The Broken Lake (28 page)

Plus, the doctor’s office was actually inside the hospital, and that couldn’t be more safe, so I ventured out by myself. Of course, the hospital did nothing but remind me of Wes. All the white jackets sent reminders of Wes’ labs, which made me miss him and fear for his life even more than before.

Getting my cast off was a blur, until my hand was completely free. Then I held it, and massaged it, bending it in all directions. It was a huge relief to have full use of my hand again. It made me feel free and new and in charge of myself in a way that I wasn’t expecting. A way that made me refuse to sit and wait for Wes to call. I began calculating how much more time.

He said to give him forty-eight hours to handle the situation. Well, time was running out. I decided to give him until that afternoon to call me, and if he didn’t, I would contact the police. No one would be spared, especially not Chase. I didn’t care if I was jumping to conclusions or not. The police were going to hear everything. Except, of course, about Wes’ transformation.

I stepped out of the elevator on the first floor and saw Danny leaving the hospital. My initial reaction was worry.

I jogged after him. “Hey, Danny. Is everything okay? Where’s Dawn?”

“Oh, she’s good.”

I searched his eyes, wondering what was going on, but afraid to ask.

“It’s Chase,” he answered flatly. I jerked my head back slightly, not getting it. “He had a car accident last night. Drove right off the road. Almost died. It’s pretty bad, Sophie.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Um…I just had my cast removed.”

He looked down. “Hey, look at that. You sure did.”

“Yeah, well, I gotta go find a bathroom before I start home.” I was searching for the signs and hoping Danny would buy into it, when what I really had to find was more information. Once he was gone, I made my way over to the information desk.

“May I have Chase Chambers’ room number, please?”

They told me where he was, and I reluctantly headed back up the elevator, not having a clue why or what I was hoping to find. His room was all the way at the end of the hall, and the walk there seemed to take forever. I paced outside his door a few times before finding the nerve to knock.

After a few soft taps, no one came to the door. Hesitantly, I pushed it open, expecting to see family members lurking in the corners, but no one was there. Not even a card, or flowers, or any sign that a loved one had been by. Only an unrecognizable Chase.

The room felt cold and eerie. My gaze traveled to his pillow, taking in that his head was wrapped from the top of his skull to beneath his chin, and that tubes were up his nose.

My body was stiff, but not from rage or even fear. I felt horrible for him. My Amelia instincts wanted to touch him and check him over, but my Sophie body wouldn’t move. Instead, I just stood there, watching him.

I eventually made my way over to him, just to see if I could glean any unspoken answers from his motionless body. The closer I got, the more the hairs on my neck stood upright. I froze and stared at him, assessing any possible threat. He was completely still, until I saw his index finger twitch.

I quickly looked behind me, tempted to leave, but didn’t. My gaze locked on his finger, wondering if I had imagined it. There was definitely movement, and eventually his thumb and pointer finger touched. The motion entranced me as I watched how they moved in a circular motion. It soon became clear to me that he was trying to signal for a pen and paper.

Stepping closer to him, I rummaged through my handbag for the items. I still had the scrap with his number written on it. I flipped it over and slid it beneath his hand, and the pen between his fingers.

His grip was weak, and he had not opened his eyes. I was glad about that because I was afraid he would change his intentions if he knew it was me. After a few seemingly endless moments, the pen still had not moved.

I wondered if I had misunderstood his movements and considered slipping out undetected. I weighed the outcomes and decided my curiosity was too intense. Not caring if he knew it was me, I softly let him know someone was there and to go ahead and write what he needed to write.

I expected him, at the sound of my voice, to tighten his grip on the pen or show some sign of discomfort, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand began laboriously forming letters. Although very uneven and slanted, the formation of each letter was clear. Slowly, the letters turned into words. I twisted and squinted to see—until the shock hit me.

NO ACCIDENT.

