SIXTEEN
“Hello, Doctor,” I replied as calmly as I could manage.
I’d been in the room for less than a minute and already felt like sprinting toward the door as fast as my legs could carry me. His unconcealed, lecherous stare made my skin crawl.
“I don’t want you to feel nervous,” he began, examining me microscopically with his probing eyes. “Many women come to me asking for assistance. I have plenty of experience. I can make you very comfortable.” His voice was high and thin and he prolonged the “s” sound at the end of words, making it sound like a whistling hiss.
“Thank you,” I answered nervously.
“Sit down,” he said with another flick of his lizard tongue over his lips. He gestured toward the bed. Only then did I realize I’d been clutching the window frame so hard, my knuckles had turned white.
“I don’t want you to feel nervous,” he said again. He leaned against the counter with all the vials. The vials and jars made a few clinking sounds as his weight settled. I found myself staring at the door, wondering how difficult it would be to overpower him and escape. Disgust rattled me, and my heart wrenched for Dorothy.
He watched me with amusement, entertained by my obvious discomfort.
“How did a pretty girl like you end up here?” he asked.
I debated whether to play along or just ask him straight out about Dorothy. I needed all the information I could get, but I also valued my life. I hadn’t seen another soul inside this “hospital” except for the peculiar nurse.
“No need to be shy,” he said, instantly misinterpreting my far away look.
“My friend said you help women who have… blockages?” I said, struggling to remember the word Lola used. “Maybe you remember her? Her name is Dorothy.”
His smug smirk vanished, replaced by a dark, menacing scowl. He straightened and moved away from the desk, which nearly fell over, making the vials clink again as they tipped precariously.
“I don’t know anyone by that name,” he replied sharply. Then he seemed to compose himself and coolly resumed his relaxed posture.
Clearly he’d tried to conceal his reaction to hearing Dorothy’s name but there was something undeniable there. I refused to accept this was just a dead end. Assuming she arrived at the “hospital,” Dorothy was here just yesterday; yes, he was definitely concealing something. I just didn’t know how to uncover the truth. I had to find out pretty quickly though—Drake and I were running out of time. But I dared not risk bringing up Dorothy’s name again for fear of his reaction. He might become more irritated than the first time I mentioned it.
“I do what I can to help a lot of young women, Mrs. Montague. I can’t remember everyone’s name; so many consult me for assistance, I’m sure you understand.” He smiled suggestively at me again, his tongue flicking in and out from behind his pointed crocodile teeth. “Although I have to say I’m sure I’d have a hard time forgetting someone like you.”
I had to fight the shudder that threatened to expose my true discomfort. I remembered what Drake said: no self-respecting doctor would perform such an operation.
“How long have you been a doctor?” I asked.
“I can assure you, my dear, I’m more than experienced,” he hissed, his voice dripping with lurid suggestion. “Although I must admit some surprise at seeing you here. I rarely assist married women who come to me. Although it does happen, of course. But most married women are overjoyed and grateful when they learn they are with child. You should be grateful too. What you’re carrying inside you is truly a gift.” He looked pointedly at my midsection.
I had to shelve the thought of having Drake’s baby because it left me feeling completely perplexed.
“Well…” I hedged, trying to think of a plausible excuse. “Now just isn’t the best time for my husband and me to raise a child, you see. My husband recently lost his job and we have no permanent place to live at present.” The lie felt beyond obvious and I waited anxiously for him to call me out.
“I see.” He took a big breath. “Your last name is Montague?”
Fuck! I thought to myself and inwardly shrunk. Of course he’d realize the Montagues were beyond wealthy. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? “Yes, but my husband is the black sheep of the family,” I said, searching for any explanation I could.
“I see,” he said again.
“Is this procedure dangerous?” I asked, eager to gather clues about what happened to Dorothy, if she got that far.
“It can be difficult at times. It is not always easy to determine how a woman’s body will react. Of course, much of it depends on how long the blockage has been in existence. Many times, it’s as easy and painless as your monthly bloodletting. Other times, it can become more complicated.”
“Has anyone ever died because of it?”
He paused to scrutinize me for a long moment.
“Yes,” he started, “unfortunately, it does happen. However, I can assure you not to worry; you have nothing to be nervous about.”
“What happens when they die?”
“Those questions are not becoming from a young lady! You need not concern yourself with such thoughts of morbidity, rest assured!”
