Deception (Infidelity #3)

Another knock.

“Stop,” my request was barely audible as I reached unsteadily for the doorknob.

“Jane—” I stopped speaking as Dr. Beck’s solemn expression came into focus.

“Adelaide.”

My eyes squinted as I tried to make sense of his presence. “Dr. Beck, why are you here?”

He reached for my hand and held it gently in his as he assessed its movement. “Let’s get you seated. You’re shaking.”

I didn’t move from the doorway. “Who called you?”

“One of your staff. She said you needed me, and I can see she was right.” As he spoke he moved toward me, causing me to step backward until we were both inside the suite. Quietly he shut the door. “How are you?” His words came quietly with an inflection of sympathy.

I reached for my temples. “I have a migraine, and I can’t find my medicine. I was about to call Jane. I think she knows where it is.”

Dr. Beck’s head moved back and forth. “Adelaide, I’ve prescribed over two months’ worth of Vicodin in the last thirty days. I understand that things can be misplaced, but this is getting out of hand.”

“Yes, I know. I haven’t taken it. I don’t need you to give me more. I need Jane to bring me the medicine I have.”

“Why would Jane have your medicine?”

“Because… she takes care of me.” I straightened my shoulders. “It’s her job. Now tell me why you’re here.”

“I was called and asked to come,” he said again. “I was told you needed more medicine. That you weren’t waking and with Mr. Fitzgerald out of town, your people were concerned.”

Out of town? He hadn’t said he was going out of town.

I should call Stephen and see if he’s learned any more. I could call Alexandria and go to New York. The thoughts came and went… fleeting moments of cognitive comprehension. I turned to Dr. Beck. “What time is it?”

Dr. Beck looked down at his watch. “It’s nearly four.”

My eyes opened wide, only to have them close again. Inhale. Exhale. “In the afternoon? No. It can’t be four. I have a luncheon at the museum.”

Dr. Beck’s hand covered mine. “How many Vicodin have you taken?”

“I haven’t taken any. I haven’t needed them. Not since you prescribed the daily medication. Well, not since it started working. This is the first migraine in months, maybe longer.”

“Yet you called the office yourself for more Vicodin only a few weeks ago.”

I let out a long breath. “For situations like this. To have it on hand.” I shook my head. “Doctor, how did this happen? I-I don’t recall last night.”

“What do you mean you don’t recall?”

“There are gaps, like blackouts.”

“I’ve spoken to you about the side effects of narcotics and alcohol.”

“But I haven’t taken the narcotics. And…” I spoke louder than I intended, “…my alcohol intake is down.”

Dr. Beck looked down at my hand under his. “Adelaide, you’re still shaking. I was told you haven’t eaten. You need to eat.”

The confusion and fog added to my unease. “One Vicodin, please, Dr. Beck. I know you have one. You never come to see me without it.”

Dr. Beck opened the bag he’d placed on the floor near his chair. “You haven’t taken any today?”

“I just woke. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He pulled an amber bottle from the bag. The sight was like showing a cookie jar to a toddler. My heart rate increased in anticipation. Dr. Beck turned the childproof cap and sprinkled a palm full of white oblong tablets into his hand.

My mouth watered as I raked my bottom lip between my teeth and swallowed. Those were 5-milligram tablets. I’d recognize them anywhere.

“Doctor, those are only fives. I need two.”

Begrudgingly, he pinched two from his hand and poured the rest back into the bottle. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

I pointed toward the highboy across the room. “There’s water over there.”

Dr. Beck held the pills captive as he went to the highboy, no doubt assessing the bottles of alcohol. It was, after all, the place where as of late Alton had decided to prepare his evening cocktails. After filling a glass with water from a bottle, he lifted a re-corked bottle of Montague Private Collection. “Have you had any of this today?”

“No. I just woke.” Exasperation and desperation were evident in my voice.

He returned and handed me the glass of water. I took a sip and then held out my hand for the capsules.

“Adelaide, I think I should run some tests. The memory loss. The sleeping all day. This isn’t like you.”

The fingers of my hand opened and closed in a silent plea for the pills. After a moment of hesitation, he placed the capsules in my palm. Before I could place them in my mouth, he held my clenched fist.

“Come to my office tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a request. It didn’t matter though. At that moment I’d agree to anything. It could have been the devil himself—I knew him intimately. I would have said yes no matter what the request or command as long as I got the pills.

“Yes.”





I SENT CHELSEA another text message. It was my daily routine: each morning before class and each afternoon on my way home. I was beginning to wonder if she’d changed her number. That was the thing with text messages: the sender had no way of knowing if the recipient actually received the message. It wasn’t like email that would bounce back a non-receivable message. And it had.

Chelsea’s email address, the one she’d had the entire time we were in California, was no longer active.

I scrolled back through my text messages. It had been over three weeks. Not only couldn’t I reach Chelsea, but I also couldn’t reach her mother. All of my calls to Tina Moore had gone straight to voicemail where her mailbox was full. In desperation, I looked her mother up on the Internet. I didn’t know why she wasn’t answering my cell phone calls, but maybe she still had a house phone.

My heart leapt with a flicker of hope when I found a number.

With Clayton driving me back to the apartment, I programmed her number and called.

“Hello?” The voice answered.

I recognized Tina Moore immediately. “Mrs. Moore, this is Alex Collins.”

“Alex.” Her normally gregarious tone dulled. “It’s nice to hear from you. I’m surprised you called.”

My fingers gripped the phone tighter. “Why would you be surprised?”

“It’s that Chelsea told me what happened. I don’t blame you for being upset. Sometimes things happen. I was shocked myself.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been trying to reach Chelsea for nearly three weeks. Her email is changed, and I’m not even sure she’s getting my texts.”

“Probably not,” Tina said matter-of-factly. “She has a new phone now with her job. I don’t think she’s using both.”

That knowledge made me feel better, in a way. At least Chelsea hadn’t been ignoring me, but why hadn’t she called? “Her job?” I asked. “The last time we spoke she said she didn’t get the job in DC.”

“No, not DC. She’s in Savannah.”

I blinked as Clayton drove us through late-afternoon traffic. “What? She’s in Savannah, as in Georgia?”

“Yes, dear. You really should talk with her. This is rather awkward.”

Since when did Tina Moore worry about anything being awkward? “I’d love to talk to her. I don’t know why she thinks I’m angry. I’m worried. I’ve been worried sick since our last conversation.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. Chelsea’s fine. She’s working for some large cigarette company in the human resources department. Silly me, I thought a psychology major would go into counseling or something, but apparently it’s a good background for HR.”

Cigarette? Did she mean tobacco?

I had to be somehow misconstruing. “The company, do you know the name?”

“Yes. Goodness, she’s said it a few times. Milburn or Montgate… something like that. You know like the old Shakespeare play everyone reads in high school.”

“Montague?” I asked. Acid bubbled from my stomach as I said the name. “Montague Corporation.”

“I think that’s it!” Tina declared triumphantly.