So Little Time Read online

  There was no time to worry about it now. Once more she sped across the room and slipped the keys back into the pocket of the coat.

  As she passed through the first lab again she glanced at the open door of the office. Had it been open when she’d come in, or closed? Trying desperately to remember, she approached the office. The door had been closed. She was almost positive.

  She reached for the doorway, glancing at the image on the monitor. Her stomach jolted when she saw the two people walking down the hallway toward the security doors. The scientists were already back from lunch.

  * * *

  Granger paced back and forth across the bedroom, the paintbrush forgotten in his hand. His head ached, filled as it was with sights and sounds that were nothing more than a jumbled mass of confusion.

  The pictures he saw in his tormented mind had nothing in common with his surroundings. Yet everything in his visions were so familiar. Far more familiar than anything he had seen since the day he woke up a prisoner in that barren hospital room.

  True, the images were distorted. No more than flashes of time, split seconds of motion, swift glimpses of scenery, fractured explosions of noise and suffocating smoke. Yet he knew now that what he saw was real, or had been real to him at some time. And what he saw filled him with a fear such as he’d never known before.

  He’d tried to erase the visions by working at maximum speed. Half the room was painted already, and it would take him only an hour or two to finish. By the time Corie arrived home from work he should be all cleaned up and ready to hang the paper in the morning.

  Thinking about Corie gave him further pangs of anxiety. Could he really trust her? She was one of them, and could easily be arranging for his capture at this very minute.

  If so, as much as it would hurt him, he would have to deal with her the way he dealt with all his enemies. Swiftly and without mercy. That’s if he lived long enough.

  If what he suspected was true, they couldn’t afford to let him go free. He could imagine what turmoil his presence would create. He still found it impossible to believe. Maybe his mind was crazy after all.

  He looked at the watch Corie had lent him. Twelve-thirty. He realized he was hungry and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat.

  He was standing by the refrigerator when the strident peal of sound seemed to scream in his ear. This time it was no vision. The sound came from the living room. From the telephone. It rang once, twice, then silence.

  He stood transfixed, waiting for it to ring again. When the shrill ring came again, he crossed the floor swiftly and snatched up the receiver. Pressing the end of it to his ear, he raised his voice. “Can you hear me?”

  “You don’t have to shout,” Corie’s voice said in his ear. “You’ll break my ear drum. Just speak normally.”

  She sounded surprisingly close to him, as if she were standing right there next to him. Startled, he pulled the receiver away and looked at it, half expecting to see her image.

  He heard her say something else and slapped the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said, have you eaten lunch yet?”

  “I was just about to eat something.”

  “I just wanted you to know...”

  She paused, and something in her voice made his heart begin to thump. “Yes?”

  He waited, then heard her say softly, “You were right, Granger. I found the room where they held you. I almost got caught, I had to hide in a broom closet until they’d gone past.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, relieved that at least he hadn’t imagined that room, and thankful beyond measure that Corie had not been discovered.

  “There’s something else,” Corie added, before he could speak. “I found a list of supplies on Helen Grant’s desk. She’s Richards’s secretary. I searched her desk before she came back from lunch. Guess what I found?”

  Realizing the risks she had taken, his throat closed up. “What?” he asked gruffly.

  “I found an invoice from an ambulance company, for transporting a patient from Philadelphia to Cape May. I also found a receipt for a prescription drug. It had been sent down from the main lab in Philadelphia. I didn’t recognize the name so I looked it up.”

  Again she paused and he waited, heart racing for her to continue.

  Finally she spoke, in a voice tight with disbelief. “It’s a drug used in experiments on animals to test their memory span. When given in high enough dosage, it suppresses the memory altogether.”

  His mind raced, grappling with the significance of her words.

  “Granger,” Corie said urgently, “you didn’t lose your memory. For some reason I can’t possibly imagine right now, they deliberately suppressed it. You must know something they don’t want you to remember.”

  Now he knew. He didn’t know how, why or when, but he knew it had happened. And the knowledge left him speechless.

  Very carefully, he rested his finger on the button and cut off Corie’s voice. Slowly, he replaced the receiver and walked to the window.

  Outside, white fluffy clouds skimmed across a pale blue sky. The sun shone through the branches of the trees, sending shifting patterns across the window panes, and the wind rustled the green leaves, making them dance on the slender limbs.

  Faintly he could hear the wild song of the birds, and the muffled shouts of children playing somewhere in the distance. A silver-haired man in shirtsleeves walked slowly down the street, his weight supported by a cane. A boy passed the man, balanced on a two-wheel machine, waving his hand and shouting to an unseen companion.

  It all looked so normal.

  No wonder they wanted him under lock and key. But he had no intention of spending the rest of his life a prisoner, a guinea pig for their experiments. He would die first.

  Closing his eyes, Granger lifted his chin. Raising his fists he shook them at the fates that had played such a cruel joke on him. Gathering his breath he let it out in one, mighty, echoing howl of anguish. “No!”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry we got cut off this afternoon,” Corie said, as she unloaded the bag of groceries into the fridge. “I couldn’t call you back because that miserable Dr. Richards was on my tail. He’s been bugging me all day to get a report out to him. That’s why I was late.”

