Page 2 of A Time & Place for Every Laird (A Laird for All Time #2)
Spokane, Washington
Early May 2013
“Dr. Fielding?”
Claire knocked firmly on the office door, only to have it give under the pressure and swing inward with a low moan of the hinges as if inviting her in.
“Dr. Fielding?”
she ventured once more, sticking her head through the portal, but found the office empty. Claire hesitated, gripping the stack of folders she carried against her chest, and debated whether to simply leave them or come back later. Finally, with a shrug, she stepped in and went to the desk to drop the files.
As she approached, Claire saw a small furry face appear at the door of a small pet carrier—a plastic shell with a small caged door—sitting on the corner of the desk. A cat? But, no. Little hands wrapped around the bars as it looked out at her with huge blue eyes that blinked at her calmly, almost as if the creature were studying her as she approached. “Well, aren’t you a funny-looking thing?”
Claire cooed at the animal, which looked to be some sort of monkey, though it was no bigger than a kitten. It had a long tail and long fingers, like a primate, but large, oddly shaped ears reminiscent a bat and long, shaggy fur. Claire had never seen anything like it and had to wonder if it was perhaps some newly discovered species from Madagascar, where they identified new sorts of primates and small lemurs all the time.
Given that Dr. Fielding was an astrophysicist, the bigger question was what the animal was doing on his desk. “What a funky little mammal you are,”
Claire whispered, bending to get a closer look. The little monkey leaned forward as well and waggled its fingers, much as she did.
“Oh, how cute you are! Smart, aren’t you?”
“Ssss ba-boo,”
the monkey-thing sounded out, reaching through the bars toward her, its little fist opened and closed as if it wanted her to give it something.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Claire asked, charmed by the bright-eyed creature. “I wish I had …”
A high-pitched cry broke the near silence of the room, making Claire almost jump out of her skin as the fine hairs stood up on the back of her neck as the monkey squealed in turn. The sudden noise was followed by other muffled noises, some animalistic and some almost human. All of them close. Claire jerked around to door set at the far end of the lab that was standing just an inch ajar.
Curious, she inched closer to the door and peeked in, only to find a darkened lab space. Shiny metal machinery reflected the meager light from the office and outlined ghostly shapes around the white room. Off to one side was another door that had also been left ajar, and from it a ray of light streaked across the floor almost to her feet, creating a path inviting the curious to take a look. And Claire was undeniably curious about the sounds that continued to echo through the room.
Just a peek, she told herself as she slipped across the room. Just one little … but what she saw through the door startled her so much that Claire couldn’t help but stop and stare. Flanking each side of the room was a long row of … well, they looked like prison cells.
Prison cells that were mostly full of animals.
Her company, Mark-Davis Laboratories, had often been equated to a real-life version of the fictional conglomeration Global Dynamics from the Syfy television series Eureka. The company’s mission was to be on the cutting edge of technology in many different areas. Though they had their fingers in a lot of pies, as it were, Mark-Davis dealt; first and foremost, in weapons development under contract with the federal government and, for that reason, unlike pharmaceutical companies or even cosmetic companies, they didn’t have much need for animal experimentation. In fact, in her two years with Mark-Davis, Claire had never seen an animal on company grounds before.
So, what was Dr. Fielding up to, Claire wondered curiously as she pushed open the door and stepped inside for a better look at the animals in the first few cages. For what reason could an astrophysicist possibly need animals? And these weren’t your standard lab animals, either. There were deer and other small forest animals as well as a kangaroo. An oddly shaggy bear slept on its side in one cage, while another cell held a fierce-looking wildcat that paced its confines restlessly. There were also several species that she didn’t recognize, like the monkey in the office.
A shudder passed through her, prompting Claire to inch back towards the door. Curiosity had not only killed the cat but also cut short a few careers as well. This—whatever it was—was not something she or anyone else was meant to see. Regretting her impulse, Claire knew she should leave and pretend she had never been there, and she meant to, but at that moment movement stirred farther down the line of cages. A figure rose from the floor to stand at the bars.
It was a man, Claire realized with a gasp of surprise. Or, to be more precise, an Indian. Not an Indian as a nationality, but a good, old, straight from the Wild West, feathers and all American Indian.
