Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (18 page)

Jewels wanted to scream bloody murder. Burst into hysterical tears. Unleash a fit of physical insanity despite the restraints. But bridled the pressing urges. The fact she was still under her kidnapper’s control triggered a swell of nausea deep in her gut, as if she had just swallowed a double dose of ipecac and puking was imminent. Her instant antidote: conjuring up thoughts of escape.

First things first: get the straps off, which he did say were only temporary. The fact this man seemed to feel a certain amount of sympathy for her might be fashioned to her advantage. Yet Jewels realized no matter how much sympathy he might feel for her, he would never remove the restraints as long as she appeared too emotional. Too irrational. Too scared to think logically. Or too desperate.

Mustering a voice oozing with charm and rationale, she calmly replied, “Thank you for your honesty. At least I’m glad to hear I’m not paralyzed. And so I’ve been kidnapped. I have to tell you, that didn’t come as a surprise.”

That comment tugged a faint smile out of him.

Keep the charm coming, she thought. “So now that I know the scoop, will you please let me up?”

His conflicted face said he wanted to honor her request, but still he just sat there.

“So, what do you say, Doctor...,” her somewhat cheery tone was meant to lead him to fill in the blank as part of her ploy to conceal her desperation to be free.

“Callahan. Leo Callahan,” he replied with a plastic smile.

“Okay, Doctor Callahan, how about allowing me to use the little girl’s room?” Lifting her head and cocking it toward him she whispered, “I think my bladder’s going to explode.”

Chuckling, his eyes glimmered. “Well, in that case, since an exploding bladder would make a terrible mess, I suppose I can let you go to the bathroom.”

Giddiness danced through her body like a Mardi Gras parade. This could be her opportunity to escape!

“But just to go to the bathroom,” he added, a tone of authority in his voice. “After that, it’s back on the table.”

Though Doc didn’t say it, Jewels knew by the way he said,
back on the table
included restraints. And just like that, the carnival within her packed up and left. Still, Jewels figured even a few minutes off the table was better than none at all. Smiling sweetly, she nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

Callahan drew back the blanket, revealing five eight-inch wide black nylon belts engulfing her body. An audible gasp squeaked out of her at the imposing sight. No wonder she couldn’t move! Did he think she was Arnold Schwarzenegger’s twin sister?

“Psychiatric body restraints,” he nonchalantly informed her while unbuckling the metal clasp and muscling apart the stiff Velcro binding of the double-locking strap securely tethering her lower legs. The broad fetter had covered her ankles and half way up her shins.

One down, four to go, she thought in her mental countdown to freedom.

“They keep the patient strictly subdued with minimal risk of injury no matter how hard he, or
she
, fights,” he commented, purposely eyeing Jewels when he emphasized
she
, as he removed the restraint just above her knees. “And the metal table prevents the patient from bending joints, particularly the elbows, creating a virtually escape-proof total-body confinement system.”

Two down, three to go. “It feels good to move my legs,” Jewels said with gratitude, slightly bending and straightening her knees to stretch as Doc released the restraint at her waist. Three down, two to go. Freedom was just two straps away!

“Sometimes two or three strong men are required to hold down a combative patient until the straps are adequately applied.” Callahan chuckled, adding, “And we certainly have an abundance of testosterone around here with men who would be all too eager to assist in such a circumstance.”

Obviously these tidbits of information Doc was doling out were warnings. Were her thoughts of escape
that
apparent?

After disengaging the buckle, hands poised to release the Velcro strap just under her breasts, he stopped. Gazing down at her, his eyes took on a bit of a threatening look. “You better not make me regret this.”

“No, Sir. I’ll be most grateful,” she promised, purposely batting her big blue eyes.

Moments later the last cumbersome strap, the one pinning her shoulders to the metal table, was released.

Jewels sighed with relief, extended her arms above her head, and slightly twisted her body while arching her back to stretch.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll help you up,” Callahan said, closely scrutinizing her moves, clearly prepared to act if she misbehaved.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbows into a half seated position.

Doc Callahan pressed his hand into the middle of her back, assisting her to sit straight up.

Suddenly Jewels became aware of the gaping hole in her shirt and though in the presence of a physician, was compelled to attempt to cover her bra with the shreds of material remaining from her torn T-shirt.

“Honey, don’t worry about your shirt. Your bra is covering the important parts and I’m not going to attack you.”

A guarded smile surfaced on her concerned face, but she clung to the tattered shreds she had pulled tightly across her breasts anyway.

“Your bladder didn’t explode yet, did it?” he asked, changing the subject to lighten her mood.

Wagging her head “no,” she released the death grip on her shirt and immediately rubbed her paining wrists.

“You didn’t get those ligature marks from
my
restraints,” he said, a tone of superiority in his voice.

“I know,” she unemotionally replied. After massaging her throbbing wrists, she tucked her knees high to her chest to smooth out the divots gouged in the soft tissue around her ankles by the kidnapper’s merciless bindings.

“Ready?” he asked, a tinge of impatience in his voice.

“Okay.” Like a gentleman offering a supportive hand to a lady stepping down from a stagecoach, he helped Jewels slip down from the exam table. Her numbed legs collapsed like boiled noodles when her bare feet collided with the cold stone floor.

Callahan caught her.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, timidly smiling.

Placing her arm around his shoulder for added stability, he cradled her small waist in the crook of his elbow. “Bathroom’s outside to the right,” he explained, motioning toward the closed door with his head.

Each step brought new strength to Jewels’ legs, along with a renewed awareness of her throbbing ankles.

During the few moments and several dozen steps required to reach their destination—the bathroom—Jewels soaked in as much of the environment as she could, noting the two closed doors along the same wall as the bathroom and the double-wide archway to an adjoining room. Could one of the closed doors or the other room lead to freedom?

