The Pain Colony

by Shanon Hunt

  A woman with a child came out just as a young woman stepped inside. It would probably be easiest to do this when the bank had customers. They’d be more likely to move him along. It was now or never.

  He mopped his face one last time and walked toward the bank.

  Chapter 55

  Allison stood in the teller line of Delbarton Bank, nervously chewing the skin on her thumb. As she neared the front, she reached into her folder for the page with the account information. Where was it? She knelt and opened the folder on the floor, riffling through the documents.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  A heavyset man loomed over her. He wore a badge that read DEA on a lanyard around his neck. His face was shiny with sweat, and his eyes turned into small crescent moons with his smile, which might have made Allison smile back under different circumstances.

  “I just need to get by you, sorry.” He pointed to the cubicle on the other side of the line. On the outside of the cubby hung a placard that read Julia Esposito, Assistant Branch Manager.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. Of course.” She snatched up her papers and rose, stepping back to let him pass. Her eyes followed him as he ambled over to the cubicle and said something to the woman behind the desk that she couldn’t hear.

  “Next, please.” The teller was motioning her to step forward.

  “Uh, sorry—I just need to, uh …” She moved over to the island counter, her attention glued to the man at the desk of the assistant manager.

  “This is quite urgent, as I’m sure you can imagine,” she heard him say. “We believe the owner of this account might be responsible for a drug that has killed several people.”

  Oh god. He was looking for her.

  She jerked away from the counter and her purse tangled in the chain of a counter pen, spilling its contents all over the marble floor. Every head turned in her direction.

  The DEA agent was the only one who got up to help.

  “Are you okay there?” He awkwardly bent down on one knee to help her pick up her things.

  “Yeah. I—I just … my purse just hooked …” She jammed the papers back into the folder, then picked up her sunglasses. One of the lenses had popped out, and she scanned the floor for it.

  “Here you go, Allison.”

  Her head spun around.

  “Your name—right here on your phone.” He held out her phone, one finger pointing to the business card she’d taped to the case. He smiled, and the crescent moons appeared again.

  “Thank you.” She could only whisper, waiting for him to say I’m afraid I’m going to have to place you under arrest.

  He put one hand on his large knee and stood back up with a grunt. “Happens to the best of us.” He winked at her with one crescent moon.

  She forced a smile and walked to the door as calmly as she could. Once in the parking lot, she ran to her car.

  Chapter 56

  Allison pulled into a shady picnic area near Lake Parsippany and turned off the engine. Except for a handful of crows pecking at scattered trash, she was alone. Not surprising with the heat and humidity at its highest. The place would be packed by five o’clock. She watched the entrance to the parking lot for several minutes, expecting a police car to pull in next to her. Today would be her last day of freedom. As soon as that DEA agent in the bank realized that those patients had been paid from her account, there would be a warrant for her arrest. Her time was up.

  She needed a lawyer. She pulled out her phone.

  You killed my brother with your stupid drug.

  Her mouth felt as dry as straw, and the thought of hiring an attorney seemed somehow so overwhelming that she simply stared at the Google search page, her brain paralyzed.

  Without thinking, she texted Ryan. “Wanna grab a beer?”

  Shit. What was she doing? It wasn’t even noon yet.

  A quick reply. “Sorry—AC. Ad board for the Alz Dis portfolio.”

  Her heart sank. She was supposed to have been in Atlantic City at that advisory board meeting with Austin. He’d been excited about moving into Alzheimer’s disease.

  A second text appeared. “Oops. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Pls delete.”

  Jerk. Did he really think she was going to immediately pick up her phone and dial some biotech stock analyst—

  Her phone whistled again with a third text. “We probably shouldn’t hang out anymore.”

  That stung, and she collapsed over the steering wheel, wanting to sob, but no tears would come. She couldn’t blame Ryan for walking away. They weren’t friends, really. She’d been aloof, probably downright hostile, toward him since he’d joined Quandary. He’d responded by dubbing her Cruella de Vil and shutting her out of his deals. And of course there was the unpleasant scene at her apartment yesterday.

  Her face crumpled and she shook her head. How had she ended up here? In this place in life?

  She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a flask Austin had given her when she graduated with her master’s. She read the inscription: To Ease the “Pain.”

  Just one swig to loosen her up. She took a long drink of the vodka and put it back. She dialed a number by memory and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly while the phone rang on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom.” Her voice cracked and tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Allison?”

  “Yeah.”

  After a long pause, “Why are you calling? Are you in trouble?”

  Still unable to speak without sobbing, she grabbed a handful of hair and pulled, hoping the physical pain would override her emotional anguish.

  “Jesus, Allison, what is it? Money? Is that why you’re calling me? Of course it is.”

  “No, I—”

  “Charles,” her mom called out. “It’s Allison. She's calling for money.”

  Allison disconnected the call. She hurled the phone onto the seat next to her and threw open the car door. She surged out of the car and bellowed, “Fuck you! Fuck everyone!”

  You killed my brother with your stupid drug.

  All the energy drained out of her, and she felt heavy. Her head was pounding, and her body ached. She looked at the parking lot entrance again, wishing the police would pull in. Just get it over with.

