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What went before... Nineteen years ago
Tommy kissed me today, and it was everything I imagined it would be. We were behind the gym and he just did it! I don’t think I kissed back very well because he surprised me, but if he does it again, I’ll be ready!
I bookmarked the spot and slid my diary into its customary hiding place. I’d never hear the end of it from Bianca if I was late to our study session. As much as our parents disliked and distrusted formal education, both of us had taken to it like ducks to water. And even though Bianca was much more our parents’ child than I when it came to art and music, it was comforting to have an ally at a school where we were the weird girls.
I hadn’t told her about Tommy yet, it felt too new and precious to share just yet, something mine alone in a community where everything was shared.
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Now... Manitou Springs, 1:30 p.m.
“That, Agent Thomas, is exactly what I was talking about.” Farrell’s gaze caught mine and held. “When Burke died we thought it was over, but we were wrong. Honestly, I didn’t think they’d move this fast. I’d hoped to wave you off, but unfortunately, you’re now a part of it.”
I digested what he’d said for approximately three seconds. “Well, since I landed ass-backward into trouble, mind telling me what it is?”
“We’ll explain more once we get to CASI,” he evaded. “I’ll have one of my men check you out of the hotel and bring your things. We’ll also begin surveillance on your home in Albuquerque and your parents’ in Taos.”
“No need.” My voice was tight. Hell, my whole body felt like a drawn bowstring. This was moving too damned fast. There was no way I was going to let these bozos into any of my personal spaces, not until I figured out was going on—all of it. For all I knew, this was some stupid ploy to get me to back off. After all, I hadn’t seen a threat, now had I? Felt it, yeah, and that’s what was giving me the willies more than anything right now.
“There is a need, Agent Thomas. Fifteen people died a few months ago, and I’m afraid the murders are going to continue until we come up with a solution. I don’t want you to be next because you’re too nosy for your own good.” Farrell’s tone was grim, and Summers’ expression mirrored the sentiment.
Disquiet slithered through me. Fifteen? There hadn’t been a breath about this within the Bureau, and that kind of serial, or even cult, behavior, would have guaranteed a balls-to-the-wall response, and the attendant gossip that went with it. I would have heard about this, no matter how much I was on the outs with my fellow agents. But I still wasn’t going to take what Farrell was feeding me as gospel. No way. “I’ll be the one to determine my involvement and how I proceed, Farrell. I never saw a physical threat in the restaurant, just your man here freaking out.”
Farrell sighed, a long-suffering sound. “Why is it always the independent thinkers?”
The words were said as a lament, not requiring an answer, so I sat there and stared at them stonily, my piece still in my grip. Regardless of his grumbling, Farrell hadn’t said one clarifying word about the “threat”, so I had to take anything he said with a grain of salt. A freakin’ hefty one. Any thoughts of or concessions to professional courtesy had flown right out the window the moment we boogied out of the restaurant.
They’d seemed pretty damned certain I wouldn’t be able to use my gun. Which was all well and good, but continuing to breathe was one of my favorite pastimes, so I wasn’t going to take any chances by just laying down and letting them decide “what to do” with me.
“Look, Agent Thomas. At least let me have your things in the hotel moved. Surely you can’t object to that.” His voice was oh-so-reasonable, and pissed me off even as it made me even more wary. There was a damned sight more going on here. Yeah, I knew that, but being trapped in a car now barreling down the freeway with four guys I didn’t really know wasn’t exactly my favorite place to be. I didn’t trust these yahoos as far as I could throw them, and because of that, I could protest them touching my stuff.
If I “disappeared” from the hotel, it would be all too easy for me to disappear forever. Paranoid? Perhaps, but this whole situation had taken a turn for the surreal the moment Summers outed me.
Working cold cases had shown me how easy it was for someone to vanish without a trace. I couldn’t count on someone being as dedicated as I’d been at the job. “My stuff stays where it is.”
Farrell was giving me the eyeball, but I didn’t give a damn. After a moment he nodded curtly. “Fine, but after you hear what we have to say, I think you’ll reconsider. You’ll be safest at CASI. The security, from the gates on in, is state-of-the-art.”