  “I was beginning to get worried,” Granger said, from his seat at the table. “You said you would be home at 5:30. It’s an hour past that now.”

  She glanced at him. He looked strained, drawn, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. Remembering the dreams that disturbed him, she could understand why he looked haggard. But the tension that seemed to keep him coiled like a panther ready to spring seemed even more pronounced.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” she said, closing the fridge door. “I know it must be a shock to find out that someone has been tampering with your mind. But now that we have the proof you can go to the police and—”

  “No!”

  She stared at him, the feeling of dread numbing her mind once more. “But you have to tell someone. What they did was criminal, no matter how they try to justify it. You can’t use drugs like that on a human being without their consent. It’s still in the experimental stages. I’m quite sure it’s not approved—”

  Granger got abruptly to his feet. “I’d prefer not to deal with the authorities.” Apparently sensing her dismay, he added softly, “I appreciate your concern, Corie, but I have to deal with this myself. In any case, I have some good news. Now that I am no longer under the influence of the drug, my memory is returning. I think that within a few days, I shall be able to remember everything.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Corie said hesitantly. “But I still think you should prosecute them, or at the very least find out why they did this to you. There doesn’t seem to be any doubt that the scientists are involved, and obviously it goes all the way back to the head office in Philadelphia. Of course, if you remember whatever it is they don’t want you to remember, then I guess you’ll k
now why they drugged you.”

  “No doubt I shall. Then I shall have to make a decision.” He closed his eyes briefly in a gesture of despair, and her heart ached for him. “Until then,” he added, “I hope you will allow me to continue our arrangement. I am rather anxious to see the renovations completed.”

  In spite of her reservations, her pulse leapt. “You can stay as long as you want,” she said rashly. “I’d like to see the house finished, too. Though I’m afraid there’s a great deal of work still to do.”

  “I like to be busy,” Granger said, moving toward the door. “It helps me to think more clearly. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll finish cleaning up in the bedroom so that I can start with the wallpaper in the morning.”

  “Sure. I’ll give you a call when dinner’s ready.”

  He gave her a long look, and again she had the feeling he wanted to tell her something. Then he gave a slight shake of his head and disappeared.

  Her feeling of uneasiness increased as she prepared the lasagna and salad she’d planned for dinner. She hadn’t had time to dwell on her discovery that afternoon, her mind kept busy by the reports that she’d promised to deliver before she left.

  But now, the more she thought about the situation, the more implausible it seemed. It would appear that Granger Deene had somehow stumbled on a secret that the scientists were desperately anxious to conceal.

  Presumably they had lied about finding him wandering along the road. Why hadn’t they simply sworn him to secrecy, if it was important enough to go to these lengths? Granger seemed like an honest, upright citizen, surely he would have been happy to comply if his country’s security was at stake.

  The fact that the scientists had gone so far as to apparently kidnap him and risk his life by giving him unapproved drugs that affected his mind, suggested one of two things.

  The secret they were so anxious to keep hidden could be something that would get them all in grave trouble if it was discovered by the proper authorities. On the other hand, if the secret was ethical, the scientists could consider that Granger Deene could be a dangerous threat to mankind if he remembered what he had learned.

  Corie’s heart skipped. Either way, she was in dead trouble. The very fact that she had given shelter to Granger, no matter how innocently, put her firmly in the middle of this mess. Part of her wanted desperately to believe that the scientists were the guilty party. Yet her mind refused to accept that such trusted, respectable professionals would go to such terrible lengths without a darn good reason.

  Then there was Granger’s obvious reluctance to go to the police with this bizarre story. Admittedly, they might have trouble believing him, but she had the proof. She had seen the room with her very own eyes, and right now, tucked inside her purse was a copy of the receipt for the drug.

  Of course, if Granger was the enemy, so to speak, the last thing he would do would be to contact the police. Which made it look more and more as if she were harboring some kind of criminal. And a very dangerous one at that, if the scientists had risked killing him in order to keep him quiet.

  Corie rinsed the lettuce under the tap, her mind going in crazy circles. What she should do was go to Dr. Richards and tell him that Granger had wandered into her house. She could pretend she knew nothing about him having been kept prisoner at the lab.

  But then the scientist would wonder why she was telling him about her houseguest. Dr. Richards was not the kind of man she could talk to about personal subjects. In fact, he discouraged any conversation unless it was directed entirely on her work.

  No, he would know at once that she knew more than she was saying. And she could hardly tell him she’d been snooping in unauthorized territory. She could lose her job.

  And what if Granger was merely an innocent bystander who had stumbled onto a dangerous secret by accident? What if the scientists were engaged in something criminal, weird as it sounded? She would not only be putting Granger’s life in danger, but also her own.

  Tearing bite-size pieces of leaves from the lettuce, Corie dropped them into the bowl. She could lose a lot more than her job, she thought gloomily, if she didn’t do something about this.