I was beginning to realize that this conversation was futile. And the longer I spent in the year 1910 without getting any answers, the more difficult it would become to return to the present. The thought of facing Jill and Ada empty-handed haunted me. But this situation with this slimy doctor was going nowhere.
Yes, my best course of action now was to find Drake and come back with a better plan. I could ask Thomas what he knew since he should have certainly remembered driving away with a woman and her baby, or not! My mind stilled at that thought. Maybe it was a normal event for Thomas Dickerson to leave the ominous building with an empty backseat? The doctor said there had been previous deaths.
My only accomplishment so far was uncovering a litany of more unanswered questions. I was in way over my head.
“Of course, we must discuss my payment. You’ve been apprised of my price, I trust.”
I saw my first opportunity. “Well, after my husband lost his position, our budget has become much more limited in scope. At least for right now. I’ll need a bit more time… I must confess he doesn’t know I’m here.”
The doctor seemed instantly upset.
“You have to understand, Mrs. Montague! I am in a dangerous and very vulnerable position by providing this service to women such as yourself. I only want to help, of course, but I must confine my services to those that are, shall we say, ready and able to pay. And, of course, secrecy is of the utmost importance. My specific talents are rare and costly.” He took a deep breath. “I’m more than willing to help you but my price cannot be reduced under any circumstances.” His murky eyes left my face and trailed down to my bust as he added, “Of course, my compensation does not always have to be in currency. There are plenty of other forms such as real estate and human services.” His tongue flicked across his salacious lips, leaving them raw and shiny.
“I, um, I didn’t realize,” I replied quickly, suddenly claustrophobically desperate to leave the too small room. Every second I stayed in the room felt like one more opportunity for something bad to happen.
“Payments can take many forms of currency,” he said with a lascivious smile.
“I’ll discuss payment, ahem dollar payment, with my husband first,” I replied, hoping that was enough to grant me passage out of the too small room. I could not wait to reconvene with Drake. Where was his cab?
“Ah, yes,” he said, unaware of my intention to end our meeting. Or maybe he had no intention of letting me go. “If not, we’ll work something out.”
“Thank you,” I said, although I didn’t want to stick around to hear any more of his ideas.
He leaned away from the desk again and approached the bed, placing a feeble, bony hand on my knee.
I stood up quickly, reacting almost violently to the contact of his skin.
“I really should be going,” I said, taking a step back from him.
“But I haven’t examined you yet, and seeing as this is just a consultation, am I correct in assuming you brought your first payment today?”
He came toward me with an evil gleam in his eye. Just then, a loud, piercing cry echoed from somewhere outside the room. It ended in a series of short, spluttering coughs, but it was unmistakably the sound of a newborn infant! My eyes widened in disbelief and I immediately imagined Dorothy’s baby.
“What was that?” I asked the doctor.
“Nothing. Just another patient. Now then, Mrs. Montague,” said the doctor, suddenly looking very anxious. “Now let’s have a good look and see how far along you are, shall we? You can’t be more than two months, judging by your slender waist and lithe figure. That’s good.”
He returned to the desk with the vials and opened a drawer from beneath the table. Dorothy was somewhere in this hospital with her baby! I was sure of it now; he was definitely hiding that. But why?
“I have to use the restroom first,” I lied.
He sighed but didn’t turn away from the drawer. “Very well,” he said. “Go back to the main floor and the nurse will point it out to you.”
He walked over to the door and opened it, tapping his foot impatiently until I hurried out. I started for the stairs but once he closed the door, I stopped and listened hard for another cry. I hoped that the baby was with Dorothy. Then it occurred to me that maybe Dorothy was already gone? I hadn’t heard a woman screaming, just the baby. Complications during childbirth happened all the time, even in my century. A disconcerting silence stopped me in my tracks and I was unsure of what to do. Then I noticed one of the doors in the hallway was slightly open. At the far end, I spotted the door that was ajar.
Ever so slowly, I edged along the hallway towards the door. My black heels clacked against the hard, cold hospital floor and I prayed that the doctor wouldn’t hear me. The hallway seemed to go on forever, like a bad dream, but I finally reached the end of the hall and peeked through the crack in the door.
Inside was a room very much like the one I just left, but the curtains were drawn shut on the window. That made the room unnaturally dark for this time of day.
Sitting on the bed with her face partly obscured in shadow, I saw the long nose, dark hair, and elegant features of a woman. She was holding what looked like a bundled blanket and propped up on a high stack of pillows. She was wearing a white nightgown. Our eyes met and I shivered with immediate understanding. Her resemblance to her granddaughter was uncanny. I stood rooted where I was, unable to move an inch, as I stared into the unflinching, and very much alive, eyes of Dorothy Arnold.
