Seeking Asylum (7 page)

Dying to know what Decker was saying, she held her breath. Eric stood as stiff and straight as a soldier receiving orders.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was steady, but his knuckles whitened visibly. “We’ll be ready.”

He turned to face her and the dull grief in his eyes sent horror shuddering through her. Had Caleb died? Had all their efforts not been enough?

As he closed the phone and pocketed it, Rachel stood and stepped toward him.

“Eric? What’s happened to Caleb?” She touched Eric’s forearm and felt the sleek muscles bunch under her fingertips.

His dark eyes burned into hers. “We need to get to work, Dr. Harper. You have a lot of information to share with me between now and five o’clock in the morning.”

Rachel stared at him. She felt numb. “What about Caleb?”

“We’ll be picked up in an unmarked van and transported to Walter Reed. Then, as soon as possible, Dr. Rachel Harper and Caleb Baldwyn will be transferred by ambulance back to the Meadows.” His gaze never wavered, his voice was steady, but Rachel saw in the depths of his dark eyes that something awful had happened.

“Caleb and me?” she whispered hopefully, bracing herself for his answer.

He shook his head. “You and me.” He rubbed his hand over his face in a heartrending gesture that seemed designed to help him keep control of his emotions.

“Caleb can’t go.”

Rachel held her breath.

“The drug screen on my brother showed no fenpiprazole in his body.”

“But that’s impossible. Traces are detectable in the bloodstream for up to a month—” She stopped as the truth dawned.

Eric’s gaze bore into her.

“So Caleb was telling the truth,” she said, shocked. “It was withdrawal of the
substituted
drug that caused his respiratory arrest.”

“I told you, my brother doesn’t lie.”

“Did they find out what the drug is?”

“They’ve found traces of a foreign substance in his blood, but they can’t identify it.”

From Eric’s pallor and his white, pinched face, she was afraid she already knew the answer to her next question. “How is Caleb?”

Eric rubbed his temples. “He’s in intensive care. The doctors told Mitch he might not make it.”

“Oh, Eric. I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears, but they spilled over from her eyes anyway. “Poor Caleb.”

“And that’s not all. You might want to sit down for this one.” His voice was tight, controlled.

Rachel’s heart drummed in her chest as she lifted her chin and stood her ground. “What is it?”

“Our forensics expert, Laurel Gillespie, has been studying the M.E.’s findings in Dr. Green’s death. She has concluded that his death couldn’t have been accidental.”

Rachel felt the room begin to spin. She forced herself to remain upright. A part of her brain registered the comforting feeling of Eric’s hand on her arm, but all her strength was concentrated on understanding what he had said. For some reason her brain wasn’t working well.

“Not accidental?” She heard the fear in her voice.

Eric’s face was grim as he shook his head.

“Your predecessor apparently asked too many questions. He was murdered.”

Chapter Four

As the ambulance delivering Rachel and Eric back to the Meadows pulled up to the front door of the old Georgian mansion that had been turned into a hospital, Rachel saw Dr. Patel and Dr. Metzger both waiting, along with a gurney manned by two men who looked more like weight lifters than orderlies.

“The tall, balding dark man is Dr. Patel. He’s the chief medical director for the Meadows. Dr. Metzger has bushy hair and long sideburns,” she whispered to Eric, who was lying flat on a gurney with Velcro straps across his chest, legs and wrists.

He glanced at her. His face was pale, his eyes edged with panic. Those eyes tore at her composure.

She had the urge to touch him, to assure him that everything would be fine. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She was still reeling from her first sight of him this morning.

Somehow he’d managed to make himself almost indistinguishable from his brother. He’d cut—or bitten—his fingernails down to the quick. He’d gotten a haircut that matched his brother’s and, worst of all, his eyes seemed to have lost their glow.

“Patel bald, Metzger bushy,” he muttered.

“Right, although I don’t know why they’re both meeting the ambulance.”

“I doubt they’ve ever had an escaped patient returned to them by the FBI.” She heard the strain in his voice.

“Try to stay calm, Eric.”

He clenched his fists and angled his head to glance at her. The silent plea in his eyes tugged at her heart.

She lay her hand on his shoulder. The muscles there spasmed and, for a brief moment, he strained against the straps.

“Be careful, you’re going to bruise your wrists and arms.”

