A/N: Sorry this chapter has taken me so long to get up.
Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters. (That's not a word... but we'll pretend it is.) You guys make my day so much brighter! I am totally flattered by how much you love this story.
Enjoy!
Adelie slept in Steve's arms. She didn't move or cry out. It was just pure, sweet, deep sleep.
"My arms are falling asleep," Steve whispered.
"I know," Claudia said, shaking her own arms. It wasn't working.
Her Farnsworth started vibrating. "What's up?"
It was Myka. "I need you to run background on a couple of people for me."
"Can do!" Claudia said, excited to get back to the tech side of things. "At your service. But before I do, do you want to see the cutest thing ever?"
"Claudia, I told you – bunnies have that weird parasite, so when you find them in the lawn at Leena's you're supposed to call Animal Control," Myka said.
"What? No, it's not a bunny." Claudia picked up the Farnsworth and turned it so Myka could see Adelie cradled in Steve's arms.
"That is adorable," Myka said. "Pete! Pete, come look at this!"
"If it's another bunny, I refuse to get attached. Oh. That is cute."
"And she's not afraid," Claudia said. "She hasn't moved. Or cried. And I think I might be hallucinating a little bit from lack of sleep, but I think the Tesla burn is even getting better."
"Yeah, you're hallucinating," Steve said.
"But she isn't," Claudia said with a grin. "Okay, Myka, whose lives do you need me to dig into?"
"First of all, Dr. Gabriel Wilson-Farrell," Myka said. "He's the chief psychiatrist at the Great Cooper Lake hospital. And then I want you to figure out who else is running this place, or anybody that's connected to the hospital, who might have access to funding. Specifically, if there's a guy named Ben."
"Ben who?"
"Just… Ben," Myka said. "I heard the doctor talking on the phone to someone named Ben, and he was really upset that they couldn't find Adelie. Something about money… and the fake doctor was in on it. They are all really mad that Adelie is gone. She meant something to them. Oh! And when we talked to the neighbor, she showed us the note that Adelie had the day they found her. Her mother's name is Julie."
"Got it," Claudia said. "Where are you guys?"
"At Home Depot," Myka said. "Pete's trying to flirt his way to a discount on the best metal detector they have."
"If you get a good one, we can look for doubloons at the beach when you get back," Steve called.
"Steve, there's no beach in South Dakota," Myka pointed out.
"My arms are asleep," Steve said. "And I just spent four days raking little tiny circles in gravel with a little tiny rake."
"Point taken. We'll find a beach," Myka said.
"Shift position," Claudia suggested. "It'll get blood flow back to your arms."
"And wake her up?"
"Dude, my arms are like limp noodles."
"Fine," Steve said. He carefully moved Adelie to his other shoulder. She murmured softly and gave a short hmmm, but didn't wake.
"Better," Claudia said, and she started typing.
Artie came back in. "Is that Myka?"
"Mm-hmm," Claudia said.
"Good." Artie grabbed the Farnsworth. "I know what you're looking for in the ground."
"You do?"
"Yes. You're looking for a statue of Saint Catherine of Siena. It's going to be plaster, painted with oils, approximately twenty-four inches tall. It has a secret compartment in its base that contains a piece of St. Catherine's shroud."
"Okay, great. A saint statue. Wait, Artie, how are we supposed to find a plaster statue with a metal detector?"
"Did you get all of the other stuff?"
"Yeah, Pete's got it right here," Myka said.
"Good. You're going to have to create an electromagnetic circuit between the light bulb, the neutralizer case, your Farnsworth, and the metal detector. If you do it wrong, you'll get shocked."
"Oh, good. Then Pete's definitely doing it."
"Once you've got it hooked up, you'll sweep the metal detector over the area. The metal detector will send a signal to the Farnsworth and you'll be able to see what's under the ground. It'll send a signal to the light bulb if it's an artifact. Use the wire to connect the devices and wrap the connections with aluminum foil."
"What's the nail for?" Myka wanted to know.
"It's the conduit between the neutralizer and the Farnsworth. It goes in the neutralizer case," Artie said. "It'll keep whoever's doing the ground sweep insulated against sudden electrical shift."
