Blind Spot (27 page)

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “We’ll search the other patients’ rooms, but…”

“You think she’s already gone.”

“I think Gibby was telling the truth about talking to her. He wouldn’t just make up Tasha as her name. That’s not like him.”

“And this Darlene?” Lang asked.

“Gibby might not like her, but Darlene’s entirely trustworthy. Been on staff here for years. I suppose Darlene could have scared Cat…er, Tasha.”

“Are you finished?” Avanti asked loudly as they crossed toward him.

Lang and Claire exchanged a look and he nodded to both Avanti and Freeson.

“I told you you wouldn’t learn anything from Gibby,” Freeson said with a hint of triumph.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Lang said to Claire, and she smiled faintly.

She let him out of the front doors and only realized after he was out of earshot that she had forgotten to tell him about her trip to meet Dinah’s father.

The rain pounded down and the wind blew it into Tasha’s face as she stumbled around the back of the houses, shivering, frozen to the bone. She ran in the opposite direction of Rita and crouched in the carport near an open field. There were blocks of look-alike houses on gravel streets. Too many. She’d thought it would be so easy.

And then suddenly, there it was: the camper on blocks. Rafe’s home. He’d described it to her. Told her where it was. Now she yanked on the handle and wanted to cry when it wouldn’t open. Locked.

“Hey!” a voice called. A male voice.

Tasha crushed herself against the side of the camper, willing herself invisible.

It didn’t work.

“Hey, you!” He ran toward her through the rain, visible only in the faint light from the nearest house.

Tasha turned quickly, slipped, went down on one knee. A knife! If only she had a knife!

She was on her feet again but he caught her by the arm and spun her around.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Trying to break in?”

“It’s my boyfriend’s place!” she cried.

That startled him. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

Tasha gave him a long look. “His name’s Rafe.”

He dropped her arm and staggered back a step, staring at her, rain pouring down his dark hair and forehead, into his hooded eyes.

“Rafe’s my cousin,” he said.

She couldn’t believe her good fortune. “Are you Cade? You’re the person I’ve been looking for! Rafe told me to come to you if I ever needed help. I’m Tasha. Rafe’s girlfriend. He and I were running away to get married!”

It felt wrong to go home after searching all the rooms. Wrong to drive away in the wee hours of the morning. Wrong to leave Cat/Jane Doe/Tasha missing with no explanation to where she’d gone.

Claire tumbled into her bed sometime after three
A.M
., slept until eight, then raced through a shower and threw on her clothes, her hair still slightly damp as she drove back again to the hospital.

Darlene was already on duty when she arrived, and as Claire had a nine o’clock appointment with Jamie Lou, she didn’t have time to do more than ask if anything more had been learned of Tasha’s disappearance.

“Who’s Tasha?” Darlene had asked, and when Claire explained about Cat, Darlene looked thoughtful.

“I think I heard Gibby call her that once,” she said.

Claire hurried to her office, her head full of unanswered questions. Jamie Lou came through the door with resentment stamped across her features, but at least the bruises had disappeared and she looked put together. She started right in complaining about how Claire had intimated she couldn’t be her doctor any longer.

“I’ve been working and working and working,” Jamie Lou said tightly. “That’s all I’ve been doing, and you don’t care.”

“That’s not true.”

“John left that bitch and we’re back together,” Jamie Lou shot back. “He loves me. We want to get married, maybe have more children.”

“Jamie Lou.” Her name came out in a rush of disappointment. Claire was too distracted, too focused on other things to hide her feelings.

“See?” she declared. “You’re judging me! All you do is look all serious and
pretend
to listen. You don’t care what happens to me. Not really. You don’t want me to call you with my problems. You want to brush me off like dog hair!”

“I just don’t want your self-destructive behavior to get the best of you.”

“I’m going to go see John,” she said, ignoring everything Claire was trying to do and say. “He loves me. None of the rest of you care what happens to me. You’d be happy if I was dead!”

“That’s not true.” Claire denied it again, but Jamie was already running out of the office to her next uncontrollable calamity.

Lang clicked off his cell phone, having rented a U-Haul van to move his bed. He would load up the rest of his items and finalize his move. That, at least, would be done, and then he could concentrate on finalizing this case as well.

He’d dreamed of Dr. Norris. Visions of her shapely legs, serious manner, wide eyes, and generous lips ran across his mind in a loop that left him a little worried for his own sanity.

He drove his truck to the rental station, collected the moving van, and was nearly finished putting his belongings inside when his cell phone rang. Claire, he thought, quickly pulling the phone from his pocket.

But caller ID said it was the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department.

“Stone,” he answered.

“Clausen,” the deputy responded back. “I’m calling for O’Halloran, who’s in a meeting with Catherine from Siren Song. She just walked in. Apparently, she got your notes.”

