Seeking Asylum Read online

  “So what are you saying? Could someone be giving him the wrong drug?”

  Rachel opened her mouth to deny it, but the word no wouldn’t come out.

  Eric’s dark eyes snapped. “Caleb’s right, isn’t he? Someone at the Meadows is switching his medication.”

  The accusations were astounding. The idea that any physician would do such a thing went against everything she believed in as a psychiatrist. If what Caleb was describing was true, it was not only unethical and illegal, it could be deadly.

  She moistened her lips and nodded reluctantly. “It’s the only answer that fits all the facts.”

  Decker’s phone rang. “Natasha, what have you found?”

  Rachel stood next to Eric, uncomfortably conscious of his strength and determination. She still felt the brief thread of awareness that had stretched between them when their eyes first met.

  The echo of the portable respirator provided a low, rhythmic soundtrack as Decker listened with an occasional brief question.

  “Okay, Nat. Stand by, and keep looking.” Decker’s face was grim when he pocketed his phone.

  Behind Rachel, the EMT cleared his throat. “I’ve got one backup respirator, Dr. Harper. If we don’t leave in the next five minutes, we might not make it in time.”

  She acknowledged the information with a nod.

  Eric never took his eyes off Decker’s face. “Natasha found problems, didn’t she?”

  “Nothing that would stand out, unless someone was looking. Apparently in the past five years there have been five deaths at the Meadows. Two suicides, one heart failure and two from natural causes.”

  “Heart failure. Natural causes.” Eric’s voice rang with irony as he turned to Rachel. “Interesting causes of death for a facility like the Meadows. Do you know the average age of the patients there, Doctor? Because I do. I looked it up.”

  Rachel gaped at him. She’d noticed, of course, that most of the residents were young people, but she’d never questioned it. She suddenly realized she hadn’t questioned anything. She’d just been happy to have a job so close to her idol, Dr. Gerhardt Metzger. “The Meadows is not a nursing home.”

  Decker and Eric both waited in silence. She took a deep breath. “The average age is probably thirty to thirty-five.”

  “It’s thirty-four.”

  She cringed under the sting of censure in Eric’s voice.

  “Tell me, Doctor, how does a thirty-four-year-old die of natural causes?”

  “Eric—” Decker’s voice held a warning.

  Eric rubbed his face in an obvious effort to hold on to his control. He sent a brief, worried glance toward Caleb. “How long have you worked there?”

  She moistened her lips. “Two months.”

  “Two months.” He laughed shortly. “So in your vast experience, has anyone referred to suspicious practices or odd incidents?”

  She shook her head. “I’m a junior staffer. People don’t talk to me a lot. And it’s a private facility, catering to some extremely well-known names. It’s impossible to access certain charts.”

  “Like Caleb’s?”

  She nodded reluctantly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “I had never seen a case of childhood-onset schizophrenia, and I’ve admired Dr. Metzger’s work for a long time, so I requested Caleb’s old records to study them. I was told they’d been archived. There was only three months of data available in his chart, less than six months on computer. His current administrative record makes no mention of a brother.”

  “No doubt.” Eric’s face was drawn. “So you’ve been refused a medical record. And from what you said earlier, certain employees disobey direct orders from physicians—or at least from you.”

  Rachel felt her face heating up. He was making her sound incompetent. She lifted her head, ready to defend herself.

  “Eric,” Decker broke in. “Natasha tells me that all deaths at the Meadows are investigated by a peer review board. The official finding in each case was that appropriate care was given and appropriate measures taken.”

  “Official finding?” Rachel spoke before she thought. She’d noticed Decker’s inflection.

  He nodded. “Were you aware that your predecessor was fired after he talked to the press about the last death, a suicide nine months ago?”

  Feeling exposed and embarrassed, like a child caught unprepared for a test, Rachel shook her head. “My predecessor?”

  “The information he gave the reporter was inflammatory, to say the least. He talked about bizarre responses to drugs, patients complaining that they were sedated and moved with no explanation, and odd activities by some of the staff.”