He closed his eyes. “What would Caleb do?” His voice was choked.

Rachel’s throat tightened to hear him so close to losing control.

“Caleb hates to be restrained. He fights it, but remember, he’s—you’re—weak.”

The back doors of the ambulance opened, letting in a blast of sunlight. Eric cringed and lifted his head.

“No!” he snapped. “No!”

Rachel patted his forearm, which was rock-hard with tension. He jerked and glanced over at her. The opaque blackness of his eyes cut through her like a dark laser.

“Don’t let them take me. Rachel, stay with me,” he cried, his body going rigid.

Her heart thumped. Tears stung her eyes. The tense, controlled FBI agent was gone and in his place was a sick, paranoid young man. She searched his face, desperately seeking the real, rational man beneath the undercover persona. But he wasn’t there—not that she could find.

He could be Caleb.

The two weight lifters grabbed the end of the portable gurney, jerked it out of the ambulance and, with almost no effort, ripped the Velcro straps apart and transferred Eric to the hospital’s gurney.

To her astonishment, Dr. Patel’s long face appeared at the door of the ambulance, smiling self-consciously.

Not the reception she was expecting. He held out his hand to her. “Dr. Harper. We’re so glad to have you back, safe and sound.”

She tried to return his smile, but she was too worried about Eric.

“I trust your night in Walter Reed Hospital helped you recuperate from your ordeal?” he asked as he helped her down from the ambulance.

Rachel tried to watch Eric, but the orderlies were wheeling him away. She saw his torso arch upward as he struggled against his restraints, and heard him call out to her.

“Rachel! Don’t let them—”

Dr. Metzger was walking alongside the gurney. He pressed on Eric’s chest and Eric collapsed back.

“Dr. Harper?”

She couldn’t pull her gaze away. “I should probably go with him. Help get him settled.”

Patel shook his head. “It is truly unfortunate, but not unexpected that he would fight. Mr. Baldwyn is obviously much more unstable than we had previously realized.”

“He’s just frightened. I’d like to be with him.”

Patel touched her bandaged wrist. “Dr. Metzger is with him. He’s in excellent hands. What about you? Caleb injured you.”

“Not on purpose.” She glanced past him as the automatic doors closed, separating her from Eric.

Dr. Metzger walked up beside Patel. “Dr. Harper, I un
derstand I have you to thank for getting our Mr. Baldwyn back to us.”

His voice was pleasant, his face serene, but Rachel detected an undercurrent she couldn’t quite identify. She looked at the doctor she’d idolized since medical school, then back at Dr. Patel. Their benevolent gazes unnerved her.

Taking a deep breath, she took a step backward. “I really need to check on Caleb. Thank you for your concern.”

She edged around Dr. Patel, but he caught her arm. “I’m afraid your presence might upset Mr. Baldwyn. You should take a day or two off,” he said, “don’t you think?”

She strained imperceptibly away from the chief medical director, acutely aware of the bulk of the miniature digital camera, the microcommunicators, and the other state of the art gadgets the FBI had given her. They weighed heavily in her pockets and she didn’t want Patel or anyone else to notice them.

“No, I don’t. I’m fine, really. I can’t just sit in my apartment. I need to get back to work.”

His beady eyes assessed her. “We can discuss that later. But first, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk with you—in my office.”

“Are they taking Caleb back to his room?” She felt close to panic. She’d gone over with Eric what would happen once they arrived back at the Meadows. She’d warned him not to fight the orderlies. She’d explained that he’d be restrained until they’d verified that he wasn’t going to hurt himself or others.

He’d listened carefully and agreed with her. But after seeing him, struggling against the restraints, helpless fear contorting his face, she was doubly concerned. Was he that good an actor? Or was he really panicked? She had to check on him.

Dr. Patel ignored her question. Still holding on to her arm, he’d marched her toward the administrative wing. Dr. Metzger muttered something about making sure his patient was settled in and headed in the direction the orderlies had taken Eric.

Rachel followed Dr. Patel reluctantly. Mitch Decker had warned her about the inevitable questions. The doctors would want to know anything Caleb had told her. Mitch had cautioned her to tell the truth as much as possible.

You’ll feel more at ease,
he’d promised.

So far, he was wrong. She’d never felt less at ease in her life.