“If it’s so damned good, then how did I get in there—twice?”
The bodyguard answered. “Because we allowed you to. There aren’t any students in residence now, and we were curious. Had you presented a threat, it would have been dealt with.”
From the way he said it, the way his eyes had gone flat, I knew exactly how it would have been “dealt with”. Why in the holy hell a school, of all things, needed to be protected at this level had become one of the many questions just waiting to leap off my tongue. And my “caught in the crosshairs” feeling had been dead-on, it seemed. I tried to work myself into a righteous case of pissedoffedness at being on the other end of a sniper scope, but it seemed like too much work until they came clean with me. That was yesterday. Today there were a whole new set of variables to get cranky over.
Making minimally nice with the other armed man in the car might be a good place to start working on winning friends and influencing people.
Since we were on the freeway, and the imminent threat seemed to have passed, I shifted my piece and held my hand out to the diminutive man. “Arin Thomas.”
His grip was firm, his hands almost pampered, but not quite. “Lloyd Trang. Mr. Farrell’s head of security.”
“I kinda figured that. Nice to meet you, Trang.” It paid to know one’s foes, even if I wasn’t quite sure if the “nice to meet you” part was the truth or not.
“I really can’t say the same, Agent Thomas,” Trang answered with no hint of inflection in his voice. “You’re now an unnecessary complication.”
I allowed a smirk to cross my face. Poking at this uptight little man could be amusing. And damn it, it was kinda empowering in a situation that had spun weirdly out of my control. “Yeah, but I’m a Bureau-trained complication, and an extra gun.”
He deflated my sense of superiority like a pin to a balloon. “So was Burke.”
****
When we drove through the gates of CASI, the driver punched a remote that closed them behind us. I gripped my Glock tighter, because even though I couldn’t hear them clang shut, in my brain the sound reverberated like a jail cell door. Hadn’t I just thought that yesterday? How time flies.
Then we were pulling in front of the building. Farrell, Summers and I got out of the car while Trang and the driver disappeared around the corner and presumably into a garage. The grounds really must be secure if Trang was willing to relinquish his position beside his boss. That made me feel marginally better.
We climbed the stairs as if not a thing was wrong in the world. I tucked my piece back into its rig, something I’m sure both Farrell and Summers noted. Neither seemed particularly distressed, and I worried that concept all over again in my brain. I’d need to figure out what in the hell Farrell had meant about not needing to resort to gunplay. Soon.
As we entered the building a cloud blotted out the sun, and I had to wonder if it was an omen. Everything else seemed to have gone to shit.
Summers’ office was still just as sterile, and he was still as much of an enigma as he’d been to this point. I settled into the chair I’d vacated only this morning, crossed my arms and waited for them to spill.
“Wes Burke was a murderer.” Farrell commandeered the corner of Summers’ desk, his casual pose a direct dichotomy to the words that hung in the air like poison.
I stared him down for a long moment, though inside my stomach was writhing in revolt. A murderer? No, no fucking way. It was impossible that the man they were describing was my Wes. The man who’d not only known my deepest, darkest secret, but had helped me when I trusted no one else to.
I would have seen it, would have known, somehow. Wes may have been a bit on the odd side, but nothing I’d ever seen painted him as a killer...
I took a deep internal breath and pushed my emotional response away, channeling everything I’d ever learned as a linguist, as a FBI agent, into verifying or refuting Farrell’s claim. No, none of Wes’ language traits or mannerisms had ever hinted that he was anything other than a damned good agent and better friend. The brother I’d never had. A kindred soul.
“You’re wrong,” I replied flatly.
“Unfortunately, he’s not.” Summers leaned back in the chair behind his desk, his eyes intent. “Burke was a product of CASI, and some unfortunate events in his past made him snap.”
Interesting wording—a product of CASI. A high-end “school” that produced what, exactly? Serial killers, apparently. Or so they thought. It was all bullshit, and each word they spoke made me angrier.
Why were they even bothering to yank my chain?
