Adrianne Byrd - Deadly Double

Deadly Double

By

Adrianne Byrd

Chapter 1

“Kidnapping is a federal offense,” Dr. William Hayes muttered into the dark October night. From the stolen laundry van, he took a deep breath and wished like hell he had a cigarette. Maybe a jolt of nicotine would stop his hands from shaking.

A pair of headlights beamed in his rearview mirror. Frightened, William tensed as his breath hitched in anticipation of the Atlanta police. A moment later, he slumped against the headrest when a car traveled past him.

Keystone mental Institute loomed in his side view mirror. “I’ve lost it,” he mumbled, and then reached for the glove compartment. In the back of his mind, he held the crazy thought that a pack of Benson & Hedges would magically appear. Even that didn’t make sense; he’d stopped smoking years ago.

William removed his white cap and ran a shaky hand through his dark hair, then met his blue gaze on the rearview mirror. “You’re going to jail,” he told himself. The traffic light turned green, and he took a left out of the hospital’s parking lot.

The white uniform was a little too snug for his liking, and the glue from his fake beard itched like crazy, but right now he had to force both to the back of his mind.

His anxieties mounted as he caught every red light in a two-mile stretch. Fulton Country also seemed to be crawling with police cars. The pressure to obey the speed limit was intense.

A soft moan floated from the back of the van. Was she waking up? “Dear God, not now.” He instinctively glanced back, fearful of what he might see, but relaxed when nothing met his gaze.

A horn blared.

He jumped and eased off his brakes when he saw that the light had turned green. The car behind him moved into the left lane and flew past him.

“Another cop car.” He shook his head and had a devil of a time convincing himself that it wasn’t an omen.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled into the Oil Drop repair and drove to where the cars, vans, and trucks were either waiting for repair or pickup.

William parked next to another Machemehl Cleaners’ van, shut off the engine, and collapsed against the headrest. For a few minutes, all he could do was listen to his heart pound against his rib cage.

Another moan accompanied a rustle of movement, and William was instantly alert. The night was a long way from being over and, if he wanted it to end without the click of handcuffs, he needed to get on the ball.

He unhooked his seat belt and rushed to the back of the van. In a large roll-away tub of clean sheets, William stared down at the drugged woman he’d just snatch from Keystone.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the back square windows and gave the caramel beauty’s sickly pallor an angelic glow. Then again, maybe he still viewed her through the eyes of a lovesick twenty-one-year-old.

He brushed away a thick lock of black hair in order to study her heart-shaped face and smooth cheekbones. Sixteen years had done little to change her features...and her effect on him.

A barrage of tender emotions attacked his conscience, but he pushed them all aside and focused on the task at hand. He leaned over and checked her vitals.

Her faint but steady pulse comforted him and gave him the courage to continue as planned. Inches from the tub, William retrieved his leather duffle bag and quickly changed out of his white uniform and into loose jeans and a flannel shirt.

He glanced out the back windows and assured himself that the lot was empty before he opened the doors. When he did, a gush of cool air whipped inside. Another soft moan fell from his patient’s lips, and William prayed the night’s elements wouldn’t further damage her condition.

Jumping down from the van, he rushed over to his parked Lincoln Navigator, tossed his duffel bag into the front passenger seat, and opened the back door. He quickly returned to the van and extracted his patient from the tub.

Her deadweight was a challenge, but he summoned the strength to carry her to his vehicle. The backseat was already prepared with clean sheets and pillows, and he made quick work of getting her situated.

Another trip to the van, and he erased all evidence of his thievery, especially his masterful job of hot wiring. Who knew this rebellious teenage skill would come in handy again?

A few minutes later, he was on his way. The moaning increased in both duration and frequency and, again, William found himself worrying. “We’re on our way.” He said. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long now.” More moaning. Small droplets of rain splattered the windshield and quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

“This is now an omen,” he recited with little conviction. He turned onto I-85 south and estimated that he would reach Pine Mountain in the next half hour; but ten minutes into the drive, he rolled to a stop behind a long, curving line of traffic. The moans transformed into restless whimpers, then finally “Josephine” was whispered from her cracked voice. William’s heart squeezed at the name. He turned in his seat to glance at the woman lying behind him. She fidgeted while her head tossed restlessly among the pillows. “Shh, now. Try and get some rest.” She quieted down.

He eased back around in his seat and expelled a long, tired breath. There was no point in continuing to beat himself up about the night’s events. What was done was done. It was too late to turn back. He would have to stay the course.

Minutes later, his vehicle approached flashing blue-and-white lights. Dread seeped into his body as gloom and doom monopolized his thoughts at what looked like some kind of police checkpoint. His head slumped into the palm of his hand. “Lord, help me.”

Chapter 2

After eighteen hours, Dr. Meredith Bancroft decided to call it a night. Life as a workaholic had its drawbacks; then again, so did being married to one. It was nearing 2:00 a.m., and Meredith wouldn’t be surprised if she beat her husband home again.

A zombie, she headed toward one of the exits, carrying her briefcase, with her arms loaded down with patient charts. Hopefully, she would get a chance to review most of them while she worked at the institute’s sister location in Duluth.

Meredith had been at Keystone since the day they’d opened the doors thirty years earlier. Back then, it was a big deal for an African-American woman to make partner in such a large organization. It was the first of many milestone for her.

“Calling it a night, Dr. Bancroft?” a male voice boomed down the hall.

Meredith turned and spotted Theo Watts, a charismatic man who looked more like a football player than a male nurse, waving from the opposite end of the empty hall. “Yeah. You guys try not to work too hard.” She waved back.

“Nah. You know how we are on third shift. We’re about to give Alana her farewell cake. You’re not going to join us?”

“No. I’ve already said good-bye and gave my gift. Right now I just want to get home and crawl into bed before my pager starts buzzing.”

He laughed and gave another departing wave. “Then go and catch some Zs. I’m sure you’ll be back here before my shift is over.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re probably right. Night.” Turning, Meredith pushed through the doors of the institute and stepped out into the wet, velvet night. Cursing her luck for not having an umbrella, she bolted down the dark sidewalk like a fireman five minutes late for a fire.

“If I get home by two-thirty, I can squeeze in about five hours of sleep,” she muttered under her breath. Then she remembered that she needed to feed the cat, pay a few bills online, take a shower and God help her if her husband wanted to have sex. “Maybe four hours.”