The Baby Thief (18 page)

“It seems like a lot of trouble for–”

Rachel came through the door just then. “You wanted to see me, Reverend?”

“Yes. Here, take my chair.” Carmichael moved next to the window again. The tiny room seemed suddenly crowded. Zeke started to get up.

“Please stay, Zeke,” Carmichael said without taking his eyes off the window. “This will only take a moment, but it concerns both of you.”

Rachel shot a sideways glance at Zeke. They had slept together years ago when they first met but, in time, had come to dislike and distrust each other. Zeke had kept both facts from the Reverend and, as far as he knew, so had Rachel.

“As you’ve heard, Zeke, I’ll be gone for a day or so.” Carmichael turned slowly toward them, as if resisting a great pull. “Rachel, I’m counting on you to take good care of our patient while I’m gone.”

The nurse seemed to stiffen. “I’ll do my best, Reverend, but I’m worried about Jenna. She claims to have horrible hot flashes and her pulse seems high.”

“How high?”

“Around ninety.”

“That’s in the normal range, Rachel,” Carmichael said with a touch of impatience.

“But her legs are so muscular. In fact, her whole body is quite–” Rachel paused, blushing. Zeke wondered, not for the first time, just how many Sisters were lesbians.

“She looks like an athlete,” Rachel said, gaining confidence. “I don’t think a pulse of ninety is normal for her.”

“Believe me, she is not an athlete.” Carmichael looked down at his hands. “I appreciate your concern, Rachel, and I will look in on her before I go. Keep in mind that she is a heroin addict. Withdrawals from long-term drug abuse can cause erratic heartbeats, hot flashes, and a host of other unpleasant reactions. That is why she is with us.”

“Of course.” Rachel looked like she wanted to say more, but pressed her lips in silence.

“I’m holding you both responsible for Jenna’s welfare. Any decision that needs to be made, you should make together. Understood?”

Zeke nodded. If push came to shove, he would call the shots. Rachel would stay the hell out of his way if she knew what was good for her.

Rachel fidgeted for a moment, then said, “Why can’t I talk to her about why she’s here? She seems so confused and frightened. I think it would help her if she knew that her family loves her enough to go to such extremes to save her from her addiction.”

Zeke tried not to laugh. Women were so gullible. Rachel had been told the same line of hogwash he had, only she believed that in a few weeks Jenna would walk out of the compound into the loving arms of her parents to begin her new drug-free, spiritual life. How the Reverend planned to explain Jenna’s upcoming surgery, Zeke didn’t know. He had every confidence Carmichael could make it sound plausible. The man could charm the skirt off a nun.

“Perhaps later, Rachel. I know you mean well, but Jenna’s too hostile right now to appreciate her family’s efforts.”

“She’s a lucky woman. So many drug addicts are abandoned by their families.” Rachel’s expression seemed suddenly forlorn. “What, specifically, are my medical instructions for her?”

“Just continue as before with the specially marked syringes of methadone in her IV every eight hours, two injections of the specially marked antibiotics per day, and a pulse, temperature, and blood pressure check every three hours.” As he spoke, Carmichael turned back to the window. “If, God forbid, she should arrest,” he paused and swallowed hard before continuing, “do everything medically possible to save her.”

“She’ll be fine, Reverend. I pray for her health and her soul every day.”

“Bless you, Rachel. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need another word with Zeke.”

After Rachel left, it occurred to Zeke that with Carmichael gone, he could sneak in and suffocate Jenna, eliminating the risk that she would ever identify him. He didn’t give a shit if Liz had a baby or not. He had only two basic concerns. One was to stay out of prison. The other was to keep his life as simple as possible.

“I need you to do me a favor.” Carmichael was looking at him with those hypnotic eyes again.

“What is it?”

“Fix that old rocking chair in the storage area and give it to Tamara. If you could clean it up and make it look nice, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Zeke wondered if the two of them had a fight, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t mind doing something extra for Tamara. She was a fine woman who’d always been decent to him. He hoped Carmichael was treating her right. Zeke stood to leave. “I’d better get back to work.”

Carmichael was watching Jenna through the glass again.

