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ZANDER PULLED UP OUTSIDE the Tatum house and slipped the car into park, leaving the engine running. Dusk had fallen but the house was lit inside and out, every room aglow with news of Kylie’s healing. He could hear music playing in one of the rooms. He imagined there were a lot of phone calls being made to share the joyous news.
He turned in the seat to face Emma. “I may not be able to see you for a while. My dad thinks I’m in danger. He’s sending me away to a safe house.”
“Where?” she asked and then made a face. “I guess it wouldn’t be a safe house if everyone knew, would it?” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I think your dad’s right though. Especially after what happened to Dr. Brock. I’ll pray for you Zander, and for your family. I know God has everything in control. It’s just hard to see it right now.”
He watched her eyes, so dark with mystery. Exactly like his own. Yet so different. There was a light in Emma, joy that defied circumstances. He’d never felt the hope she felt. After the events of today, he didn’t know if he ever would. Kylie was healed. Dr. Brock was murdered. Two sides of a coin toss. How did the goodness of God fit with both? If God were in control, why did he let the doctor die?
“You really believe that?” he finally asked.
“Of course, I do.” She opened her purse and dug through it looking for something. “I think I have my...” she pulled out a little book not much bigger than a pack of cards, “...here it is.”
“What? Your diary?”
“No, silly. A Bible. I’ve marked a lot of good verses in here.” She held it out. “Would you like to take it with you?” At his dubious expression, she smiled. “You might be surprised by what you learn.”
He shrugged and took the book in his hand. “All right. I’ll give it a try. I’ll probably be bored out of my mind out there alone.”
She reached for the door handle. “I should go in. But I hate to say goodbye. It sounds so final. Especially since you don’t know when you’ll be back. And we just found each other.”
“I know. But you’ll be safe here. Devlin doesn’t know you exist, so I won’t have to worry about you. And remember–the less your parents know, the better.”
They’d already discussed keeping the details of the Sensiline Project from her parents for now. Emma would tell them about Dr. Brock’s murder, because they’d probably hear of it on the news anyway. They were safer not knowing the rest.
The headlights of a car turning into a neighbor’s driveway lit up Emma’s face for a moment. Zander could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He was accustomed to feeling the emotional pain of others but seeing his sister cry was too much for him. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He bit his lip and remained silent.
She sniffed and lifted her hand from the door handle to wipe at her eyes. “I’m sorry. The last thing you need is a weepy sister who can’t let go.”
“It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot today. If I could stay, I would. But I can’t.” He flipped his sun visor down and revealed the old snapshot Dr. Brock had given him. He hated to part with it, but she needed it more. He handed it to her and pushed the overhead light on, so she could see it clearly. “When you feel sad just take a look at this. I’m the one crying. You’re the one smiling.”
She laughed softly. “Wow. Look at us. It makes everything so real. We have a history after all.”
She didn’t ask where he’d gotten it. She knew. They’d been connected at conception. They still were. “There’s a lot more to be written,” he promised.
“Give me a hug and get out of here.” She leaned across the space and put her arms around his neck. “Be careful,” she whispered into his ear, then got out of the car and disappeared into the house.
Zander sat there a moment staring at the brightly lit home, feeling joy emanating from within the walls. He wished he could join in on the celebration, but all he could think about at this point was what happened to Dr. Brock. She didn’t deserve to die like that. He saw the scene as clearly as when Detective Miller witnessed it. He didn’t want to see, but it filled his mind before he had time to put up a block. He hadn’t told Emma. She didn’t need to know how truly dangerous the people were that he was running from. But his dad did.
He picked up his cell phone and sent off a quick text just in case it didn’t make the five o’clock news.
*****
“SHE’S ALIVE,” DEVLIN said softly, trying to wrap his mind around this awesome new reality. It filled him with a sense of euphoria. She was the one that got away. The one they’d assumed dead for sixteen years. The one that might possibly make everything he’d been working for worthwhile. Alexander Howard’s sister.
He’d sent Fillmore off with the directive to find out the girl’s name and where she lived. The ex-lawyer-turned-thug was a perfect patsy; smart enough to know he was being played, but egotistical enough to think he had it all under control. Once they had the girl, his involvement would be null and void.
