Take Me Tonight (21 page)

“As a matter of fact, something came in late yesterday, but I didn’t open it because I didn’t want to miss the Blizzard tip-off. Would you like to go check it out now?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. Not only did it beat going home to find the trash on her doorstep, it was action in the right direction.

He gave her a smile of enormous satisfaction. “And you can see my new offices.”

As she climbed into his cherry-red Mercedes, she couldn’t help but check the side mirror to see if anyone was around.

He glanced her way as he slid in behind the wheel. “Are you looking for someone, Sage?”

She slipped into a sad smile. “Not anymore.” She searched her mind for an appropriate change of subject. “I thought you didn’t have any children.”

“My daughter is from my first marriage. Perhaps you remember me mentioning that Alicia couldn’t conceive. In fact, that’s what got me so interested in infertility treatment.” He gave her the strangest smile. “Women’s fertility is such a fascinating miracle, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” She laughed. “Unless you’re trying to avoid it.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t want a baby yet.”

“Not yet.” At the rate she was going, not ever.

“When was your last period?”

She drew back in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I’m a gynecologist, Sage. That’s like asking ‘how are you’ in my business.”

Still
. “Uh, about, I don’t know…” She did some mental calculations. “Ten or twelve days ago, I guess.”

He held her eyes for a moment, his own bright and clear. “Let’s go get that paper for you and have a talk, okay?”

She didn’t answer, but plucked at the collar of her jacket, warmth prickling her skin.

He followed Charles Street, passing her apartment on Chestnut. Unable to resist, she glanced at the front steps.

“Did you expect him to be waiting?” Alonzo asked.

“No,” she said, averting her eyes from the building. “And it’s better this way.”

“He was smothering? Is that why you made the ‘thug’ comment?”

“Exactly.” That was the easiest way to explain it. “Too…controlling.”

He looped onto Storrow Drive, following the river north toward the medical offices that dotted the neighborhood around Mass General. Traffic was always jammed at this point, but today it seemed worse than usual, especially for a Sunday.

“I wonder what the problem is,” she said, peering into the misty, darkening evening. As he rounded the bend, the problem became clear. A dozen police cars and ambulances blocked the side of the road that bordered the river.

“I know a back way,” he said, whipping into a side street and tooling through some one-way roads toward the hospital. In a few minutes, he pulled into an alley separating a large brick office and a much smaller one-story building.

He indicated the more humble facility with an apologetic smile. “It’s not the glamour of Mass General,” he admitted, “but I own the whole thing. Come on, I’d love for you to see what I’ve done with it.”

She waited, glancing around the abandoned alley and side street, while he pulled out a key ring, opened three locks, and stepped into a cool, dark hallway that was obviously the back of a medical facility.

“Wait here while I disarm the security system.”

She held the door with her shoulder as he took a few steps in and touched a keypad. In the shadows, she saw a typical doctor’s office with a hallway of closed doors, a nurse’s station, and a frosted glass door at the end, which she assumed led to the lobby.

“All right, we’re in.” He opened the first door on the left, to a spacious, well-appointed office. Despite the darkness, she could see a large, uncluttered desk, a darkened computer screen, and a long, leather couch under an impressive array of diplomas and awards.

“The building may be smaller than Mass General,” she said, “but this is a much bigger office.”

“It is that. Have a seat. I’ll get the report. In the meantime, how about something to drink. A soda? Water? Something stronger? I have wine.”

She sat on the edge of the couch. “You give your patients wine?”

“I give my
guests
wine,” he corrected.

“I really don’t need anything. Just that information.” For some reason she couldn’t quite understand, she just wanted to get out of the dark, empty building.

“Wait here a moment,” he instructed, then left. She put her purse down and wandered around the room, glancing at the wall of honors, then the pictures on his credenza. She’d met Alicia Garron once, but where was this daughter he’d mentioned? Why wasn’t there a picture of her?

Unable to see in the shadows, she reached for the window blinds and twisted the plastic rod, giving her a view of his car just as a dark sedan pulled into the same alley. In a moment, a woman emerged, pushing blond hair from her sharp features and squaring narrow shoulders as she marched directly to the door through which Sage had just entered. Glenda Hewitt. What was she doing here?

