Perfect Specimen (11 page)

“You want to commit me?” She turned to Clay. “Can he do that?”

She expected him to rise to her defense. Her knight, her lover, and more important, her attorney. But instead, he just repeated, “Take the pills and get some rest. That way you can stay here. In the morning, we’ll all decide—together—the best way of handling this. Do it for me, Sara. Please?”

She wanted to warn him that he was threatening the experiment. Endangering himself, his brothers, Sara and the babies. But it didn’t quite ring true because her nosebleed had just been an illusion.

Or worse, a delusion.

Was it possible she was honestly ill? A victim of a fantastical nightmare of her own invention? It didn’t make sense. Didn’t seem possible. Ga’rag’s experiment was the most real thing in her entire world.

Wasn’t it?

For the first time in her life, she felt completely alone despite the three brothers hovering so close. If there was no Ga’rag, then there were no babies. No Ra-ahl.

No Sara.

Numb, she accepted the pills and washed them down with two gulps of water. They would make her sleep, which sounded so, so much better than being awake.

“That’s good, Sara.” Clay moved to sit on her right side and slipped his arm around her. “Just relax. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of him. The stranger with whom she had slept at Ga’rag’s direction. Except there
was
no Ga’rag. And so in a very real sense, her relationship with Clay didn’t exist either, did it?

“Randy?” she blurted out on impulse. “What do
you
think? Be honest.”

“Yeah, Randy,” Clay muttered. “Be honest, but be smart.”

The youngest brother pulled the desk chair up to the sofa and sat down in front of her. Then he put his palms on either side of her face, coaxing her to focus completely on his green, Clay-like eyes. “I think he can’t come to Earth very often. Because of the gills. So he put the chip in your nose—or your brain, maybe—so he could make you see and hear things whenever he wanted to. Even when those things aren’t physically happening.”

“The chip,” she whispered, nodding. “That’s how he does it. Can he read my mind? Control my thoughts?”

“I don’t think so. That would ruin the experiment, right? He wants to see your honest reaction to things that happen to you.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mark said firmly.

“No, please.” Sara turned to the psychologist and was surprised to see that his face was blurry. Indistinct. And fading fast. But still she insisted, “Let him talk. Please? I don’t think we have much time. He might kill my babies—”

“Sara,
listen
to me. No one is in danger.”

“Mark’s right, Sara,” Randy told her, imprisoning her face again. “Remember how we talked about this? He’s a cloner. He didn’t take your eggs. He lied about that—”

“Ga’rag doesn’t lie to me.” She nestled against Clay’s densely muscled chest. “He hurts me, but he doesn’t lie. Not ever.”

“Shhh . . .” Clay stroked her hair. “We’ll talk about it later, I promise. Just sleep for now. Okay?”

She sighed, knowing he was right.

It was definitely time to sleep.

* * * *

As Clay watched Sara drift off, he continued to pat her wavy blonde hair, wanting to soothe her—to give her what she needed to get through this nightmare—but wondering if that was even possible anymore. The sight of her on that computer screen, talking to no one—

And not just talking. She had been conning the nonexistent alien, flashing her trademark everything-is-fine smile, desperately spinning new and better reasons for him to spare the lives of the Ryerson brothers. Then she’d been hit by a wave of pain so intense, Clay had almost felt it himself. Yet it hadn’t been real. Nothing had been real.

Including their affair. She had chosen him—
slept
with him—because she believed an alien geneticist had ordered her to do so. It was so insane. Every bit of it. Her tentative smile each night when she arrived at his town house; her throaty moans during climax; the way she entwined herself around him after lovemaking, as though she never wanted to be apart again.

“Clay?” Mark asked in a gentle voice, as though he suspected his brother was delusional too. “Do you want to talk about it? She’ll be out for hours, so . . .”

“Not here,” Randy whispered. “Over there by the door, where we can still keep an eye on her.”

Mark glared at him. “Just drop it, will you? This is serious—”

“What if I’m right?” Randy demanded, waving his arms and beginning to pace. “What if he uses the chip to make her think he visits more often than he does? I get it that you think it’s impossible, but if there’s even a one percent chance, think about how much danger she’s in. How much danger
we’re
in, now that we knocked her out.”

With great care, Clay shifted Sara off his chest and onto the sofa. Then he stood up, grabbed Randy by the arm, and led him a safe distance away. “You need to shut up and let me think.”

“Do you know the combination to Dad’s safe?”

“Huh?” Clay glanced toward the framed antique map that covered his parents’ wall safe. “Why?”