  The same things Caleb had been raving about. Rachel’s hand went to her mouth. From the grim look on the agent’s face, she was deathly afraid he hadn’t told them the whole story yet.

  “We have to get that article,” Eric said.

  “Natasha’s working on it.”

  “And talk to the physician. As soon as possible.”

  “That—” Decker took a breath “—poses a problem.”

  Rachel’s heart thumped in her chest. A sense of foreboding weighed on her.

  Eric’s jaw muscle ticced and his fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t tell me—”

  Decker nodded. “Five months ago, Dr. Charles Green was found in his apartment, dead from an overdose of morphine and alcohol.”

  DR. RAJID PATEL considered his most famous staff member across the polished mahogany expanse of his desk. Gerhardt Metzger was almost certainly positioned to win the Nobel Prize in a few years if his research bore out his theories.

  Right now, the famous neurologist was worried. And when his most valuable staff member was worried, Patel was worried.

  Patel had been chief medical director at the Meadows for the past twenty-three years. He understood his job. A large and very important part of it was easing his staff’s concerns. And of all his staff, there was not a one Dr. Patel was more interested in keeping happy than Gerhardt Metzger. The enormous sums of money Metzger had brought to the Meadows in grants, endowments and research projects in the past nine years since he’d joined the staff was worth any amount of humble bowing and scraping.

  Metzger scratched his long sideburns and then removed his black-rimmed glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief.

  “Will you have a brandy?” Patel asked, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk.

  Metzger nodded as he wiped his eyes then replaced his glasses. “When did the FBI say Mr. Baldwyn would be returned to us?” Metzger shifted in the brown leather chair. “They shouldn’t be allowed to keep him this long. I want him back here, in his familiar environment, on his proper medications.”

  Patel handed Metzger the snifter of brandy, quelling the urge to run his finger around his tight collar. “I’ve been assured by the chief of staff at Walter Reed Hospital in D.C. that Baldwyn is doing well and will be transported back here tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Gerhardt, he was very concerned about Baldwyn’s symptoms. Suggested we double-check his medication history.”

  Metzger frowned. “I trust you assured him that the Meadows is entirely above reproach?”

  Patel nodded quickly. “Of course. Certainly.”

  “I’m very distressed at this breach in security. Caleb Baldwyn is one of my most important subjects. His treatment should not be interrupted.”

  Patel ignored the small, worried voice inside him that kept asking what made Caleb Baldwyn so important. He’d agreed to give Metzger free rein in return for the money and positive publicity the famous researcher attracted to the Meadows, the recent pointed inquiries from the FDA about Metzger’s last request for a new drug application notwithstanding.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve also been told that Dr. Harper was not injured and can return to work this week.” Patel took a nervous sip of the fine brandy he favored, then sat back in his chair.

  “Gerhardt, I’m prepared to fire her. Under the circumstances, t
here’s more than adequate reason. After all, she failed to keep control of an inflammatory situation. With Grace Jones’s statement that Dr. Harper tried to prevent her from sedating Baldwyn, there will be no problem making the case that it was Harper’s negligence that caused the shooting.”

  Metzger scratched at his mutton chop sideburns, his gaze on the window behind Patel. He didn’t speak.

  “Really, it’s no problem,” Patel continued, setting his snifter down onto the desktop with a tinkling rattle. “She doesn’t even have to be given notice. I can terminate her on the spot.” Patel’s tie felt tighter and tighter.

  He’d be much happier if the young psychiatrist were gone. The Meadows had never had an incident involving violence before she had come.

  “No,” Metzger said thoughtfully. “No. I have been impressed with certain aspects of Rachel Harper’s performance. And she apparently has a rapport with Caleb Baldwyn. She could be useful.”

  “Useful?” Patel frowned. Metzger had demanded the firing of staff for much less. Dr. Green for example.

