When no one answered, I rapped harder.
"Patrick may be bound or drugged," Joseph said, then slipped from his pocket a case of small tools. In the last few weeks he had become skilled at opening locked boxes and bureaus, both in the shop and at his mother's house. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for with dexterity. A minute later, he turned his head toward me, smiled a little, and softly opened the door.
The room was dark and stuffy, its heavy drapes pulled across the windows. Patrick lay on the bed, sunken into the pillows. I ran to him. "Patrick, are you all right?"
His glassy eyes slid away from the cartoon he was watching. He turned his head slowly, his eyes gradually focusing on me, then he pulled the bedcovers around him.
"I'm so glad to see you!" I said, hugging him. I felt him recoil, though his drugged body didn't have enough strength to pull away from me. I let go.
"Patrick?"
"He's been given something," Joseph said, standing on the other side of the bed.
"It's more than that," I replied bitterly. "Someone has been telling him things about me. They've been lying about me."
I reached for Patrick's hand. He flinched.
"Patrick, listen to me. I didn't want to abandon you. I was fired. I was forced to leave."
Patrick moved closer to Joseph.
"You may be right," Joseph observed.
"We're here to help you, " I continued. "We're going to take you back to your father."
Patrick didn't respond.
"We should call Adrian," I said to Joseph, "and tell him where we are, in case something prevents us from getting Patrick out of here."
"The front desk may be able to monitor hotel phones," Joseph replied, pulling out his cellular. "What's the number?"
I gave him Adrian's private line.
"Should we leave a message if he isn't there? — Wait, I have him. Adrian, hold on for Kate." He handed me the phone.
"Kate? Where are you?"
"At the Queen Victoria," I answered. "Joseph and I have found Patrick. He has been sedated, but he seems all right. He was here alone."
"At the hotel? Do you know how he got there? Did he say who took him?"
I suspect Trent, since he is friends with the manager. We slipped into the room with the help of Joseph's tools from the store. Patrick is awake, but hasn't spoken yet. I think he's afraid of me, Adrian."
"Let me talk to him."
I handed the phone to Patrick. "It's your father."
Patrick listened for a minute or two, then handed back the phone.
"Was he there?" Adrian asked, sounding both irritated and anxious.
"Yes. He's just not speaking. We'll bring him home."
"Not yet," Adrian said. "Get him out of there-Trent just left the house and may be headed in your direction. But don't bring Patrick here. Emily is hysterical, and I want to talk to him before she gets him upset and confused. I don't think Trent is alone in this, and Patrick may be the only one who can tell us the details we need. The hotel must have a back way out, a fire exit."
"We'll find it."
"I'll meet you at the auction house. It's closed today. No one will be there, and we can talk. I'll go in the back way to turn off the alarm and lock up the dogs," he continued. "Then I'll meet you at the front. You should make it in twenty minutes. If you're not there in forty, I'll call the police. What vehicle are you taking?"
I gave him a description of Joseph's S.U.V. When I hung up, I told Joseph the plan, then checked the hall for a fire escape. A set of inside steps was designated as the fire exit, but I thought I had seen the stairway's door near the front desk. Having entered the lobby with a large, ugly painting, we'd surely be remembered and questioned if we exited with a drugged child.
There was an old iron fire escape, a zigzagging ladder, attached to the outside of the building. The problem with that route was that Patrick, in his doped-up state, couldn't be counted on to climb down safely by himself. Returning to the room, I told Joseph that I would carry Patrick piggyback down the outside steps.
But Patrick refused to let me touch him. With unexpected energy, he kicked at me, then punched me with balled-up fists. I caught his wrists, but he continued to kick.
"Patrick! What is going on?"
"I won't go with you! I won't!"
"You have to."
"You're pig snot," he said. "You're a bucket full of pig snot."
I let go of him. It was one of Ashley's expressions, a description she had used for Joseph.
"Why don't you ask him what color it is?" Joseph remarked dryly.
I had asked Ashley that more than once.
"Green swirled with pink," Patrick said.
Joseph grimaced at the "correct" answer. "It is creepy, Katie. It's as if she's inside him."
"I know." I reached for Patrick again. He squirmed away and lurched toward Joseph, who caught him. "Will you let Joseph carry you?" I asked.
Joseph's eyes widened. "You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you."
"At least, this time, you're headed down."
Patrick finally agreed, and Joseph helped him put on his shoes, since he wouldn't allow me. We used Joseph's belt and a sheet to tie Patrick onto Joseph's back, in case he let go.
"Now he's secure, but my pants aren't," Joseph complained.
Opening the room's door, I looked both ways and led them down the hall. I climbed down the fire escape first, testing it for safety. When I reached the bottom, Joseph slowly descended with Patrick on his back. Each time Joseph's foot felt for a rung, I held my breath. I kept checking the back windows of the hotel to see if anyone was watching us. So far, so good.
The fire escape ended several meters off the ground. I argued with Patrick about letting me catch him. Finally, I pushed a pile of garbage bags and boxes over to the spot to soften his fall, then stepped in and caught him at the last moment.