Spinning around, Sage sidestepped the large desk and rushed to the door, half expecting to come face-to-face with the woman she’d left in the police station paying bail for her husband fifteen hours earlier. But the hall was empty, with no sign of Alonzo or Glenda. The back door clicked, as though it had just been locked.

Sage dived for it, twisting the knob with a fruitless jerk. Had Glenda locked it from the outside?

She swore under her breath, then headed for the lobby at the other end of the hall. “Alonzo!” she called, looking left and right. “Dr. Garron?”

The door to the lobby was locked. She called out again, an eerie chill meandering up from the base of her spine. Back in the hall, she started pushing doors open, but they all led to examination rooms, the beds all covered with fresh paper, the stirrups suspended in air waiting for tomorrow morning’s patients. The rooms smelled like antiseptic and alcohol, and the emptiness just increased her fear.

But fear gave way to anger. “Dr. Garron!” she hollered, as loudly as she could. “Where are you?” She shoved another door open but stopped when she saw it was a stairwell. Leading where? To a basement? Above the door, a tiny green sign read
EXIT
.

But she didn’t want to go down there, even if it promised an exit. She wanted to go out. “Alonzo!” she screamed so hard it hurt her throat. “Where are you?”

Surprised at how much she was trembling with adrenaline and frustration, Sage jogged to the back door again and pounded on it. She grabbed the handle and gave it a good jerk, gasping when the door opened and she stumbled through the opening.

Had she only imagined it was locked? Had she just panicked for no good reason? She took one step forward, then remembered her purse. But what if the door locked again when she closed it?

She kept her foot in the doorjamb, searching for something to hold the door open. Stretching as far as she could, she swiped a clipboard from the nurse’s counter, slid it between the door and the jamb, and went back into his office for her purse, then checked to make sure she had her phone. But who should she call?

Johnny.
The temptation was powerful. Wasn’t her phone programmed to his cell phone? She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she couldn’t turn to that untrustworthy liar in her time of need.

She flipped the bag over her shoulder and headed back into the hall, a whimper of frustration escaping when she saw that the clipboard had somehow slipped out and the door, she soon discovered, was locked tight again.

“What the hell is going on?” She stared at the tiny exit sign about the stairwell. Did she have any choice at this point? “Alonzo!” Her call just echoed down the tile floor. As she approached the door, she reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone, holding the Talk button until it beeped softly.

She stared at the phone, running through her options. Had Alonzo gotten an emergency call? Or was he just in another part of the building and her imagination had gone wild? She took one step toward the stairwell, then stopped.

She might be mad, a little scared, and a lot confused, but she wasn’t stupid. She pressed 1 and it didn’t ring even half a time before he answered.

“Sage!” Johnny’s voice almost brought life back to her numb, cold fingertips. “Listen to me. Please. I—”

“I don’t want your explanations. I don’t want your lies or excuses. You work for my aunt as a spy or a watchdog or whatever. I hate her, so by extension I hate you.”

“Sage, please, this is imp—”

“I know you were doing your job, but I sure as hell don’t know why she sent you. And I don’t care,” she said quickly before he could interrupt. “Because I’m only calling to tell you—”

“Whatever you do, don’t talk to Alonzo Garron.”

“What?”

“He’s the connection, Sage. To Glenda and the kidnappings. Probably to Keisha. They’re taking the girls for some reason, we don’t know why. Please stay away from that man.”

“I’m in his office.”

He groaned. “I’ve been there ten times today,” he said. “The place has been deserted all day.”

“He said he was here before he took his daughter to the T.”

“He doesn’t have a daughter.”

She closed her eyes. “He has a daughter from his first marriage.”

“He’s lying. About everything. About why he left the hospital, at the very least. Maybe more. Please don’t trust him, Sage.”