  She frowned, taking out her frustration on a tomato as she chopped it into pieces and added them to the lettuce. Granger had said he was beginning to get his memory back. She would ask him what he had remembered. If he was willing to tell her, she would be inclined to believe he was innocent. If he refused, then she would really have something to worry about.

  “Is there something I can do to help?”

  Granger’s deep voice seemed to vibrate down the length of her back. She dropped the knife, and it clattered onto the counter, spinning around until the blade pointed straight at her belly.

  Hoping it wasn’t a bad omen, she picked it up. She had to force her voice to sound casual when she answered him. “Thanks, but I have it all under control. Why don’t you sit down and read the paper? Or have you read it already?”

  “I’ve read it.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wander over to the window and look out.

  “You must be tired of being cooped up inside the house,” she said carefully. “It was such a nice day. Perhaps when it gets darker you might want to go for a stroll along the seafront. It should be safe enough then.”

  He spun around to look at her, his gaze sharpening. “They are looking for me, then?”

  She shrugged, concentrating on scrubbing the mushrooms. “If they wanted to keep you in that room, they must be concerned about your whereabouts now.”

  “Do you think the police are looking for me?”

  The edge to his voice deepened her apprehension. “If they are,” she said quietly, “they are not doing a very good job. This is a small town, I imagine I would have heard something by now.”

  He didn’t answer, but turned back to look out of the window. As she sliced the mushrooms, she thought about what she’d just said. If the scientists were involved in something sinister, they wouldn’t want the police to know about it. On the other hand, if Granger was in possession of a sinister secret, they wouldn’t want that to get out, either.

  Frustrated with the back and forth nature of her thoughts, she tossed the salad with more vigor than was necessary. Pieces of vegetables flew across the table, but she hardly noticed. One way or another, she had to learn more about what was going on. Only then could she make a decision as to what to do about it.

  Dinner that evening was tense, to say the least. Granger was preoccupied, answering her comments with one word answers. Feeling the need of something to relax her, Corie had opened a bottle of wine.

  Granger drank only one glass of it, while she refilled her glass twice. By the end of the meal she was feeling a little more mellow, her mind finally relaxing from the upheaval of the day.

  She offered Granger more wine, but he shook his head. “No, thank you. I rarely drink.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. There have been more families destroyed by drunks than any other reason.”

  “Including your own?”

  Surprised at his intuition, she said sharply, “How did you know that?”

  He shrugged. “Your reaction when we first met. You made it very clear you detested a drunk. I merely wondered if you had a personal reason.”

  She stared down at her plate, remembering how unsympathetic she’d been over Granger’s condition at the time. “I’m sorry,” she said ruefully. “I must have sounded like a heartless witch.”

  “No.” He leaned back in his chair, his steady gaze on her face. “Just immensely hurt.”

  She uttered a short laugh. “I grew up with a drunk. My father was rarely sober. On his bad days he would take out his frustrations with a belt buckle across my back. That was after he’d beaten my mother senseless.”

  The words sounded so empty in the quiet room. So few words to convey the pain and terror she’d accepted as part of her life for so long.

  “I’m sorry,” Granger said softly. “Som
e men cannot hold their liquor. It affects their brain. They don’t know what they are doing. Often they attack the people they love the most.”

  She looked up, the bitterness making her voice sharp. “And that makes it all right?”

  He moved his hand, as if he wanted to touch her, then withdrew it again. “Of course not. But sometimes it helps to understand.”

  “All I understand is that I lived in dread of hearing my father sing when he came through the front door. He always sang when he was drunk. That was right before he lost his temper over something trivial and slammed into us.”

  Something in his eyes changed, became softer as he looked at her. “I do understand,” he said quietly. “I wish I could say something to make it better for you.”

  She shook her head. “It was over a long time ago. I married the first man who asked me, to get away from my father. My mother died shortly after that.”

  “And you were not happy in your marriage?”

  “I thought I was.” Carefully she ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “We had problems, of course. Who doesn’t? I met Tony in college. He was studying to be a pediatrician, and after we married I worked to put him through medical school.”

  She stared at the golden liquid in her glass, feeling the familiar pain. “I wanted a baby, but there was never enough money at first. Then, when Tony finally graduated, he wanted time to settle into his career. He kept on making excuses why we shouldn’t try for a baby, until finally he told me he didn’t want children, period.”

  “That must have been a terrible shock to you.”

  She looked up, grateful for his sympathy. “It was. Oh, he gave me all the good reasons why we shouldn’t have kids. We had become used to our lifestyle after waiting so long. Children would alter all that. We would lose our friends, we were too old to change, it wouldn’t be fair to the kids to have older parents than their friends’ parents.”

  She lifted her hands in a gesture of resignation. “I finally gave up trying to change his mind. I tried to accept our life for what it was. I told myself I was content with our marriage, we had a lot to be thankful for. We loved each other, we had a nice house, money to go places, do things...the affluent life Tony had always wanted.”