  But none did.

  Ten minutes later, she sat back down in the car. She had only one more card to play. She pulled out the B. Elliott folder. Karen Richmond’s profile was on top. She looked over the details again, even though she already felt like she knew Karen. So young, and such a pretty face.

  She dialed *67 to block her number—she couldn’t stomach another disturbing text image—and dialed Karen Richmond’s phone. Time to finish this. If Karen was dead, she’d go to the police. Tell them everything she knew.

  A man picked up the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

  She gathered her courage. “Hi. My name is Allison, and I’m looking for Karen Richmond. Is she available?”

  Chapter 57

  Malloy’s office door swung open with such force that he heard the crunch of drywall cracking as the door handle lodged in the wall. Garcia stomped through the doorway.

  “What the fuck?” Malloy stood and braced himself, ready for a fight.

  Wide-eyed, Garcia held a cell phone to his ear and pointed madly at it.

  Malloy shrugged his shoulders and mouthed What?

  “My name is Dan,” Garcia said into the phone. “I do know Karen Richmond, but unfortunately, she isn’t available. She died in an accident about two months ago. Were you a friend?”

  Garcia feverishly turned left and right, in search of something. He snatched a Sharpie from the pen cup and using his whole forearm, swept all the folders and papers off Malloy’s desk and onto the floor. He wrote directly on the desk: Allison?

  Malloy ran to the other side of his desk, unsure how to react to such a gesture.

  Garcia continued to pace from one side of the office to the other, nervously twirling the Sharpie. Garc
ia was typically anything but overdramatic. His state of agitation was so out of character that Malloy stayed silent.

  “Wait, please don’t hang up. My brother, Tyler Steele, took the LXR drug, just like Karen. He’s dead now too, and I’ve been trying to find out who gave him the drug. Do you know him? If you can help me, if you have any information, I’d really be grateful. All I want is find out how this all happened.”

  Malloy finally caught on. Someone had called Karen Richmond’s phone. They gave this to her, Lyle Richmond had said. The phone had never been used. Until now.

  At long last, they had their man. Or woman.

  “Give it to me,” Malloy ordered in a hoarse whisper. He held out his hand.

  Garcia stared, his eyes as wide as silver dollars. He rapidly shook his head side to side and continued speaking. “Do you know about the other victims? I’ve learned that there were others. Did you know?”

  Despite his deer-in-the-headlights look, Garcia’s voice was soft. Calm.

  Give it to me, Malloy mouthed, now through gritted teeth.

  Garcia wrote on Malloy’s desk again. “No cops.”

  “Listen, please, Allison.” Garcia was pleading. Malloy had never heard this voice. “I just want to know what happened to my brother. I know some things about it—like, I know it was a gene-altering drug they gave him. And I know it made him unable to feel pain. I’ve learned some other things too. Listen, maybe we can help each other. I mean, if you’re looking for information about Karen? Please, he was my brother. I miss him so much. You’re my only hope.”

  With the Sharpie, Garcia tapped the question mark he’d written after Allison? several times.

  Malloy sat down, stunned. The woman on the other end had called the Tracfone, and she hadn’t provided a last name. If she was calling from an unlisted number, they wouldn’t have a prayer of finding her if she hung up right now. Goddammit, Garcia had good instincts.

  “Please help me. Tyler was only nineteen. He was my baby brother. He was going to be a teacher, an elementary school teacher. He was the best thing in my life. Please.” Garcia’s voice was so soft, Malloy wondered if she could hear him from the other end.

  There was a long pause, and he was just about to demand the phone when Garcia started speaking again. “Oh, hey, hey,” Garcia cooed, “it’s okay, it’s okay. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Malloy could hear sobs on the other end of the phone. Garcia picked up the marker and frantically scribbled on the desk. Malloy could only make out a few of the words: Quandary. LXR. Chimps. 8 vics. Jake. Eric. DBB. Harris. Chambers. FBI. The writing continued for several minutes as Garcia soothed the crying woman, encouraging her to let it out, just let it out.

  Finally, Garcia wrote She paid them! and underlined it twice.

  Jesus. He’d done it.

  “Can you send it to me? I’ll give you my email address.” Garcia walked out of the office.

  Malloy plopped down in his chair. His entire body seemed to melt into the chair as relief washed over him. The feeling was so overwhelming, he just couldn’t help it. His eyes filled with tears.

  They’d found Tyler’s bad guys.

  Chapter 58

  Tuesday nights weren’t typically busy at Frank’s Tavern, but tonight the bar was overloaded with some kind of reunion party. Frank, the proprietor, had been running around since Allison had arrived. She sat at the bar nursing a tasteless beer as she forwarded the video of the chimps from her phone. Her eyes still felt puffy, but the call to that guy Dan had somehow been cathartic. Poor guy had lost his brother, and he deserved to see what the drug had done to those chimpanzees. First thing in the morning, she would turn over the video and the patient profiles to the police.

  But not before one last drink, even if it tasted like water.

  A twenty-something girl shrieked as two handsome twenty-something boys strolled in. “Oh my god! I haven’t seen you in so long!” She jumped off the stool and kissed them exuberantly, once on each cheek.

