Chapter Seventeen

Holly woke in total blackness, dazed, head aching. The last thing she remembered was reaching for the elevator button.

She tried to get up and bumped into a wall in the dark. She could hear the sound of water and heat pipes but couldn’t tell if they were over her head—or just one misstep below her. Carefully, she got to her feet, afraid of falling into an abyss.

Once on her feet, she discovered the knot on the side of her head. She half expected to find no memory of anything. But not only could she remember being hit, she remembered the voice and the muffled familiar words. “It will be over soon.” The same words she’d heard the night she delivered her baby. And she realized now why she’d known the person speaking the words even through his mask. Why she’d been so shocked. Because she’d met Chief L. T. Curtis last February with Slade, right before someone had wiped Slade from her mind—but not from her heart, she thought.

No wonder the monsters had found her soon after she met Chief Curtis.

But at least now she knew she’d gone to Slade this Christmas Eve of her own free will, because she was in trouble and instinctively she’d known to go to him.

And now she had her memory back, for all the good it did her. Slade was waiting at the lab. And Curtis had told him he’d be back as soon as he took care of Holly. Well, he’d taken care of her all right!

Gingerly, she reached out her arms, fearing what she might feel in the dark, but desperately needing to escape this prison—and get to Slade. He would trust Chief Curtis. He would believe that she was safe with the two police officers she’d bet weren’t waiting upstairs in the main office. Slade would be a sitting duck.

Her fingertips touched a wall directly in front of her. And another off to her left and right. A closet? Or a coffin stood on end? The thought sent a chill through her. She felt for a doorknob, desperate to find one.

Her hand found the handle of a broom or mop and shoved it aside, only to have it hit something over her head. A large container tumbled down, striking her shoulder, almost knocking her to her knees.

She grabbed her shoulder in the blackness of the closet and felt something wet and sticky. Blood? She leaned against the wall, holding her shoulder, waiting for the pain to subside a little. The closet smelled strongly of floor cleaner. She crouched down and found a large plastic bottle and something wet and sticky spilled on the floor. Not blood. Floor cleaner.

She wasn’t bleeding. That was a relief anyway.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and went back to looking for a doorknob. Nor was she in a coffin, she thought counting her meager blessings.

Her hand banged against metal. Smooth, round metal. She’d never been so happy to find a doorknob in her life. She tried to turn it, not terribly surprised to find the door locked—and obviously with a key—from the outside.

She considered throwing herself against the door, but knew that breaking it down was out of the question even if she’d had enough room to get a run at it. Banging on the door for help seemed just as ridiculous. She hadn’t seen a soul on her walk with the chief down the labyrinth of hallways. Wherever she was, it wasn’t on a main floor and she would never be heard over the sound of the water and heating system now roaring in her ears.

She was trapped. In the dark. And Slade was out there with at least two crazy armed people—Carolyn Gray and Chief L. T. Curtis.

She fought the desire to scream. Or cry. Think. She felt around for the broom or mop handle she’d discovered earlier. Mop, she decided, when she found it and ran her fingers the length of it.

Maybe she could use it as leverage to break off the doorknob. She wasn’t sure the door would open even if she managed such a feat, but she had to try. She couldn’t just stand here in the broom closet, unable to warn Slade, just waiting for the chief of police or Carolyn Gray to come back and kill her.

She got the mop handle between the wall and the knob and pulled down with all her strength. She thought she felt it give a little. If only she had a little more room. Or more weight. The mop handle broke. She fell, slamming into the closet wall.

She felt tears rush her eyes and a sob catch in her throat, just waiting to be let loose. She threw down the piece of broken mop handle, hurt and scared and frustrated. And angry. But she wasn’t going to cry.

Bracing herself against the wall, she put her foot against the doorknob. She would break the thing even if it killed her!

She kicked, then kicked harder, ignoring the pain in her arch. The doorknob gave way on the ninth kick. It clattered to the floor. She leaned against the wall, realizing she was crying, but not sure how long she had been.

She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and turned her back to the wall opposite the door, figuring she’d have to kick her way out, but determined she would, come hell or high water.