Moments ago, Claire had thought that monkey to be the craziest thing she had ever seen, but she had been wrong. This guy looked so authentic! He was dressed in a leather breechcloth. His bare chest was darkly bronzed and covered with scars as well as filth and … was that the dull shine of oil or grease? There was a primitive nobility about him but also a primal savagery that inspired instant fear.
Claire nearly jumped out of her skin when that horrid cry sounded again. From him.
God, it sounded like a war cry, Claire thought. Just like in the old westerns her dad watched on the weekends.
He fixed his gaze on her then with eyes as black and hard as obsidian, piercing her with a shiver of fear. He shouted at her, guttural sounds in a language Claire couldn’t understand, but his curt hand motions told her what he undoubtedly wanted.
He wanted out.
Claire’s eyes widened as she inched back, shaking her head in automatic denial. There was no way that she was going to be the one to release that angry man. And it wasn’t based on prejudice against his race or anything at all like that. No, only a madwoman would unlock the door and release someone who looked that pissed off.
He read her shaking head correctly and his scowl deepened even further. He barked at her again, motioning insistently to the door.
A faint terror took ahold of Claire and she edged back another step toward the door. This was all too crazy for words. A thousand questions were crowding her mind, begging for answers. Who? Why?
How?
But Claire knew they were questions she couldn’t ask of anyone she met. Her natural curiosity had gotten the better of her this time and she had stepped into something that was way bigger than a few stray animals.
Claire backed off another step, intending to flee the room and forget what she had just seen, but then another figure appeared at the bars of a cage farther down the row and opposite the Indian. Another man! This man was larger than the Indian but just as grimy and mangy. His dark hair and beard were long and matted. His face was so dirty it was difficult to see that there was human flesh beneath. He was dressed in a bloody, torn tan shirt and … was that a kilt? Was he Scottish? If he was, he was so dirtied and bloodied that it was difficult to tell.
His nostrils flared and his lip curled … his heavy eyebrows were parted only by the vertical furrow between them when his gaze pierced hers. There was anger this man, just as there was in the Indian, though he was perhaps even more terrifying without the restraint and nobility of the Native American. He was wild, untamed. Claire’s heart raced unexpectedly, pounding against her rib cage.
Fear. Panic? Claire could define what she felt, but even as her pulse quickened, the anger faded just as rapidly from his vivid blue eyes. What remained was frustration and maybe a touch sadness and defeat. When he spoke again, his voice was grating but soft.
Surprisingly, her first thought was that she’d thought they spoke English in Scotland. Claire couldn’t comprehend his words, but neither did she ask him to repeat them. As with the Indian, she knew what he was asking.
Inexplicably, her first impulse was to comply. She even took a hesitant step forward before she realized what she was about. “I can’t,”
she whispered with a shake of her head, not even certain that he would understand her any better than she understood him.
Even if Claire were to unlock the cells somehow, there was no way for him to escape the facility. There were coded locks, guards, and cameras everywhere. Thinking of the security cameras, she glanced overhead at the camera mounted above the door, aware that both men’s eyes followed hers. Were they intelligent enough to realize that they didn’t stand a chance?
“Please.”
Claire’s eyes widened at the sound of the word. Had she heard that right? Was he speaking English now? Glancing back at the Indian, she tried to determine whether he had understood as well, but that warrior’s gaze was still as dark and fiery as the depths of hell. The bigger man was waiting more patiently but there was desperation in his eyes. Pleading. Claire’s heart ached. Whoever he was—whatever he was—he didn’t deserve this.
“I don’t know … I—I’ll try,”
she said, sweeping her glance around the room once more and taking in the variety of animals and the two men caged as if they were beasts as well. Claire didn’t know if there was anything she could do, but some latent humanitarianism in her couldn’t leave them there like that without doing something.
The murmur of voices floated in from the hallway, jolting Claire back to the precariousness of her situation. It wouldn’t do at all to be caught where she knew she should not have tread. Hurriedly, she stepped back into the lab, pulling the steel door shut behind her before hastening as far away from it as she could. With luck on her side, she made it to the main office door just as it opened. “Oh, Dr. Fielding, Marti asked me to drop off those files you needed. They’re on your desk.”
“Thank you …?”
“Claire,”
she supplied.
The astrophysicist nodded absently, his entire focus on the folder in his hands, leaving Claire ample opportunity to sneak by without any further questions but for those fairly bursting in her mind.