Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I’m going to picture a wall and put it around my mind,” Matt suggested.
“Will that work?”
“I hope it’s better than picturing a mud hole.”
She laughed. “I guess so.” She gave him a long look. “I guess you can put up your wall, then think of something you want to guard behind it.”
She could sense the barrier going into place. She could even see it in his mind. It was made of cement blocks, and he put it together block by block.
Then she knew by his expression that he’d hidden a thought behind it.
She had very little trouble breaking through. And when she did, she laughed.
“You’re thinking about the food we’re going to get in New Orleans,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Try again.”
He gritted his teeth and returned to the wall, and this time, she had a little more trouble breaking through. When she did, she gave him a long look. “You’ve switched from food to sex.”
“I’m a guy, after all. Maybe I put them in the wrong order. Why don’t we reverse the process, and you try?”
She focused her gaze inward, constructing a barrier out of sturdy, upright metal pieces. When she had it in place, she put an image of a beautiful garden inside, then put herself into the picture, sitting down in a wicker chair enjoying the sunlight slanting through the trees.
It was hard to keep the wall in place and keep the image of the garden at the same time, but she managed it for a few minutes until Matt came along and started pulling her stakes out of the ground.
“No fair,” she said aloud.
“Everything’s fair.”
“Oh, is it?” She heated the metal stakes, making them too hot for him to handle.
“Nice move,” he approved.
“We’re just playing around.”
“But everything we do is practice for when we need to use it.”
Rachel had another report for Jake in the morning. “She felt me probing her, and she’s trying to shield her mind.”
He cursed under his breath. “That means they have something to hide.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Then what?”
“Suppose you’d felt an outside presence trying to read your thoughts; wouldn’t you try to keep them from doing it?”
“That’s one explanation.”
“But you think they have evil intentions?”
“I want to keep you safe.”
“You’re always so suspicious.”
“I guess it comes from my early childhood experiences.”
She reached for his hand. Jake had grown up on the streets of New Orleans, and he’d learned never to trust anyone until they’d proved themselves.
“Did you get into his mind?” he asked.
“She’s more open.”
“Why?”
“Like I said, he was a doctor in Africa. I think he learned caution on a lot of different levels.”
“And they’re on their way down here?”
“Yes.”
“I guess we’d better be prepared.”
“How?”
“Keep trying to figure out what they’re up to.”
“On the other hand, maybe it’s better if I don’t try to dip into her thoughts—except to know maybe where they are.”
Elizabeth and Matt left the motel after breakfast and got back on the road, keeping up their practice sessions as they drove.
But there were some things Elizabeth couldn’t hide from Matt. The closer they got to New Orleans, the more unsettled she felt, and he picked up on her mood.
“You think we’re going to be in danger when we get there,” he said, not bothering to frame it as a question. “From whoever that Clemens guy is working for.”
“Unfortunately.” She turned her head toward him. “When is it going to stop?”
“Soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I think there’s got to be a quick resolution. Like we had to come to a resolution with Lang.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.” She reached to cover his hand with her own. “I got you into a lot of trouble.”
“You know damn well we’re in this together.”
She understood that as much as she’d understood anything in her life and pressed her palm more firmly against the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t have my memory back or gotten away from Lang without you, but now I’m wondering if we’re making a mistake.”
He waited for her to say more, although he probably knew what was in her mind.
“I think we should do some research before we get down there. You can use the Web to look up that fertility clinic.”
“Agreed.”
When they stopped for the night in Birmingham, Alabama, they had an early dinner at a ribs restaurant. Then they returned to their motel room, and Matt got out his computer.
Because the Solomon Clinic had been closed for twenty years, there wasn’t much information about the facility. But Dr. Douglas Solomon had run it, and there was a piece of startling information about the doctor.
“According to a newspaper article, he had a research facility in Houma that blew up a few months ago.”
“Did he die?”
“Yeah. He was inside at the time. Also, one of the nurses who used to work at the fertility clinic died with him. And another man who used to run a government think tank.”
“What was he doing there?”
“No idea.
Elizabeth winced. “Do they know what caused the explosion?”
“The article says it was a gas leak, but I find it pretty jarring that just before we started poking into Dr. Solomon’s background, he got killed.”
“You’re saying you don’t think it was an accident?”
“I don’t know what to think except that we should be even more cautious.”
She shuddered, wanting to say that they should just turn around and go back to Baltimore.
“Only we’ll always be looking over our shoulder, waiting for something else to happen.”
She answered with a little nod, knowing he was right.
“First, we’ll go to New Orleans and poke around,” she said, thinking that she was only postponing the day of reckoning.
“No. I think we’re going to find something there,” he said.
“Not the guy who hired Clemens, I hope.”
“He won’t know we’re in the city.”
“Unless he has some way of finding out who’s checked into hotels.”
“That would take a lot of digging.”
They arrived in the Crescent City the next day and found a charming bed and breakfast in the French Quarter, where Elizabeth would have loved to stay if they’d been here on vacation. But she was too restless to fully enjoy their antique-filled suite or the old-fashioned claw-foot tub in the bathroom.