“Here you go,” Callahan said, pushing open the door and motioning with his hand for her to enter.

The long and narrow bathroom consisted of three toilet stalls, a shower booth, and a counter with a double sink. The stone walls and stark fixtures reminded her of the kind of facility one might encounter at a decrepit rest stop located in the middle of nowhere when traveling across country. On the upside, it was well-lit and clean.

Callahan directed her to the larger, wheelchair accessible toilet at the far end. “You can take it from here,” he said, turning and closing the stall door behind him. “Ill get you a washcloth and towel. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And I’ll see what I can do about a shirt.”

Popping her head over the top of the partition, she intended to thank Callahan, but he was already out the door. She listened as the patter of Callahan’s footsteps dissipated.
Now
might be the perfect time to escape. But to where? She didn’t have a clue ... at least not at the moment.

Flushing the toilet and exiting the stall, she scanned the room for something,
anything
, she could use as a weapon. Perhaps harsh cleaning chemicals. A bowl brush. Even a plunger. Saw nothing.

Seconds later Callahan returned with two white terry cloth bath towels, a wash rag, a bar of Irish Spring soap, a yellow comb, and a woodland green camouflaged T-shirt. He dropped them on the faux marble Formica counter next to the deep stainless sink. “Julia, you should know this compound is home to nearly two-dozen sex-deprived men who haven’t had a woman in a long time. For your own protection, I’m giving you a shirt that is much too big to help conceal your feminine body features, if you know what I mean. I also wrangled up a comb,” he said, quickly adding, “not that that’s a hint or anything.”

Jewels chuckled. “Thank you.” Given different circumstances, she couldn’t help but wonder if this soft-spoken man and she might be friends.

Splashing lukewarm water on her cheeks, followed by a delicate massaging with the washcloth, she had wiped away all evidence of the tears of terror spilled just hours ago. After brushing her teeth with her finger, she combed her long hair, untangling the half dozen knots created during the savage kidnapping. Freshening up rejuvenated Jewels’ soul. Her desire to be free. Her hope for help.

Eyeing her watch: 8:25. Jewels reasoned Belinda had checked e-mail messages, which meant poor Boo-Boo had been discovered, her home crawling with cops. An APB on the missing Humvee fresh on the airwaves.

And by nine o’clock tomorrow morning, the county sheriff and the feds will have received her overnight express envelope. By noon, authorities combing the area, searching for her.

Survive. Hold on, until help arrives, Jewels silently vowed.

Peeking around the corner of the bathroom’s main door, she saw Callahan leaning against the hallway wall, his arms crossed neatly in front of him like a man having no choice but to wait for his date to powder her nose before returning to the opera.

Bouncing out of the bathroom with a wide smile, she stretched her arms above her head. “I feel so much better, Doctor Callahan,” she said in a voice that could charm a rabid pirate.

“Ohhh,” he said, gathering himself to stand erect, acting surprised to see her finished already. “You
do
look much better.”

And Jewels did look better, despite the sagging man’s extra-extra-large T-shirt that hung like a plus-sized muumuu sufficiently obliterating any sign of feminine curves.

For an awkward moment Jewels and the doc just stared at each other. Then Callahan took charge, clearing his throat. “Better get you back to the exam room.”

“Oh,” Jewels said, her voice cracking, knowing full well what
going back to the exam room
meant: being strapped down with psycho restraints to a cold metal table.His warm hand in the middle of her back prompted her to move toward the exam room.

Walking slowly, she quizzed, “So, tell me, Doctor, exactly what does S-P-O-F stand for?”

Callahan, apparently taken off guard that she possessed such knowledge, raised suspicious brows before warily responding, “Sovereign Patriots Of Freedom.”

Sensing the topic made him nervous, she pressed anyway. “So, you’re some kind of militia group operating out of, as you described, a compound?” she asked, halting her gait to look him in the eyes, and to kill more time before climbing back onto the hideous table.

“Something like that,” he responded cautiously, once more pressing his hand against her back to prod her to resume walking.

“Hmm. So, Sharon Jeppson was killed because she wanted to, how shall I say, defect?”

“You know, you’re one real sharp lady. Maybe too smart for your own good.” He didn’t say anything else.

Neither did Jewels.

Upon entering the exam room, Jewels flashed a nervous smile.

“Come on, Julia. Remember our deal. Time for you to get up on that table. I think you’ve milked this twenty-step walk about as far as it’s going to go,” he said, his voice frigid.

Jewels’ face flushed rosy. The good doctor had picked up on her time wasting strategy. Her mind fluttered. Still, she refused to willingly allow herself to be restrained, no matter what she had promised Callahan. Needed to concoct a plan. Fast.

“I said get up on the table. Now!”

“Okay, I’m getting there. Just please don’t yell.” As if performing a triceps dip, reluctantly Jewels placed her arms on the edge of the table to boost herself into a sitting position. Her feet dangled about a foot off the ground.

“Now lie back.”

Leaning back, she swung her feet up, but at the last minute, thrust her flexed feet with all of her might at Callahan’s groin.

Howling in pain, he grabbed his crotch and sank to the floor on his knees.

Wasting no time, Jewels sprang off the table and dashed to the closest medical cabinet, about ten feet to the rear of the room. Drawers and doors clanked as she radically rifled through them. Haphazardly, she tossed boxes of gauze pads, packages of disposable syringes, and plastic tubes on the stone floor, even lobbed several glass vials of medicine, shattering a few. She was a woman possessed, obsessed with finding medical tools suitable for use as defensive weapons.

Finally! A drawer full of scissors. Another with scalpels. Choosing a pair of scissors with a long straight shaft and simply grabbing a scalpel, which all appeared to have the same razor sharp edge, she armed herself.