  Metzger harrumphed and tossed down the last of the expensive brandy. “Yes. I need information from her about what Baldwyn may have told her in his paranoid delusions to reacclimate Baldwyn to his surroundings. He’s likely to be extremely confused and anxious when he returns. It will take him a while to recover. Perhaps I’ll put him in isolation.”

  Patel drummed his fingers on the polished desktop. “So you don’t have a problem with Baldwyn remaining here until his arraignment for the shooting? Because Walter Reed indicated they could keep him if we preferred not to have him around the other patients.”

  Metzger stood. “No. Not at all. In fact, when he is receiving the right medication, Caleb Baldwyn is my ideal patient.” He adjusted his glasses. “And now that Dr. Harper has spent so much time with him, it will be preferable to keep her here, where we can control her. Besides,” Metzger continued, “it would be regrettable to have a repeat of the incident involving Dr. Green.”

  Patel wished everything the neurologist said didn’t sound like a threat. “Believe me, I agree.” It had taken all of Patel’s accumulated favors, plus some serious groveling to keep the scandal over the loud-mouthed psychiatrist’s death from a drug overdose to a minimum.

  Patel looked into Metzger’s glittering eyes. “I would do anything to avoid another incident like that.”

  Metzger’s thin lips stretched into a semblance of a smile. “Anything? That’s good to know, Rajid. You may have to.”

  Chapter Three

  “I can’t do this.” Rachel stood helplessly in the middle of the Washington, D.C., hotel suite where she was supposed to spend the night briefing Eric Baldwyn on everything she knew about the Meadows and Dr. Metzger.

  She glanced at Eric, who paced back and forth in front of the large picture window, obviously troubled.

  She couldn’t blame him. He’d been so stunned when he’d first seen his brother.

  Her heart squeezed with compassion as she imagined him as a little boy, trying to cope with his mentally ill twin. From what little he’d told her, his childhood must have been as bad as hers—if that were possible. His grandmother had wrenched his twin brother away from him when they were barely approaching puberty. The woman had lied to him all his life. Rachel couldn’t even imagine such cruelty.

  Yet Eric seemed very well adjusted, very normal. A fierce yearning grew inside her. If they’d met under different circumstances, she’d love to know more about this handsome, intriguing man.

  But not like this.

  She appealed to Special Agent Decker, who was preparing to leave.

  “I can’t be involved in an FBI undercover operation. If I get caught, it will be the end of my career.”

  FBI undercover operation. The words were incredible.

  “Of course, I’m probably going to be fired anyway.” She couldn’t imagine the image-conscious Dr. Patel keeping her on his staff after she’d made such a mess of what should have been a minor incident.

  She still wasn’t sure how she’d lost control of that situation so quickly. Not to mention control of her life.

  Had it only been a day ago that she was a junior staff psychiatrist at a peaceful, private mental institution with no more on her mind than catching up on her sleep after a long evening shift?

  Now she’d seen two men shot, been kidnapped and was about to embark on a journey that could at best, ruin her credibility as a psychiatrist. At worst—if Caleb’s ravings were true—it could get her killed.

  “It’s likely there won’t be an investigation,” Mitch Decker said. “We have federal investigators reviewing the information Natasha has gathered about the Meadows—patient deaths, any problems with accreditation, resignations or firings, as well as any information available on the death of Dr. Green. By tomorrow morning we may have found that there is nothing suspicious going on. Then you can go back to your job. But we must be prepared in case Eric has to impersonate his brother.”

  “Prepared.” She wanted to laugh, but spending the night with Eric Baldwyn, teaching him how to be convincing as a mental patient—as his own brother—was anything but funny.

  She’d always heard how quickly and efficiently the government could work when it wanted to. Today she’d seen it firsthand.

  Within ten minutes of Decker’s announcement of the apparent suicide of the doctor who had worked at the Meadows before her, an air ambulance had landed and picked up Caleb.

  Rachel had explained the anomaly of Caleb’s reaction to the onboard physician, and he’d written an order for a drug screen as soon as they got to the hospital.

