Orchid (36 page)

She fought the effects of the spray with meta-zen-syn concentration techniques while she reached out wildly. She searched for something, anything to leave behind for Rafe to find.

“She's not going under very fast. Still struggling.”

Orchid's hand brushed against a pocket. The meta-zen-syn mental exercises could not keep unconsciousness at bay for more than a few more seconds. She had to find something, anything that would constitute a clue for Rafe.

There was an object inside the man's pocket. A pen? A small flashlight?

She got two fingers into the pocket. The man who held her captive did not seem to notice. She seized an object. Held on tight.

“Bat snake shit. What's it going to take to put her out?”

“The doctor said she was a loony, remember? You know how it is with the crazy ones. Takes more than it does for normal people. Give her another shot of the stuff.”

More mist in the face.

And then she was being bundled through the doorway.

As she was dragged across the threshold, she vaguely remembered to let go of the small object she had taken from her attacker's pocket. She heard it roll lightly on the floor.

She drew a gasping breath.

The darkness closed in on her.

She hoped she would not dream.

Chapter
19
 

“Take a seat, Mr. ‘Stonebraker.” Thelma Dorling waved him toward a chintz covered chair that was presently occupied by an overweight cat-dog. “Snooky won't mind.” Thelma flapped her hand at the animal. “Go on, get off the chair, Snooky. Let the nice man sit down.”

Snooky did not move. He watched Rafe with baleful yellow eyes.

“Just give him a little push,” Thelma advised Rafe. “Snooky won't bite.” She started toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a beer? I've got Old Earth Ale and Western Islands Lager.”

Rafe glanced at her. Thelma Dorling was a pretty, young woman with a figure that resembled those of the models featured on the covers of the magazines Rafe had discovered in the bottom drawer of Austen's desk.

He concluded that she either could not find clothes to fit or else she liked her attire a size too small. Her pink blouse strained at the buttons. The skirt rode high on her thighs. It was stretched so tightly across her buttocks that it formed creases at her hips.

It had taken the better part of the day to track down Austen's former receptionist. When she'd finally returned his call, Rafe learned that she had been out interviewing for a new job.

“Thank you,” he said. “I'll take the lager.”

“Great. I'll be right back. Don't know about you, but I always need a couple of beers after a day of job hunting.” She vanished into the kitchen.

Rafe heard the icerator open and close in the other room. He gazed thoughtfully at the plump cat-dog who was obviously comfortably ensconced with all six legs tucked under him. “That chair is not big enough for both of us, Snooky.”

Snooky flexed some claws and bared his fangs. A low growl reverberated through the room.

“Very impressive, Snooky, but I've been told I'm a little on the primitive side, myself.”

Snooky growled.

“Behave yourself, Snooky,” Thelma called from the kitchen. “Don't mind him, Mr. Stonebraker. He's really quite harmless.”

Rafe smiled at Snooky. “But I'm not.”

Snooky blinked. His fangs disappeared.

Rafe continued to smile at him.

Snooky retracted his claws. The growl became a soft whine. He rolled onto his back, paws in the air, and exposed his throat.

Rafe sighed. “I hate it when that happens.”

He walked over to the chair, reached down, and rubbed the cat-dog's furry belly.

“You know, you might want to take off some of that excess weight before you try to defend your chair from anyone else, Snooky.”

Snooky slithered off the chair and took up residence on the sofa.

Thelma reappeared. “Here's your beer, Mr. Stonebraker. Now what was it you wanted to know about Dr. Austen?”

“Do you remember a patient named Theo Willis?”

“Willis? Oh, sure.” Thelma kicked off her shoes, sat down on the sofa, and propped her feet on a footstool. “But I hope you don't want to ask me any real personal questions about him.”

“Of course not.”

“A syn-psych doctor's receptionist isn't supposed to talk about the patients.”

“I understand.”

“Just between you and me, Willis was a real nutcase, y'know? Dr. Austen said the guy was seriously paranoid. Real big on conspiracy theories and stuff like that. But he was harmless. I felt sorry for him. He seemed to be getting a lot worse toward the end. Real agitated, y'know? I wasn't surprised when I heard he'd killed himself.”

“I see. I respect the fact that you won't discuss any personal issues concerning Mr. Willis's syn-psych diagnosis and history,” Rafe said gravely. “Nice to know that there is still such a thing as patient-doctor confidentiality in this day and age.”

“You bet there is. And it's up to people like us medical receptionists to maintain the standards.”

“I, for one, am grateful. But as I said, this isn't a personal question about Willis. It's about a matter of office procedure.”

“What about it?” Thelma took a swallow of beer.

“I'm trying to find out who referred Theo Willis to Dr. Austen.”

Thelma tipped her head to one side. “How come you wanna know that?”

“It's a confidential matter, but given your responsible attitude toward this kind of thing, I'm sure it's safe to tell you the whole story.”

“Oh, yeah.” She watched him with eager interest.

Rafe cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I've been hired by the New Seattle Association of Synergistic Psychologists to look into some problems that have
cropped up with the standard practice of professional referrals.”

“Referrals?” Thelma looked baffled. “You mean, like, when one doctor sends a patient to another doctor?”

“Yes. Apparently some unlicensed syn-psych therapists have been forging referrals for a fee.”

“Yeah?” Thelma wrinkled her brow. “Why would anyone do that?”

“The association believes it's the work of certain, mentally disturbed individuals who like to masquerade as therapists.” Rafe shook his head. “We see cases like this two or three times a year.”

“Yeah? Weird.”

