ownership.”

She looked up and down the street at the well-kept houses and yards.

“They can’t leave it forever,” he said, following her thoughts.

She made a derisive sound. “There was a swimming pool in Baltimore that kids used all the time. I mean kids whose parents couldn’t afford a country club. The owner tore it down, and we all thought they had sold the land for houses or apartments. That was fifteen years ago, and it’s still sitting empty.”

“But the pool owners didn’t leave a mess, did they?”

“No.”

Matt nodded and stepped closer to the pit, looking down into the tangle of debris.

“I see a lot of medical equipment—some of it expensive.”

“Like what?”

He pointed. “There’s a mangled X-ray machine. A couple exam tables. Cabinets that probably held drugs. An EKG machine. Centrifuges. A spectrophotometer. It looks like the doctor had plenty of money to spend on his research project.”