Randy lowered his voice. “We might need the gun. I know you don’t believe her, Clay, but what if she’s right? He could show up. We need to be prepared.”

Clay winced. “It’s not that I don’t believe her.”

Sara’s accusation from earlier that evening echoed in his weary brain. That he didn’t listen to her. That he thought he knew better than she did what she needed. That if he really loved her—

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me what you think is going on. This Ga’rag guy makes her hear his voice. Makes her imagine him standing there? And he makes her see blood and feel imaginary pain—”

“The pain’s
real
. Excruciating. Because of the chip.”

Mark groaned. “Just get lost, would you? Clay doesn’t need this bullshit—”

“Actually, I do,” Clay interrupted him. Then he turned back to Randy. “So he controls her with the chip? And today, when she thought she saw her daughters—held them in her arms and played with them—”

“He’s a cloner. There aren’t any kids. DNA samples, sure. But actual half-human babies? No way.”

“So if we got Josh over here to look up her nose. To see if there’s anything implanted there—”

“What are you talking about?” Mark demanded hoarsely. “There
isn’t
any chip, remember? She doesn’t need an ER doctor, she needs a shrink. A much better one than me. One that can treat
group
delusions, apparently.”

Clay shrugged. “Obviously, there’s no chip. But Sara thinks there’s one. Unless we can prove to her that there isn’t, she’s not going to make any progress. Right?”

“We can’t prove a negative. You know that better than anyone. If there’s no chip in her nose, she’ll think it’s in her ear. Her navel. Her spinal cord. The fillings in her teeth. We can’t humor her—”

“I’m not humoring her. Just trying to see it from her point of view. For once.”

“That’s amazingly cool,” Randy murmured.

“It’s nuts,” Mark corrected him. “You’re
both
nuts. And I don’t want any part of it. I never would have sedated her if I’d known you’d do something like this.”

Clay gave him a sympathetic smile. “You did the right thing. She needed to sleep. Now she needs something else from us. A leap of faith. And that’s exactly what she’s going to get.”

Chapter 8

Clay knew he could be making a big mistake by involving Josh, the oldest of the brothers and by far the most unpredictable and opinionated. But the guy was also brilliant and talented, and he had one particular asset the others lacked—access to hospital equipment that could scan for a fleck of metal in someone’s head.

There was a good chance he’d side with Clay on this, since Josh and Mark rarely agreed on anything. They were complete opposites, with the shrink being calm and deliberative, and Josh being dynamic and take-charge—qualities that made him much more like Clay than Mark.

Unfortunately, if Josh decided to back Mark in this instance, the two older brothers would form an alliance Clay couldn’t hope to crack, short of going to court to protect Sara.

He could just hear the argument he’d make to the judge if that happened:
Your honor, they want to treat her like a crazy woman without ascertaining first whether an extraterrestrial geneticist planted a chip in her nose and stole her eggs to save his planet because his culture had long since eliminated females from their species.

He didn’t believe that. Not for a second. On the other hand, he meant what he’d told Mark. It was long since time for him to start actually listening to Sara, which meant it was time for Clay to read the diary. So as soon as she had dozed off, he had settled down beside her on the couch, Randy’s printout in hand, reading in quiet amazement as he watched over the woman he loved.

Of course, in Randy’s eyes, they weren’t just watching over her. They were protecting her from Ga’rag, who would know where to find her due to the nasal homing device. Which was why, before Randy left for his room “to make some calls,” he had again asked Clay to retrieve their father’s pistol from the wall safe. When Clay refused, the younger brother had found the sharpest knife in their mother’s kitchen and placed it on the side table next to the sofa.

Unbelievable
. . .

Still, Clay had to admit that every time he read an entry in the diary where Ga’rag disciplined Sara with pain—emotional or physical—his gaze strayed to the weapon, imagining what he’d like to do to the geneticist at that moment.

In other words, Sara was right. You get off on the idea of rescuing her. Saving her like a damsel in distress. Except she’s not a helpless female, she’s a lioness. A crazy one maybe, but still
. . .

“Hey, where is everybody?” a cheerful voice called from the kitchen. “I’m here to save the day. As usual.”

Clay jumped up, then glanced at Mark, who had been sullenly conducting research on delusional disorders via the den computer, and who was also on his feet at the sound of Josh’s voice.

“Hey.” Clay blocked Mark’s path to the kitchen, but also gave him an apologetic smile. “Do me a favor, okay? Let’s give him the facts and let him decide on his own. You always say we need to be objective, not emotional, in these situations. So how about it?”

