received in the clinic.
Her eyes focused on a paragraph written in long hand. It was barely legible, but she muddled through, soaking in the information.
The patient has irreversible brain damage, which appears to be nonresponsive to treatment at this time. I administered a 200cc dose of NPQ, but the patient remained in an unresponsive state. At this time, we have done everything we can for him.
This couldn’t be all there was to Ross’s file. There had to be more.
The click of the light switch startled her. She quickly closed the file and raised her flashlight beam toward the door, determined to meet the threat head-on this time.
With her free hand, she slid the file into her tool bag and looped it over her shoulder. Picking up the Taser, she stood up, prepared for battle.
The door slammed shut.
She jumped, watching in horror and awe, as an eight-foot desk skidded past on its own and jammed against the door, trapping her inside.
Terror exploded in her body. She bolted forward.
Was she losing her mind?
Panic took hold of her. She lunged for the desk and tried to shove it away from the exit. It wouldn’t budge. Some unseen force held it in place.
The hiss of a match somewhere in the room sent a shot of terror into her heart.
The unmistakable odor of sulfur filled the air.
She watched in shock as a pile of papers in the corner of the room ignited and flames raced up the wall.
Caustic smoke filled the enclosed room, invading her lungs, burning her eyes. Her throat squeezed shut.
Dropping to the floor next to the desk, she pulled the tool bag off her shoulder and yanked off her sweatshirt. Digging into her bag, she took out the bottle of water she always carried and doused the sweatshirt.
Holding the wet cloth to her nose as a filter, she stood and tried again to push the desk out of the way, but it was useless.
Reality choked out any hope she had left as she began to feel the dizzying effects of the toxic smoke.
Sinking down onto the floor, she conserved her strength for another attempt.
If she didn’t get out in the next minute, she was as good as dead.
Chapter Three
He could hear the thump of her heartbeat through the door. She was still alive, but she wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t get inside.
Raising his hand out in front of him, he pushed against the door, feeling the resistance holding it shut. What had they done?
Pulling in a deep breath, he focused all his energy on the object behind the door and felt it give, a little at first, before he heard it grind across the floor.
The door opened with a violent crack, hitting against the doorstop.
Smoke belched from the room, setting off the fire alarm.
He covered his mouth and nose and charged in, spotting her next to the massive desk that had been used to lock her in.
Luckily, they hadn’t stayed to make sure their sick plan worked. He pulled her into his arms, raced out of the room and up the stairs. He carried her through the dining hall, the entryway and out the front door.
The alarm would bring the fire department. She couldn’t be found at the scene.
Fog blanketed the landscape as he moved along the walkway, headed for the gatehouse. He couldn’t let her see his face, but he needed to make sure she was okay.
Carrying her into the woods next to the driveway, he found a clearing in the trees and carefully put her down on the grass.
There were no soot markings around her nose or mouth. No indication that she suffered from smoke inhalation.
Reaching down, he brushed his hand against her cheek. She flinched. She was breathing normally. Still, he couldn’t be certain why she appeared to be unconscious.
Was it possible she’d faked the condition?
Focusing his energy, he reached into her mind and caught her stream of thought. She was waiting. Waiting for the precise moment to open her eyes and catch him looking down at her. She wanted to discover his identity.
In a flash, he jumped to his feet, turned and took a leap into the fog.
OLIVIA SAT UP as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quick enough. She could just make out the shadow of someone retreating into the mist through the trees.
Dammit. Once again, she’d been rescued by a faceless someone…or…something. But this time she was extremely grateful.
In the distance she heard the wail of sirens, no doubt headed to the fire in the basement of the clinic.
Patting her shoulder, she let out a groan and stood up. Her tool bag was missing. The file she’d just risked her life to retrieve was probably burned to a crisp by now.
Disappointment chewed through her. At least she’d been able to read the first paragraph written by the doctor. It had revealed what she’d always known. Ross had irreversible brain damage. But what was NPQ? She’d have to plug the letters into a computer somewhere to see if she could pull up any results. And the patient I.D., she was certain she’d seen those marks on Ross’s left ankle. Beyond that, she had nothing.
Carefully, she pushed through the trees and tried to figure out where she was. The smell of smoke hung in the mist and the fire roared in the distance.
Stumbling forward, she came out at the edge of the cobbled drive. She took a left, following the stones until she reached her car.
The hum of the fire trucks drew closer and she climbed into her car to wait.
The flash of lights against the fog bathed her hiding spot in waves of red. One fire engine rolled past, then another.
Olivia started her car, put it in Drive and eased out of the aspen grove. The bump of the stones under her tires was comforting. She’d be safely out of here in a minute or so and headed back to town with new information. It did seem like they’d tried to help Ross at the clinic.
A measure of doubt crept into her mind. If the clinic had only attempted to cure Ross and hadn’t worsened his already-devastating condition, then there was nothing for her to expose. Still, the Trayborne Foundation had set up a trust fund for him. Why would they do something like that if they had no guilt in making him worse?
The glow of headlights in front of her came up so fast that she barely had time to slam on her brakes and pull the steering wheel hard to the right.
A black Jaguar whipped past on the left.
Olivia glanced in her rearview mirror and saw his brake lights come on in the mist.
It made sense that Jack Trayborne would show up here. It was, after all, his facility.
But she couldn’t let him identify her.
Stepping down on the gas pedal, she launched forward, keeping the car in between the trees that lined both sides of the road. Had he seen her car well enough to identify it?
He would certainly be asking questions about who had started the fire. Just the memory of watching the blaze erupt with no one around made her skin crawl. Maybe it had been started by spontaneous combustion? Maybe there were oily rags in the corner? But no matter how hard she tried to explain away what she’d seen tonight, she couldn’t.
Something strange was going on at the Black’s Cove Clinic. Something terrifying and otherworldly. Something she didn’t want to believe.
Not even for a moment.
OLIVIA