Dorothy clutched the bundle a little tighter to her chest, but her gaze remained steady, although somewhat unfocused. Her skin was pale and damp with sweat. Her hair was unkempt and wild around her face. I felt drawn to her when our eyes met and for a moment, we just looked at each other. She didn’t seem like a woman of the past at all, but very real, and so alive. It rattled me to predict very soon she wouldn’t be.
Drake’s warning about interfering echoed in my brain, and I felt guilty. He would surely discourage me from speaking with Dorothy. Anything I did would be directly viewed as meddling with the past, but when our eyes met in that drab, empty room, my heart ached for her. Almost out of habit, I thought the words to shut Drake out but then realized I didn’t have to. I was here… alone. I made my choice and slowly opened the door before slipping inside.
“Hi, Dorothy,” I said, unsure of how to greet her. How could I help her if nothing had happened yet? Did she realize she was in danger?
“Who are you?” she asked, and a tone of trepidation crept into her young voice. She slurred the words slightly, as if she were very weak. I found her remarkably beautiful and my heart sank at the thought of her dying so young and not being able to raise her child.
“I’m…” I struggled to think of my identity. “I’m someone who only wants to help. I know all about the baby.”
She clutched the bundle even tighter and stared down at it. For a moment, she said nothing and when she looked back up at me, her somewhat glazed eyes were glistening with tears. I came closer and offered her a compassionate expression to convey a sense of safety.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she stared into the bundle before replying quietly, “Did Junior send you?” she asked, and the fear was evident in her voice.
“Junior?” I replied, instantly confused. “No, I’m a friend of your family.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning back in her seat, her eyes sagging.
“Dorothy, what happened?”
“He can’t know, he can’t know,” she chanted incoherently. As I watched her, I realized she wasn’t quite with it. Her pupils were fully dilated and she looked like she couldn’t quite focus on me or anything else in the room. The more I studied her, the more I realized she was fading in and out and I couldn’t make sense of her words. I was unsure what sort of stress having a baby puts you under, but Dorothy’s confused state seemed heightened somehow. I looked into her wide pupils and concluded she most likely had been drugged. I didn’t know how much time we had left and I needed coherent answers. Fast.
Casting a nervous glance back at the door, I walked to where she was sitting on her bed and knelt down in front of her, placing a hand on her knee.
“I only want to help,” I said.
She nodded and sniffled before her tears became no more than a few sporadic hiccups. The bundle at her chest remained silent. I couldn’t see the baby.
“Junior,” she said wearily, her head lolling slightly as she leaned back on the pillow, looking exhausted. “He doesn’t know the truth. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want it. He wanted it to go away. He’ll kill us, I know.” She began softly crying again.
“Dorothy, who will kill you? The doctor?”
“Just tell him, please! Just tell him I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please.”
She looked at me with sudden lucidity—and her eyes were full of hurt and anguish. I felt my own eyes welling with tears. I just didn’t understand what she was going on about. Junior? The doctor? Who was she scared of?
Sobbing quietly, she looked down at the bundle. “I thought it was when I lied to my family and spent that week with him, but that was before. That’s why it was too late. But I couldn’t lose her; she’s my baby. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she wailed into a sobbing frenzy.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder to check the door once more.
I patted Dorothy’s knee, trying to get her to calm down.
I had to collect my thoughts but I needed more information. “Where can I find Junior?” I began with new urgency, desperate for her to tell me any lead I could follow. “Do you know where he…” All at once, my words were interrupted by the creaking door behind me. I whirled around to see the quiet nurse carrying in a tray with a bowl and some rags. Her eyes widened when she saw me. I stood up quickly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a shrill, harsh voice.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” I replied unconvincingly. Her eyes squinted at me suspiciously. She set the tray down on the table in the room and turned back to me.
“Follow me,” she said coldly. I trailed her out of the room and looked back one last time at Dorothy, risking a short, encouraging nod before filing out behind the nurse.
The doctor looked out from behind the door when we passed. He quickly turned to see the direction we were coming from, and anxiety lines appeared on his forehead. He ushered me forward with a thin index finger, and a long fingernail. I had no doubt he was hiding Dorothy. How could he say he didn’t know her when she was barely three rooms away?
