Dawn Page 22

  “Yet she didn’t kill Lorna or Araneae,” I said. “Technically, she didn’t kill Nancy either.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Cause of death was a combination of things, co-morbidities. Nancy Pierce’s body was worn out. Her organs showed signs of deterioration, in some cases severe. Her liver was working at less than forty percent, and her kidneys were at sixty. It happens when the body is fighting other battles. She also had stage-two lung cancer, which she may not have even known. Laurel and Renita and I debated on the cause of the cancer. While there’s always her history of smoking, Nancy also showed signs of asbestos poisoning. Many of the places she called home over the years were probably decrepit old buildings, the kind with not only asbestos but also lead paint. And it didn’t take a doctor to see that she was also malnourished. The lack of nutrients gave the organs more reason to shut down. The malnourishment could have been Stephanie’s doing.”

  “According to Zella,” I said, “The man and woman bought Nancy from Maples over a year before we found her. What the fuck was Stephanie doing with her for that long?”

  Mason jumped up from his chair. “Fuck, what if she was experimenting on her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Somehow, she found out that Nancy was my mother. I never put that on any of my military forms. I only listed Lorna, but that shit isn’t that hard to find if you know where to look and dig deep enough. Anyway, if Top is right and Stephanie is trying to find out how I recovered my memories, what better person to try theories and shit on but a relative?”

  “She didn’t do anything like that to Lorna,” I said, grateful to be able to say it. “And she’s your sister.”

  “What are we going to do with the information from Walters?” Patrick asked.

  “I say,” I began, “we don’t react. We spend the next twenty-four hours or more verifying. I fucking want to trust the man. Walters knew my father better than I did. But I can’t trust someone I barely know and someone who advocates for wiping people’s pasts to make them better soldiers.”

  Mason turned to Patrick. “The next time you’re on the street or in a situation that requires you to pull the trigger, will you do it?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “So having a kid doesn’t make you soft?”

  “I have two kids,” Patrick corrected as he stood and made his way to the coffee machine. “And to answer your question, the fucking opposite.” He straightened his shoulders, standing taller. “Jettison was involved in Ruby’s abduction. The less sane part of me at this moment, you know the part that has awakened to a crying baby multiple times a night, yeah, well that part wants to read that fucking message on your computer from Walters. And then that part wants to not do what Reid just said. I don’t want to verify. I want to get a flock of Sparrows and ambush their asses. And if you don’t think I want to be the one who pulls the trigger simply because I now have two children, you’d be sadly mistaken.”

  “So you think Top is wrong about emotions and following orders?” Mason asked.

  “I’m not sure that there is a right or wrong answer to that,” I replied. “I believe it’s up to the individual. It’s why, even with the Order’s magic memory blocker, people like Morehead and Jettison still go rogue. It’s independent thought. Taking away a person’s memory doesn’t take that away.” I lifted my hand toward Mason. “Look at you. Even before Laurel, you and Jack had said enough is enough. They took your memory of who you were, but they couldn’t take that independence from you. Even Kader was independent.”

  “He still followed orders,” Mason said.

  “And if I’m right about what you’ve told us, he also was in control of his own life.”

  “My guess,” Patrick added, “is that Morehead fit that bill, like you’re saying. She was strong and independent. Wasn’t she Laurel’s assistant?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said, “in hindsight, that status in the university wasn’t her choice; it was her placement from the Order. She had the credentials to exceed beyond that rank, but wasn’t able to pursue that due to her assignment. I think that situation added to her dislike of Laurel.”

  The steel door opened, and we all turned, expecting to see Sparrow. Instead, it was Laurel carrying something small in her hand.

  “Hi, I won’t bother you for long, but I thought I could explain this better in person.” She lifted a flash drive. “Lorna got me thinking the other day.” She looked around. “Wait, I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I can bring this to you later.”

  “No,” Mason said with a sigh. “We were just talking about you.”

  “Oh, that’s never good.”

  “And about your assistant,” I said. “Stephanie Moore.”

  Laurel lifted the flash drive again. “It’s interesting that you’d mention her.” She walked up to Mason. “May I show this from one of your computers?”

  He went to his workstation and brought a computer to life, different than the one with Top’s message. “Here you go.”

  Laurel inserted the flash drive and sat in Mason’s chair. Pulling up what appeared to be a file of PDFs, she turned to all of us. “I know I’m somehow connected to what’s been happening.” Laurel lifted her hand. “I don’t need anyone to sugarcoat it for me. I’m assuming it is because I’ve been working on my research without permission from the agency Mason worked for.”

  “That’s not—”

  Interrupting her husband, Laurel continued. “I want to help in any way I can. A few days ago, Lorna asked me how I was connected to her mom. I was her daughter-in-law, but she never knew that, so after Lorna’s and my discussion, I started going through all my original research.”

  “Laurel, we have—”

  “Mason, let me finish. This won’t take long. It’s funny that you mentioned Stephanie Moore. I found this.” Laurel turned and clicked on a saved document, a scan of a document. It appeared to be a consent form from the university where Laurel worked. The form had been filled out by hand and the writing wasn’t exactly neat or clear, but as we all stared up at the screen, Laurel explained, “I don’t recall meeting her. I don’t believe I did.” She moved the cursor. “But as you see, I wasn’t the one who did her intake.”

