Seeking Asylum (3 page)

“I can’t go back there. I can’t take any more of his poison. I try to stay in control, so I can get better. So I can go to the ILC.”

He wiped sweat out of his eyes. “Every time I get out— Frankenmetzger gets me back. He switches drugs, so nobody will know. The experimental drug makes me sick.” Caleb’s attention had turned inward. He breathed in shallow gasps.

“What’s the ILC?” Eric’s questioning gaze sought Rachel.

She swallowed, taken aback by Caleb’s words. “The Independent Living Complex,” she said. “If a resident does well there, he can move to a halfway house. Then eventually to outpatient treatment.”

“And my brother?”

“Caleb copes well in acute care. So well, that about every six months or so for the past few years, the board has approved his transfer to the ILC. But time after time, as soon as he’s settled, he begins to relapse.”

“Why? Isn’t their medication still supervised, even in an outpatient setting?”

Rachel’s shoulders rose in an automatic shrug “Yes. No one seems to understand it. Dr. Metzger is very concerned. Given Caleb’s health and age, he should be an ideal candidate for outpatient treatment.”

“And yet he’s been locked up for twenty years.” The pain in Eric’s voice ripped at Rachel’s heart. “So what about this new experimental drug?”

She shook her head sadly and met Eric’s gaze. She spoke as gently as she could. “There is no experimental drug.”

“Yes there is!” Caleb shouted.

Eric’s eyelids fluttered and he turned pale. He was obviously still in shock over seeing his twin.

Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. She resolved to find out the story behind the twins’ separation. She knew Caleb’s grandmother had died, but there had never been any mention of a brother. Maybe the trauma of being separated from his brother so young explained Caleb’s volatility.

She stepped toward Caleb. “He’s had no medication for almost twenty-four hours now. He’s showing signs of—”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Caleb swung around, waving the gun wildly. His frantic gaze landed on his brother’s face. “I know what’s real and what’s not. Eric, I called you to help me. Tell the pretty doctor you’re a secret agent.”

“Caleb, listen to me.”

“Tell her!”

Eric rubbed his temple and sighed. “I’m Special Agent Eric Baldwyn,” he said to her. “With the FBI.”

Rachel nodded, too stunned to reply. Caleb’s brother was with the FBI. He
was
a secret agent.

“See,” Caleb said. “I told you my brother can do anything. Eric, Frankenmetzger’s going to kill me. You’ve got to stop him.”

Eric held out a hand. “Nobody’s trying to kill you, bud. We’re going to take care of you.”

He spoke to Rachel. “What medication is he on?”

Rachel felt as though she’d walked in on the middle of a play. She concentrated on answering his question. “Fenpiprazole, a brand-new atypical antipsychotic drug. The only known withdrawal symptoms are increases in negative schizophrenic effects. For instance, withdrawal, concrete thinking—”

Eric interrupted her. “I know what they are. So he shouldn’t be having increased paranoia, right?”

She was surprised at his knowledge of schizophrenia. “That’s right. Nor rigidity, nor hallucinations.”

Rachel noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, beyond where Caleb stood. Another silhouette darkened the open front doorway. This man was bigger, taller and carried an air of authority that emanated from him like a scent.

Eric acknowledged him with a slight turn of his head. Was he another FBI agent?

Caleb jerked his head toward the door and Rachel froze. She knew better than anyone how Caleb reacted to surprises. At the same time, Eric stepped forward, pulling Caleb’s attention back to him. A smart move.

She took a deep breath. “Caleb,” she said softly. “Remember I said I’d explain that the shooting was an accident?”

He shook his head. “I can’t go back there. Frankenmetzger will never stop his experiments.” He leaned closer to Eric. “He knows I know what he’s doing.”

Eric took another step toward Caleb. “I’ll go with you, bud. We’ll—”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at Eric. “No!”

Eric’s head jerked backward.

The older agent glided silently into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw a gun in his right hand. A dizzying sense of fear-soaked déjà vu engulfed her. Darrell had come at Caleb with a gun and ended up in a bloody heap on the floor.

“Don’t, pl—” she started, but the big man cut her off.

“Caleb,” he said in a deep voice that resonated with calm authority. “Why don’t we talk?”

Caleb whirled and pointed the gun toward the door. “Who are you? Eric, who is he?” He gripped the weapon in both hands, the barrel quivering.

