The Haunted (Sarah Roberts 12) (8 page)

Her bra was removed. Something cold pressed against her side by her buttock. Scissors. Then her panties were removed easily.

Oh, Vivian … where are you …

Whatever they injected in her arm took complete hold. For once in her life, it was a pleasure to go under. When she surfaced, she would deal with whatever came her way then.

And what was that he said about a dead woman?

But for now, naked in a mental ward, demented caregivers planning their next move, being forced to nod off kept her from ridiculing her sister for not giving her any notice or warning.

What the fuck is this, Sis?

Chapter 12

“We have to get a MacBook Pro,” Aaron said. “And we have to do it immediately.”

They stood at the back of the parking lot in the shade as the Dodge Charger was dusted for prints. The lawyer’s office was closed and Kershaw was waiting for the key holder to arrive and allow them a tour of the premises.

“Why?” Parkman asked.

“Because we have no other leads.” Aaron wiped sweat from his brow and rubbed it on his jeans. “Wherever Sarah is, she needs us. As far as we know, Sarah could be five minutes from here or already crossing state lines. The last clue to where she is will be on her computer.”

“But her computer’s completely smashed—” Parkman’s eyes widened. “That’s why you want another MacBook. So you can back up her hard drive from that Time Capsule thing she uses.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, let’s go. They don’t need us here.”

Parkman left Aaron alone so he could call a taxi while he strode over to tell Kershaw they were leaving.

Moments later, he returned. “Kershaw has my cell number and I’ve got his,” Parkman said.

“Great. Cab’ll meet us two blocks from here.”

“Why two blocks?”

Aaron shrugged. “Don’t know. Just didn’t want to be picked up at a murder scene.”

Parkman frowned. “Hmmph. Okay.”

They left the shade and started walking. It was hot for late April, warning them that the coming summer could be a scorcher. The yellow taxi came up the street. Aaron waved and the vehicle veered toward them, stopping two feet away.

Parkman grabbed the door handle but didn’t open it. “How much of that email from Cole’s sister did you get to read?”

“Over half of it. Rebecca was about to tell Sarah where Cole is. I’m assuming Sarah read the email last night. Once we read the email, we might know where Sarah has gone.”

Aaron got in the taxi. Parkman followed.

“Take us to town. We need an Apple Store.”

The unshaven driver, whose cab reeked of cigarette smoke, twisted in his seat and looked at Aaron. “You mean apples and oranges, as in fruit? Or Apples as in computers?”

“Computers.”

“This might prove difficult,” the driver said.

“How so?” Parkman asked.

“Not many people around here can afford an Apple. Closest store is in the big city. Many hours from here. We could drive south and make it to Sacramento in three to four hours.”

Aaron shot a side glance at Parkman. “Now what?”

“It has to be a Mac?” Parkman asked.

Aaron nodded. “We can’t sit on the highway in a taxi for almost eight hours there and back to the cabin, buy a thousand dollar computer, transfer the files over an eight-hour period so we can read one email. That’s too long. Sarah doesn’t have that long.”

“Is there an Internet cafe anywhere?” Parkman asked.

The driver shook his head in the negative, the taxi still idling. Then said, “There is, but it has old PCs, not Macs.”

“We need to take it to the cabin with us, log onto her network.”

“What now?” Parkman asked.

“No idea.” Aaron said. He leaned up in the seat to read the driver’s name. “Marco, do you know anyone who has a MacBook laptop we could borrow for the rest of the day?”

He shook his head wide, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t have friends who own such a machine. My boss has one in his office, but it’s not a laptop—”

Parkman slapped the arm rest on the door and sat up straighter in his seat. “Your boss has a Mac?”

“Yes, but it’s a desktop computer. And I can’t imagine he would lend it out to go to some cabin for the day.”

“Take us to your boss.”

“Can’t do it. Waste of time.”

“Where’s your head office?”

“You’re not listening. My boss is a private man. There’s no way in hell that he would give you his computer, even if you gave him the couple of thousand it’s worth in cash. It’s his and only his. He doesn’t even let his wife on it.”

“You’re a cab driver. We’re asking you to taxi us to your boss. We’ll pay the fare and then let your boss tell us that he won’t let us on his system.”

“No.” He stared back at the two of them. “I will take you wherever you want to go, but not to my office. Either leave my cab or pick another destination.”

Aaron leaned forward again, studying the identification card on the dash of the taxi. “Yellow cab. Marco Vinetti, car number 8674,” Aaron said. “C’mon Parkman. Let’s go back and get Officer Kershaw to drive us to the cab company’s office where we’ll talk to the boss on our own terms. I’ll be sure to let him know how helpful you were as a driver for his company.”

As they exited the vehicle, the driver went on about calling in to his boss to give him the heads up. When the doors shut, the driver sped away with the required squeal of the tires.

They half walked, half jogged back to the lawyer’s office building a block and a half away. A few of the vehicles had left, but activity was still bustling around the crime scene.

Aaron saw Kershaw immediately. When they reached him, he was on his cell phone. Parkman tapped his shoulder. After a moment, Kershaw got off the call and turned to them.

“I thought you guys left.”

The air was still and calm this early afternoon. After the short jog, sweat beaded up on Aaron’s forehead again.

“We did leave,” Parkman said. “But we need your help.”

“With what?”

“We need access to a Mac, an Apple computer.”