Matt looked at her with concern. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
“You know we had to. And I want to walk around and get a feel for the city.”
They headed for Jackson Square, where they watched the street performers and wandered around the stands where artists were offering to do quick sketches of tourists, and women had set up card tables where they were selling tarot card and palm readings.
“Do you remember it?” Matt asked.
“Yes. I guess it hasn’t changed much in twenty-five years. But I want to see something else.”
“Something you remember?”
“No.” Elizabeth walked rapidly along one side of the square, then took a side street leading to Toulouse Street.
“If you haven’t been here before, you seem to know where you’re going,” Matt commented.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
“You’re just … wandering?”
She knew he didn’t think that was true. Perhaps she didn’t either. She scanned the shops along Toulouse and stopped at an inviting little storefront that offered tarot-card readings by a woman named Rachel Harper.
“You walked past the readers in the square,” Matt said. “Why are you stopping here?”
“This woman interests me.”
“Why? Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Then what is it about her? Is she more insightful because she has her own shop?”
“She made enough money to buy it.”
“Or maybe a rich husband set her up.”
Elizabeth snorted and peered at the closed sign in the door. “I wonder when she’s coming back.”
“We can try again later,” Matt said. “If you think it’s important.”
“It could be. I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Or maybe it’s nothing.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “It’s weird. When I first met you, I didn’t remember anything. Now I do, and I’m also …” she flapped her arm. “I don’t know what to call it. Having insights?”
“Maybe part of your mental abilities.” He examined the door and window of the shop. “You’d think she’d let customers know how to get in touch with her. But there doesn’t seem to be anything here.”
They kept walking through the French Quarter, both on edgebut still able to take in the colorful buildings, art galleries, antique shops, and tropical flowers that were so different from Baltimore.
When Elizabeth stopped in front of a restaurant, Matt gave her an inquiring look.”
“You want to eat here?”
“Not necessarily. But I’m getting the same feeling I did from Rachel Harper’s shop.”
She stood on the sidewalk for a minute, then walked on. “Or maybe I’m making stuff up because I want something significant to happen.”
“Maybe it’s not going to happen in the city.”
At breakfast the following day, as they enjoyed beignets, strong Louisiana coffee, and omelets with andouille sausage, Elizabeth said, “I’d like to go back and see if Rachel Harper is there.”
“Not by yourself. Not until we find out about that clinic.”
She nodded, knowing he was right. They were safer if they stuck together. But safer from what? She still didn’t know.
They both walked back to Rachel Harper’s shop, but the tarot-card reader still wasn’t there.
A woman across the street stuck her head out of a doorway and asked, “Are you looking for Ms. Harper?”
“Yes.”
“She’s only here part-time—since she got married.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth answered, feeling let down. Turning to Matt, she said, “We should go to Houma and see what we can find out about the clinic.”
“I did some more research after you went to sleep last night,” he said.
“And?”
“I told you that a nurse who had worked there died in the explosion with Dr. Solomon.”
“But what?” She cut him a quick look. “You’re keeping me from knowing what you’re thinking.”
“Good. There’s another one of his staffers living at a nursing home in Houma. Her name’s Maven Bolton. Maybe there’s something she can tell us about Dr. Solomon’s operation.”
“Did you look up Houma?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. The population is around 33,000. You can book swamp tours and fishing expeditions, eat spicy Cajun food, and walk bird trails in the wildlife park.”
“The town’s not all that large. I mean, for someone to locate an important clinic there.”
“Maybe he wanted a specific kind of environment. It has a long history and a historic downtown area. The Terrebonne Parish Courthouse is there, which would mean it was a center of local activity.”
“Was there anything about the Solomon Clinic.”
“I know where it used to be.”
“I’d like to see it. How far away is it?”
“A little over an hour.”
“We can have lunch in town.”
They arrived on schedule and drove around town, noting that the historic center was probably much as it had been for years, with newer development on the outskirts.
As they crossed a bridge, Elizabeth said, “The place is full of rivers and bayous.”
“Yes. It’s almost like some of the sections of town are islands.”
“It’s got a lot of atmosphere, but just being here makes me feel … nervous,” Elizabeth mused as they drove up and down tree-shaded streets where large old houses sat on generous plots. She was silent for several moments, then said, “Can you find Dr. Solomon’s lab? The one where he was killed?”
Matt consulted his smartphone, where he’d put some addresses. “It’s not too far from here.”
He punched the street and number into the GPS, and they drove for a few more blocks, stopping in front of a large red brick house that had been heavily damaged. Behind it was another building that was totally destroyed.
“Why did he have his lab in a residential area?” Elizabeth. “Did he live here, too?”
“This was the home of the nurse who died.”
“Which implied that they had some sort of close relationship. I want to get out,” Elizabeth whispered. Even when she knew Matt thought it was a bad idea, she opened the door and exited the car.
Behind her, he pulled closer to the curb, cut the engine and followed her up the driveway. She stood for a moment, staring at the house with its boarded-up windows and blackened bricks, then skirted around to the real scene of destruction.
She could see an enormous hole in the ground, filled with debris. Pieces of wood, cinder blocks, medical equipment, and furniture were scattered around the rubble.