Farrell leaned forward, as if trying to impress the gravity of what he was saying on me. “He killed fifteen of my friends in a bid to take over CASI and the Meece Foundation. We stopped him.” The sorrow I’d sensed earlier seeped through before he quashed it ruthlessly, and with effort.
Like I gave a crap about his grief. Deep in my gut, rage was beginning to kindle in a slow burn. They’d pretty much admitted to killing Wes, and that was all I needed to get a warrant and an assload of agents here. But before I did, I wanted more information. I wanted a slam-fucking-dunk. “You and Summers stopped him.” I kept my tone bland. “Or was it Trang?”
Farrell cast a glance back at Summers. The psychiatrist raised one shoulder, as if asking why not? but kept his gaze on me, sharp and intelligent.
“None of the above, actually,” Farrell said after a pause where he seemed to be weighing his words. “If you continue on your quest, you’ll be meeting them.”
“Is that a threat?” Because it sure as hell sounded like one. My fingers itched to hold my Glock as I sat up straight in the chair, preparing to either duck and cover or take these bastards out once and for all.
Farrell flinched as if I’d struck him. Summers’ response was similar, as if I’d said something appalling.
“Hell no. They’re colleagues, of a sort. In fact, Sara was Burke’s best friend, years ago.”
“Sorry, not buying it. You’re talking about a fellow agent here, a friend, and I need more than words.” I wasn’t fibbing. There was no way in hell Wes had done what they described, but something wasn’t right here. Their behavior was just off, their words and mannerisms sincere. Not that it mattered one iota, not when they were talking about the murder of a federal agent. They could believe what they said all day long.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter if you buy it or not, Agent Thomas, because you’re hip-deep in it now.” Farrell sounded resigned. “And to be brutally honest, I can use your brain—and your gun—if things continue as they have. But you have to decide if you’re in or out before we tell—or show—you any more.”
I sat silently for a few moments, pondering. The more they talked, the more ammo I had. And more information was always better. I needed a good layout of the school, an idea of what their armory looked like, and any additional tactical information I could ferret out. Then I’d find a way out, or a way to clue Underwood in as to what was really going down.
“You’d just let me walk? No repercussions?”
“You don’t really know anything.” This time it was Summers who answered, his oh-so-calm voice rumbling over me, through me.
I bristled a bit in response. Words were my forte, and he was trying to use them and his tone to get his way. Maybe even prove a point.
He continued, a tiny smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as if he knew I’d seen right through him. “You can surmise, or put yourself in even more danger by pursuing your answers, but when push comes to shove, you don’t know squat.”
Or so they thought. “I’m in. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”
Summers shared a long look with Farrell, then swiveled in his chair and logged in to his computer. Two minutes later I was looking at crystal clear footage of Wes, my best friend, my confidante, a fellow law enforcement officer, admit to cold-bloodedly murdering CASI’s backers, just as Farrell claimed. Saw him admit it to a woman who clearly loved him, and then ended his life.
“Innocents? Yes, I killed them, every last one. They’re starting CASI back up, Sara. Do you realize what that means? More kids like us, tortured, being trained to use their talent as a weapon. Stopping Farrell is the only way to make sure it doesn’t happen again. CASI can’t be allowed to be reborn.”
“Good try. You sent Pardo after me. Toyed with me when all you needed to do was pick up the phone and tell me what was happening. I know why you didn’t. You have a taste for it now. You like killing people. Especially people you aren’t supposed to be able to get to.”
“You can’t stop me, Sara, unless you kill me, and I can’t see you doing that. Join me instead. We can stop Meece and CASI and go underground.”
I sat back in my chair as if I’d been punched, the air thin around me. I took a deep breath, then another, my thoughts whirling. The footage could have been doctored, but I didn’t think so. The scene didn’t feel staged, and the expression of malice, of greed, on Wes’ face was too real to be an act. He’d believed every word he uttered. But even through my shock, two things rang true. The part about kids being used as weapons, and the part where Wes admitted to killing exactly who Farrell had claimed.
