Chapter 8 #2
Men and women, undoubtedly the parents, sat on chairs and couches around the room. Some were writing on clipboards–probably filling out forms or questionnaires. Others watched their children. There wasn’t much conversation among the parents.
“What kind of clinic is it?” Jake probed.
“I don’t know. But I went there for tests. The children don’t look like they were sick, do they?”
“No.”
The strangled sound of his voice jolted her.
“What is it?”
He dragged in a breath and let it out before answering. “I was one of them.”
She blinked, struggling to process his words. “Did I hear that right?”
“Yes. As soon as that scene flashed into your mind, I remembered it. I was there, too.”
She twisted around, and their eyes locked.
Almost in slow motion, Jake moved his hand down her arm, then to her wrist and finally her hand as he moved around the table, pulled the other chair over and sat down beside her.
She closed her eyes, studying the long-ago scene. She’d forgotten about it, or blocked it out. Now it was so vivid in her mind she felt she could reach out and touch it.
It was like she was a child again. Back there, where her parents had brought her. And the other children she saw were the same ones, over and over.
“I came there every few months,” Jake said in a voice that was full of wonder.
“I did too.”
“And . . .”
As they sat holding hands, she looked up and saw a boy a few years older watching her. It was Jake, and she gasped in shock. The reaction wasn’t from the little girl she’d been. It was from the woman who recognized him.
The little boy scooted over, pushing a school bus full of little peg people. “Wanna play?”
“What’s your name?”
“Jake.”
“I’m Rachel.”
We talked.
Yes.
“I’ll be the driver. You be the little girl going to school.”
“Okay.” She picked up a peg person with brown hair and a red dress.
In the present, Jake’s hand tightened on her, but she couldn’t take any more. Twisting out of his grasp she jumped up and stood with her shoulders pressed to the door, gasping.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed.
“It was a shock–to both of us.”
She nodded, her mind desperately trying to sort through new information.
“I’d forgotten all about it,” he said.
“So had I.”
“Maybe because something disturbing happened there.”
Her gaze flew to him. “What?”
“We went there . . . a lot.” His expression turned hard. “Whatever’s happening to us now, I can’t believe it doesn’t have something to do with that place.”
She nodded, unsure and yet certain at the same time.
“You went with your parents?” she asked.
“Yes. Obviously it was before they were killed.”
“Then you went into foster care.”
“Yeah.” He made a rough sound. “Those years were pretty bad. I guess I tried to wipe them out. And anything before, too.”
“What happened to your parents?” she asked.
“They died in a fire. My mother threw me out the bedroom window, and somebody caught me.”
She winced.
“She saved my life, but not her own.”
When she started to speak again, he raised his hand, palm out. “Talking about my childhood after my parents died isn’t going to help us figure out what that place was.”
“You’re right.”
“What if they were . . . doing some kind of experiments on kids?”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Psychological testing, maybe.”
She found herself following his line of thinking. “Or, you know, there are places that advertise for test subjects and they pay the people they use. What if they were testing some kind of vaccine or drug that turned out to have weird effects on us?”
“And our parents did it for the money?”
“Did your parents need cash?”
“If they did, I was too little to know about it. They died when I was five.”
They were both silent, trying to come up with scenarios.But they didn’t have enough information. They didn’t even know where to find the damn clinic.
“Did you have a good relationship with your parents?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“I didn’t,” she whispered.
“In what way?”
“You can probably figure out most of it. I wasn’t very close to them.
I could spend hours in my own fantasy world.
And then . . . I got interested in psychic stuff.
They were down-to-earth people, and what they called ‘mumbo jumbo’ made them uncomfortable.
I went to college early and never really came home again.
I hung out around Jackson Square in the summers.
After college, I moved in with a group of girls looking for a roommate, but I was never really close to any of them, either. ”
Her eyes drifted out of focus as she remembered that time.
“My parents hated me hanging around the Tarot card readers. They wanted me to get a real job. I just stopped calling them, and they stopped calling me.” Her breath hitched. “I didn’t even know that my mom was sick until my dad phoned to say she was dead.”
He pushed back his chair and strode toward her, taking her in his arms.
They should have told you,so you could visit with her. Maybe make your peace with her.
I disappointed them.
Stop. You couldn’t pretend to be something you weren’t.
She nodded against his shoulder. She’d gotten up to separate herself from him, but now she held on tight, absorbing the feel of his arms around her–and the soothing thoughts he sent her. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Nothing she had ever expected.
Yet she couldn’t completely surrender, because that would mean losing herself.
As Jake held her, he caught the thought.
He wanted to comfort her, yet he couldn’t help feeling a similar resistance to the link that had formed between them.
Maybe the resistance was stronger for him than it was for her.
He’d been on his own since he was fifteen.
Sharing his thoughts and feelings with anyone was entirely new. And it put him on edge.
It’s okay to want some privacy, she whispered in his mind.
Are you sure?
Go on.
Slowly, he eased away.
“I’d better call my office.” He was grateful for the excuse. “Maybe Patrick can tell me something new.”
“You mean, like they caught the killer, and we’re off the hook? That would be good, but won’t the police be tracing calls?”
“To be safe, I’ll buy a prepaid phone, then throw it away after I check in.”
“Good idea.”
“We’d better drive to another town, make the call, and get out of there.”
“How long can we keep paying for rooms–and leaving after a few hours?”
“For a while.” He laughed. “If they’re not luxury suites.”
They left the motel room they’d checked into so recently and drove for about thirty miles until they came to a commercial area with a drugstore chain.
After pulling into a parking space, Jake turned to Rachel. “Do you need anything?”
“Secret agent gear.”
He laughed. “Okay. You make a quick run through that department. I’ll get the phone.”
As they separated, Jake felt a twinge of anxiety. He needed to get off on his own, but as soon as Rachel disappeared down an aisle, he wanted to rush after her.
Instead, he went to the front counter and bought a phone.
She was gone for several minutes, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other while he waited for her, annoyed with himself for allowing anxiety to consume him.
For years he’d taken care of no one but himself.
Now he felt responsible for someone else, and it was hard to get used to.
When she finally appeared again, he struggled to keep his expression neutral.
She held up a head scarf and a pair of glasses. “Sorry I didn’t think of these earlier.”
“You have them now.”
She went through a checkout line while he waited.
Out in the car, he activated the phone and punched in the number of his office.
Patrick answered, sounding tentative.
“It’s me,” Jake said.
“The cops have been all over the place. I’m afraid they’ve made sort of a mess.”
“I’ll bet.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “I’m going to be lying low until I figure out how to clear my name.”
“You and Rachel Gregory. Is she with you?”
”Let’s not talk any longer than we have to.”
“Sure. But don’t hang up yet. You got a call from a guy who says he’s got urgent business with you.”
“Oh yeah?”
Patrick gave him a number.
“And you don’t know who he is?”
“Not a clue.”