The Rasner Effect (16 page)

“My rules are stern, but fair. Success in class leads to promotion to the next grade. I will not reward unsuccessful results, particularly those caused by negative behavior.”

“I don’t see it as rewarding her, Miss Miller, I see it as…”

“It does not matter how you see it. I am the director of this facility and I run it as
I
see fit!”

Although Rick wholeheartedly disagreed, and he had many points to present, he realized this was not a discussion he could rationally have, let alone win. He stood in silence, one hand still tight to his head.

Miller wouldn’t let up. “I set the tone here, not anyone else. Am I understood?”

“Yes. Understood.”

She was enjoying this. He wondered if she took courses in browbeating people when she’d been at college. Intimidation 101. Maybe he should look up a class in dealing with it.

“Good!” Miller said. “And in the future, I would appreciate you not planting ludicrous ideas in my patients’ heads. It distracts them from their intended treatments. It also makes my teachers’ jobs all the more difficult.”

A black band wrapped itself around his line of vision. What he
could
see in the center blurred. Woozy, he reached out, finding the wall for support.

“Mister Rasner.”

Rick realized his eyes were closed. He forced them open, against the intense explosion of pain caused by the light in the room.

“Return to work,” Miller snapped, at some point she’d transformed from an irate boss to a parent scolding a disobedient child.

“Yes Ma’am, I…”

“Just go!” Miller screamed.

She whirled past his shoulder, bumping it and nearly toppling him over. She disappeared into her office. The slamming door did bring him down. His knees folded and he crumpled into a heap.

A hand touched his shoulder and a soft voice spoke in his ear, “Are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?”

Rick shook off the dizzy feeling. Several blinks of his eyes returned some of his sight.

“Mr. Rasner?” Miller’s secretary bent close to him. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his right forearm. She repeated his name.

“I’m all right.” He moved into a sitting position.

“Are you sure? You look awful.”

“Had a dizzy spell. I’m fine.” He bent his legs and leaned forward, getting on his knees. Then, using the wall for support on one side and the gray-haired secretary’s hand on the other, he got to his feet. He was okay. The lightheadedness was gone. So was most of the throbbing.

“Thanks for your help,” he said and pulled open the door.

The corridor was empty. Classes must be underway. Clara was probably furious with him right now. He had filled her head with optimism, a hope for a future she didn’t have. Whatever trust she’d had in him had once again dissolved into nothing.

He’d handled the confrontation with Miller poorly. He wanted to, but couldn’t blame the headache. Things weren’t going well before it took over his whole thought process. There was much he wanted to say to that…woman, but the opportunity had passed—not that he ever had one to begin with.

Chapter Eighteen

The Brookhill Gardens Hotel featured fifty rooms of various sizes, as well as one suite. Since the weekend, the suite had been occupied by a group of three men and one woman. The woman, Jennifer Duke, stood in front of the worktable with her hands on her hips and her light blonde hair tied in a ponytail with a pink scrunchie.

Jorge Alvino sat on the leather couch on the opposite side of the large room. He propped his legs on a coffee table. For the last hour he’d loaded and then unloaded his .32 Revolver. Jen was about to yell at him to knock it off when the hallway door opened.

Derrick and Jun Sanaga entered and strode toward the table. “Mission accomplished,” Derrick announced. “And I hate to say it, but it was rather easy.”

Derrick carried a bag slung over his shoulder. He thunked it on the table, unzipped it, and drew out a camera, then draped the bag’s strap over the back of the chair. He set the camera on the table, sat, and opened the laptop before him. Derrick removed the memory card from a slot on the side of the camera and placed the card in a matching receptacle on the laptop. Jen stepped around the table to peer at the computer.

“Explain ‘easy’,” Jen said as pictures appeared, one at a time, on the screen.

“Kobayashi and I followed him around for much of the weekend. We were never all that far away at any point during our surveillance.”

“He didn’t know he was being followed?” Jen asked. When Derrick threw her a look of incredulity, she added, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. He only looked back—how many times?” Derrick looked at Sanaga, who held up one finger. “Right, one time. Otherwise, he seemed to suspect nothing. He just went on about his business.”