When Mark nodded and replied “Agreed” without any hesitation, Clay knew the therapist had been worried about an alliance too—Josh and Clay, with Randy thrown in for comic relief.

Then Mark went even further, patting Clay on the shoulder. “I can’t really be objective in this situation, because I want to protect you as much as Sara—maybe more. But I’m trying. And for what it’s worth, the whole leap-of-faith thing? I’m actually kind of proud of you for that impulse. It’s . . . well, noble, I guess. As long as you don’t take it too far.”

“Hey!” Josh’s tone had become imperious. “Get in here. All of you!”

Mark preceded Clay into the kitchen. “Keep your voice down. We have a patient sleeping in the next room.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Josh grinned at them. “Sounds like you guys really screwed this one up. Nice work on landing the babe, though,” he added in Clay’s direction. “Too bad she’s crazy as a loon.”

Clay’s fists curled into tight balls. “She’s not crazy. And how the fuck did you know? I didn’t give any details in my message—”

“The kid left a much longer message than you did.”

“The kid? You mean Randy? Goddammit. He’s the one who told me not to leave details because—”

Because Ga’rag might be listening,” Randy agreed from behind him. When Clay spun on him, the youngest brother explained, “You were using the landline. I figured Ga’rag had that one tapped already, and probably your cell too. I used an untraceable cell I keep for emergencies like this one.”

Clay growled, then turned back to Josh. “I don’t know what he told you—”

“She thinks she was abducted by aliens. They implanted something in her nose so they could track her and control her, and you want me to use hospital equipment to look for it. Because apparently,
you’re
nuts too.” Before Clay could respond, Josh flashed a reassuring smile. “Just kidding. I’d never trust Randy’s version of anything. So let’s all sit down and have a talk. But let’s do it in here, so I can dig into one of the meals Mom left in the freezer.”

“Those are for me. There’s leftover sushi if you’re hungry,” Randy told him coolly. “And we can’t
all
sit in here. Someone has to stay in the den with Sara.”

Josh laughed. “I elect
you
, since you’re irrelevant. We have grown-up talking to do.”

Clay shot Randy an apologetic glance. “Stand in the doorway, so you can see her and hear us. And don’t talk. Got it?”

“But first, put one of Mom’s meals in the microwave for me,” Josh instructed him.

“Whatever.” Randy stormed to the freezer to retrieve a turkey dinner.

And even though Clay didn’t believe in Ga’rag’s existence, he couldn’t help drifting back toward the doorway to the den, just to keep an eye on Sara until Randy was free to take over.

They’re right, you’re nuts too,
he told himself ruefully.

Once the dinner was cooking, the three older brothers sat at the table while Randy hovered between the two rooms.

Predictably, Josh took the lead. “Okay, fill me in. Start at the beginning, but get to the X-rated parts as soon as possible.”

“It’s not a joke,” Mark murmured.

“It never is with you.”

Clay cleared his throat. “What else did Randy tell you in his message?”

“He said a lot of shocking things,” Josh assured him. “Mostly direct quotes from the babe’s diary. That was the most amazing part,” he added thoughtfully. “Finding out our little Randy can read.”

“It’s not a joke,” Mark repeated. “But yeah, I was shocked by that too.”

“You guys are jerks,” Randy grumbled. “I’ll expect a huge apology when it turns out I’ve been right all along.”

Josh arched an eyebrow at Mark. “So? What’s your diagnosis?”

Clay winced. If they formed a medical alliance, he was sunk. But at least Mark had promised not to editorialize. And he’d done more research over the last forty-five minutes. So maybe the situation wasn’t hopeless yet.

Mark cleared his throat. “How much do you remember about delusions from med school?”

“Are you kidding? I see more crazies in the ER in one night than you see in a year. But I always associate these sorts of delusions with schizophrenia. Clay’s girl seemed way too functional that night at the Finish Line to qualify for that.”

“That’s the problem,” Mark admitted. “It’s a classic non-bizarre delusion in every way except the content. She claims her mom had a history of delusional disorder—imagining a rival was trying to poison her. That’s more understandable. Except I think Sara made all of that up.”

“About the mom?” The microwave sounded at that moment, and Josh waved Randy over to it before continuing. “Why would she make that up? To make herself
seem
crazy?”