The moment her boot touched the door, the door swung open and she slipped on the floor cleaner and fell to the floor. Crying and laughing and closet-blind, she scrambled to her feet and burst out into the dim light of the hallway.

Once out, she realized she had no idea how to get back to the lab.

 

SLADE HADN’T HEARD the chief open the door because he’d been on the phone. Curtis stood filling the doorway, his service revolver in his beefy hand. He was looking at Carolyn Gray’s body, his expression one of regret rather than surprise.

“Who was on the phone?” the cop asked.

“Wrong number.”

“You always were a bad liar, Slade. I figured Shelley would remember the ornament incident. She always paid more attention to the little things than you did.”

Slade stared at him, trying to get control of his fury, his fear, his repulsion, trying to understand with his mind something his heart just refused to believe. “What did you do with Holly?” he demanded, fear making his blood run cold as he advanced on the cop.

Curtis lifted the revolver in his hand, the threat too clear.

Slade stopped, his own weapon in his coat pocket, where he’d put it when he’d found Carolyn dead. He knew he couldn’t get it out, aim and pull the trigger before Curtis fired and killed him, so he didn’t even consider it. He wouldn’t do Holly any good dead.

“I locked her in a closet until we could get some things sorted out,” the cop said.

He didn’t know why, but he believed Curtis. “Why?” he asked, his heart breaking. “Why would you get involved with someone like Allan Wellington?”

“Allan was a genius,” Curtis said.

“All madmen think they’re geniuses.”

“Do they? You think I’m mad and yet I’m no genius. If I were I wouldn’t be here right now.” The cop glanced toward Carolyn Gray’s body. “I wish you’d left this alone, Slade. I told you Marcella would never have had an affair.”

Slade eyed the contents of the lab, looking for something he could use for a weapon. A small microscope lay on its side on the lab table in a pile of broken glass. If he could get to it—

“Marcella must have found out what Wellington was doing when she was getting the fertility treatments,” Slade said, edging slowly toward the lab table. “She would have come to you, because for some reason she didn’t want my father to know she was getting treatments? Or trying to expose Dr. Wellington.” He frowned as he glanced at Curtis. “And she would have trusted you.” A thought struck him. “She found out about your involvement.”

The cop was nodding thoughtfully. “I didn’t want to hurt Marcella, but she wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Slade swore. “She was trying to tell us who her murderer was. You gave her that ornament as a warning. If she talked you’d do something to her kids. No, not her kids, Norma’s and Joe’s kids.”

“So Norma told you,” Curtis said disgustedly. “I figured eventually she would.” His gaze hardened. “They betrayed me. Especially Marcella. She’s the one who talked Norma into having Joe’s children, and Norma—” he shook his head angrily “—jumped at the chance to be with your father.”

“That’s why you stole Holly’s and my baby,” Slade said with a start. “You couldn’t stand the thought of Norma having a grandchild.”

“You always were a bright kid,” the cop said. “Must have gotten that from your father.”

His father. Slade looked into Curtis’s eyes and knew. “You made it look like a heart attack.” He never had a bad heart. Inez’s words seem to echo. Sweet heaven. “You killed my father—and Dr. Wellington.” It was everything he could do not to launch himself at the man and take his chances. If he could just get his hands around the cop’s throat— “Dad must have found out that you were the one who killed Marcella.”

“Your father was one hell of a cop,” Curtis said almost sadly. “He wanted to blow me away himself, but he had too much honor. It was just one of the things Norma loved about him. He gave me until the next morning to turn myself in. Wellington told me what I needed to make the death look like a heart attack. Ironically, I used the same drug on the good doctor when the time came.”

“But why kill Wellington if he was such a genuis?” Slade asked, trying to put it all together, knowing somewhere in it all was the key to what had happened to his baby girl.

“He was getting out of control and I was getting tired of cleaning up after him. And I didn’t need him anymore.”