“For what?” Kershaw swiped the air at a fly buzzing too close.

“Aaron saw something on Sarah’s computer before he was attacked.”

Kershaw frowned. Then adjusted his stance and faced Aaron. “I thought you were attacked outside.”

“I was,” Aaron said, feeling the trap closing on the lie from earlier.

“Then how did you get to see Sarah’s computer? It’s ruined.”

“Last night. When I dropped her off after the cemetery visit.”

Kershaw looked from Parkman to Aaron, then back to Parkman. Parkman kept a straight face, as did Aaron.

“What did you see?”

“An email. I think it might have information as to where Sarah is. It’s a long shot, but there could be a lead. Sarah backs everything up onto something called a Time Capsule—”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“If I can get a MacBook Pro, or any Mac for that matter, I can plug into the network back at the cabin, restore her hard drive onto the new computer, and eight hours or so later, it would be as if I have Sarah’s computer back in my hand.”

“And you say this message is in one of her emails?”

“Yes.”

“She uses a Time Capsule.” Kershaw said this more as a statement to himself. “Does she use iCloud for her email?”

Aaron nodded. “She does.”

“And if you were to restore everything from the Capsule, you know her passwords to access her email?”

“I do,” Aaron said. He looked at Parkman. “Where are you going with this?”

“Follow me,” Kershaw said.

He spun on his heels and started across the parking lot.

“You have a Mac?” Parkman asked.

“No, but you don’t need one.”

“How’s that?”

“If you know her password and her email address, you can log onto iCloud on any computer. It doesn’t have to be a Mac. Come on, I’ve got a computer in the cruiser.”

Chapter 13

Sarah screamed for someone to bring her a drink. Dressed in a hospital gown, her wrists and ankles were still tied to the bed. Her bladder threatened to burst half an hour ago, and her stomach ached for nourishment, but no one acknowledged her or entered the room.

A night light offered a soft glow in the darkened room which only had one door, no windows. She had no idea if it was day or night.

All that mattered was getting untied, drinking something, using a toilet, and then hurting people until she was out of this building.

She refused to think about what Dr. Williams had said. Upon awakening, she could tell that she hadn’t been violated in any other way except for Williams feeling her up before they drugged her to sleep.

Actually, she was surprised to be wearing the hospital gown. Williams had ordered them to keep her naked. That told her something about his authority in the Amy Greg Psychiatric Hospital.

If she was under a seventy-two hour involuntary hold, that meant someone would come to talk to her, try to assess her. They would allow the use of a bathroom. Food. Soap. Maybe a phone call.

Aaron was probably going mad after the message she left him. He would show up at the cabin and she wouldn’t be there. He’d have no idea where she had gone to meet the doctor. He wouldn’t be able to reach her and within a short time, Parkman would come, then the police would get in on it.

From what Williams said, she didn’t have a lot of time to survive this place. The only way she knew how to survive was to do it on her terms and that meant being disruptive.

She released her bladder. The warmth oozed out and puddled on the bed under her. The wetness was uncomfortable, but the pressure in her bladder ebbed, which was a relief.

They would have to change her bedsheets now. That meant untying her to take her off the bed. There’d be a new gown, possibly a shower. No one would want to do horrific things to her while she was covered in urine.

Her hunger would subside in time. It would come back stronger, but for now, she could deal with it.

Vivian’s silence was more difficult. She had grown to trust her sister implicitly over the years. In the past, there were many times when Vivian was silent and it served a purpose, but it would be so much nicer if she could just show her what’s going to happen so it didn’t come so much of a surprise.

Surprises weren’t a lot of fun.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. They got closer. Outside her door, they stopped.

Sarah lifted her head, breath caught in her throat as she listened, staring at the door.

There was a click as the lock was disengaged, then the handle turned.

Light spilled in from the hallway. A tall man, at least six four, bald and wearing a security uniform, stepped just inside the door. He brought a hand up to his nose.

“What’s that smell?” he asked.

“Bad dream. Pissed myself. Is this where I wake up? I’m still dreaming, right?”

“No, no dream. Reality. Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to take you for your shower, then new clothes and possibly breakfast. I’ll have your bedsheets changed while we’re away.”

“And you’ve come to do this alone? You’re not worried about me?”

He stepped closer. As he did, she saw the disfigurement in his face. A burn victim, his facial skin deformed, twisted and melted in spots. His security guard’s uniform came complete with a loaded utility belt.

He held up a small canister. “Pepper spray.” He placed it back on his belt, felt around to the other side and pulled up a small Taser. “Just in case you decide to test me, I’ll be ready. Now that we know the stakes, are you ready to be placed into a wheelchair and taken for your shower?”

“A wheelchair?”

“My orders are to keep you restrained one hundred percent of the time. Normally, there’d be two of us, but we’re short staffed. A lot of crazies in the building.” He dipped his chin closer to his chest and rolled his head back and forth in short bursts in an eerie attempt to appear crazy. The skin deformity on his face only made the picture all that more alarming. He stopped rolling his head, then said, “I’ll wheel the chair in and set it beside the bed. I will untie one ankle, then one wrist. You will do the rest. Understood?”

Sarah nodded.

He didn’t move. After another moment, he said, “Understood?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake.”

He pivoted on his heels as if he was in the military and left the room, leaving the door to the hallway open. His footfalls retreated until there was silence.