Trust No One

  trust no one

  A Breakdown Series Short Read

  Regan Black

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Regan Black

  Cover Design by Vicki Hinze

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  First Edition September 2018

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  What Is Breakdown?

  Welcome to Shutter Lake

  The Breakdown Books

  About the Author

  Also by Regan Black

  Chapter 1

  She heard them behind her, the heavy footfalls chasing her down. The harsh voices jeered and taunted her, making terrible promises. Retribution and worse.

  They’d never stop.

  She could never stop.

  The nightmare had her by the throat. Her heart thundered in her chest, her body shook and her legs cramped as she struggled to move. The threat, her inevitable fate, left her crying and feeling so desperately helpless. She curled into herself, bracing for the cruel hands and mean words.

  Instead it was a gentle touch that woke her, accompanied by a kind, deep voice. “Ana, hush. Easy now. It’s me. Wake up, Dr. Perez. Wake up now.”

  She sat upright, appalled to be caught in such a vulnerable state. First, the too-clean smell registered in her mind, giving her an anchor. Not home, the hospital. Then the lavender oil in the diffuser one of her co-workers insisted on running teased her nose. She was in the ER physician’s lounge. So much for the claim that the essential oil promoted quality rest. Then again, she wasn’t exactly a typical case study.

  “You okay?” Dr. Scott Wesley still had a hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm and compassionate and offered a steady connection. More than once, he’d politely expressed an interest in dating her. Though it was an offer she longed to accept, she turned him down. Having frequent nightmares was only the smallest of impediments to personal relationships.

  Embarrassed, she tried to smile and gave up the effort. “I’m all right,” she replied, pressing her hands to her eyes. He sat back and she swung her feet over the edge of the narrow bed, her elbows propped on her knees. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  His tone was too casual, as if waking a fellow doctor from a violent nightmare was a daily occurrence. Maybe it was. She’d only been here a few months. Scott certainly didn’t look rumpled from sleep or annoyed that she’d interrupted his nap.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked,

  Yes. “No, thanks.”

  “Want to go back to sleep?”

  “No.”

  This wasn’t her first time in that particular nightmare. A wakeful meditation would be better right now than risking an exhausting return to that dark and dreadful place in her mind.

  Sleep would be easier to reclaim if the terror of being chased, found, and captured wasn’t rooted in reality. Usually logic could override her fear of not being fast enough or clever enough to evade the all-too-real demons lurking in her past. Yes, she was here now because she had escaped to rebuild her life. Complacency was her real enemy. She couldn’t let down her guard or trust that the current peace would last. The price of being discovered was too steep so she avoided close friendships and deeper relationships. Being alive and free was worth the tradeoff of loneliness.

  As a newly minted doctor and the most recent addition to the emergency department team, she knew the latest ways to diagnose and treat patients in nearly any medical crisis. Nothing she’d learned, none of her myriad qualifications gave her confidence that she could save herself or anyone else if—when—her past caught up with her.

  Her only choice was to stay vigilant and prepared to move at a moment’s notice. That meant staying detached.

  Dodging the questions in Dr. Wesley’s eyes, she excused herself to the changing room for a quick shower. She’d barely pulled on clean scrubs when a nurse knocked and pushed opened the door. “Incoming, six women, various ages, various injuries, one gunshot wound.” The grim resignation in her gaze put Ana on edge. “The paramedics report clear signs of long-term captivity, sexual abuse, and more.”

  “Police bust of some sort?” Ana asked, grateful her voice didn’t crack.

  “Sounds like it. They’re less than five minutes out.”

  “I’m ready.”

  She followed the nurse out to the ER where Scott was calling out special instructions for privacy and sexual assault treatment protocols. He turned to her. “You’re running this, Dr. Perez. I’ll handle the rest of the ward.”

  There wasn’t time to do anything more than acknowledge the order. Awake or asleep, it seemed the universe was determined she face the ugliness of her past. Her first encounters with victims of captivity and abuse had occurred long before she understood the terminology. Since going into medicine, she’d discovered the vocabulary didn’t make it any easier to cope with the results.

  The next few hours flew by in a blur as she and the staff assessed and examined all six women. They treated the superficial wounds, offered rape kits, and sent the woman with a bullet lodged in her arm up to surgery.

  Unbidden, the memory of treating her first victim rolled through her mind and a spike of pain shot through her knee.

  One of the girls chained to the wall had terrible bruises all over her belly after taking a terrible beating as part of the entertainment.

  When she handed over the girl’s sandwich, she tucked a dose of ibuprofen into the bread. The girl’s eyes went wide with gratitude at the wrong moment.

  “What have you done?” her father roared. He yanked her away from the girls, spilling the rest of the food she carried across the dirt. Rounding on her, he shoved her to the floor.