GERHARDT METZGER stepped into Caleb Baldwyn’s room as Thomas, the tall, muscular male nurse, and an orderly wrested Caleb from the gurney to the bed. Caleb struggled halfheartedly.

“You want restraints, Doctor?” Thomas asked.

Metzger shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Caleb, do you know where you are?”

Caleb’s face registered an odd, cautious look. “Yes,” he croaked.

“Are you having trouble breathing?”

Caleb’s gaze darted around the room. “Sometimes.” He arched his neck. “Stings.”

Metzger nodded. “I know, Caleb. We’re going to take care of that right now. You trust me, don’t you? Remember, we talked about how if we worked together we could find a cure?”

“I remember.”

“You know you shouldn’t have run away, don’t you?”

Caleb nodded and closed his eyes.

“Who did you talk to, Caleb? Did you have to answer a lot of questions?”

“Rachel. I talked to Rachel.” He strained against the orderly’s grip. “Where’s Rachel?”

“She’s fine. Who else did you talk to?”

“Government agents, but I didn’t tell them anything.” He glared at Metzger. “I should have. I should have told them what you did to Misty. I should have told them—”

Metzger breathed a sigh of relief. “But you didn’t.”

“They’d have put me in the loony bin.” He laughed. “You can’t believe crazy people.”

Metzger nodded at Thomas. “Sedate him while the orderly is here to hold him.”

Caleb’s eyes rolled wildly as the orderly pinned him to the bed and Thomas injected the sedative.

Almost immediately Caleb took a sharp breath, then stopped struggling.

“Humph, that was fast,” Thomas said. “He’s usually more resistant than that to the drug.”

Metzger stepped over to the bed and looked down at the most promising test subject he’d ever had. Caleb should have been sicker. He should have been in acute respiratory distress, at the least. Metzger hooked his stethoscope into his ears and listened to Caleb’s breathing and heart rate. He seemed remarkably healthy, given the circumstances.

“You can go,” he said to the orderly. “Thomas, stay for a moment, please.”

He leaned over, and with thumb and forefinger, separated Caleb’s eyelids to look at his pupils. “There’s something wrong, Thomas. Your observation about Mr. Baldwyn’s reaction to the sedative was correct. Please keep an eye on him and report anything unusual to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s possible we may be forced to accelerate our time-line. Be prepared. If anything happens, we may have to react within a few minutes.”

“What can happen?”

Metzger scowled. “The FDA is questioning my latest new drug application. And now it’s possible either Caleb or Dr. Harper may have said something to the FBI.”

“What about the other patients?”

“Let’s start weaning them off the drug. I’ll leave them here if I have to, but Caleb Baldwyn will be going to Germany with us, no matter what.”

RACHEL SAT IN A buttery-soft leather chair, waiting for Dr. Patel to finish a telephone call his secretary had insisted he take.

He hung up the phone and turned to her, his mournful face made even more melancholy by his halfhearted smile. “I truly regret the trauma you must have experienced.”

She nodded. “I’m just glad I was there to help Caleb.”

“Ah, yes.” Patel leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers. “How
did
you happen to be in the neurology ward so late at night, just in time to involve yourself in a patient incident?”

The question was innocent enough, but Patel’s tone bore a note similar to Dr. Metzger’s. An undercurrent of suspicion, as if he expected her to lie.

She answered honestly. “I always park my car at the side entrance to the neurology wing. It’s near the hospital staff lockers, and the parking lot is well lighted there.”

“Ah. And how did you find yourself in the sunroom?”

Rachel shifted in her seat. It didn’t matter that she’d expected these questions. The piercing eyes shining out of
that serene face made her nervous. Did he blame her for the shooting?

“Have you talked to the night nurse, Grace Jones? She stopped me on my way out and asked me to check on Caleb. He was sleepwalking.”

Patel’s dark slanted brows rose. “Mrs. Jones said that you asked
her
where Caleb was.”

Rachel gaped at the doctor. “She said that?” Why would Gracie lie? She’d always been helpful and friendly. “No, sir. She’s wrong. She stopped me as I was leaving.”

Dr. Patel picked up a pencil and toyed with it. “Now see, Dr. Harper, this is where things become confusing. Mrs. Jones states that Caleb had agreed to go back to bed when you came in. Something about seeing you triggered his agitation.”