“Which was…”

“He was just walking the town, window-shopping. He never entered a single store.”

“I have trouble believing he didn’t suspect he was being followed, his instincts are better than that. At least they used to be.” Jen bent forward to see the photos on the screen. “The physical appearance is the same. His demeanor is not.”

Jen eyed the slideshow of pictures carefully. Each one, taken at varying distances, was of Rick Rasner. There was no doubt of his identity. One view showed him walking away from the grounds of the Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric Residence. Another showed him in the town of Brookhill, standing at an intersection waiting for a red light to turn green. A third showed him sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper.

In each picture, whether walking or standing, Rick’s back was slightly hunched and his head was facing down. This was what bothered her. The Rick Rasner she knew confronted life aggressively, with an obsessive attitude toward whatever he looked to accomplish.

“What do you make of this?” Jen asked, hoping Derrick would spot the same deficiency.

“I really can’t tell you, Jennie. The entire time we followed him, I was trying to make sense of it. I mean, it looks like the guy, but… Frankly, I’ve got nothing but random guesses.”

“Which are?”

His response was to press a few buttons on the keyboard. Suddenly, the pictures formed into a photo gallery on the screen so all could be viewed at once.

“It’s like it’s him,” Derrick stated, “but his attitude, his confidence, his whole personality—I gotta guess that maybe—it’s all been erased or changed somehow.”

“Or subdued,” Sanaga added in his usual monotone and rarely heard voice. The fact he offered any comment at all took both Jen and Derrick by surprise.

At a loss for an answer to Rick’s apparent change, Jen repeated her question to Derrick. “So what would your random guess be?”

“It really could be anything, Jennie.”

“So, your expert opinion is it could be anything? Thanks, you’re a great help.” She moved to the other side of the table. “Have you heard anything out there?”

“About what?”

“Any underground government programs? Any clues that might suggest to us what those assholes might have done while we thought he was
dead
?”

“I haven’t heard anything, but remember, until recently, I wasn’t looking for anything.”

A few clicks on the mouse, and one picture enlarged to fill the screen. It was a large Victorian house on top of a hill. A small figure, unmistakably Rick, walked into the attached garage.

“I’m not in contact with the sources we used to have. I have no answers to your questions.”

Jen started to turn away in frustration. Derrick’s, “However…” had her turning back. “…I know someone who will.”

Derrick’s cocky smile returned as he pointed to the house on the screen.

“This is that doctor’s house, Harold Obenchain, right here in Brookhill. Rick was there for about an hour Friday evening before leaving and walking through town to what I’m guessing is his apartment.”

Jen tapped her index finger on the plastic tabletop before responding. “We’re going to have to go through him before we confront Rick. Find out what family he has. I doubt he lives in a house that size by himself.”

“I’ve already done that. Remember, I am psychic when it comes to knowing what you want me to find out for you.” Derrick waved at his monitor. “And as long as I have my crystal ball right here…”

“What did you find out?” Jen snapped.

Derrick pressed a few keys and a new picture filled the screen. This time it was the face of a young boy with short blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a small chin. “This is Arnold Obenchain, ten years old, son of Harold Obenchain. Obenchain’s wife is listed as deceased. Actually, I think
we
killed her.”

“Where does he go to school?”

“He has to go to Brookhill Elementary. It’s the only elementary school in this entire backwater town.”

“We definitely need to meet with Doctor Obenchain.” Jen rubbed her hands together with a determined grin. “We need information from him. Maybe we’ll need his help as well.”

“You figure we should just knock on his door and ask him for his help, Jennie?” Derrick asked.

“He’ll see us and he’ll help us, if we have something to barter with,” Jen answered, staring off toward the digital clock which sat in the corner on top of the hotel television. “Let’s pick up Obenchain junior from school.”

Chapter Nineteen

Rick moved his white knight up two spaces and one to the left on the chessboard set up on Janet Murphy’s desk. Janet gasped in surprise when she realized Rick had forked both her bishop and her rook with the knight’s new positioning on the board.