"All right. Um, I gotta go – it looks like things are getting serious between Pete and the Home Depot cashier," Myka said. "I'll call you when we get back to the hospital."
"Keep us updated," Artie said. He looked over at Steve. "I was going to ask you to help me with some creative rearranging, but I can see you're occupied."
"I can… try to set her down," Steve said.
"Good plan," Claudia said. "My arms are tingling like a rave."
"What does that even mean?" Artie asked.
"Who knows? I'm running on four hours of sleep."
Steve stood up, carefully shifting Adelie in his arms, and managed to set her down on the couch. She murmured something soft and questioning as she rolled in on herself, bringing her raw fingertips up to her mouth.
"All right," Artie said. "We're going back down to the Saints and Sinners section. We'll have to make room for our St. Catherine statue."
"Call if you need us," Steve said to Claudia.
"I'm better already," she said, grinning. "I can feel my arms again."
When they had gone, she turned her attention to research. She started with Dr. Wilson-Farrell. He had an undistinguished career, starting with a degree in psychiatry from Carroll University in Iowa. His first posting had been in a psychiatric unit of a hospital in Detroit, where, according to records, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Of course, it being a psych unit in Detroit, there was a chance that a good number of unlikely things, or things that at the time seemed a little odd, had occurred. But there was nothing that reeked of artifact, or even of substandard treatment. For all intents and purposes, the doctor's time at the Detroit hospital had been just a long series of long days treating a long list of mental illnesses.
After spending ten years at the Detroit hospital, Dr. Wilson-Farrell packed up and moved to Great Cooper Lake, where he was installed as the director of the children's psychiatric hospital there. His time at the children's hospital had been filled with awards and recognitions. Dr. Wilson-Farrell was apparently God come to Earth for sick children. Under his care, autistic children began to speak. Selectively mute children opened up. A boy who had once held up a convenience store and stabbed his teacher in the neck had a major personality turn-around; according to reports, that boy was now raising guide dogs for the blind.
But on the other hand, Claudia thought, Dr. Wilson-Farrell had hired "Dr." Hanover, and he was definitely looking the other way when it came to hiring felons at the hospital. So it was a safe bet that he wasn't all kittens and puppies.
Having dug up all she really wanted to know about the good doctor, Claudia turned her attention to the hospital's board of directors and sources of funding.
The board of directors was led by a millionaire who'd made his money honestly – at least as far as his financial records were concerned – through the sales of upscale kitchen utensils. He was accompanied by several "just folks" types – a dry cleaner, two pediatricians, the owner of the Great Cooper Lake Opera House, and a public television program coordinator. None of them was named Ben.
The hospital was funded mostly through state and federal grants. There were a few outlying donations from charitable foundations, but their contributions seemed to be small and pointed; that is, their money could only be used for certain things – new tires for the hospital van, carpet in a dormitory room, the purchase of books. No one connected to any of the grant programs was named Ben. All of the money deposited in the accounts held by the hospital checked out – it had all come from legitimate sources, in legitimate amounts of time, with the proper notations, paperwork, and follow-through.
Claudia circled back around to Dr. Wilson-Farrell. His bank accounts were a little more interesting.
For several years he'd been making the same salary ($195,000), which was paid into his primary bank account in a biweekly fashion. The doctor and his wife were co-signers on the bank account; she appeared to work for the Great Cooper Lake Public Library and was paid far less. Their bank account showed usual household transactions and was therefore no longer interesting. But the doctor had a secondary bank account, one held only in his name, and that was far more interesting.
For the past four years the doctor's secondary account had been getting regular deposits of astronomical amounts – usually between $300,000 and $400,000 per transaction. All of the deposits came from the same place, some organization called Open Minds, Inc. As far as Claudia could tell, Dr. Wilson-Farrell didn't touch the money in the secondary bank account.
Which means it's insurance, she thought. But insurance against what?