“Do you want me to follow him?” One of the Twins asked.
Devlin shook his head. “No need.”
He went to his office and settled into his desk chair, leaned slowly back with his hands clasped behind his head. A smile curved his lips and he nearly laughed out loud, but he managed to suppress the impulse.
Sometimes circumstances could be manipulated to go your way and sometimes they fell into your lap fully actualized. Ironically, he remembered his mother telling him “that God’s blessings fall on those who do good works in his name.” Well, she couldn’t have been more wrong. He was being blessed today out of all proportion to the works he’d performed. His mother, on the other hand, after giving away everything she had, was buried in an unmarked grave having died homeless and without a soul to claim her. So much for being blessed.
“Do you want us to look for Zander?” One of the Twins stood inside the door watching him curiously as if memorizing this strange new emotion. He glanced back at his brother in the lab and stepped closer to the desk, not wanting to be overheard. “Why do you care about this girl so much, Father? She has never even been on Sensiline. You said yourself that without Sensiline Zander was just another weak, helpless human wallowing in his emotions. We don’t need her–or Zander.”
The boy didn’t so much as raise his voice, but his vehemence showed in rigid shoulders and a clenched jaw. Devlin sat forward and stared back, his eyes narrowed with interest. He realized it was the first time one of the Twins used the plural “us” when speaking to him. They had always thought of themselves as one unit. He’d made sure of it. “Are you angry at me, Twin?”
There was something in the boy’s expression that Devlin couldn’t read. It sent a shiver of apprehension down his neck, but before he could dig deeper the other twin stood in the doorway.
“We should go,” he said, also using the plural.
Devlin thought having the boys speak as one had been hard to get used to, but the sudden switch now was disconcerting. What had set it off? They were still obviously plugged into one another’s psyche. He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Get some rest. I may need you in the morning. If Fillmore doesn’t find the girl, then it will be up to you.”
The Twin by the door clasped his brother’s arm as though to stop him from responding. He gestured toward the lab with his head. “Goodnight, Father.”
Devlin watched them until they were down the hall and into the elevator. He couldn’t stop feeling that something wasn’t right with them. He sighed and relaxed back into his desk chair. It didn’t really matter now though. The girl was within reach. Her abilities far surpassed even those of the Twins. A true healer. Heaven only knew how much a girl like that was really worth.
*****
THEY ATE DINNER LIKE a regular family, the three of them sitting at the kitchen table making small talk. But there wasn’t anything regular about it. Steven felt as though he were suspended in time, waiting for Serena to go up to bed. She usually retired before the two of them, using the excuse of a headache or that she wanted to read. Normally he found her behavior distant and cold, an excuse not to spend time with him, the closeness they once had no longer there. Tonight, he longed for the reprieve.
The smell of burned hamburger grease on the stovetop added to a queasiness growing in his stomach. His father once confessed that he felt queasy whenever he went on a mission flight to a new area. He said doing the right thing didn’t mean he wasn’t scared, but it gave God an opportunity to work through him rather than in spite of him. Steven suddenly wished he had the kind of relationship with God his father had. Maybe then he could pray for the strength he needed to see them all through this.
Serena began cleaning up the dishes while Zander and he sat across from each other at the small table pretending to enjoy butterscotch pudding for dessert. He moved the contents of his bowl around with his spoon but couldn’t bring himself to take a bite. Finally, he pushed it away and took a gulp of water to settle his stomach.
“At least I can go to bed without worrying tonight,” she said, flashing a smile over her shoulder. “This weather is nasty to be driving in and usually one of you is out late, working after hours or attending some school game. But tonight, you’re both home where you belong.” She picked up the bowl of leftover salad and the water pitcher and carried them to the counter.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom. It was good.” Zander followed her to the sink with the dessert bowls. “I can fill the dishwasher tonight. It’s my turn, isn’t it?” he planted a kiss on Serena’s cheek and started scrapping plates.
Serena sent Steven a wide-eyed look of shock. “Will wonders never cease? Our son volunteering to do dishes? What’s next? Scrubbing the toilets?”
Zander laughed. “No thanks. I’ll leave that for the expert.”