Zeke’s legs felt heavy as he climbed the stairs out of the basement. Killing the woman just to silence her would be the most shameful thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t trust Carmichael’s drugs to keep her quiet. Some of the drugs Carmichael had given the Sisters hadn’t worked out that well. If Jenna ever looked at his mug shot and recognized him, it was all over. He could kiss his dreams goodbye and say hello to a huge man in prison named Mookie, who would kill him in the most painful way Zeke could imagine.

Jenna had to die instead. He would make sure she didn’t suffer.

Chapter 17

Thursday, Nov. 2, 7:17 p.m.

Jenna flinched when she heard the door open. It was only the nurse, not the crazy preacher/doctor who made her skin crawl. She relaxed and let out her breath, then drew it back in just as quickly. She remembered parts of the previous day. It wasn’t just a blur of spaced-out dreams. She actually remembered Rachel bathing her and giving her an injection. She could picture a well-dressed man in a surgical mask holding her hand and talking about God. Frightened as she was, Jenna felt a timid joy at her mental breakthrough. If she could stay coherent, maybe she could escape. Maybe Rachel could be talked into–

“Good evening, Jenna. Are you feeling any better now?” Rachel’s concern was sincere. Jenna couldn’t hate her even though she wanted to. She suspected Rachel was only a pawn in the doctor/preacher’s game, whatever it was.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Reverend Carmichael says it’ll get better with time.” Rachel sat next to the bed and smiled warmly. “I brought you something to eat.”

“What is it?” Jenna filed the name Carmichael away, hoping she would remember it. She didn’t feel hungry, but decided to eat anyway to keep up her strength. When the opportunity to escape presented itself, she had to be ready.

“Apple pie with a slice of cheddar cheese.” Rachel, still grinning, held up the plate for her to see. “But first we have to take care of business.”

What now?
Panic rose in Jenna’s throat.

“Don’t look so scared. It’s just your medication. You’ve had two injections a day since you’ve been here. Don’t you remember?” The pie had disappeared and Rachel’s hands held a hypodermic needle. She looked puzzled.

Before Jenna could respond, a searing pain started in her chest, then spread through her arms and face, burning with a new intensity. Unable to clutch her heart, Jenna thrashed back and forth, making small grunting sounds in an effort to control the pain.

“What is it?” Rachel cried out.

“My heart.” It was painful to speak, to even breathe. “It’s on fire.”

Rachel’s lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with confusion. Jenna saw her opportunity.

She thrashed harder, rolling her eyes back in her head. Rachel called out her name, but Jenna didn’t respond. Instead, she brought her knees up in short, repetitive jerking motions, making strange gagging sounds at the same time. Being bound at the wrists and ankles limited her performance, but she gave it all she had. The pain in her chest continued to burn and Jenna let herself go, crying out as if in agony.

Rachel, who was now near tears, bent over and fiddled with something near the floor, then grabbed the IV stand and pushed against the bed. Jenna’s bed rolled toward the door.

Yes! It was hard not to shout out loud with jubilation. She was leaving the little gray room. Even if she couldn’t escape, she would at least see some other part of the building. Maybe figure out where she was. Prepare for her next attempt.

Rachel let go of the bed and ran to the door. She pulled it open, propping the door with one foot while she reached back for the end of the bed. Grunting with effort, Rachel tugged until she had wheeled Jenna into the next room.

The searing pain in her heart began to subside, but Jenna continued to thrash and roll her eyes. The show she was putting on made it difficult to take in the exact details of her surroundings, but she did get a general feel for the room. Long lines of stainless steel cabinets and counters and—her heart skipped a beat—what looked like an operating table. For a moment, she had second thoughts about her faked emergency. What if it made them speed up their plans?

Jenna relaxed her eyes and looked around for Rachel. The nurse immediately clamped a mask over Jenna’s mouth and nose. She tried to slow her breathing but soon became lightheaded from the excess oxygen, making it difficult to concentrate. From what she could tell, Rachel was shouting into a hand-held communicator for someone named Marilynn.

Jenna sat up slightly to better see the room. She had to memorize escape possibilities. There was a double set of swinging doors with glass in the upper half leading out into a hallway. A single swinging door with a small peep window lead into an adjacent room. The wall next to the operating table also contained a foot-square pass-bar leading into the next room. Nowhere did she see a window to the outside.

