Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush

was never accused of any wrongdoing, you understand. But he was . . . his methods were deemed unacceptable at other facilities as well.”

      “What kind of methods?” Liv asked.

      “What are you looking for, Talia?”

      The doctor’s voice had grown ever more cautious. Time to hang up. “I think he was the doctor of a friend of mine who really felt he’d helped her,” Liv said, lying through her teeth. Her voice was starting to shake. One of those “I cannot tell a lie” idiosyncracies that cropped up unexpectedly. “I just was hoping to find him.”

      “Well . . .” There was censure in her tone. “I’m not sure I would recommend the man.”

      “If I asked at Hathaway House, do you think they’d know where he was?”

      “Are you still getting treatment?”

      “I’m seeing someone privately.” She glanced around the room wildly, her gaze falling on Auggie. “Dr. Augdogsen.”

      “I don’t recognize the name,” Dr. Yancy said, and Auggie shook his head in disbelief.

      “He’s not from the Portland area.”

      “Well, if you need anything, please call again, now that you have my number. I’d be happy to help.”

      “Thank you. I will.” Liv hung up quickly, her hands trembling.

      “Augdogsen?” Auggie repeated, picking up the cell phone where she’d set it down.

      She ignored that. “The zombie doctor is Dr. Navarone. I recognize the name. He’s the stalker in the photos, I’m almost sure of it. I never paid that much attention to him at Hathaway House. He looked different than in the photo, but I’m almost positive he’s the guy.” Liv hugged herself, suddenly cold even though the room was warm. “The killer.”

      “So, where is he now?”

      “She didn’t know. He used to be at Grandview Hospital, but now it’s an elder-care center, and he was asked to leave anyway, something about his methods of treatment.”

      “Electric shock therapy? Lobotomies? Kumbaya?”

      “None of the above,” she said automatically. They looked at each other, and for some reason both of them cracked up. “I don’t know why I’m laughing,” she said after several moments of hilarity. “Hysteria, I guess.”

      “C’mere.” He pulled her to her feet, amusement still lurking around the corners of his eyes. “You can’t keep this stress up without some laughing. You’ll go crazy.” She lifted a brow at him, and he made a sound. “I wasn’t gonna say it.”

      “You thought it.”

      “You’re the one who thinks you’re crazy. I’m just here to listen.”

      “My dad’s the one who thought I was crazy,” she corrected him. “And Lorinda. Later, they sent Hague away, too, though I was out of Hathaway by then.”

      “Your brother was at Hathaway House?”

      “No . . . Hague’s my father’s real son. Not his crazy adopted daughter whose real parents were probably crazy, too. Hathaway wasn’t quite good enough for blood.” Liv looked into his face, so close still; he hadn’t backed away from her. “To Grandview Hospital.”

      He stared at her. “Are you saying your brother was at Grandview when Dr. Navarone was there?”

      “That’s what I’m thinking.” Liv moved slightly away from him. Being so close was becoming unnerving.

      “So . . . does Hague know something about Navarone?”

      “I don’t know. Hague’s hard to read.”

      “What did he say to you?”

      They keep their hands in their pockets and wear rigor smiles.... He’ll drill holes in your head and he’ll put receivers inside the folds of your brain.... We both know him . . . from when we were kids...

      She shivered, remembering.

      “What?” Auggie’s gaze sharpened on her.

      She shook her head. “He doesn’t know much more than I do. Less, probably. He’s not really in touch with reality.”

      “You showed him the package.”

      “He barely leaves his apartment.”

      “But maybe he’s involved somehow, at some level. Could he have any—”

      “No!” Liv cut him off. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this. My brother’s sick, but not like that. He wouldn’t hurt anybody. He was a baby when my mother died! And the only place he goes is to the ground-floor cantina in his own building.”

      “But it sounds like he crossed paths with Navarone at Grandview. Maybe something got kick-started then that involves Hague. Maybe—”

      She pushed him. In the chest. In sudden fury. He staggered back a couple of steps.

      “Hey,” he said, affronted. He’d been so wrapped up in his train of thought that she felt he’d forgotten she was there.

      “Leave Hague out of this,” Liv ordered. “It’s not about him.”

      “Well, it kinda is,” he argued. “He didn’t kill your mother, sure, but there’s a connection there.”

      She wanted to clap her hands over her ears. No! Not Hague. Not her little brother.

      “If this Dr. Navarone is the man in the picture with your mother, and she sent you these photos, photos you showed to your brother who was a patient at Grandview Mental Hospital about the same time Navarone was there . . .”

      Liv didn’t respond. She was wrestling with anxiety and a sudden fear that she might not want to know the truth after all.

      “When you showed your brother, and his girlfriend, caretaker, whatever, and your father and stepmother, the photos in the package, they saw this guy. The stalking man in the photo. And you told them you were going to look into your mother’s death, and so maybe . . . somehow . . . word got back to him?”

      “I don’t know for sure they’re one and the same,” Liv said, backpedaling.

      “We need to find this Navarone.” Auggie was certain.

      “We,” she repeated.

      “We’ll go to Grandview. So it’s an elder-care facility now. Someone there might remember, or at least direct us to Navarone.”

      “Why are you doing this? What do you care?” she demanded, her voice rising.

      He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly leaned forward, grabbing her by the forearms and pulling her gently toward him. She resisted, holding back, until her feet actually stumbled a bit as he drew her closer.

      “What are you doing? Let go of me,” she said in a voice that sounded high and alarmed to her own ears.

      “Stop fighting. Let me help you,” he stated with repressed urgency.

      “Do I have a choice?”

      His face was way too close to hers. “Maybe not. You dragged me into this, and now I’m committed. I have to know how it ends.”

      “How it ends?” She half-laughed. Definitely hysteria creeping in this time.

      “I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

      She reared back on that one, eyes wide. “No . . . I . . .”

      But her protests were lost beneath his lips on hers. Liv stood stock still, completely shocked. She told herself to move but her brain and body felt disconnected. All she could really feel were his lips molding to hers, his thighs pressed to hers, his hands sliding around the small of her back.