Mark nodded. “I think she did her research. She’s extremely bright, Josh. She wants us to believe the diary is just notes for a novel. Some form of therapy that helps her deal with childhood incest and abuse by inventing an alien who visited her at night. She wants us to believe that her
real
delusion is an imaginary husband and imaginary children. It’s complicated,” he added almost mournfully.

“Obviously.”

“The worst part is . . .” Mark gave Clay an apologetic grimace. “Sara’s so persuasive, she’s drawing others into her delusion. Randy for sure. And now maybe Clay—”

“Hey! I said I don’t actually believe it, so back off.” Clay exhaled then explained to Josh. “Sara believes it. So my theory is, she can’t get better unless we’re as persuasive as she is. If she thinks we aren’t listening to her, why should she listen to us? For example—” He exhaled again, this time in frustration. “We want to save her. But at the same time,
she’s
trying to save
us
. With
out
endangering her children. She honestly thinks Ga’rag will kill us, then murder her babies. So we’re working at cross-purposes.”

Mark groaned. “See what I mean? He’s already in too deep.”

Before Clay could protest, Josh asked him directly, “So? If you had your choice, which would you want? Alien or no alien?”

Goddammit
. . .

He didn’t want to answer that. How could he? If it wasn’t an alien, then Sara had been miserably abused as a child and had years and years of therapy ahead of her. If there
was
a Ga’rag, then Sara had also been miserably abused, but it wouldn’t take years of therapy to fix it.

If there was a Ga’rag, then Clay could—and would—fix it
now
. Right away. With or without Sara’s cooperation.

“I can’t deal with a delusion,” he said finally. “But I can kill a goddammed alien, no problem.”

Josh nodded. “Finally. Something that makes sense. Except, of course, none of this makes sense.”

Randy—still standing in the doorway, keeping watch over Sara—spoke in a reassuring tone. “There’s a video, you know. Maybe that’ll help you decide.”

“There’s a video? And you’re just mentioning it now?”

“You weren’t ready until now,” Randy explained, his tone disturbingly philosophical.

Josh glanced at Mark and Clay, but the psychologist just shrugged, as if to say it wouldn’t prove anything one way or the other. Which was true, so Clay shrugged too, explaining, “It doesn’t prove anything. But it’ll give you a taste of what she’s been dealing with. So yeah, I think you should watch it.”

They all trooped into the den, where Randy queued up the video and activated it. Clay wasn’t sure he wanted to see this again, but couldn’t look away. It was too poignant—Sara, the demented yet valiant female, trying to protect the Ryersons from a literally unseen foe. Conning her tormentor the same way she’d conned Clay and his brothers. And her father. And the whole world.

Because she’s been alone. Forever. Even when she was making love with you.

Josh stared at the screen, clearly mesmerized, never looking away, not even when the image of Sara wiped away the traces of a nonexistent nosebleed.

When the ER doctor finally tore his gaze away, he turned it to Clay and demanded in an official, almost accusatory tone, “You’re her lawyer, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Since your client is unconscious, are you willing to consent to this procedure on her behalf?”

“Hey!” Mark’s cheeks were flush with frustration. “This involves me too. My license, to be exact.”

“Yeah,” Josh agreed. “Mine too. That’s why we’re laying it on the lawyer here. She’ll sue
him
, not us. So, Randy?” He arched an eyebrow in the direction the youngest Ryerson. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get my backpack from the kitchen. And make it quick or we’ll
all
kick your ass.”

* * * *

Josh had brought a profusion of scopes, speculums and sprays with him, and even though Clay had to look away momentarily, he had the comfort of knowing Mark wasn’t looking either. Wasn’t that the real reason Mark hadn’t gone to medical school to become a psychiatrist instead of a psychologist? These things made him queasy.

Which meant that Clay and Mark had something in common after all.

Randy, of course, watched the whole procedure from inches away with hero worship in his green eyes and a profusion of “very cools” to egg his eldest brother on.

Finally Josh patted Sara’s cheek and turned back to his brothers, his expression unexpectedly troubled, as though, for the first time in his meteoric career, he was stumped.

“Oh, God,” Mark whispered. “Tell me you didn’t see a chip.”

“Not a chip. Just . . .” Josh cleared his throat. “It’s swollen and bruised up there. Different from anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Could it be self-inflicted?” Mark guessed. “That would be consistent with my diagnosis. Not that my diagnosis is consistent. And not that I want to be right. Because frankly . . .” His voice cracked. “I want to be wrong. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

“Then I’ve got good news for you,” Josh drawled. “For
all
of you. Because unless I miss my guess, this girl’s got something up her nose that causes injury from the inside out.”