Rachel pushed her bed through the double doors and turned right. At the end of the hall was a wide set of stone stairs.

She was underground! Jenna had thought so at times because of the solid walls and eerie silence, but where? And why?

Rachel pushed her shoulders down. “Relax, sweetie, you’ll be fine. I’m taking you to an emergency room.”

Did she mean a real ER with real doctors?
Please let it be true
. Jenna was afraid to hope. These crazy people probably had their own little trauma unit where they would sedate her with elephant tranquilizer and do exploratory surgery for fun.

Another woman’s voice called out, “What’s going on?” Jenna eased her head forward to see a stout redhead appear at the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t know. She’s having some kind of seizure.” Jenna realized she had stopped faking the convulsions. Except for the oxygen mask she probably looked fine. She rolled her eyes back and began to jerk her head in a rhythmic pattern.

“Who is she?”

“She’s a friend of the Reverend, that’s all I can say. Help me get her onto a gurney.”

“Why is she strapped down?”

“For her own protection. Please don’t ask any more questions, Marilynn. Just help me get her up to the truck.” Rachel began to loosen Jenna’s wrist bindings. After a moment, Marilynn reached for her ankle straps.

Jenna’s heart hammered with adrenaline. She was loose! All she had to do was get up and run for her life. But then what? How many others were out there? How easily would they catch her? She hadn’t used her legs in days, maybe weeks. Jenna had no idea how long she’d been lying in bed. Could she even run, or would her legs buckle like a couple of noodles?

Marilynn moved to the head of the bed and reached her strong arm under Jenna’s shoulders. Rachel grabbed her feet and the two of them lifted her off the bed, then eased her down onto a canvas gurney similar to one like the type paramedics used.

This was her chance.

No. Jenna changed her mind just as quickly. Running now was foolish. She had no idea where she was. If they caught her, they would take her straight back to the gray room. She might not get another opportunity. She had to wait until she was outside. But what if she never made it outside? What if they were only taking her to another part of the building?

Rachel reached across Jenna’s chest and pulled a canvas strap into place. Oh shit, they were buckling her in again. Jenna resisted the urge to knock Rachel out of the way and charge up the stairs. She forced herself to be patient, to keep faking convulsions. The gurney straps were loose and could be wiggled out of later. She would wait and see where they were taking her. They could be on their way to a real hospital. She couldn’t blow her one chance of being saved.

Jenna thrashed around to keep up the act while the women carried her upstairs. She had much greater movement now, but her legs felt like dead weight. How would she run when she the chance? Was that why they’d kept her drugged and prone? What kind of psycho freaks was she dealing with here?

As the cleared the top of the stairs, a man stepped into the hallway and blocked the open doorway at the end. The two women froze. The thin man rushed toward them, boots clomping and the smell of pig shit coming with him. Jenna’s skin went cold.

“What in the hell is going on?” he shouted. “The Reverend has only been gone for ten minutes!”

“She went into convulsions.” Rachel stammered like a kid caught sneaking out. “I’m afraid she’ll die. We need to take her to a hospital, Zeke.”

Jenna’s heart leaped. A real hospital!

A callused hand came out of nowhere and yanked off the oxygen mask. Before Jenna could flinch, Zeke slapped her with a force that loosened her teeth. Tears filled her eyes, but she was too stunned to cry out.

“See? She was faking it.” His mouth grinned, but his eyes looked right through her. Jenna could feel the heat of his breath and smell the cigarette he had smoked recently. This man frightened her in a way that no one else in this crazy place had yet.

“What are you waiting for? Get her back down there. Now!”

Jenna clamped her jaws together to keep from screaming obscenities. The bastard had blown her one chance.

Zeke grabbed Rachel’s end of the gurney and started moving toward the stairs. Marilynn had to walk backward and almost tripped on the first step. A few minutes later Jenna was back in her little gray room. The right side of her face was hot with the sting of a new welt, and her ears were filled with warm tears.

“Get her situated, and I’ll be back in a minute.” Zeke grabbed Marilynn by the elbow and half dragged her from the room.