  She scrambled backward as he advanced. Too soon, she was out of room. He hurled insults at her and issued dire warnings along with the typical lecture that these girls were his property and would get nothing without his say-so.

  “Why is that so hard to remember?”

  She trembled. “I’ll do better, Papa.”

  “Yes.” He crouched in front of her, taking her chin in hand and turning it side to side. “You will. One day you will do much for me.” Standing, he considered her again.

  She could see the violence brewing in his eyes and she knew punishment was coming. The urge to look away was potent, but doing so would only make matters worse. She held his gaze, saw him smile as he crushed her knee with his boot.

  The crunch of it rang in her ears, the pain more than she’d ever known. From the shadows girls gasped and cried.

  “You will remember, now won’t you?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  He started for the stairs, the only way out of this hell hole. “Choose, my girl. Join the cattle or obey me in all things. You have until the door locks.”

  She screamed as she hauled herself to her feet and hobbled to the stairwell. Then she swallowed further cries as she dragged herself up each rough-hewn tread to the semblance of freedom above.

  Some chains were simply invisible.

  The faces of women she hadn’t helped after that day hovered at the edges of her mind as she followed up with each of her current patients in turn. She’d pursued medicine for that singular purpose: to be in a position to help others. There was no way
to go back and change the past. There was forward or nothing.

  It wasn’t her job to take statements. Officials from both the FBI and local police were handling that. Ana dealt with the physical concerns and stayed as far from the law enforcement officers as possible.

  Neither was it her job to listen to the patients beyond a medical history. Qualified doctors and counselors from the psychiatric department had been called in for that purpose. Still, details of the ordeal came out, one weepy, overwhelmed, and defeated voice at a time.

  Ana soothed when and where she could, leaning on a bedside manner she’d developed long before she’d known a career in medicine might be an option. Back when independence and freedom were nothing more than sweet, elusive dreams enjoyed by other people.

  “What happened to Sally?” her patient asked, eyes wide with worry. “Did she make it?”

  Ana checked the chart for the patient’s name. “You’re Marnie?”

  The young woman nodded. According to the chart Marnie had just turned twenty. She’d been ripped from her life on her way to a basketball game as a high school senior. Her face was a kaleidoscope of bruises, and the wounds on her wrists from restraints that had been too tight were infected. “When he started shooting Sally just,” she blotted the tears against her shoulder, “she just stepped in front of us.”

  “Sally sounds like a brave woman.” Rarely had Ana seen true heroics rewarded, but for the sake of her patient, she offered a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “She saved us,” Marnie said. “They were shipping us out… Sally saved all of us.”

  A familiar array of emotions gripped Ana’s heart from grief to inadequacy. “You’ll have a chance to thank her, I’m sure.”

  She stepped out of the exam area, her composure fraying at the edges. This was not the time or place to unravel. It wouldn’t just be unprofessional. With this many badge-toting authorities roaming a breakdown could prove disastrous.

  “Need anything?” Scott asked, passing her in the corridor, with a patient chart in hand.

  “I’m good.” Through the years, she’d become adept at lying. There were days when she almost believed she was the woman she’d become. “I was headed upstairs to check on the gunshot victim. The other five are stable,” she added.

  Scott grinned at her. “You’re an attending, Dr. Perez. No need for intern or resident justifications. Go forth and heal people.”

  She forced out a laugh as she dashed for the elevator and didn’t wait for his reaction.

  Upstairs on the surgical floor, she found the operating room where doctors were closing up after extricating the bullet from Sally’s arm and addressing a stab wound to the woman’s side. Whatever the woman had endured, and Ana suspected it was dreadful, she’d shown backbone and courage to step in front of an armed man to save others.

  In similar circumstances, Ana had cowered. Given in. Run away.

  You were only a kid.

  The quiet voice in her head had a valid point. Had she done something as foolish as step into the path of a bullet, she would have been one more bloody smear on the rough streets of her neighborhood. The men with the guns were the only authority and no one would have dared to offer her help or sanctuary.

  Yes, she’d run, but not just to save herself. From the moment she was clear, she sought ways to help others to make up for the poor souls she’d left behind.

  The surgeon glanced up from his patient and acknowledged her. “She’s doing well,” he said. “Recovery shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “The women she came in with were asking about her.”

  “She’ll be able to answer for herself in a few hours.”

  “Great.” Ana was happy she hadn’t misled Marnie.

  “Any idea what happened to her, Dr. Perez?” the surgeon queried without looking up. “She has interesting defensive wounds.”

  Ana catalogued the abrasions at Sally’s wrists and ankles along with the comments from the other women and the police and FBI. “Nothing good,” she murmured.

  “She was working undercover.”