A quick search for Open Minds, Inc. brought up a very slick, well-designed Web site. "Our primary goal is to increase opportunities for new and radical treatments to prolong health, increase quality of life, and promote healing for children and adults with mental illness, autism, emotional disorders, and behavioral issues. Our doctors, researchers, and biomedical engineers are innovators and inventors," the mission statement read. "Our team is led by Dr. Arun Vijay, who holds dual degrees in psychiatry and biomedical research, and Dr. Cynthia Villanders, whose degree in biomedical engineering has led to two successful patents."
The rest of the Open Minds, Inc. team was listed on the next page. There were more than a hundred names on the page, billed as doctors, researchers, lab techs, engineers, administrative personnel, and more. And at the bottom of the list, grouped with other "Financial Services Personnel," was a name that jumped out immediately. Benjamin Ross. According to the Web site, Benjamin Ross was in charge of research fund allocation, and he was the chair of the financial committee.
There were two other links that interested Claudia – "Affiliated Institutions" and "Success Stories," but the Farnsworth started vibrating before she could continue her search. "What's up?"
"We're back at the hospital," Myka said.
"And it's raining," Pete said from off-screen.
"Bummer."
"It could be worse," Myka said.
"Wow, thanks for jinxing us, Mykes," Pete said.
"I got some information that might be helpful," Claudia said. "Your doctor is taking pay-offs from some skeezy-looking organization that says they're devoted to curing kids of all sorts of crazy brain stuff. Is it working? I don't know, but they're certainly paying him a lot of money."
"Who's doing the paying?"
"An organization called Open Minds, Inc.," Claudia said. "And get this – there's a guy named Ben on their team who handles the financial side of things."
"So this Ben guy is paying Dr. Wilson-Farrell to… what?"
"My first thought is that they're running some sort of experiment. It would fit with the fake doctor and ESM treatment – totally a scam. But it's a lot of money, Myka," Claudia said. "Like, why-hasn't-he-left-for-the-Bahamas kind of money."
"So… maybe the doctor's afraid of these Open Mind people," Pete said, coming up next to Myka.
"Their corporate office is located in Riverdale, which is like twenty minutes from Great Cooper Lake," Claudia said. "It might be worth checking out."
"Can you check and see if the fake doctor Hanover had any connection with Open Minds?" Myka asked.
"I'm almost certain she did," Claudia said. "I haven't checked to make sure, but if she was there promoting ESM – and she was – she had to be taking orders from someone."
Myka thought about this. "When I heard Dr. Wilson-Farrell talking to this Ben guy, he was really upset about something. He was… almost afraid, I think."
"Of what?" Claudia wanted to know.
"Of Adelie," Myka said. "He told Ben to… to use up a budget to go out and find Adelie. Because she knew something… and because he had seen her do something that scared him."
"Well, that could be anything," Pete said.
"Pete," Myka said.
"He's kinda right, Myka," Claudia said. "Some of the stuff I've seen her do…"
"But he sounded like he was afraid for his life," Myka said. "Yeah, I'm scared she's going to punch through a window, too, but I'm not terrified. Dr. Wilson-Farrell sounded like he was afraid of being… I don't even know how to describe it. He was just freaked."
"Maybe whatever she knows is something that could cost him his job," Pete suggested. "If he's getting huge kick-backs from this Open Minds place, he might be pretty scared that those pay-outs would end."
"It's worth looking into," Myka said. "Any news on Adelie's parents?"
"Didn't have time to look," Claudia said.
"Okay. We're going to get this metal detector hooked up and find this statue," Myka said.
"You wanna walk us through this, Claud?" Pete called.
"Sure," Claudia said. "Take the copper wire and ground it against the metal detector's magnetic servo."
"The what in the who?" Pete asked.
"Um, take the black panel thingy off the metal detector," Claudia said. "There should be a green panel underneath it. Open that panel and – oh, shit."
"What? What? Am I going to get electrocuted?"
"No, but I might," Claudia said, standing up.
"What?"
"Artie's going to shoot me," Claudia said.
"What's going on?" Pete demanded.
"How did she even get out?"
"Claudia!" Myka grabbed the Farnsworth back from Pete. "What is happening?"
"Adelie's gone. Again." Claudia scanned the room, fear and panic fighting for dominance in her chest as her gaze found the now-empty table. "And she's got the metronome."