  “Nancy Pierce was a participant in your study?” I asked, a bit dumbfounded.

  “No,” Laurel said. “She was a volunteer, but based on our criteria, she wasn’t chosen.”

  Patrick stepped closer, looking up at the screen. “And Stephanie Moore did her intake.” It wasn’t a question but a confirmation. The evidence was in scrolling signatures high above. “What exactly was involved in the intake process and why wasn’t she selected?”

  “Being as we were in the early stages of our clinical trials,” Laurel said, “in an effort to minimize extraneous variables, we had strict guidelines.”

  “So a coked-out whore wasn’t your participant of choice?” Mason asked.

  Laurel laid her hand on Mason’s arm. “Honey, I think you may have some resentment issues regarding your mother you need to work out. Let me know when you’re ready. I know a great counselor.” She turned to me and Patrick. “I don’t have Stephanie’s notes; they weren’t scanned. However, in the normal procedure, we did a medical history, including live births. We also ran blood tests and did a comprehensive psychological evaluation.”

  “Stephanie had the credentials to do all of that?” I asked.

  “We had a phlebotomy team to collect the blood samples. As for the psychological evaluation and medical history, they were simply forms with questions and answers. Stephanie as well as Russ’s assistant, Jennifer Skills, both worked to complete the forms. Then those of us more qualified, Russ, Eric Olsen, and I, would go through and analyze the answers. This process ensured that our decisions were based on uniformly taken information, not our impression of the volunteer.”

  “I bet you paid your volunteers,” Mason said.

  Laurel exhaled. “Yes, all volunteers received a stipend, and if a person was chosen, they receive
d additional payments at different checkpoints throughout our trial.”

  “This is big,” I said, “Stephanie met Nancy.” I looked at Mason. “You said you never mentioned Nancy on your military forms.” I pointed up at the screen. “This is the connection.”

  “Stephanie died,” Laurel said.

  “No,” Mason said as he crouched near Laurel’s knees and placed his large hand on her thigh. “We thought she did. The evidence was mounting up that she could be the brains behind Andrew Jettison’s brawn. And yet the fact that she was dead kept interrupting that theory. Earlier today we had a meeting in DC with someone from my old agency. He confirmed that Stephanie Morehead—her real last name—lived through the fire at the ranch.”

  Laurel’s face paled. “How? The office was locked.”

  “We don’t know the details. We’d been told they found a body in the office. What we weren’t told until today was that the body was not deceased. She suffered burns.”

  “Like you?”

  “From what Araneae and Lorna described,” Patrick began, “not as severe. One hand and one side of her neck and face were affected.”

  “The office was locked tight and reinforced,” Mason said. “I had built it like a fucking fortress. The entire room was steel enforced. With the fire, I’d assume the temperature was too extreme to support life. Somehow, she was found. Maybe it was before the fire was out. We let the original report stand on its own and never questioned it.”

  “What else did you learn?” Laurel asked. “You believe Stephanie is the one who took Araneae and Lorna. What about Ruby?”

  “Jettison was involved, the man both Araneae and Lorna have called Jet,” Mason answered. “And Maples’s daughter also described both of them.”

  “And,” I added, “we have unofficially identified Jettison regarding some problems we’ve been having here on the streets of Chicago.”

  “What does Stephanie want?” Laurel asked.

  “The man we spoke to believes she has two goals,” Mason began. “First, let me say, you being a decoy is out of the fucking question. We have more information now. We will take both of them down and track down any accomplices.”

  “What are her goals?” Laurel repeated.

  “She wants to find out how my memories returned.”

  Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t want my formula or any other formula...she wants the antidote.” She sighed. “I had never thought of that.”

  “Why don’t you go back upstairs?” Mason said, standing and gently tugging his wife from his chair. “Your information is helpful. Thank you.”

  “Mason, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “We can talk about it later.”

  Laurel looked our direction. “Reid? Patrick?”

  Mason reached for her hand. “Laurel, the man we spoke to believes that Stephanie wants to finish what she started at the ranch or before.”

  Laurel’s chin rose. “She wants me dead.”

  Lorna

  I watched from within as the SUV drove through a neighborhood outside of Chicago. The houses weren’t new, but they were well maintained. The green lawns of summer were replaced with the drier autumn version. Trees that could canopy the streets with their foliage were mostly bare, leaving a few brown leaves holding on through the Chicago wind.

  With my hand in Reid’s, I turned his way. “It feels so strange to be out of the tower like this.”

  Reid lifted his chin to the front seat. We had Romero and Christian in the SUV with us and Mason and other Sparrows were in another car, following close behind. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I wouldn’t risk it if you weren’t.” He squeezed my hand. “You were the one who said you wanted to do this.”

  I nodded as I swallowed. “From what you and Mace said about Maples’s house, Anna seems to be doing better if this is where she lives.”

  “She no longer manages the motel where you two worked.”

  “She doesn’t?”