“Now, then, I'm assuming that Dr. Austen sent notes to professional colleagues who referred patients to him?”

“Sure. I usually wrote the letters for him to sign.”

“Do you remember writing one to whoever referred Willis to Austen?”

“No.”

Rafe stilled. He had been so certain this was going to go somewhere important. “You mean you didn't write a letter?”

“Uh-uh. I mean Dr. Austen told me he'd take care of that one, personally.”

“Why would he do that?”

Thelma rolled her eyes. “Because the little pervert was thrilled that such a major honcho in the syn-psych world had referred such a difficult case to him.”

Rafe was briefly distracted. “The little pervert?”

“Between you and me and old Snooky here, Austen had a thing for some of his female patients. One of 'em was actually threatening to sue him. Claimed he'd hypnotized her into having sex with him in her office.”

“Is that so?”

Thelma shrugged. “Probably the only way Austen could get any sex at all.”

“I see. About the thank you letter Dr. Austen wrote—?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, he was really thrilled because the other doctor told him that he thought Austen was the only one in New Seattle who could handle the case.”

Rafe felt the whole thing come together. Anticipation hummed in his veins. He did not realize he had allowed it to show until Snooky suddenly lifted his head off his paws and uttered a low whine.

Thelma patted the tense cat-dog. “Be a good boy now, Snooky.”

Snooky paid no attention and stared at Rafe.

“Who was the doctor who referred Willis to Austen?” Rafe asked.

“Didn't I tell you? Dr. Gilbert Bracewell of ParaSyn Research.”

Rafe knew then that he finally had the link he had been looking for from the very beginning of the case. He smiled.

Snooky howled. He scrambled off the sofa and ran madly down the hall.

Thelma's face crinkled into a perplexed frown. “Now what in the world got into Snooky? He hasn't moved that fast in ages.”

An hour later Rafe stood in the center of Orchid's small living room. He was no longer smiling. He was engaged in a battle with the white hot fires of fury that threatened to consume him.

He knew that this kind of anger was useless. He had to get control of it. The only hope was to freeze the rage so that he could think.

So that he could hunt.

Selby stormed through the open door. “What in five hells is going on here?” He came to an abrupt halt and gazed around in confusion.

Rafe watched him closely as he examined the scene in Orchid's front room. Selby appeared genuinely bewildered
by the sight of the overturned chair, the crumpled rug, and the shattered vase.

“I don't like being
summoned.”
Selby's eyes narrowed as he switched his gaze back to Rafe. “I don't work for you.”

“I'm aware of that. But I thought you might like to be involved in this.”

“Involved in what?” Selby waved a hand at the disordered room. “What happened here? And what the hell is my wife's car doing parked at the curb out front?”

“Good question. What
is
your wife's car doing out front?”

Selby scowled. “I don't have time to play games.”

“Neither do I. Someone kidnapped Orchid.”

Selby's mouth fell open. “Are you crazy?”

“I think whoever took her may also have taken your wife. I have a hunch she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Selby stared at him with dazed, uncomprehending eyes. “But… but that's impossible. Why would anyone—?”

“It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way.” Rafe started toward the door.

“On the way to where?”

“The headquarters of ParaSyn Research.”

Selby took a hesitant step and then ground to a halt. “I don't understand.”

“I know.” Rafe paused in the doorway. “We'll have to make a stop at my house. I need to get some stuff off the computer. Are you coming with me?”

“Not until you explain some things.”

“Such as?”

Selby gathered himself. “Such as why you insist on going to ParaSyn. If something has happened to my wife, we have to go to the police.”

“I don't think we have time to call the cops. Orchid might survive for a while because Bracewell thinks he
needs her. But he has no use for Briana. He may decide to get rid of her as quickly as possible.”

Selby's face worked. “Oh, Christ. Oh, Christ. Briana. He wouldn't dare hurt her.”

“Don't bet on it. He's already killed a couple of times.”

“Oh, Christ.” Selby took a hesitant step toward the door. “But how do you know he took Briana to ParaSyn?”

“I'm not positive that he did. But I think it's a good place to start looking.” Rafe led the way outside into the darkening twilight.

Selby stumbled through the doorway, automatically closing it behind him. He followed Rafe downstairs to the Icer as if he were in a daze and got into the passenger seat.

He sat staring through the windshield while Rafe pulled away from the curb.

After a while Selby moistened his lips. “ParaSyn is a major corporation. A reputable laboratory. I've got stock in the company, for God's sake.”

“You may want to think about dumping it.” Rafe accelerated swiftly down the street. “I got rid of all the shares in the Synergy Fund this morning.”

“What in hell makes you believe that someone at ParaSyn took Briana and Orchid?”

“Among other things, this makes me believe it.” Rafe reached into his pocket and removed the small object he had found on the floor in Orchid's house. He handed it to Selby.

“It's a pen.” Selby looked up, more puzzled than ever. “I don't get it. What's the big deal about a pen?”

“Take a closer look.”

Selby peered at the pen as if it were a strange alien artifact. “Oh, Christ. It's got the ParaSyn logo on it. You think whoever took Briana and Orchid dropped it?”

“Yes.”

“Ransom. They'll probably want money.”

“I don't think so.”

“Oh, Christ.” Selby sagged back into his seat. “What can we do?”

Rafe whipped the Icer around the corner and increased speed. “We can find Orchid and Briana.”

“ParaSyn's a huge lab.” Selby shook his head, dazed. “How do we find them in a facility that big? Assuming they're even there in the first place.”

“Like I said, we're going to stop by my place first. I've got a lot of details about ParaSyn on file in the Synergy Fund data base.”