Page 45 of Fight or Flight
“Good thinking. I want to look at it first. Franklin, would you take the laptop and put it in that rattletrap of a truck you drive? Under the seat. No one in their right mind would look for evidence in that old heap.”
Doc nodded, then stood up. “K, you mind giving me your computer? I’ll treat it as gently as I treat my patients.”
Tyler stood, as well. “Katherine, use this.” He handed her a handkerchief he’d removed from his pocket. “So that you don’t smudge the prints.”
Katherine hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. Men still carried handkerchiefs? Who knew what else she’d missed during all of these years of self-imposed prison?
She carefully closed out the Friendlink page, then deleted the history. This was her personal property. Ilene didn’t need to see her searches. If she tried to find them, there’d be no surprises, but Katherine’s private life, which she’d worked so hard to keep that way, could fall apart again if someone was out to get her. The who and why were the big mystery. This had nothing to do with Boston. She felt that in her gut, which she always listened to.
Katherine removed a new flash drive from her desk drawer, saving as much as she could from the hard drive and cramming it in her pocket. She took the charging cord and the electronic mouse she used, located her computer bag in the drawer, and stuffed the slim device inside. “This is my life’s work, Doc, Ilene,” she said to them. “I want it back ASAP.” Katherine decided she could ask for something in return. “With nothing deleted—nothing.” Despite her mental issues, she hoped Ilene understood that she meant what she said.
“Of course. I’ll take it to my house,” Ilene said. “I don’t have cat hairs flying all over the place.”
“Ilene, I’ve spent most of my life caring for animals, and I’m doing my best to take care of their needs. I’d bet my last nickel if my cats ever laid eyes on you, they’d cross that rainbow bridge so fast they’d leave a contrail,” said Doc.
“Now isn’t the time, Franklin. I’ve told you about my distaste for cats. For all animals with fur. I sneeze, my eyes turn red, and I can’t breathe. I do not like you enough to endure that. That’s why I won’t stay—” Ilene stopped, catching herself before she revealed the obvious.
“Stay where?” Tyler asked.
“Shut up, Tyler,” Ilene said, grinning.
Sophie and Sam were growling from their perch at the top of the landing. They came running downstairs to the French doors. “Hey, you two, calm down.” Katherine couldn’t help looking at Ilene. She knew dog hairs were all over her place, because she hadn’t vacuumed in days. But Ilene hadn’t sneezed once, and her eyes were perfectly clear. She had Doc wrapped around her little finger. Tightly.
Katherine heard footsteps, then a loud knock at the French doors, even though they were still open. She assumed Ilene had told the cops what door to use, since her house had several other entrances. How did Ilene know that? Probably because she’d come inside the same way. Katherine was getting more paranoid by the minute. Her heart rate began its staccato dance when Ilene let the two officers inside. One carried a large black container that reminded Katherine of a giant bait box.
“Detective Davidson, Deputy Gonzalez, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Ilene said. “Ms. Winnie”—she directed her gaze to Katherine—“and Dr. Newlon saw an intruder earlier. They have surveillance videos you might want to view at some point.”
Ms. Winnie.Ilene had kept her word. Doc trusted her, so Katherine would do her best to follow suit.
After quick introductions, Deputy Gonzalez took charge. “I’m going to clear the glass first. Don’t want anyone getting hurt. I’ll check for prints and fibers on the door and the desk. I’ll look for tire patterns and footprints or anything suspicious outside. Is there outdoor lighting?” he asked, his attention on Katherine. She eyed his black uniform, the vest he wore with all sorts of gadgets attached in easy-to-reach places. He epitomized law enforcement with his military haircut and muscular build.
Ilene spoke before Katherine could, her intense gaze fixated on the deputy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, George? We don’t know if they’re out there. Hiding, waiting to do . . .” She lowered her tone. “Whatever the hell they came here to do.”
“All the better,” Detective Davidson interjected. “He’s my best forensics guy. Also keeps his mouth shut.”
Katherine watched them haggle. She wasn’t so sure of this but kept her thoughts to herself.
Deputy Gonzalez opened his large case and removed several bags, a vacuum, and a camera. “If I find suspicious tracks or footprints, I’ll need to make a cast of the prints. When I’m ready, I’ll have you step outside with me, and you can let me know if you see anything unusual or out of place.”
What? Surely he knew about my . . . problem, Katherine thought.
Her hands began to tremble, and her heart felt like it was about to explode.This is a mistake, she thought, as panic began its familiar attack, faster than she’d experienced in a very long time. Inhaling, she tried to calm herself with her breathing. She felt the usual clamminess in her armpits and the back of her neck. Her breathing became erratic very quickly. She was hyperventilating, and her vision started to blur. The deputy’s mouth was opening and closing, but she couldn’t understand him. The floor was about to smack her in the face when someone wrapped an arm around her, placing a paper bag over her mouth. Gasping for breath, she struggled to escape the hand holding the bag over her mouth.
* * *
“Frank, my car. Get my bag!” Tyler’s voice was loud and demanding. Doc tossed the laptop on the sofa.
Breathe. Breathe. Just. Breathe.The edges of the bag were wet with saliva, but Katherine knew what it was for.
“Come on, girl,” Ilene said, helping Tyler try to calm her down, holding her before she hit the floor. “I didn’t come over here to see you collapse in a heap. Focus your breathing,” she ordered.
Sam and Sophie ran in circles, both dogs whimpering.
Doc bolted back through the French doors, returning with a leather satchel in his hand. He held it against his chest as he opened it. “What am I looking for?”
“Ativan,” Tyler said. “Preloaded syringe in the blue plastic case.”
“Got it,” Doc said, producing the syringe.