“My God, I’m in Portland!” Lang said, frustrated. “Is there any way I can see her later?”

“The sheriff tried that, but she doesn’t seem receptive. He’ll call you as soon as they’re done.”

“Ask if I can come to Siren Song later.”

“Okay.” He sounded dubious about the success of that.

“Jane Doe is missing from Halo Valley,” he added before Clausen could hang up.

“What?”

Lang gave him a quick rundown of what had transpired the night before. “Nobody knows where she is. How she left, if she did. I’m going to call Dr. Norris and see if they’ve learned anything else, and if she’s a missing person. I’ll let you know. But tell the sheriff to bring it up to Catherine. See how it plays with her. She may know something about it.”

“I’ll tell him,” Clausen assured.

Lang hung up and was consumed with frustration. Damn! What the hell? Catherine’s timing was diabolical.

Quickly he finished packing the van, then burned out of the driveway on his last moving trip to the coast. There was no way—no way—he could get there in time to talk to her. It just wouldn’t happen no matter what kind of vehicle he was driving.

As soon as he was under way he punched in Claire’s cell phone number, but it went straight to voice mail. He left a message asking her to call, explaining that Catherine had shown up at the department unannounced.

“Maybe taking Claire to the lodge was a good idea,” he realized after he’d ended the message.

Maybe that’s what had brought Catherine out from behind her gates.

Seated in an interrogation room, Catherine was disappointed to realize that the man who’d left her the notes and the woman doctor were not available. The sheriff, O’Halloran, was explaining that the doctor was affiliated with some psychiatric hospital between here and Salem, and that the man with the notes had been hired by the department but wasn’t actually on the roster just yet.

“He asked me to call him on his telephone,” Catherine stated.

“He has a cell phone. A mobile phone,” O’Halloran said with a nod. “But since you’re here, I can go over what he wanted to talk about with you.”

Catherine waited, her hands in her lap. She didn’t like being there. Didn’t like sitting in a chair like a schoolgirl in front of a disciplinarian.

“The detective’s name is Langdon Stone, and he’s working on a homicide case.”

“Homicide,” Catherine repeated, startled.

“The victim’s name is Rafe Worster. He was traveling with a young woman who is in her third trimester of pregnancy. This woman was also attacked, but her injuries weren’t life threatening. However, she has not spoken since the attack. From what I understand, she’s been in and out of a catatonic state.”

Catherine, under control again, said, “I know the young man.”

“You do?” O’Halloran looked surprised by her admission.

“He worked for us as a gardener and handyman. We haven’t seen him in a number of weeks.”

“And the girl?”

Without hesitating, Catherine said, “No. I don’t know her.”

There was a knock on the door and one of the other officers took O’Halloran into the hallway for a brief consultation. The sheriff returned shortly and picked up where he’d left off.

“Detective Stone thought she might be from your…family,” he said.

“I’m sorry. No.”

O’Halloran looked at her hard. Catherine could tell he didn’t believe her, but she had no intention of admitting that Natasha was one of their number. She felt a twinge of conscience about the baby Natasha was carrying, but there were good reasons to keep denying Natasha’s existence. The need to keep everyone safe superseded everything else.

“Could you give me a little background on your group?” he asked. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard your last name.”

“I’m surprised,” Catherine said dryly. “As your local historical society has a document purported to be an authentic history of my family.”

“You’re saying it’s not authentic?”

“It’s not accurate.”

“What is your last name?”

“Rutledge. It’s not a secret.” Catherine got to her feet.

“The pregnant Jane Doe has gone missing from the hospital,” he said, trying to forestall her.

Catherine felt a chill slide down her spine, but she kept a stone face for the sheriff. “Was there anything else the detective wanted to know?”

“He would like to talk to you personally.”

She lifted her chin and met O’Halloran’s curious gaze. They’d known of each other for years but had never really gone head-to-head on any issue; there had been no need. “I will see the woman doctor,” she said. “You can tell him that.”

She then strode determinedly out of the room and out of the department, her bun of gray hair, stiff back, and long dress drawing a number of looks from other personnel. Catherine was used to it. They didn’t understand. How could they?

None of them knew of the evil that constantly tried to envelop them all. None of them knew of all the devices she used to keep it at bay.

Claire left her office for the hospital after Jamie Lou flounced away. Darlene and Alison, the aide, were busy in the morning room with Thomas McAvoy, who’d taken exception to something Big Jenny had done. Jenny just stood and blinked at him, which brought up a spew of invective from McAvoy.

“Where’s Gibby?” she asked Greg.

“Wanted to stay in his room. Guess he’s upset that Cat’s missing.”

“He calls her Tasha. Says that’s her name,” Claire said.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s not here. We’ve gone through every room.”

“How did she get out?” Claire shook her head, not accepting.

“Like the detective said. She musta had help.”