I leaned close to his ear. “Chase, are you saying someone did this to you?” I waited and there was no response. My heart raced. “Chase, squeeze my hand if the answer is yes.” I placed my hand in his, despite the odd sensation of hairs now standing up on my arm.

With a weak but very sure squeeze, he confirmed my suspicion.

My heart thumped and every muscle in my body turned to steel. Suddenly, I was beginning to realize something huge was going on.

I steadied the pen in his hand, asking the obvious question. “Chase, do you know who did this?”

His hand was shaking now but moved across the paper until the letters read, TIM.

Tim?
I had heard the name before. Once from Danny, and somewhere else I couldn’t place. My mind was racing too much to figure it out. I had to get out of there. “Chase, I’ll give this to the right people. You’ll be okay.” I patted his arm, because it seemed like the right thing to do. The feeling seeping through my veins was uncertainty. Not knowing what to do or who to go to for help.

I closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall. The paper was still crumpled in my hand. I was sure of a few things. I knew with every bone in my body that Chase had something to do with Wes’ kidnapping; I just didn’t know how much. He was involved with a substance that sounded very similar to what Andy had described. He also wore dog tags, which linked him to the military.

What I didn’t understand was why someone would try to kill him by running him off the road. What sort of threat was he? That was unknown, but what
was
known is that it was someone named Tim. I ran through it all in my head, trying to figure out what to do.

Where had I heard that name before? Then it hit me. I hadn’t heard it before. I had
read
it on Andy’s Facebook page. His grandson’s name was
Timothy
.

It couldn’t be.
Yes, it absolutely can.
Suddenly, panic began to build and I needed to get out of there. I almost ran past the nurse’s station then made a split-second decision to go back.

They could tell I was upset. Concern showed on their faces. “Can we help you?”

“Um. I was visiting Chase Chambers, and he wrote this.” I showed them the paper. “His crash was not an accident. This person tried to kill him. You may want to call the police.” I set the note on the counter and turned away.

“Excuse me. What’s your name?”

I kept walking, moving toward the elevator. Whatever was going on here was not something I could handle just yet. I needed to go somewhere to think and sort through it all.

I entered the elevator alone, turning over in my mind what I had learned. Chase knew Andy’s grandson. Chase was using a serum. I wondered what Chase knew, what Tim knew. The questions burned inside me, because I didn’t know how much Andy had revealed about me and Wes to anyone else. And if he did reveal all of it, and Tim and Chase knew, then whoever had Wes had to know too.

I began to feel sick, right there in the elevator. I steadied my breathing, searching for calming thoughts. I ran down what Wes had told me. He was so certain his secret was still safe, but it didn’t feel so safe now. I needed air.

I closed my eyes, cursing fate and wondering why this was happening. Why on earth would Wes find me again only to be taken away himself? What was the point? We were so worried about me living past nineteen and all along it was him we needed to worry about.

Oh, my gosh.
I realized everything right then, and began to hate myself for not having figured it out sooner. It’s
never
been about me. It’s always been about him. Keeping
him
alive and safe. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I realized how selfish I truly was. This was always going to happen. Fate knew that these people would be after him, that his secret and even his own life was going to be threatened and, damn it, he had his guard down because of me. Because of us.

I cringed at our stupidity and then wanted to kick the walls of the elevator. “What was it all for?” I shouted. “Why bring us together only to…”

I banged my head against the wall behind me, knowing now. We were brought together, so I could save him
again
. I wasn’t on this earth to meet the boy of my dreams and fall in love. My purpose was to make sure Wes would be okay.
And then what happens
? Tears spilled over, because I knew.

I die.

No.
I shook my head, wiping away the unwanted tears and feeling of defeat. Life could not be that cruel. I refused to believe it possible.

The elevator door opened just as I sucked up my hysterics and accepted my purpose. What the future held for me was not important right now. Nothing mattered other than getting Wes back, and the only thing I knew was that I would have to figure out how.

Feeling alone and overwhelmingly lost, I stepped into the lobby in a mad dash for the exit. On my way, I felt a hand touch my elbow.