Rachel shook her head at Eric, trying desperately to send him a silent message.

Don’t let him make any sudden moves. Don’t crowd Caleb.

Eric nodded slightly, his dark gaze riveting. It was as if he’d heard her thoughts.

“Caleb.” His low voice was soothing. “He’s my friend, and he’s going to help us. You need to put down the gun.” He sounded strained but calm as he moved slowly toward his brother, his hands extended slightly, his face white and pinched.

Caleb took a step backward and swung the barrel toward her. He doubled his other hand into a fist and beat it against his forehead over and over. “No, no, no! Stop!” he shouted at her. “You’ve fooled them, haven’t you? You’re on Frankenmetzger’s side.”

Rachel stared down the barrel, her chest pounding. Fear weakening her limbs. She swallowed. “Caleb, I’m on your side. Let’s talk.”

The agent at the door moved and his shadow streaked across the hardwood floor. Caleb stopped pounding his head and whirled, swinging the gun chaotically, one-handed. Then, with a strangled sound, he lifted the barrel to his own head.

The room went totally silent.

“I’m sorry, Eric,” Caleb sobbed. “I can’t go back there. If you won’t help me—”

Eric’s face mirrored the anguish in his brother’s eyes. “Caleb. Don’t, please.” Eric held out his hand. “Let me have the gun. I swear to you I won’t send you back there.”

Caleb’s attention was divided between Eric and the man at the door. Rachel took a small step toward him, then another.

The other agent straightened and his electric-blue eyes flashed a warning at her, but Rachel focused all her strength on holding Caleb’s attention.

“Caleb,” she said softly, gently. His head cocked toward her. That was what she’d been hoping for. If she couldn’t get him to put the gun down, maybe she could at least distract him until Eric or the other agent got close enough to disarm him.

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” She hoped her voice would keep him calm. “I saw what happened. I’ll tell them it was an accident. They’ll believe me. Then your brother can take you away—far away from Dr. Metzger.”

Caleb sent her a sidelong glance. The barrel of the gun tipped as his hand relaxed just slightly.

Beyond him, the agent moved. It took all Rachel’s control to keep from reacting. She held Caleb’s gaze and
smiled, hoping to keep his attention away from the lengthening shadow on the floor in front of them.

“That’s right,” she said. “You’ll never have to see Dr. Metzger again.”

The agent lunged, but before Rachel even registered the change in his eyes, Caleb twisted. The agent’s hand merely grazed his shoulder, but he recovered quickly and pushed Caleb’s arm upward.

A shot rang out and both men fell backward, the gun clattering to the floor between them.

“Caleb!” Eric yelled, leaping toward them.

Caleb scrabbled for the gun but Eric kicked it out of the way and hauled his brother up.

“Me!” Caleb screamed. “It should have been me!”

Eric swayed, but he held on. Veins stood out in his neck as he locked his arms around his brother from behind.

The agent lay still on the floor, blood spreading under his head.

Rachel stared at the bizarre scene in front of her. Two men, eerily alike, yet completely different, like distorted mirror images. And at their feet an FBI agent, lying in his own blood.

A chill spread through her. Caleb had shot another man.

Chapter Two

Decker was down. Eric’s nightmare had turned into skewed reality. He was restraining the twin brother he’d thought was dead, his boss had been shot, and standing in the same room with him was the beautiful hostage from his dream.

Under his forearms, Eric felt his brother’s coarse, heavy breathing, felt the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt.

Eric’s own chest was heaving. Caleb’s outburst had affected him profoundly. It was an echo of their childhood, when his own brain would reverberate with echoes of Caleb’s confusion and fear.

He glanced at Dr. Harper. She was real. The realization still stunned him. Her face, so like the face in his dream, was ghostly white, her hands clasped over her mouth.

As he watched, she straightened, pushed her silky hair back from her cheeks and started toward Decker.

“Dr. Harper.”

She turned. Her blue eyes were still wide and panicked, but her chin was high.

“Can you handle Caleb if I cuff him?”

She nodded immediately and reached out to touch Caleb’s shoulder lightly. “Caleb, let’s go sit over here.
Come on. It’ll be fine.” She looked at Eric. “Do you have to cuff him? He’ll be quiet. He trusts me, don’t you, Caleb?”