“Holly,” Slade guessed, inching toward the lab table. He moved so slowly. Too slowly. But he didn’t dare make a misstep. He had to think of Holly. Finding Holly. “You were afraid of him marrying a woman so much younger and controlling her mind through the use of drugs.”

“Wellington had taken her off the drug so he could get her pregnant, but he was having trouble controlling her.”

“It was you she was running from when she left the Institute last Christmas Eve,” Slade said. It all made sense now. The way Holly had disappeared right after she’d met the chief and Norma. “You could have killed her after you used the mind control to make her forget me,” he said, wondering if there wasn’t some human compassion in the man.

“You were already obsessed over your mother’s murder,” Curtis snapped. “If I’d killed Holly, you would never have let up until you found out the truth.”

Slade was almost within reach of the table—and the microscope. Suddenly he saw something that stopped him dead. He watched a drop of blood fall from the cop’s left side and splat on the floor, bright red, at the man’s feet. Slade’s glaze leapt to Curtis’ zipped jacket. The knit band around the bottom on the left was soaked with blood. He’d been wounded! Had Carolyn Gray fought back? But how badly was the cop hurt? “You had to know she was carrying my baby, Norma’s grandbaby.”

“Inez convinced me that the baby was Wellington’s.”

Slade saw it now, all of the pieces finally falling into place. Except one large empty hole that he had to have filled no matter what happened in this room tonight.

 

HOLLY STOOD in the middle of the hallway, lost. She had no idea where she was or where the lab was. She felt tears blur her vision. She swiped at them angrily. Which way? Back down the hall away from the elevator? But then the halls made a junction and—

She saw something on the floor and knew before she reached down to touch the bright red spot what had been wrong with Chief Curtis. Blood. He’d been wounded. It made no sense, but she didn’t question it as she looked down the hallway for another drop of blood, then another. Better than a breadcrumb trail, she thought.

She took off her boots, not wanting to make a sound, then began to follow the bloody trail back to the lab. As she drew closer, she began to run, fear and anger coursing through her veins like blood, a hot cauldron of fury. “Dammit, Rawlins, don’t you dare let that psychopath kill you!”

 

“WHAT IS IT you want, Slade?” The way Curtis said it he could have been asking him what he wanted for lunch. The cop sounded tired and old and Slade found himself wondering how well he’d ever known him.

“My baby and Holly.”

Curtis cocked his head to the side. “Why don’t I believe that’s all you want?”

“That’s it. I don’t give a damn about the rest of this.” It surprised him, but it was true.

The cop grabbed a shelf on the wall next to him and flung its contents to the floor. “Not you, Slade. You have to have truth and justice. You couldn’t live with yourself otherwise.”

“You might be surprised,” Slade said.

Curtis wagged his bald head as he pulled a second gun from his coat.

Slade recognized it as his own—the one he couldn’t find at Dr. Delaney’s. “Dr. Delaney was telling the truth. He wasn’t at the birth of Holly’s and my baby. It was you. You put the mask in Delaney’s closet to frame him.” He could reach the microscope now. All he needed was the right moment and a hell of a lot of luck. “There is one thing I don’t understand. Why not let Holly keep the baby? All Inez wanted was an heir for her brother—even a dead one. Why not let Inez have a live family heir? No one would be the wiser.”

“Holly was too unstable,” Curtis said with a sigh. “I figured after her baby was born dead, she’d probably end up committing suicide.”

He’d planned to kill Holly. No doubt still did. Sweet heaven. “What part did Dr. Delaney and Dr. O’Brien play in all this?”

The question seemed to take Curtis by surprise. He frowned. “Dr. O’Brien has nothing to do with this. Why would you ask about him?”

Slade spotted Holly out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t believe it for a moment. She peeked around the edge of the doorframe and winked at him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

“I saw O’Brien at Inez’s,” Slade said.

The cop’s frown deepened. “Inez and Dr. O’Brien? She told me she was just trying to get Holly recommitted, and Dr. O’Brien had offered to help.”

It was obvious Curtis wasn’t so sure about Inez now. “You know there is something that bothers me,” Slade said, motioning to the lab, actually motioning to the microscope on the lab table, hoping that Holly would see what he had planned. “You don’t give a damn about superbabies or changing the world to meet some master plan. What were you really doing here?”