“You’re a very good player,” she said while examining the board. “Where did you learn to play?”

Rick shrugged his shoulders without saying a word. Janet must’ve realized the significance of her statement. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding sincere.

“It’s all right. Sometimes I make the same mistake. I’m coming to terms with it, though.”

Janet reached on the chessboard and moved her rook out of the way. “You seem distracted,” she said after she’d set the small plastic piece on another location on the board. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“No, I’m fine,” Rick answered without looking at her.

“I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with this place.”

“It doesn’t. Well, not entirely.” Rick examined the board and then used his white knight to take Janet’s black bishop. “Tell me, how do you handle the personal frustrations we have to endure?”

“Do you mean with the kids or the staff?” Janet asked with her usual nervous laugh.

“Everything. All of it.”

“I don’t really think about it. Once the day ends, I go home and Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric ceases to exist for me.”

“Even the children you work with every day?” Rick asked, surprised. “They cease to exist as well?”

“I have eighteen months before I retire. I come in, I do my job, and I go home.” Janet moved her queen to the center of the board. Rick placed his rook across from her king. The black king was now in check and unable to escape due to the three pawns on the squares in front of it.

Rick stood up, pushing the chair away with the backs of his knees. “Checkmate. Just in time, too. I have to get my first client of the day.”

“Chin up, Rick, you’ll be okay. God is on your side, whether you believe in Him or you’re not quite convinced just yet.”

Rick crossed to his desk and glanced down at the schedule. His first student was Rebecca, who barely ever spoke to him. If he managed one word out of her, it was a success. Because of this, he didn’t particularly enjoy their sessions and—he hated to admit it—there were days he intentionally postponed or forgot about her completely.

Janet stood up from her seat and made her way toward the door. Rick opened it for her. Out in the hallway, Doctor Obenchain, escorted by Katherine Miller, headed in his direction.

“Allow me to show you our therapy suite where we offer daily sessions for our children. And we do think of them as our children.” Miller’s voice and demeanor were filled with warmth and friendliness. Rick wondered where she was keeping the ogre. What would it take to make him rear his ugly head?

“Of course, you already know the newest member to our therapeutic staff, Mister Rasner,” she said giving him a rare smile.

Miller threw her arm over Rick’s shoulders in a gesture of friendship. Rick couldn’t stop the frown that creased his cheeks. Noticing this, she shook Rick ever so slightly in what appeared like a playful way. “We’re still teaching him the ropes, but I’m sure he’ll get acclimated soon enough.” Now she squeezed his shoulder.

“Well, from what I’ve seen today, you’ve come into a good facility,” Obenchain said to Rick, but the statement had to be for Miller’s benefit because he kept his eyes on her. “I’m sure you all do great work with your children here.”

“And, of course, we owe a great deal of that success to the financial contributions you and the Board of Directors have provided us, Doctor.”

“We’re glad to support a good cause.”

Rick couldn’t be sure how much was legitimate from either of them. Just how much money did the doctor give this place? Had to be a lot for Miller to send the ogre into hibernation. He’d bet a week’s pay she was sweating bullets trying to keep the thing corralled.

Either way, he found it all very discomfiting.

Janet stepped out of the office. She introduced herself, shook Obenchain’s hand, and then excused herself. They all watched her walk away on sensibly heeled shoes.

Finally, Obenchain looked Rick in the eye. “I do need to speak with you.” The doctor turned to the director, “Miss Miller, if you’ll excuse us for a moment, please?”

Was that a look of concern that passed over her face? It disappeared before Rick could put a name to it, but he was nearly sure. What was she afraid of?

She didn’t miss a beat replying, “Of course, Doctor. I’ll leave you two to speak and then I’ll personally walk you out.”

Miller offered another smile and backed away slowly. Was that so she might overhear something? When neither Rick nor the doctor said word one, she threw a quick warning look at Rick. She was pissed to be excluded from a conversation in her own facility. He’d hear about it later, there was no doubt. The look on her face spoke volumes. She was hiding something…