Finally Darlene and Alison broke up the altercation between Thomas and Jenny. Maribel took over Gibby’s chair, but since he wasn’t around, she lost interest and started wandering, touching all the books in the bookcase.

“Darlene…” Claire called her to one side. The heavyset nurse looked at her askance. “Gibby said Tasha was scared of
them,
and that they were mean, and that she told Gibby that she had to leave.”

“He thinks everybody’s mean because we don’t give him his way all the time,” Darlene said.

“Anyone in particular at the hospital? Someone Tasha might think was mean, too?”

She thought about it. “Gibby doesn’t like Thomas.”

Claire looked over at McAvoy, who was seated at a table, hunched over, waiting for lunch though it was several hours away still. “What about someone on staff?”

“We’re all mean. He doesn’t like Greg, either. Or any of the other orderlies, physical therapists. None of the men.”

Claire knew it to be true. “I thought maybe there was someone or something specifically. Hmm.”

She left Darlene, wondering what to do next. Call the police and report Tasha as missing? Was she? Did she leave under her own power?
How?

She was debating on whether to call Lang again when her cell buzzed. She checked caller ID to find the man in question on the phone. “Hey,” she answered. “I was just going to call you.”

“Learn anything new?”

“Not really.” She related her conversation with Darlene and told him Gibby wasn’t up yet.

“Well, I’ve got something for you,” he said, and in turn told Claire about Catherine’s unexpected appearance at the department and how she knew Rafe, but negated knowing anything about his companion.

“You’re kidding!” Claire said.

“It’s a lie,” he stated, sounding like he was holding on to his temper with an effort. “Jane Doe is part of their cult; I’m sure of it. I don’t know what the hell Catherine’s deal is.”

“Do you think that’s where Tasha is now? Back at Siren Song?” Claire heard the hope in her voice.

“No. I don’t think Catherine went out of her way to get her back, if that’s what you mean. Since she’s denying even knowing her.”

“I’m really worried about Tasha.”

He grunted in agreement. “So here’s the kicker: Catherine’s willing to meet with you.”

“What?”

“She must feel more comfortable with women. You were right. So, I was wondering if sometime today you could go to Siren Song? I’m sure Catherine’s lying and I want to know why. Keep this thing going. Keep the pressure on. Something’s strange about it all.”

“Very strange,” she agreed. “Are you planning to come with me?”

“Yeah, but I have a feeling I won’t get inside the gates.” He then added that he was at the tail end of a relocation to Tillamook, but would be available in the afternoon. “What’s your schedule look like?”

“I can rearrange a few things,” Claire said, after a moment of thought, “and be out of here by three. Should we meet at my place?”

“See you then,” he said, and hung up.

Claire studiously ignored the anticipatory thrill that ran through her like hot liquid.

Tasha lay snug in Cade Worster’s bed while he slept on the living room couch. She’d stripped off Gibby’s clothes and wrapped herself in a tattered quilt in a log cabin style—Tasha had hand-sewn clothes and quilts and pillowcases all her life—and fallen into tortured slumber.

In her dreams Catherine was chasing her. Catherine, the mother, though she was really her aunt. But Nathaniel had been Catherine’s son, Tasha was pretty sure, though Catherine denied it mightily. Now Nathaniel was gone except in her nightmares. In them he rose from the grave and stared at her out of eyes that were black holes of death.

In her dreams he was an apparition now, appearing before her, silently accusing. Tasha turned and ran and nearly tripped over silly Lillibeth in her wheelchair.

She felt Nathaniel’s cold breath on the back of her neck and screamed herself awake.

Blinking, frightened, unsure of where she was, she felt another contraction. The real thing or false labor? Whatever it was, it
hurt.

Where am I?
she thought wildly. Then,
Cade’s house.

She relaxed a moment. Just. Because there was danger here, too. She could feel it. Rita would find her. Rita would come to Rafe’s cousin’s home. It was logical, and Rita might be crazy but her obsession made her smart.

Tasha had to keep away from her.

Carefully she slid off the bed, the quilt around her naked skin, and tiptoed to the back window. It was daylight outside. Dark and dreary but getting on toward noon, she thought.

Where was Rita? This community wasn’t that large. Rita would find her.

She had to convince Cade to save her. Take her away. Like Rafe had tried to do.

She had to
escape.

Before Rita found her.

Rita glared out the kitchen window at the dark day.

Late for work.

Because of that blond whore who’d run off with her baby.
Again!

Beside herself with fury, Rita phoned Halo Valley, pinching her nostrils together and wheezing to Lori about how she’d come down with a virus. This god-awful weather. Should she talk to one of the doctors? Possibly Dr. Avanti?

She was told that Avanti wasn’t in yet, either. Lori then spilled about the missing patient, whom they were now calling Tasha.