"And you believed it," Ames replied, his voice hard. "You believed it because you wanted to believe it. You wanted to believe in magic-in a miracle with no price-but there isn't any such thing! There's only science, and experimentation, and a lot of failure before you find success. And there's always a price, Collins." His voice dropped slightly and a cold smile twisted his lips. "Do you really think the lives of a few boys are too high a price for whatTarrenTech and I have given this town?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned his back on Collins and began issuing orders on what was to be done with Mark Tanner.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sharon could see the Rocky Mountain High campus now. It was only a quarter of a mile ahead, but the large building in the center of the lawns and playing fields was clearly visible, and as she approached it, Sharon found herself wondering how she could ever have thought that it looked like anything but a prison. Now that she was certain that something evil was happening within its rustic-looking walls, the lodge had taken on a forbidding look that sent a chill down her spine.
She slowed the car and turned up the side road that led toward the sprawling grounds of the sports center, telling herself that the eerie feeling she suddenly had of being watched was only a trick of her imagination. Against her will she found herself looking around, examining every tree she passed, searching for signs of a sophisticated security system. And yet she knew her observations were futile, for if, indeed, a system of cameras and alarms guarded the premises, surely it would have been designed to be totally invisible.
She slowed the car even more as she approached the gates, resisting her impulse to turn around and go back to town. But even if she did, what could she say? An image of herself striding into the tiny Silverdale police department came to mind. She could picture the skeptical looks of guarded incredulity on the officers' faces as she tried to tell them she was certain her son had been made the victim of some kind of medical experimentation. At best they would dismiss her as a crank; at worst they'd consider her deranged. And so she drove on, passing through the gates and starting along the drive toward the lodge itself.
Glancing into the rearview mirror, she saw the gates swing slowly closed behind her. For an instant a wave of panic threatened to engulf her. Had she come here only to become a prisoner?
She told herself it was ridiculous, that the situation couldn't be nearly as serious as she was letting herself imagine it. And yet, as she parked Elaine Harris's car in front of the lodge, left the keys dangling in the ignition, and mounted the steps to the wide veranda, she had to fight down the urge to turn and run away.
She touched the front door almost tentatively, only realizing as it started to open that she'd half expected to find it locked. When she stepped into the lobby itself and saw that it was deserted, she felt her senses heighten, her nerves begin to tingle.
Danger.
She sensed danger all around her.
But nothing in the lobby had changed since the last time she'd been here.
The same comfortable sofas and chairs were arranged in groups on the polished hardwood floors, and in the immense hearth, a fire had been laid. A few magazines were scattered on the top of the large burl coffee table that separated two of the sofas. Rocky Mountain High still looked for all the world like the lobby of a resort hotel.
Except that nobody was there.
She walked through the lobby to the dining room, her heels echoing loudly on the bare floor, then turned left and headed toward the suite of offices that belonged to Martin Ames.
The feeling of being watched-of having her every movement closely monitored-increased. Twice she found herself glancing back over her shoulder, anticipating seeing someone behind her, moving up close to her, ready to seize her.
But the corridor remained empty, and then she was standing at the closed door to Ames's office. She hesitated a moment, reached out and twisted the knob.
She pushed the door open.
Marjorie Jackson glanced up from the phone. As she recognized Sharon, an expression of surprise came into her eyes. She stopped dialing and dropped the receiver she was holding back in its cradle.
"Well," she exclaimed a little too brightly. "I guess I can stop trying to track you down, can't I?"
It was the last thing Sharon had expected to hear. She stared at Ames's assistant, nonplussed. "Y-You've been trying to reach me?" she asked.
Marge Jackson pursed her lips sympathetically. "You must have already heard about Mark," she said.
Sharon recovered then and nodded tersely. "I want to see him," she said. "And I want to know why he was brought here."
The smile faded from Marjorie Jackson's lips, and her brow creased fretfully. "Oh, dear," she said. "I-I'm not certainyoucan see Mark right now. I believe he's in treatment with Dr. Ames. If you'll just let me check-" She reached for the phone again, but Sharon cut her off.
"What kind of treatment?" she demanded. "No one here has any right to treat my son without my permission. The school had no right to send him here, and you have no right to treat him."
Mrs. Jackson seemed stunned by the cold anger in Sharon's voice. "Mrs. Tanner-I-I'm not sure what to say. Perhaps there's been some mistake."
"The only mistake," Sharon said, her voice harsh, "was my husband letting Mark get involved at all in whatever's going on out here."
"But he's ill, Mrs. Tanner," Ames's assistant began again, licking her lips nervously. "We're just trying to help him."
"Is that what you believe?" Sharon flared. She glared at the woman. "Well, let me tell you that Mark was perfectly fine until he came out here. Now where is he?" Her voice rose and she leaned forward, bracing herself on the assistant's desk. "I want to see my son," she said once more. "And I want to see him this instant! Do you understand me?"
Marge Jackson's demeanor changed. Her look of sympathy congealed into officiousness and she rose to her feet. "I understand that you're upset," she said, her voice stern. "And you have a right to be. If my son were ill, I'd be upset, too. But you do not have the right to storm in here making demands that are impossible to meet. We're trying to help your son-at the request of your husband-and if you will calm down, I'm sure Dr. Ames will be able to explain everything to your satisfaction. But he cannot attend to both you and Mark at the same time, so I would suggest that you make up your mind right now what is more important to you-having your questions answered or having your son cared for?"
Sharon took a step backward. Her tone, as well as her words, had pierced Sharon's armor of indignation. She suddenly felt uncertain of herself. What if she were wrong?
As she stood staring at the assistant, trying to judge the sincerity of the woman's words, the silence that had fallen over the office was broken by a faint scream.
Sharon stiffened.
And then it came again, louder this time.
Like a wild animal howling in the night.
Sharon froze, remembering Kelly's nightmare and the sound she had heard drifting through the early morning darkness as she'd opened her daughter's window.
The sound of an animal howling in the night.
She spun around and strode to the door, her mind made up. She knew Mark was here, knew she had to find him. The sound she'd just heard hadn't come from an animal at all.
It had come from a human being.
Or at least something that had once been a human being.
As she stepped into the corridor, two white-coated attendants appeared on either side of her, seizing her arms.
"No!" She tried to jerk free, but knew she had no chance. Both of them were far larger than she was, and their hands closed tighter, digging into her flesh like bands of iron.