Holly nodded. She had her boots off. One in each hand. She motioned that she could throw them.

“Haven’t you already guessed? At first, I was just angry that Norma and I couldn’t have children when all the wrong couples were having babies. Then I realized there was money to be made with the babies that didn’t quite stack up. Allan thought I…disposed of them. But babies, I found, are worth much more alive, either in hard cash or to pay off a debt.”

Slade wanted to kill the man with his bare hands, but instead he nodded at Holly as if answering Curtis. “Was my baby cash or payment of a debt?”

“A debt. I was shutting down. Wellington had needed someone to clean up his messes, so we had a pretty good thing going until he became too much of a liability. Your baby was going to be my last…deal. Had a good run, no reason to push my luck.”

“But then Holly began to remember,” Slade said.

The cop nodded. “Having your baby be stillborn, it’s really made you crazy. And when it all comes out about Dr. Wellington and his mind control…well, everyone involved will be dead. I think I’ll retire, too broken up about your death to continue law enforcement. Holly will commit suicide. That shouldn’t surprise anyone. Once I get her back under my control again. My old method doesn’t work, thanks to Dr. Delaney. I knew the day would come when his conscience would get to him. But he’s gone now. All I have to worry about is Shelley. I’m sorry, Slade, but I think all of Norma’s children and grandchildren are going to have to die.”

A thought lodged itself in Slade’s brain like a splinter. The three monsters in Holly’s painting. He’d thought they were Carolyn Gray, Lorraine Vogel and Dr. Delaney. Why hadn’t he remembered that the monsters didn’t seem to know what they were doing? Delaney had delivered thousands of babies. He wouldn’t have panicked. But Delaney hadn’t been there—Curtis had.

“What went wrong during Holly’s delivery?” he asked the cop, positioning himself to grab the microscope the moment Holly threw the boots.

“Nothing,” Curtis said, momentarily distracted by the question. “Just a little surprise. We were expecting one baby—not two!”

“Twins?” Slade shot a look to Holly. Curtis caught the look and started to turn. “Now!” Slade yelled.

Holly threw the boots and ducked back out of the doorway. Slade grabbed the microscope and lunged at the cop.

But Curtis was in good shape and quick for a man of his age. He swung back around, realizing Slade was the greatest threat. The microscope hit the cop’s hand, the gun went clattering across the floor, and then Curtis was on him, the second gun, Slade’s own, in the big man’s hand.

They fell to the floor, wrestling for the weapon.

“Get the other gun!” Slade cried to Holly as he and Curtis fought, Slade’s pistol between them, Curtis strong as a bull.

She ran into the lab. Curtis’s service revolver had slid under one of the cabinets near Carolyn’s body. Slade saw Holly cringe at the sight of the dead woman, then flatten herself to the floor to reach back under the cabinet. Everything was happening so fast, and yet it seemed in slow motion, each detail so clear. He could see that she’d cut her bare foot on some glass, blood soaking through her sock, but she seemed oblivious of the wound as she dug for the weapon, unable to reach it.

Slade struggled for the gun between them, Curtis rolling so he was on top.

The blast surprised Slade when the gun went off.

For a moment he didn’t know which of them had been hit. Maybe neither. Then he felt something wet and hot across his chest. Curtis was still fighting for the gun, not appearing harmed in anyway.

Slade didn’t think he’d been hit, but he knew gunshot victims often went into shock, unaware for a few minutes that they’d been injured. He got an elbow up to Curtis’s throat and with effort shoved the man off him. Curtis tumbled backwards, coming down hard, but the cop still had Slade’s gun in his hand.

“I’ve got it!” Slade heard Holly yell. She sent the cop’s revolver skidding across the floor to Slade. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Curtis swing his arm up to fire, the barrel of the gun pointed at Holly.

Slade grabbed the skidding revolver, knowing he wasn’t going to make it in time.