My heart broke as it really sunk in what Wes had done. A child was something to treasure, to nurture. They were never, ever a “tool”. But it didn’t matter, because if his comment about the children was on-target, then I was taking these assholes out regardless of Wes’ actions, regardless of how my heart had broken with each of his words. How they’d felt like bullets.
I slowly stood, and met Farrell’s gaze, then Summers’ before moving behind the chair and bracing my hands on the back. “So he really did this.”
Farrell nodded as Summers walked around the desk and perched kitty-corner to his boss. “He really did. Sara was his best friend, and he utterly betrayed her.”
“Lot of that going around,” I muttered, then wished I hadn’t when the two men exchanged a loaded glance.
“So, what he said about the children being trained as weapons. Care to elaborate on that?” I’d stood for this specific reason. They weren’t armed, and I was closer to the door and had a weapon. Trang was nowhere in sight. Depending on their answer, this could get very interesting.
Farrell sighed. “He wasn’t wholly wrong. When Wes and Sara lived here, that’s exactly what they were being trained as. The headmaster was an evil son of a bitch, completely out of control. I was still with the NSA and totally out of the loop, so he was pretty much on his own. It was a cluster fuck of spectacular proportions. Sara and Wes stopped him, but not before everything went south. It’s taken us a decade to get back to making this a viable school, but one that nurtures these kids, makes them understand how very special they are.”
He was one hundred percent sincere. The footage I’d watched had shown the woman, Sara, diverting Wes away from the kids in question. What he’d said just now, and the way he said it, told me that his own children, and the ones who went to this school, were vitally important to him.
But good intentions weren’t enough. If it had happened before it could happen again, and there was no way in hell this “school” was going to use these kids as weapons. I straightened, crossing my arms, positioning my left hand next to the butt of the Glock. Drawing across my body wasn’t my favorite way to go, but I’d do what I had to.
“In for a penny, in for a pound, right, Jonah?” Farrell asked, and I tensed in response.
Summers moved lightning-fast, surging across the three feet between us, his expression resigned, as if he’d been waiting for this moment and dreading it. My fingers had barely brushed the butt of the Glock before his hands were on me and everything went still and quiet.
I couldn’t move a muscle. Then Summers pushed lightly, his fingers never leaving my left arm. Both hands dropped to my sides as I drifted slowly, my Rockports shuffling on the shiny hardwood, until I stood in front of the chair. He pressed down on my arm and I sat, then completely relaxed in the chair, my hands folded meekly in my lap.
In my mind I screamed. I tried to tense my muscles to grab the arms of the chair, to vault out of it, but my body was not my own. It was the most terrifying sensation I’d ever faced.
Farrell squatted in front of me, his gaze level with mine. “Are you with me, Agent Thomas?” He tilted his head, assessing me. “Given the way your eyes are flashing fire, I’d say so. Here’s the way it is. CASI’s kids have extrasensory powers, just like Jonah here. We teach them how to hone them, how to use them. How not to nut up like Wes did. We are not training them to be weapons, or tools for the government. That’s why I resigned from the NSA, because they were going there, and it was within my power to stop it.” He reached beneath my jacket and pulled the Glock. “I’m only taking this because my first instinct would be to ventilate anyone who’d done what Jonah just did. Your weapon will be on the table by the front door.”
He stood. “Think about what you’ve seen, Agent Thomas. Think about it hard.” Then he walked out the door, leaving Summers and I alone.
Summers sat in the mate to my chair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Agent Thomas, but it had to be done. What we’re trying to do here...it has to happen.”
His fingers clenched briefly on my arm and my body went stiff as a board. Summers stood, and when he removed his hand I still couldn’t move. “It’ll take a moment to wear off. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
I heard the door click closed behind me and tears of rage and humiliation pricked at my eyes. The rage was easily understandable. The humiliation, not so much.
Jonah Summers’ touch had done more than control me, it lit a fire within I’d never felt before. A fire that made my nipples peak and heat lick through me. And the worst part was, I could tell it wasn’t part of his coercion. It was the fact he was all man, and the woman in me delighted at the contact, the loss of control, and damn the reasons behind it.
First Wes, then Summers. One betrayal to the next. First my heart, then my body.