  “The chief medical director at the Meadows has been informed that both you and Caleb have been admitted to Walter Reed overnight for observation. The staff physician there is prepared to discuss Caleb’s condition with the staff at the Meadows, if necessary.” Decker glanced at his watch. “If our investigation turns up nothing suspicious, you and Caleb will be transported back to the Meadows as soon as he is able to travel. End of story. Otherwise, it will be you and Eric.”

  “But I don’t know anything about the deaths, and I certainly know nothing about being an undercover agent.”

  “You know the layout of the hospital. You know the staff and the patients.” Decker smiled at her and she couldn’t help but feel his calm assurance wash over her.

  “As Eric pointed out, I’ve only been there two months.”

  “You won’t be expected to act as an undercover agent. Just be yourself. Help Eric. And by helping Eric, you can help Caleb and the other patients.”

  Rachel frowned, torn between her sworn oath to her patients and her loyalty to the other staff at the Meadows. “I don’t like the idea of spying on my colleagues.”

  Decker’s mouth tightened. “You only have one other choice. If you won’t help us, we’ll be forced to place you in a safe house until the investigation is over.”

  Rachel stared at Decker. “A safe house? You’d lock me up?”

  He shrugged. “If we can’t rely on you, we can’t protect you. I can’t have you going back to the Meadows, putting yourself and my agent in danger, unless I can count on your full cooperation.”

  Rachel glanced at Eric, who hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived at the luxury hotel near the Washington, D.C., field office of the FBI.

  Like a caged leopard, sleek and restless, he paced from one side of the room to the other. He’d removed his sports jacket and his crisp white shirt hinted at the long, graceful muscles that rippled under his skin as he pushed a hand through his hair.

  Caleb’s ravings had sounded unbelievable. But he’d been telling the truth about his brother.

  Eric stopped suddenly, as if he’d been interrupted. He frowned. “Have you heard anything about my brother?”

  Decker shook his head. “Nothing yet. I’ll let you know right away. I’m sure Caleb will be fine.”

  Eric’s gaze slid to Rachel’s, and she saw in his chocolate-brown eyes that he knew
as well as she did that Caleb’s chances of being “fine” were slim to none.

  Mingled with concern for his brother was his suspicion of her. His expression, his very bearing, told her he didn’t trust her. Nor did he think much of her abilities, obviously.

  For her part, her impression of him had ratcheted up a few notches as Decker had explained Eric’s job and outlined his background on their way to the D.C. hotel.

  He was a special agent with the FBI’s Division of Unsolved Mysteries. He served as the Division’s profiler. He had a Ph.D. in Abnormal Psychology, and had done a fellowship on diseases of the brain at a highly regarded research hospital. No wonder he’d known all about the new drug. Rachel had heard in Decker’s voice how much he cared for and admired the younger agent.

  Decker’s cell phone rang. Eric went rigid. Rachel held her breath.

  After speaking briefly, Decker flipped the phone closed and sent Eric a slight negative shake of his head. “I’ve got to go. I’m testifying before the Senate early tomorrow and I’ll be up all night myself, preparing.”

  “Mitch.” Eric stopped pacing and rubbed his face wearily. “I apologize for getting you involved in this. Thank you for your help.”

  Decker shook Eric’s hand. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. Rachel, what’s your decision?”

  Eric’s troubled gaze called to her. Deep inside, she knew she’d already made up her mind. She moistened her lips and felt a small flutter under her breastbone as Eric’s gaze lowered to her mouth.

  She looked away and swallowed. “If patients’ lives are in danger, then I have no problem with cooperating. I will not be locked up. I won’t abandon my job, or my patients.”

  “You have about seven hours to bring Eric up to speed on the hospital’s layout, the names of nurses and patients he should know, and how Caleb would normally respond to specific situations, including his reactions to his medications.”

  Is that all? Rachel sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

  Decker nodded. “Eric will explain the surveillance equipment.” He indicated a nondescript black bag that had been delivered to the room just moments before.