“What were you doing?” he asked in a high voice, and his lizard tongue darted out between his lips, placing a fresh gleam of saliva on them.
Now that I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, a renewed sense of anger boiled up from inside me. Why were they hiding Dorothy? What did they intend to do to her?
I glared at the doctor. “I was looking for the bathroom and I ran into my friend.” I’d already said that I knew Dorothy so he couldn’t have been too surprised to see me talking to her.
“You must confine your movements to this end of the hall and resist any urge to explore the hospital,” he said coldly. “The security and safety of our patients is mandatory You cannot violate standard policies. Dorothy is much too ill presently to receive guests.”
“So you do know her name then?” I replied with unmasked accusation. He seemed instantly annoyed, and his eyebrows furrowed ominously.
“You should realize by now that absolute secrecy is paramount to my work. I’m not at liberty to give out any of the names of my patients. If you only came to snoop around my hospital, Mrs. Montague, I must kindly ask you to leave.”
I froze with panic. I couldn’t leave Dorothy; not when she was about to meet her demise.
“But what about the examination?”
The doctor studied me for a moment.
“Eager, aren’t you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and another flick of his reptilian tongue. His suspicion seemed to evaporate. “Fine, we will postpone that until tomorrow. But only because I am a charitable man, Mrs. Montague. You’d be wise to remember that the next time you decide to poke your nose into places where it doesn’t belong.”
“Thank you,” I forced the words out of my mouth and had to swallow down the accompanying acidity. He took a few steps toward me and peered down his long nose at me, trying to look as menacing as he could which was pretty menacing.
“If you say anything to anyone about what you saw and heard here today, I can make your life very difficult. Your discretion is not only valued, it is obligatory. A name can be a powerful thing, Mrs. Montague, but it’s also very vulnerable to smearing. Don’t think I won’t take advantage of that if you should proceed unwisely. I understand your husband is the black sheep of his family, as you mentioned, but I imagine you would not want his name further tarnished?”
“Understood,” I gulped, wanting nothing more than to get the hell away from him.
“We’ll continue the examination tomorrow,” he said austerely.
At first his threats were meaningless and silly to me, but the more I thought about it, the more insecure I became. Even though Drake would be long gone by the time we returned to my time, I’d never choose to tarnish his family name. Regardless of his feelings toward his family, I didn’t question the good doctor’s potential for harm, not for a moment. The complacency with which the doctor spoke sent shivers down my spine.
It was obvious to me that he knew I’d been up to no good when I sneaked into Dorothy’s room. Something was going to happen to Dorothy, something big. I couldn’t just leave her alone, not when I was so close to finding out the true story. The doctor and nurse kept eyeing me suspiciously. For the second time that day, I longed for Drake’s guiding voice in my ear.
That’s who I needed most of all. Drake. Maybe I could come back with him. I could claim that my husband learned about the baby and wanted to negotiate a fair price. That way he could create a distraction while I searched for any evidence of Dorothy. I couldn’t shake the dread that something unthinkably cruel was about to happen to her, and I blamed the doctor entirely for it. There was no reason for him to hide her. Even though I wasn’t allowed to tamper with history, I couldn’t sit back and let the poor woman be murdered.
“The driver will pick you up at three p.m.! Don’t forget to bring cash,” said the doctor. “Oh, and Mrs. Montague?”
Yes?” I replied with a growing sense of apprehension.
“I needn’t repeat to you that your discretion and caution are essential. Your famous name cannot protect you at all times.” The last sentence was his attempt to intimidate me, and he did; my heart jumped into my throat.
He eyed me with a sinister expression. Worry dried out my mouth and left a dark, empty hole in my stomach. The doctor smiled, knowing his words achieved their desired effect. He waved at me from the doorway of the room as the nurse urged me toward the stairs. I turned back to see his sharp teeth and tongue as it flicked out to lick his lips once more.
The shrewish nurse didn’t speak as she led me toward the main landing. When we reached the ground floor, she didn’t immediately go to the entrance. Instead, she stopped in front of a door I hadn’t noticed when I came in. She stood dutifully beside it. I stopped beside her, unsure of why we were standing in front of the door. It didn’t look particularly important, but I was in a house of horrors. I didn’t know if I had the stamina to face any more surprises.
She nodded toward the door, making it clear I was supposed to open it.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“The powder room,” she said and merely smiled silently and nodded toward the door again. Taking a deep breath, I tentatively reached out toward the handle. “You said you needed to use it, remember?”