“It looks like nobody’s been here to clean up,” she whispered as Matt came up behind her.
“Maybe there’s a question of ownership.”
She looked up and down the street at the well-kept houses and yards.
“They can’t leave it forever,” he said, following her thoughts.
She made a derisive sound. “There was a swimming pool in Baltimore that kids used all the time. I mean kids whose parents couldn’t afford a country club. The owner tore it down, and we all thought they had sold the land for houses or apartments. That was fifteen years ago, and it’s still sitting empty.”
“But the pool owners didn’t leave a mess, did they?”
“No.”
Matt nodded and stepped closer to the pit, looking down into the tangle of debris.
“I see a lot of medical equipment—some of it expensive.”
“Like what?”
He pointed. “There’s a mangled X-ray machine. A couple of exam tables. Cabinets that probably held drugs. An EKG machine. Centrifuges. A spectrophotometer. It looks like the doctor had plenty of money to spend on his research project.”
“I wonder what he was doing. Do you think it was related to the clinic?”
“Or something new. It looks like it was paying off.” He turned to her. “We shouldn’t stick around here.”
“I know. I just wanted to see what it looked like.” She shuddered. “And try to figure out what happened. You think a gas leak really destroyed this place?”
“I don’t know.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “I don’t smell anything like explosives.”
“It was a few months ago.”
He picked up a stick from the ground, walked to a pile of debris, and turned over some charred pieces of wood and paper.”
“But the smell would linger.”
“What else could do so much damage?”
“I’d like to know.”
She gave him a long look. “If … uh … somebody had a lot of time to practice, do you think they could blow up a building the way we’ve been zapping people and rocks?”
His head whipped toward her. “You’re thinking people like us could have done it?”
“Could they?”
“Not just two people, I don’t think.”
She shivered. “What if …”
He waited for her to finish the thought, but she shrugged. “I’m not going there.”
They returned to the car, and Matt pulled away, checking in his rearview mirror as he turned the corner.
“You think someone could follow us from here?” Elizabeth asked.
“It could be under surveillance, and I’m not taking any chances.”
He kept checking behind them as they headed for the business district, where they found several restaurants and some antique shops.
“There’s where the clinic used to be,” Matt said, pointing to a building that looked more modern than many of those around it.
“Was it torn down?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe Mrs. Bolton can enlighten us. I guess it’s time to talk to her.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I wonder why I want to put it off.”
“Maybe you’re afraid you’re not going to like what we hear.”
“Then let’s get it over with and eat later. The more we know, the better off we are.”
They arrived at the nursing home before lunch. The facility was an attractive-looking one-story red-brick residence and nursing facility for the elderly.
“I hope we can get something out of this interview,” Elizabeth said as they pulled into the parking lot, and Matt cut the engine. “I mean, if she’s in a nursing home, maybe her mind is going.”
“Or maybe she’s just not capable of living on her own.”
Elizabeth nodded, trying not to dwell on her doubts as she scanned the building and grounds.
“It’s well maintained.”
“It might be a nice place to spend your golden years,” Matt said as they followed a winding path through well-tended gardens.
Just beyond, the double doors led to a reception area where a young woman sat at an antique desk.
Her name tag identified her as Sarah Dalton.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a gracious Southern accent.
“We’d like to visit with Maven Bolton.”
She tipped her head to one side, studying them. “Another couple to visit Maven. I wonder why she’s gotten very popular.”
“There have been other couples coming to see her?” Matt asked.
“Why yes. Two others.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know them. But Maven told me that one of the women was named Rachel.”
Elizabeth tensed. “From New Orleans?”
“I don’t know for sure. How do you know Maven?”
“We … we’re old friends,” Matt answered.
“They were as well.”
That sounds weird. Should we leave? Elizabeth silently asked Matt.
No.
But who were they? I mean, could Rachel have been the tarot card reader?
Maybe we’ll find out.
“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you,” Ms. Dalton said. “Maven should be in the dayroom now.”
They followed the woman down a wide hallway with nature pictures on the walls to a pleasantly large recreation room with windows looking out onto the gardens.
About twenty old women and a few old men were sitting around the room. Some were in wheelchairs. Others were in easy chairs watching television or at tables playing cards or working puzzles.
Ms. Dalton led them to a woman who was sitting by the window with a magazine in her lap. She had short gray hair and a wrinkled face, and she was wearing a nice-looking black and white blouse and black slacks.
“Some people to see you, Maven.”
The older woman looked up a bit apprehensively.
“We just stopped in to say hello,” Matt said. They both pulled up chairs and sat down.
After a few moments, the attendant left them.
The old woman silently studied the visitors. “Are you like those other couples?”
The receptionist had also said something similar.
“I don’t know. What can you tell us about them?” Elizabeth said carefully, pulling her chair a little closer.
“They were both getting married. They wanted information about … the Solomon Clinic.”
Elizabeth tried to keep her voice even and her face neutral while her heart was clunking inside her chest so hard that she was surprised her blouse wasn’t moving up and down.
“Why?”
“I shouldn’t talk about it. It was supposed to be a secret.”