“Funny boy.” She handed him an empty platter and wiped her hands on a red and white striped towel. “Have at it. I think I’ll go upstairs and read before bed. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
Steven stood up and kissed her softly on the lips before she could escape. She laid her head against his chest for a long moment, reminding him of how it once was between them. He held her close, fearing that if she found out what he was about to do, she would never forgive him. But Zander’s safety came before her peace of mind this time. It had to. First Frank, then Akhilesh, and now Dr. Brock. If Marcus were right, it wouldn’t end there.
“I was thinking it might be a good idea if Zander went to stay with Aunt Marion for a while,” he said. “She’s been pretty lonely since Frank’s death and Zander could be a help to her until she’s had time to adjust. We could part with him for a few days, couldn’t we, honey?”
She pulled away and glanced from him to Zander and back again, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’ve already been planning this behind my back.”
“Just think, Mom. You wouldn’t have to worry about me getting home after dark. Aunt Marion could do all the worrying for you.”
The teasing remark did nothing to placate her. “You could’ve at least discussed this with me before making plans,” she said, hands on hips. “I feel bad for Marion too but she’s not a mother, never has been, and she doesn’t know how horribly trying teenagers can be. It will probably be more stressful for her than being alone.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Zander promised, using the Boy Scout’s salute. “No girls in the house after midnight, no parties except on weekends, and absolutely no loud music unless it’s classical.”
She shot him a phony glare. “You got it. And I’ll be calling your Aunt to check up on you, so you better adhere to the rules.”
He grinned. “I love you, Mom.”
*****
AS SOON AS STEVEN WAS sure Serena was upstairs for the night, he took Zander to his office and handed him the envelope. “Everything you need is in there. I threw a duffel bag of clothes in the car. It’s a brown Buick parked on the corner of Peach and 132nd. Someone could be watching the house, so take your bike out the back through the Thompson’s yard. They’re on vacation anyway. You can throw it in the trunk when you get to the car.” He drew a deep breath and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.
Zander smiled. “I know, Dad. Be careful and you love me.”
“You really can read minds. That’s scary, you know?”
“For you and me both,” he admitted. He pushed the envelope into the side pocket of his book bag. “I’ve never driven so far alone before. What if I get lost?”
Steven didn’t have to be a mind reader to see his son was not as tough as he tried to portray. He was still a kid and driving for three hours alone in the dark on a strange highway was not something kids dreamed of doing. They might go for a joy ride with a bunch of other teens, trying to prove how grown up they were, but get each of them alone and what did you have? Kids–who still needed direction and love and encouragement. He smiled at the timidity in his son’s eyes. From what Zander had told him, he’d already endured a lot today, yet he was anxious about driving in the dark. “Don’t worry. There’s a GPS in the envelope with the directions all set. Just stick it on the dash and turn it on.”
Zander hunched his shoulders and pulled the backpack on. “You thought of everything.”
“Almost everything. As soon as I think of a way to protect you from the fallout while making Devlin pay, I’ll let you know.”
*****
ANDREW SQUINTED THROUGH the wet windshield at the Howard’s residence. Snow had begun to fall again, big fat flakes melting as soon as they touched down. “His car is here and most of the lights are already out in the house. He won’t be going anywhere tonight. I’ll tag it. Maybe tomorrow he’ll lead us to the girl.”
Devlin hung up on him without comment.
Andrew dropped the phone on the seat beside him and climbed out of the truck. An urge to give the door a good slam passed as he let his gaze sweep up and down both sides of the street. He carefully closed it with a soft click and moved quickly down and across the street.
He didn’t like working for Devlin. The man thought he was some kind of scientific god and everyone else mere mortals put on this earth to do his bidding. Frank Howard had certainly been egotistical, but he appreciated his employees and treated them as though they had brains. At least he treated Andrew that way. He gave him jobs to do and trusted him to see them through, even if it meant thinking on his feet and doing things Frank never said out loud but knew needed to be done.
The neighborhood was quiet and dark. The only light on the street was a small lamppost half a block away. It was after ten p.m. and like most suburb areas there seemed to be an unwritten but closely adhered to, curfew.