She scanned the deserted office hall. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t, Johnny. Not now. Not…ever. I have to go. I have to get out of here. I’m locked in and I’m alone.”
And scared.
But she refused to admit that to him.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, twenty at the most. I’m in Chestnut Hill, circling his mansion.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she said, a shiver running through her. “Plus, it’ll take you longer than that. There’s a ton of traffic on Storrow Drive, an accident or something.”

“That’s no accident, Sage.”

Something in his voice terrified her. “What do you mean?”

“They’re dredging up Ashley McCafferty’s body. She’s been…brutalized.”

“Oh.” Her body sank in shock.

“Sage, listen to me. Don’t go anywhere with Garron. You can scream, holler, and kill me later if you want, but please, baby, please don’t go anywhere with him.”

“I’m just going to try to get out of here. But I wanted somebody to know where I am.”

“Sage.” His voice was so soft, she could imagine the warmth of his breath as he said her name. And here she was, in some abandoned stairwell, letting that voice permeate her veins, her head, her heart. Why?

“I know, I know—don’t leave with him.”

“Don’t. And listen to me, okay? Nothing, not one minute of time with you, wasn’t real. Or perfect. Or amazing. I love being with you. I love—”

“Stop.” She squeezed her eyes against tears. “You lied about everything, Johnny. You lay there in bed and let me spill my guts about my aunt and never even blinked.” Her voice hitched. “You, who think betrayal is the worst crime of all.”

“Everyone’s motives were good, Sage. She only wanted to be sure you were safe. She loves you. Honestly. Lucy loves you and, Sage, I—”

She snapped the phone shut.

With her eyes on the exit sign, she thrust open the door and entered the stairwell. In one step, the door behind her closed and everything was pitch black.

She took baby steps until she was on the stairs, then started down, reaching for a handrail that wasn’t there. It was like a tomb, silent, dark, and terrifying.

What if Johnny was right? What if Alonzo was a connection to Keisha’s death? Had he been waiting for her at the T? Why had he asked her personal questions and brought her here, only to disappear?

“Alonzo?” she called again, the echo even more pronounced down here. She got to the bottom step, touched the wall, her fingers scraping over concrete until they reached metal. Thank God, a door. There was no knob or handle, so she just leaned against it, and, miraculously, it opened. But still she was entombed in blackness.

She blinked, forcing her eyes to see anything, but the darkness was total, nothing even resembling a shadow. She put her hands on the cold, damp concrete, feeling her way until she finally reached another door. This one had a handle. And it was unlocked.

She pushed it in and was rewarded with the dim, milky light of a single bulb, revealing another hallway, lined with several doors.

She tried the first door and it swung open to a tiny room. She couldn’t find a light on the wall, but she could see two small cots with white sheets and an empty bookshelf. She left and moved to the next one. Locked. There were two doors at the very end of the hall. A dim light peeked out from under one.
Please, God. An exit.

The knob turned easily but it took all her weight to push the thick, industrial steel. As soon as she opened it, she squeezed her eyes shut against intense, white light.

“There you are, Sage.”

She swallowed a loud gasp, squinting to avoid a blinding beam of light. “Alonzo?” Eyes stinging, she managed to escape the glare and make out the shape of the man who’d brought her here.

He was dressed for surgery in dark green scrubs, a hairnet, and a protective mask. Beside him, a medical bed appeared ready for a patient.

“What’s going on?” Sage barely got the words out.

“You have something I want, Sage.” Alonzo came closer and Sage backed up. “Something I want for my own. The others were for profit. But you have something very few women have.”

Heat and blood sang in her head. “What?”

“Brains and beauty. And something…special. Drive. Dogged will. I like those qualities in a woman. I’d like them in my daughter.”

The daughter thing, again. “What are you doing down here?”

“Welcome to my infertility lab. Look what excellent company you are in.”

He stepped to one side and Sage stared at the wall behind him, at the poster she’d seen a hundred times on Keisha’s wall.

Neon-yellow index cards covered many of the faces, with notes on each. Dates and checks and slashes. Her eyes went immediately to Keisha’s face, but instead of yellow, her card was the familiar chartreuse index card with one word on it:
Deceased.
Her heart sank into her stomach when she saw a matching card over Ashley McCafferty’s face, bearing the same single word.