  He grinned. “She started a public relations company, working from home. It’s one of those ones where you pay to improve your online persona. If you have bad reviews, she will flood you with good ones. It sounds a little shady to me, but I guess...” He grinned. “...glass houses and all.”

  I smirked. “I’m actually nervous to talk to her.”

  “It’s not going to be a surprise. She knows we’re coming.”

  My eyes widened. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if she has the police there to arrest you?”

  “We’ve had her on full surveillance since she was contacted. She hasn’t made any attempt to do that.”

  “Can you be sure?”

  Tugging me closer, Reid kissed my forehead. “When it comes to you, I wouldn’t take a chance if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.” He reached for a lock of my hair and running it through his fingers, smiled. His voice lowered to a whisper. “I guess my days of fucking a brunette are over?”

  Warmth filled my cheeks knowing that one or both of the men in the front may hear him. “Shh.”

  “Now, Mrs. Murray, that isn’t an answer.”

  He was right. I couldn’t add the length back to my hair, but I could find the right dye to return it to very close to its natural shade of red. “You, sir, are stuck with a redhead from now until forever. Besides, I thought Anna would recognize me better with red hair.”

  His thumb and finger captured my chin. “You could be bald and it would be your stunning eyes and gorgeous smile that will forever remain in anyone’s memory.”

  I fluffed the side of my still-short hair. “So you’re recommending a clean shave.” I grinned. “Maintenance would be easier.” I grinned. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go bald but only if you do, too.”

  “I want you to do whatever you want with your hair. However, if I get a say, I fell madly in love with a redhead and I like seeing her again.”

  As the SUV pulled into a parking space on the side of the road, I looked around at the homes and lawns. Compared to our castle in the sky, they would pale, but I wasn’t seeing them through that perspective. My mind went back to Gordon Maples’s house.

  “I think she made it.”

  “Made it?” Reid asked.

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  My stomach twisted as Romero opened Reid’s door and we both scooted from the back seat. The slacks and sweater I wore beneath my overcoat were nicer than my normal around-the-tower attire, but in no way ostentatious. I smiled up at my husband. He too was dressed for this occasion. His pants were tan and instead of a casual shirt or shirt and tie, he also wore a sweater. I liked the way the maroon wool pulled across his wide chest.

  Lifting my hand, I cupped his cheek. “I love you. Thank you for supporting me with this.”

  “I don’t know if it will help us find Missy,” he said. “Hopefully, it will answer some questions about your mother.”

  I nodded.

  Reid’s large hand went to the small of my back as we walked across the street. My heeled boots clipped the cement as we grew closer to the yellow house with white trim and a white door. The lawn was free of leaves and the flower beds were cleared. There was a pumpkin on the porch and a wreath made of colorful silk leaves on the door.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the second vehicle, the one with my brother inside. I’d convinced him to let me do this without him. Anna and I had a past, but we also had a connection of being young females in the same home.

  As we came to a stop on the small concrete porch, Reid nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand to knock, but before I did, I saw the doorbell. When I pushed it, chimes rang from within the house.

  As soon as the door opened, I recognized Anna. She’d been my manager for over a year at the motel, and while we had that connection, as our eyes met, I felt an unexpected kinship. “Anna, thank you for seeing me.”

  “Lorna, I can’t believe it’s you.”

  “It is.”

  The woman before me had the same light-br
own hair I recalled. It was shorter now, a stylish cut. Her eyes were the same gray, yet they seemed clearer. Her complexion was light and healthy, as was her body. While she had a few more curves than I did, she wasn’t overweight by any means.

  Anna smiled at me and then at Reid. “Hello” —she extended her hand to my husband— “if you’re Lorna’s husband, I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of terrible stories about me.”

  “Yes,” I said, “this is my husband, Reid.”

  Reid shook her hand and gracefully sidestepped addressing her comment. “I hadn’t heard much of anything until recently.”

  Anna opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

  The scent of vanilla filled the front living room. It was then I saw the burning candles on her mantel. The glass doors of the enclosure were closed on her fireplace, yet by the presence of the fake logs within, it appeared as if the flames worked, not unlike ours, with a push of the button. The floor was hardwood and her furniture was neither bad nor good. My first thought was that it was much cleaner than I recalled Maples’s house.

  “May I take your coat?”

  While this reunion was going better than I’d imagined, I hesitated, unsure how long we would stay. Finally, I shrugged the wool coat from my shoulders. Near the door was a brass hall tree. Anna hung it there. The whole incident struck me as quite possibly the first time Anna had ever done anything for me.

  When she turned, she asked, “How are you doing, Lorna?”

  I smiled. “I’m doing well. We’ve had a lot happening, and I wondered if you could help me learn a few things.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re here.” Anna gestured toward the sofa and chairs. “Please, have a seat.” As we did, she continued, “As you can imagine, I was a bit stunned to receive the call from...” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “An associate of mine,” Reid volunteered. “You mentioned stories, and I suppose I didn’t want Lorna walking into unfriendly territory.”

  Anna had taken a seat in a nearby chair. “You’re a good man.”

  I reached for Reid’s hand. As his fingers encased mine, I agreed with Anna’s assessment. My husband was a good man, actually, the best man.