  Hearing the reply from behind her, Ana spun around. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

  The man stepped forward, hand extended. “Agent Shawn Morley, FBI. Sally is my partner.” He carefully kept his gaze averted from the team working on the other side of the glass.

  Ana shook his hand, praying her nerves weren’t too obvious. “You heard they expect her to come through just fine.”

  “I did, thanks.”

  “Good.” Ana stepped toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back downstairs to my patients.”

  “Of course. I’ll walk with you.” He followed her out of the observation area. “Dr. Perez, right?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to know how he’d learned her name.

  “You were first to treat Sally when she arrived.”

  “Yes, I took over care from the responding paramedics.” What did he really want to know?

  Agent Morley’s brown eyes sparked with barely-leashed anger. “Did she speak with you about her assailant or anything else?”

  Ana stopped in front of the elevator. “We discussed her injuries, nothing more, and we prepared her for surgery. There are several people questioning the five other women who came in with your partner,” she pointed out. “They all claim that Sally saved them.”

  “That sounds like her.”

  The elevator arrived and she stepped inside as the doors parted. To her dismay, Agent Morley joined her. “She was in place to bust a sex trafficking ring,” he said when they were alone.

  “That’s an ugly business,” she said before she caught herself.

  “You’re familiar with that kind of operation?”

  “Only when the consequences bring victims to our ER,” she said, recovering quickly.

  “How are you trained to deal with it?” he asked as they exited the elevator.

  “Education and training are ongoing,” she replied. “Someone on the administration staff is in charge of keeping us up to date so we can identify and assist patients caught in those nets. If you’ll excuse me?”

  She didn’t need his permission and therefore she didn’t wait for his response before walking away.

  The other five women were still doing well. At the request of the authorities working the bust, all five were moved to a secure wing of the hospital for ongoing observation, treatment, and protection.

  Marnie sobbed tears of relief when Ana explained Sally would be okay. A happy ending, she’d heard someone from the law enforcement contingent say in passing, and she hoped they were right.

  In her experience leaving the past behind wasn’t easy as walking away from a building or situation.

  Chapter 2

  Scott found her in the physician’s lounge near the ER, watching the sun climb into the sky as a fresh pot of coffee brewed. “Twenty-four hours off. I might not get out of bed the whole time,” he said.

  Yesterday she might have agreed with him. Right now she couldn’t quite get herself to walk out of the safety of the hospital. “I’m heading up to check on a post-op patient, before I aim for home.”

  It was a small fib. Half a fib, really. She’d check on Sally and then, if she still couldn’t muster the courage to walk to her car, she’d grab breakfast in the cafeteria and possibly crash in one of the physician lounges.

  “Why don’t we head across the street and have a real breakfast at the diner?”

  Her stomach rumbled, traitorous organ. He grinned.

  “Thanks, but—”

  “Breakfast as friends.”

  His brusque tone startled her. She’d done all she could to protect his feelings. The denial was all about her, not him.

  “I understand your limits, Ana,” he added before she found a suitable reply. “I’m not pushing for anything. I just wanted someone to decompress with over greasy bacon and eggs.”

  After any other shift it might have been poss
ible. Right now,

  “Another day? Please?” Accepting would have been wonderful if last night hadn’t brought in those six women, one of whom was undercover. “After last night, I’m not good company.”

  It was too easy to envision breakfast in public turning into a blood bath, with Scott caught in the crossfire, if the thugs who’d held Sally, Marnie and the others recognized her. The odds for that scenario were low, but she couldn’t take the chance of having his blood on her hands.

  Scott waved a hand in front of her face, bringing her out of the ugly scenario. “You realize you’re not the only one who gets caught up by certain patients and situations.”

  “Of course I realize that.” Annoyed, she indulged her foul mood and added cream to her coffee. Sugar too. All through school, professors had reminded her repeatedly that everyone has baggage. A career in medicine guaranteed rotations and illnesses and patients that would expose a doctor’s weaknesses like dirty laundry. The idea was they would have to learn how to recuse themselves.

  As much as Ana loved emergency medicine, it was becoming clear the ER didn’t leave her time or space to walk away from situations that troubled her.

  “I can pull you from the rotation,” Scott said. “I could insist you see someone.”

  “On what grounds?” she asked. “Has my work given you some cause for concern?”

  “No.” He held up a hand. “But no one can keep up the distant, perpetual calm indefinitely.”

  “This is about my nightmare.” She stirred her coffee, staring at him. “Bad dreams happen. It held no bearing on my work.”

  “You’re right.” He held up his hands, surrendering. “We’re both overtired. You go do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

  “Thank you.”

  She’d thought emergency medicine would be the right thing because it didn’t require doctor-patient relationships. Treating or stabilizing the patient and sending them on their way seemed perfect. Now she wasn’t so sure. She’d never expected her past to collide with her present the way it had today.