  Allison glanced at Frank.

  He rolled his eyes and mimicked putting his finger down his throat, the universal sign for I’m going to puke.

  She smiled weakly. She’d been frequenting his bar, which was perfectly situated three blocks from her apartment, since she’d moved into this sleepy suburban town. She’d sit at the end of the bar, just as she did now, and watch him subtly insult the customers. She usually enjoyed being in on his fun, but tonight there was no joy anywhere in her to be found.

  The new gang of three didn’t stay. The cutesy girl dropped a bill on the bar and hollered “Bye, Frankie!” as she left with the boys.

  Frank ambled over and grabbed the empty glasses off the bar. “I have to admit my acceptable range of human voice frequency has narrowed as I’ve gotten older. That girl could’ve been a squirrel for all I could tell.”

  She forced a courtesy chuckle and considered leaving. Agent Gadorski was likely stationed in his favorite parking spot in front of her apartment, waiting to arrest her.

  On second thought, perhaps she’d stay a little longer.

  She was about to ask Frank to make her a vodka tonic when someone sat at the other end of the bar.

  Frank approached the newcomer. “Hi there. What can I getcha?”

  “What do you have up for an IPA?”

  “Let’s see, I have a Kane Overhead Imperial IPA, delicious. I have Smuttynose Finestkind, solid 4.1 from BeerAdvocate and a masterful representation of the style, and I have a Goose IPA for those beer drinkers who lack a palate.”

  She laughed despite herself, and the newcomer smiled in her direction with gleaming teeth and sparkling eyes. His hair was dark blond and thick, slightly too long, and he sported a week’s worth of stubble. She might have found him handsome if he hadn’t been a bit on the short side for her taste. Not that she was in the mood for socializing.

  “Well, I guess it’s the Kane. Thanks.”

  Frank pulled his beer, gave her a sly smile, and raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Cheers.” The newcomer lifted his beer in Allison’s direction.

  She lifted her glass. He turned to look at his vibrating phone. She took a sip and returned to watching the bubbles.

  The bar emptied in a rush. She guessed that meant the bill had been paid. Austin had loved to host Quandary happy hours. After an hour he’d announce Last call before Dad picks up the check. Drinks after that come out of your own wallets! Once the check was paid, everyone scattered to the wind. She smiled at the memory, then hated herself for feeling sentimental.

  “What’s going on here?”

  She glanced up at Frank, who stood against the bar, looking between her and the newcomer. They glanced at each other questioningly.

  “That’s the problem with you young folks. You have your faces buried in your phones, and you don’t talk. Look around! You’re the only two people here. This is a bar, for Christ’s sake! A place for social gathering.”

  She smiled apologetically at the newcomer.

  “This is my friend, Allison,” Frank said with dramatic flair. “She’s twenty-nine, single, and loves IPA most nights.” He stalked to the other side of the bar.

  She felt the heat rise from her chest to her face. “Sorry about that.”

  The newcomer laughed and moved over two seats to sit next to her, politely leaving one stool between them. “I’m Luke. I’m thirty-two, single, and I love IPA. Should we get right to the wedding planning, then?”

  He had an earnest look about his deep-set blue eyes, and she found herself wanting to like him. But today was not the day. She pulled her purse onto her lap and dropped her phone into it.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking back down at his beer. “Too soon for wedding jokes?”

  She smiled politely. “I’ve had a rough day—and believe me, I’m not the right girl for wedding jokes or even dating jokes.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  She gave Frank a subtle glare. If this guy was trying to flirt with h
er, he would be sorely disappointed. But she didn’t want to be rude.

  “Okay, let’s hear your best dating joke.” She didn’t smile, but Luke didn’t appear to notice.

  “Oh, the pressure.” He took a couple of rapid breaths. “Okay, ready? A guy walks into the bar with his date. The bartender says, ‘I’m sorry, we don’t serve food here.’”

  She repressed a grin. It was a really dumb joke.

  “Get it? Date? The fruit? Brilliant, right?”

  She exhaled. “I’m really sorry, but this has been the worst week of my life.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you got it off your chest. They say telling a stranger your problems is therapeutic.”

  God, he wouldn’t go away. “You must not be from New Jersey.”

  “Nope.” He sat back on his stool and relaxed his shoulders. Maybe he thought he’d successfully broken the ice. “I live in the boondocks of South Carolina.”

  “Well, Luke, here in New Jersey, we don’t talk about our shitty lives. We just internalize it until it eats us from the inside like a cancer, and we shrivel up and die.”

  “Whale hail, hon, now that ain’t no way da live.”

  The sudden shift into a southern accent caught her off guard. She looked at him and smirked.

  “How bad can it be, sweet thang?” he said.

  He just couldn’t take a hint. “Okay, for starters, I got fired from my job today. I used to be in the business of curing young children of debilitating diseases. Now I’m nothing.”

  “Okay, okay. There’s always another job.”

  “Second, I’ve been framed for fraud and embezzlement. I’ll probably be arrested any minute now, and I’ll spend the next year trying to prove I didn’t do it.”

  “Shit.” His smile faded, and his grave expression was somehow satisfying to her.