The boy’s car was parked on a section of concrete that wrapped around the far side of the garage. Andrew was careful not to trip the motion detector light on the front porch as he made his way along a row of bare branched lilac bushes between the Howard’s and their neighbors to the west. A dog barked somewhere down the street and he stood stock-still listening. When all was quiet, he moved forward again.
He slipped through the bushes and stooped beside the rear wheel well of the car. From the inside pocket of his coat, he withdrew the miniscule tracking device, brushed dirt off a small patch of metal with his gloved hand and attached the tracker to the car. He backed slowly away from the vehicle, blending back into the shadow of the bushes as a car passed the house, music thumping above the sound of the engine. Movement in the backyard caught his eye, and he turned to peer through bushes into deep shadow. Nothing there now. Must have been a rabbit or stray cat.
*****
ZANDER DROVE UNDER the speed limit, afraid to go faster for fear of finding himself in the ditch. The asphalt was slick as a newly waxed floor, snow melting and then quickly freezing again. The car was an older model Buick, heavy like a tank, which kept the tires moving smoothly between the lines, but he knew a sudden stop might send him into a tailspin.
Traffic thinned and disappeared completely when he turned off the freeway onto the two-lane highway. Red glow-in-the-dark numbers on the car’s dashboard told him it was past his bedtime. One a.m.
He spotted an all-night station and glanced down at the fuel gauge. More than half a tank left, but he needed to get out and stretch his legs anyway. He pulled in, shut off the engine and looked around. The only car in sight apparently belonged to the clerk working inside the store. Covered in a crust of snow and ice, it was parked off to the side of the building, leaving every available space open for non-existent potential customers.
He zipped his coat and opened the car door. A brutal, freezing wind blew hair into his eyes. He grabbed his Vikings stocking cap from the seat beside him, pulled it over his head and jumped out.
With the tank full, he sprinted for the store. A cowbell clanked over the door as he stepped inside. The clerk sat behind the counter, multiple belly rolls bunched up and held in place with nothing stronger than the plastic zipper on a bright orange sweater. He gave a quick nod and welcome-to-the-store smile, revealing a missing front tooth. His attention immediately returned to a small television mounted on the wall above the coffee machines.
Zander filled a cup with steaming hot chocolate, then wandered around the store shopping. His dad said the cabin was stocked with lots of canned stuff but nothing fresh. He picked up a bag of chips, a loaf of bread and a package of lunchmeat and set them on the checkout counter, waiting.
The man finally glanced his way when the program was interrupted by a commercial for tires. “Ready, huh? Sorry ‘bout that.” He jerked his chin toward the TV. “Kinda got myself addicted to that dance show. Always wanted to be a ballroom dancer, ya know?” he said, hoisting himself up from the stool to run the cash register buttons. He glanced through the window. “Bad night to be out. Hope you don’t have far to go.”
Zander shook his head. “Not far.”
“Thirty dollars even. That don’t happen much.” The man wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. He handed Zander his change and smiled again, air whistling through the gap in his teeth as he breathed heavily. “Take care out there.” He eased back on the stool with an audible grunt and returned his attention to the television.
Zander pulled out of the station and back onto the road. According to the GPS, the cabin was only fifteen miles away. He sipped at his chocolate and tried to relax. It wouldn’t be long now. The highway stretched before him, a dark strip of inky blackness in the path of the car’s headlights, pine and spruce thick on each side of the road blocked out most of the sky.
He tried to think of it as a great adventure, but the unsettling darkness of the night seemed to have seeped into him as well. He was only hours away from his family, from Emma, and yet he felt a million miles from home. The GPS broke the silence, “Turn right in one quarter mile.”
He slowed the Buick and turned onto a gravel road marked by a lone mailbox. The woods swallowed him up as he followed the lane ever deeper. When the car broke out into a clearing, he felt an immense sense of relief out of all proportion to circumstances. A huge pile of split logs was stacked against the side of the old house, just as his dad had promised. All that graced the yard was the shell of a car sitting on blocks, knee-deep in switch grass and an old outhouse that looked as though someone had used it for target practice. The only thing missing was a hound dog chained to a log. He shut off the engine and let his hands slide off the steering wheel.
“You are here,” the computerized voice stated unnecessarily.