Eric felt the easing of the spring-loaded tension in his brother’s limbs at Rachel’s touch and shrugged involuntarily, imagining how her slender, capable hands would feel comforting him.

Caleb walked stiffly beside her to the straight-backed chair. She had to push on his shoulders to make him sit, but he complied without question. He stared at the wall, hardly blinking.

Eric pulled his attention away from his brother and the lovely doctor. Retrieving the gun, he tucked it into his belt, then knelt beside Decker, dread pooling in his stomach. He gingerly pressed two fingers on his boss’s carotid artery.

Decker’s pulse beat strongly and rapidly. A shuddering relief streaked through Eric, weakening his limbs. He blew his breath out in a sigh.

Decker moved.

Sitting back on his heels, Eric put a steadying hand on his boss’s arm. “Careful, Mitch. You’re wounded.”

With a colorful curse, Decker sat up. “Believe it or not, I remember that.” He put a hand to his head, then looked at the blood, grimacing. “It’s just a graze.”

“Let me take a look—”

“Hang on.” Decker retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a speed-dial button. “Ford? It’s Decker.”

The sheriff.

“Yeah, stray shot, no problem. Hold back. Give us a few more minutes. Right. I’ll call if we need anything. The suspect is under control and the hostage is fine.”

Clicking off the phone, he pushed himself to his feet and
dug a handkerchief out of his pocket. “They were ready to storm the house. How’s your brother?”

Eric shook his head.
Sick. Disturbed.
And still capable of affecting Eric, even after all the years apart. “I’m sorry you got involved—”

Decker wiped blood out of his eye and pressed his handkerchief against the wound. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

He glanced toward Rachel. “Dr. Harper. Are you injured? Did he hurt you in any way?”

Her black hair swung around her face as she shook her head. She never took her eyes off Caleb. “He didn’t hurt me. He’s not violent. Not really. He’s afraid. And in need of medication.”

Eric gaped at her. “What do you mean, not violent? He’s shot two people within twenty-four hours. He’s held you at gunpoint. We don’t know if the security guard is going to make it.”

Her wide blue gaze met his for an instant. “He’s not dead? Caleb didn’t kill him? Oh, thank God.”

“What happened?” Eric asked. “How did the guard let Caleb get the better of him? He had Caleb by the throat.”

She shot him a surprised glance. “How did you know that?”

Eric clamped his jaw. He’d almost said too much. He had to be careful to separate what he knew about the case from what he’d seen in his dream. “Some newscaster must have mentioned it,” he said noncommittally.

Her gaze swung back to her patient as she talked. “Caleb woke while sleepwalking. He was agitated. I almost had him convinced to go back to bed, but the nurse called Security, even though I’d specifically told her not to.”

Irritation flowed over Rachel at the memory. “The guard
was too aggressive. He frightened him.” She pressed long, graceful fingers onto Caleb’s wrist, checking his pulse, her full lips flattening into a grim line.

She bent until she was in Caleb’s line of sight. “Caleb, how are you feeling?”

Caleb continued to stare as sweat dripped from his chin. He started rocking back and forth and pounding his forehead again. Rachel took hold of his hand, but she couldn’t stop its incessant movements. A shadow of worry and confusion crossed her face.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Take a
guess.
” He hadn’t seen his brother in twenty years, but he’d seen him like this. It brought back all the protectiveness he’d always felt for Caleb.

“He’s exhibiting classic symptoms of schizophrenia, the paranoia, the delusions.”

“He did that when we were kids.” Eric’s voice rasped with bitterness as the memories surfaced. “I didn’t know what they were back then. My grandmother called them spells. She’d lock him in the broom closet until he
calmed down.
Couldn’t have the crazy grandkid embarrassing Olivia Stanhope in front of the help.”

Rachel looked up at him, a dark pain in her expression that went beyond professional concern. For an instant she seemed to turn inward.

“He was locked in the dark?” Her voice choked on the last word. “How old were you?”

Eric couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. He felt a strange compulsion to confide in her, something he’d never done—with anyone. He stepped closer, drawn by her empathy. “All our lives, until we were eleven. Until—” He’d almost said,
Until Caleb died.

He rubbed his neck, his fingertips seeking the faint scar below his ear—the only visible reminder of that awful day. He glanced over at Caleb, whose fist pounded, pounded, against his forehead. Eric knew what Caleb was doing. He was trying to stop the voices.