“Yes, yes I do,” I answered instantly as I pulled it open. Inside was a small bathroom. An ancient faucet hung over a rudimentary drain. A toilet stood on the other end. I cocked an eyebrow and turned back to the nurse. “Thanks,” I muttered awkwardly. I walked into the simple bathroom and closed the door behind me. Looking at the scratched and faded mirror that hung lopsided over the faucet, I tried to settle my frazzled nerves.
I couldn’t relieve my guilt for leaving Dorothy. What if something happened to her while I was away? I recalled the man she told me to find. I ignored the warning that bringing him here would be direct interference with the past and I would be rewriting history, but I couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of my mind. The thought that Dorothy’s disappearance had been voluntary was ridiculous. The girl was scared. Something cruel and unthinkable was about to happen to her and I had no doubt whom the responsible party would be.
That awful doctor.
There was a glimmer of a chance that Junior would be my only way to get back in…
Suddenly, a piercing wail interrupted my thoughts. My head jerked up toward the ceiling and the source of the sound. The wailing was quickly silenced and followed by a sharp, loud rap on the bathroom door. I jumped.
Turning the faucet on to perpetuate my lie, I rinsed my hands before turning off the water and wiping my hands on my skirt. I exited the room. The nurse greeted me with a curt nod and led me towards the front door. Once there, she removed the key from her apron pocket and unlocked the door wordlessly. I stepped outside into the frigid air. Taking a deep breath, I shook off the anxiety that hung around my shoulders like an unbearable weight.
Outside, Thomas Dickerson was reading a newspaper in the front seat of his car. His wool coat apparently provided adequate protection against the cold, since he made no complaint at having to wait outside in the icy December air. I watched him crank the lever by his feet again before the car roared to life and we started off down the bumpy drive and away from the forlorn building. I stuck my head out of the window, getting one last look at it. Staring at me from the window of her second story room, I saw Dorothy’s somber face. I only glimpsed it for a moment before she disappeared behind a curtain. My heart ached to leave her behind but I knew I had to get back as soon as possible.
Morose images filed into my head, one after the other as I scanned the deserted road for any signs of Drake’s cab. But it wasn’t there. Where was he? What had happened to him? Was the other cab driver an accomplice of Dickerson’s? Did he realize all along that we were being followed? An ever-growing uneasiness began to envelop me. My body ached from holding in so much tension all day. I was sure the residual hangover didn’t help either.
About five minutes down the main road, we passed Drake’s cab. Relief washed over me and I instantly felt calm. The cab started up shortly after we passed it and the release of tension was almost palpable. I was elated to see Drake but I couldn’t imagine what he’d been doing. Why hadn’t he followed me like we planned? What had happened to cause him to steer off course?
My thoughts were a jumbled mess on the drive back to the hotel. I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving Dorothy behind but I didn’t have any other options. Of course it occurred me time and time again that by the time I returned there, she could already be dead and gone. That was an outcome I had to forcefully push back.
When we arrived at the hotel, I nearly fell on my way out of the cab. I couldn’t wait to surrender to the safety of Drake’s strong arms, but I stopped myself because I didn’t want Dickerson to realize Drake and I were together. Instead, I watched Drake exit the cab and make his way toward me on the grimy side street. I walked inside the building and Drake followed me shortly after that, our distance far enough that it didn’t look like he was following me. Seeing the tense expression on my face, he shrugged his shoulders in confusion.
“What, ma minette? What happened?”
“Let’s go to our room,” I said, being sure to keep my face turned away from him just in case Thomas Dickerson was still watching me.
Once we were safely back in the hotel room, I sat down on the couch. Finally, I could allow myself to unwind. The traumatic encounter came back in a string of memories and images that made my skin crawl.
Drake looked at me with undisguised worry.
“I saw Dorothy. She’s at the hospital and the baby’s there too.”
“She’s with the baby? Already?”
“Yes. I heard a baby crying at least.”
He nodded, putting the pieces together.
“I talked to her. Drake, she’s terrified! Where were you? And why didn’t you follow us?”
He looked concerned; “I was worried that the cab might arouse suspicion. I continued on foot and observed everything from outside, but I didn’t see much. What did Dorothy say?”
“She asked me to find ‘Junior.’ I have no idea who he is or where to find him, but I think he’s the baby’s father. Whatever we do, I have to get back there as soon as possible. I don’t think we have much time left. The doctor is beyond bizarre and weird.” I took a deep breath. “I think he’s the one who kills her.”