Another gunshot echoed through the lab. Slade had the revolver and was bringing it up to fire at Curtis, but he didn’t get a shot off. He heard Holly gasp, heard someone enter the lab. He swung the barrel of the gun toward the door as Dr. O’Brien filled the doorway, a gun in his hand.

“FBI, drop your weapon!” O’Brien yelled, just before Slade could squeeze off a shot.

“FBI?” Slade dropped his gun.

Holly was screaming at O’Brien. “You killed him! You killed him before he told us where our babies are!”

Slade took her in his arms. “It’s okay, Hol, I think I know where our babies are,” he whispered. He looked over her shoulder at O’Brien. FBI? “Where the hell have you been?”

“Right behind you, following the trail of death and destruction you left in your wake,” the FBI agent snapped. He turned to Holly. “I tried to get you into protective custody by having you re-admit yourself to Evergreen, then I could have protected you.”

“Could you have?” she challenged. “Then you knew it was Chief Curtis?”

“No,” O’Brien admitted. “That I didn’t know. But I’ve been working this case undercover since Dr. Parris called me in on it. He’d discovered the Genesis Project and contacted my office.”

“It would have helped if you’d told us who you were,” Slade said as he helped Holly to her feet, keeping his arm around her, never planning to let her go ever again.

“I couldn’t be sure just what your involvement was,” O’Brien said. “From the information I was getting from Inez Wellington… That day I passed you on the road to her place, I’d just found out that she’d been leading me on a wild goose chase.” He shook his head. “Where do you think you’re going?” he said as Slade and Holly moved toward the door.

“To see my pharmacist,” Slade said.

“Jerry Dunn?” O’Brien asked. “We have a warrant for his arrest on interstate trafficking of drugs.”

“Add kidnapping to the charge,” Slade said. “We’re going to go get our babies. I hope you aren’t going to try to stop us.”

The FBI agent backed off. “I’ll need statements from both of you later.”

Slade nodded, then he and Holly headed for town.

“Rawlins, how can you be so sure Jerry Dunn has our babies?” Holly asked as they neared town.

“Curtis said he used them to pay a debt. It dawned on me. Who else had to be involved? Someone who could supply the drugs. Patty Dunn was one of the names I saw on the list of Genesis Project patients. Jerry’s father was also a pharmacist. He did so well in a little town like Dry Creek that he retired and gave Jerry the drugstore.”

“You think Jerry’s father was involved with Allan?”

“Yeah.” Delaney had said this had been going on for more than thirty years. It just finally made sense.

 

JERRY DUNN answered the door. Behind him, Slade could hear the sound of babies crying. He pushed his way in. “Chief Curtis is dead. The FBI are on their way.”

Patty Dunn sat on the couch, rocking the two infants in the double baby carrier. “If one cries, the other one does,” she said and looked up, obviously surprised to see Slade and Holly.

“That’s how my sister and I were,” Slade said as he moved to the carrier and looked down at the identical twins. They had the Rawlins’ dimples and Holly’s blue eyes.

“Oh God,” Holly said and dropped to her knees beside the babies.

Patty Dunn looked from her babies to her husband. “Jerry?” Jerry said nothing. Behind him, FBI agent O’Brien appeared in the doorway with several police officers.

Slade picked up one of the babies and handed her to Holly. Holly began to cry as she held her baby for the first time. He picked up the other infant and cradled her in his arms. The one Holly held stopped crying, and a moment later the one in Slade’s arms did as well. He smiled down at the infant in his arms and couldn’t hold back his own tears.

Behind him he could hear Jerry being arrested and read his rights along with his wife, Patty. A female officer said Patty’s other two children, the two boys Slade had seen in the photograph at the pharmacy, would be taken into police custody.

Slade looked over at Holly. “I was just thinking. You know what you said about going someplace warm? I think we should head south. Someplace tropical, maybe. Someplace we could get married.”

She had been gazing in awe back and forth at the two identical baby girls they held. Now she looked up with a start. “Rawlins, are you asking me to marry you?”

“What do you think?” he asked, his heart in his throat.

“I think it’s about time!”