“Ms. Slone?”

I jerked my arm away, feeling another threat home in on me.

“Ms. Slone, please. I just need to speak with you.”

I looked up without breaking stride and saw a familiar face, the one from Wes’ lab. The man who spoke at the press conference.

“My name is Dr. Lyon. I work at The California—”

“I know where you work.” I stopped walking. Optimism resurfaced as I remembered the phone call Wes had made to him. Maybe he knew something or had heard something.

I stepped close enough so a whisper would suffice. “Have you heard something?”

“No.”

My knees started to buckle with fatigue. “Dr. Lyon, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what to do.”

He placed his hand under my elbow again, supportively. “That’s why I’m here.”

He gestured toward the passageway beyond the elevators. “Would you like to get some coffee?”

I just looked at him, trying to figure out what language he was speaking when what I wanted to hear was a language filled with answers.

Sensing my reluctance, he added, “We can talk there.”

I looked around and no one seemed to be paying attention to us so I, at least, felt the threat level begin to drop.

“All right.”

We walked without talking. Every so often, I glanced at him in hopes of discovering details about him that I would find trustworthy. His age had radiated wisdom and authority on the television, but in person, he appeared a bit more fragile. Although he kept up with my pace easily, his white hair and wrinkled skin made my age estimate for him go well into the seventies.

Still, he was authoritative.

We reached the café and both ordered coffee. I was preparing to pay, but he insisted, which made me feel a sense of protection, as if he was a father figure, or grandfather figure. With our coffees in hand, we found a relatively quiet corner, but I took the liberty to survey the room for anyone else who might have followed me. Paranoia was setting in, big time. I kept scanning for threats then scanning again just to see what people were doing and eating.

Eventually, I realized I was just buying time before I had to speak to Dr. Lyon.

Not being sure of why he wanted to see me, or what he knew about Wes, made me covet our secrets, even though I desperately needed someone to trust. I took a deep breath and let my gaze settle on him.

He was carefully sipping his coffee, which prompted me to focus on my own. I inhaled the sweet caramel scent that was wafting through the opening in the lid. Feeling much more at ease, I brought the cup up to my mouth. His eyes narrowed as he looked at my left hand, which reminded me of my bittersweet gift. The one I hadn’t even allowed my mother to see yet.

“Is that from Weston?” he asked, not sounding too surprised.

Setting down the cup, I put my hands under the table and cleared my throat. “Yes.”

He took another sip and smiled softly. “I’m sure you’re eagerly awaiting his return.”

I nodded, reaching for my coffee—with my right hand this time. As if he finally had enough of beating around the bush, Dr. Lyon leaned forward, shifting his coffee to the side.

“Ms. Slone, I’m speaking with you today because, like you, I need to make sure Weston returns unharmed.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“That’s what we need to find out from you.”

“What information could I have that would help you?”

“Anything you can tell me about the night he was taken would help me tremendously.”

I felt like an interview was about to follow, for which I was not prepared. The major reason being that I didn’t know what Wes would or would not want me to say.

Without sounding too disrespectful toward an elder, I softly replied, “I’m not sure I can trust you.” And to give me a good out from the conversation, I added, “Wes told me he didn’t trust anyone.”

He smiled gently again and answered, “That’s good. He’s not supposed to.”

“Then how can I trust you?”

He took another slow sip of his coffee. “Because Dr. Thomas did.”

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of Wes’ uncle, the same doctor who had started all of this.
What trust would Dr. Thomas have put into this man?
At that point, I realized this conversation had gone deeper than Wes currently being missing. For Dr. Lyon to drop that name on me was a message of some sort. He was letting me know that he had ties to a very important part of Wes’ past, but it also felt like he was feeling me out to see how much I knew.

However, I wasn’t willing to be sucked into telling this man anything. I couldn’t be sure if he wanted Wes back, or the information Wes held. I decided I wasn’t going to dance around his motivations. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the time.