Blind Pursuit by Michael Prescott Read Free Book Online

be. “How much time do I have?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “You can’t expect immediate results.”
    “Don’t tell me what I can or cannot expect.”
    “I’m just trying to be realistic. Therapy normally doesn’t work overnight.”
    “Well, you’ll have to speed up the process, won’t you? Push the envelope. I’d say you’ve got a powerful incentive.”
    “I’ll do my best,” she said quietly. “There is, however, one potential ... complication.”
    She hated to raise this issue, but she had no choice.
    “Complication?” His tone was a blend of skepticism and impatience.
    “You looked in my purse. You must have seen the little bottle of pills I carry.”
    “Birth control. So what? You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
    “They aren’t birth control. They’re carbamazeprine—brand name, Tegretol. Two hundred-milligram tablets.”
    “None of that means anything to me.”
    “Prescription medicine ... for epilepsy.”
    “Hell.” Disgust in his voice, and anger at the unplanned, the unanticipated. “You’re not going to start pitching fits on me, are you?”
    “I haven’t had a seizure since I was in high school. I’ve been on medication ever since. Nearly all cases of grand mal epilepsy can be controlled pharmaceutically.”
    “So you’ve got your pills. What’s the problem?”
    “The bottle is almost empty. I’ve got enough for twenty-four hours, but that’s it.”
    “You mean—oh, Christ—you need to refill your prescription?”
    “I already did. The new bottle is in my medicine cabinet at home. I see you took some things from my bathroom—but you didn’t take that.”
    “What happens if you run out of this—this ...?”
    “Tegretol.”
    “Right. What then?”
    “I’d have a serious problem. To go off the maintenance dosage overnight would almost certainly bring on a seizure. Possibly something worse than a grand mal episode.”
    “I thought grand mal was as bad as epilepsy gets.”
    “No, there’s what they call status epilepticus. It means a prolonged seizure that doesn’t end naturally. It can continue for hours, even days. If it’s a violent episode, it can kill you.”
    “Shit.” He fell silent, and she let him think.
    It was a risk, telling him this. He might conclude she was more trouble than she was worth. Might dispose of her and find another psychologist to do the job.
    But she wasn’t lying. The danger of renewed seizures, even of a sustained status episode, was all too real.
    “Well, what can I do about it?” he asked finally.
    She was grateful for the question, which implied that he wanted to keep her alive. “Get me the other bottle.”
    “In your apartment? Go back there?”
    “It’s the only way.”
    “I can’t take that kind of chance. You want me to get caught. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re trying to trick me—”
    “Look at the pills in my purse if you don’t believe it. Check the label. Tegretol. I’m not playing games.”
    Another long beat of silence.
    “All right,” he whispered. “I’ll get your damn medicine. How long will the new prescription last, anyway?”
    “A month.”
    “That’ll be more than enough time. One way or the other.” The legs of his chair scraped on the concrete floor with a raw, throat-clearing sound. He was up. “You catch my meaning, Doc?”
    “Fully.”
    She listened as his footsteps receded.
    “I’ll bring your meds this evening,” he said from what had to be the doorway. “That’s when our work together will start. And, Doc ... you’d better be real good at what you do.”
    Slam, and she was alone.

 
     
     

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    10
     
    A long-held breath shuddered out of her. She sagged in the chair, fumbling weakly at the blindfold until it came loose.
    On the other side of the door, a key rattled in a keyhole. A moment later, footsteps thudded up the stairs. Creak of floorboards overhead; the distant closing of a door.
    The house was empty. She