Hurriedly shoving the pregnancy test to the bottom of my bag, I turn around, my eyes landing on a wild-haired man in his late fifties. He stands a few feet away with a warm smile onhis face and his hands clasped behind his back. The white coat proclaims him a doctor, but the brown plaid pants with perfectly pressed creases along the legs and matching jacket make him look like an escapee from the nineteen-sixties. The retro vibe is spoiled a bit by the neon-green T-shirt he’s sporting.
“Dr. Shaw?” I hang my purse over my shoulder and extend my hand to greet Adriano’s somewhat odd friend. “Sorry, it took me a second to recognize you.”
“Bartholomew, please. And I can’t blame you. No fancy Armani tux for me today.” He winks. “It’s all dry-cleaned and ready to go, hanging in my closet, in case Adriano allows me to crash another banquet of his.”
I force a smile. “I’m sure he will.”
“You seem a bit shaken. I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay? Are you here”—he motions toward the hospital hallway—“to see a doctor or…”
“Oh, no. I’m fine, thank you for asking. I’m here with my mom. She’s getting her regular checkup.”
“Ah, yes. I recall Adriano mentioning she had a heart transplant. Is that right? How is she doing?”
“Yes. She’s doing very well, but we’ll know for sure once she finishes her meeting with her doctor. And you? Do you work here?” I point at this white coat.
“Once in a while, I do consult at this hospital. But today, I’m dropping off a few of my old research notes for a colleague of mine. You see, early in my career, I ran a long-term psychotherapy project, and my colleague expressed interest in taking a look at the data.” He chuckles. “When I said I have a few notes, I may not have been entirely honest. There are actually three banker’s boxes of written observations in my car. It’ll takemore than one trip to bring them up, so I came to get him so he could help. The phone reception in the garage is awful. All that concrete.” His shoulders sag. “Alas, I just learned he’s been called away on an urgent matter. Guess I’m on my own. But that’s alright. I’ll sacrifice my poor back and make the multiple trips to bring everything up to his office.”
“I can help,” I offer.
“Out of the question. You are a lady, and your mother will likely be finished soon. I can’t ask—”
“Nonsense. I’m more than capable of helping. And you can tell me more about your research along the way. My mom will be a while still. She only went in a few minutes ago.” And it will give me some time to pull myself together before I need to face her. What if she guesses before I have the chance to tell Adriano that I’m pregnant?
“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d greatly appreciate the help. The boxes aren’t too heavy, I promise. Let’s use that freight elevator; it’s closer to where I parked.”
“No trouble at all.” I glance toward the door separating this hospital wing from the main waiting room, where Theo, my chauffeur slash security shadow, has been forced to wait. The hospital staff told him in no uncertain terms that no one, aside from immediate family members, is allowed in this area. I can just make out his unmoving form through the narrow glass window. He knows it will be at least another fifteen to twenty minutes before Mom is through with her checkup, so it should be okay if I go and help Adriano’s doctor-buddy.
“So, Bartholomew, what kind of research was it?” I ask as we head to the elevator at the end of the hall.
He adjusts his cuffs like he’s remembering a fond, old hobby. “Nothing overly groundbreaking, I’m afraid. I started the projectwhile working at a state correctional facility some years ago. You see, the government liked to refer to my patients as dangerous offenders, but I saw damaged, overstimulated nervous systems that simply needed to be reprogrammed.”
“Reprogrammed?”
“Indeed. It’s a wonderful technique, though the word tends to frighten people who don’t understand the concept. In a nutshell, it’s all about finding a person’s motivation, tapping into that thing that makes them tick, and then maneuvering them to act against their familiar—though not necessarily appropriate—nature,” he continues as the elevator dings overhead. “With some individuals, it’s not difficult at all to pinpoint their stimulus. But there are others for whom identifying the key motive could be a great challenge. In cases such as these, a stronger push might be required. Admittedly, some men will only choose the right path in life when all their other options are taken away.” He says it the way someone might encourage a patient to take their medicine by holding a spoon in front of them.
A slight unease slips into the back of my mind as we enter the elevator and Bartholomew hits the button for the underground garage. His tone remains good-natured, a smile stays firmly on his face, but even though he still seems like the guy who reminds me of everyone’s favorite jolly uncle, something about him rubs me the wrong way now. I might not be a doctor, but it doesn’t seem okay to push people into something without their consent.
“Isn’t that a bit…”—the elevator doors whoosh open, revealing the well-lit garage—“well, extreme?”
“Some of my peers did think so, yes. But, if the outcome is positive, does it really matter what steps were taken to achieveit?” He chuckles as he points toward the far left corner. “There, by the pillar. The green sedan with a yellow bumper sticker. Why, I must be losing my wits. I could’ve sworn I parked closer. Thanks again for the help.”
“No worries.” I shrug.
Our footsteps ring hollow through the cavernous space as we traverse the other parked vehicles, coming up to the absolute beater of a sedan with a bright-yellow bumper sticker that boldly proclaims,Tailgating is a matter of boundaries.
“Shrink humor.” Bartholomew grins while opening the trunk. “The boxes are in here. Let me just—”
A prick of pain radiates through my nape.
“What the—” I rear back, staring at the unfamiliar gun-like thing in his hand.
“It’s called a pressure injector,” he says. “A very useful device that delivers a fast-acting sedative with precise control.”
My vision rapidly begins to blur, and I stumble, bracing my palms on the car.
“Easy there.” I feel his arm around my middle as he guides my practically nonresponsive body to the back seat. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Chapter 33
