Hocus

“Henry Freeman hasn’t got a clue where you are. Let me talk to Frank again, I have to tell him—”

A click.

Henry, still on the cellular phone, looked at Cassidy and shook his head.

Pete started shouting questions.

“Play the tape for them, Hank,” Cassidy said.

We all listened together. Freeman had made a very clear recording. This time around I was prepared for Frank’s laughter, so it affected me differently. He was alive. He could speak to me, he could laugh. He was alive. I felt tears of relief welling up. I needed more sleep, I told myself, and made another grab at a slender thread of self-control.

Focus on the immediate problem. Think about what they said. I glanced at Cassidy. He was studying me. “What’s Versed?” I asked.

Freeman opened a black nylon packet and pulled out a compact disc, then slid it into his computer. He typed something, then said, “Schedule Four drug.”

“It’s a product that’s subject to the Controlled Substances Act of 1970,” Cassidy translated. “Morphine is Schedule Two, the category for drugs with high potential for abuse; they may lead to severe dependence. Schedule Four has a low potential for abuse.”

“What are you reading from, Detective Freeman?” I asked.

He looked up. “The PDR — Physician’s Desk Reference — I’ve got it on CD.”

“What else does it say about Versed, Hank?” Cassidy asked, then added quickly, “Just the basics.”

“Short-acting benzodiazepine CNS depressant,” Freeman went on. “Sedates three to five minutes after IV injection, fifteen minutes after IM.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pete asked.

“It’s a central nervous system depressant,” Cassidy said, and began reading over Freeman’s shoulder. “Looks like they’ve been around hospital drug supplies — had access to them or stolen from them. Hank, let’s make sure we get calls going on that. This isn’t something that’s popular out on the streets. My guess is, Frank’s hooked up to an intravenous feeding device; I’d assume that means his hands aren’t free, or they’d have to worry that he could take it out. IM means ‘intramuscular’ — a needle injection.”

“A shot?” Pete asked.

“Yes. Versed has to be given as a shot or through an IV. Isn’t available in pill form. Sounds like they started him out on morphine, but gave him this for the phone call. It’s something like Valium. When you first give someone a dose of it, he may be giddy and talkative.”

“You’re saying Frank was high,” Rachel said.

“Absolutely. They’re clearly sedating him,” Cassidy said.

“Is he in danger from these drugs?” I asked.

Cassidy paused, then said, “Any sedative can be dangerous, especially if the person administering it doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m guessing these people know something about medicine, because they’ve chosen to use a drug that isn’t commonly on the street, and knew its effects.”

Pete put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Irene. I’m so damned sorry.”

“Not your fault, Pete. No one is blaming you but yourself. I want to talk to you more about that later, but right now I’ve got to get out to Bakersfield.”

“That’s what he was asking you to do? To go to Bakersfield?”

“Yes.”

“You used to work for the library there?” Hank asked, regarding me with new respect.

“No, the newspaper. The Californian. He means the library at the newspaper — newspapers used to call that part of the paper ‘the morgue.’ Among other things, it’s where you find back issues, file photos, stuff like that. Brandon North has worked there for a long time. We haven’t talked to each other for a couple of years now, but we used to keep in touch. I’m sure he’ll help if he can.”

“Hank,” Cassidy said, “start making calls to the other CIT members. Let them know where things stand — start by giving Captain Bredloe a call.”

Hank nodded.

“CIT?” I asked

Cassidy turned back to me. “Critical Incident Team. I’ll give you the rundown on it later — for now, think about the voices on the calls. Anything recognizable? Maybe someone who used to work with you in Bakersfield?”

I shook my head. “No. Too young. Everyone I worked with would be older. I haven’t worked there since I first graduated from college.”

“What can we do to help, Irene?” Rachel asked before Pete or Cassidy could ask another question.

“Call Bea and Cassie and Jack, let them know he’s alive.” Alive. I held on to the word. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change clothes. I’ve got to get on the road.”

“I’ll drive,” Cassidy said.

“I don’t know if they’ll—”

“Don’t go alone,” Pete said. “It could be a trap. Maybe they want to take you as a hostage, too.”