The Hunted

by Val Tobin

  It occurred to her she hadn’t asked Stefan how Marne, his wife of two years, had taken Jeff’s death. Rachel found it easy to forget Marne even existed, but dismissing the woman so easily wasn’t fair. She’d never done anything hurtful or mean to the two kids.

  Both Rachel and Jeff had moved out by the time their father had started seeing her. They’d met her only twice by the time Dad and Marne announced their engagement, and then Rachel and Jeff had attended the wedding. After that, Marne had been a minor character in Rachel’s story. Jeff maintained the same distance from their stepmother.

  Absorbed in her musings, she hadn’t heard Avery announcing her to her father. Startled from her reveries by the sound of his voice, she said, “Dad.”

  “Come on in.” He waved her in and returned to his desk. Over his shoulder, he said, “Close the door behind you.”

  Rachel set down the empty coffee cup—somehow, she’d finished the entire cup without remembering she’d done it. What a waste of such orgasmic coffee.

  She rose, ready to beard father lion in his posh den.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As ordered, she shut the door behind her. Rachel glanced at the lock and almost turned it but decided against it. Their interaction needed to appear informal—as informal as discussing a dead son and brother could get.

  She arrived at the chair in front of his desk in two long strides and sat, her back straight, her feet together and tucked slightly under her chair. Her hands she folded in her lap. She got to business.

  “Where’s Jeff’s body? When will they release him?”

  “They already released it. It’s at the funeral parlour.”

  “What?” She jumped to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said you’d keep me in the loop, let me take charge of his funeral.”

  “Take it easy.” Stefan leaned back in his chair, unperturbed. “The lab called and asked where I’d want the body sent. I gave them the name of the place where we held your mother’s memorial.”

  The reminder of her mother’s memorial scored a jab to her heart. Since they’d never found her mother’s body, not even pieces of it, Rachel lacked emotional closure. Despite witnessing her mother’s death, despite seeing the grendel swinging her mother’s head by the hair in triumph after the kill, Rachel never felt as if her mother’s life had ended. The memorial had brought her a tiny step closer to accepting it, but it hadn’t provided the finality she needed.

  She dropped back into her seat, calming her body with effort. She’d have called the same place anyway, and her father, not his assistant, had made the decision. That mattered most. She’d let him have this one.

  “Okay,” she said, “I’m sorry. I want it to be nice for Jeff.”

  “So do I, honey,” he replied.

  The kindness in his voice brought to mind the dad who’d spent afternoons teaching her how to skip stones on the lake at the cottage. For a moment, affection for him flooded through her, and she wondered if Jeff hadn’t been following the wrong trail. Sure, Needham Scientific Research Facility explored genetic modification. Nothing wrong with that. A growing area of study, genetics provided hope for a better future. Mapping the genome had given them a huge leap forward. Naturally they’d take advantage of it if they had the resources.

  And then Stefan glanced at his watch and said, “I’m rather busy, Rachel. Can we speed this along?”

  The undercurrent of annoyance in his tone bubbled irritation through her blood. This was his son they discussed—his dead, barely into adulthood son—and that brought to mind how he’d let them go to Storm Lake without him the weekend the grendels appeared. If he’d known what awaited them in the trees, why had he allowed them to go there? Had he wanted his family dead? Or had he miscalculated? After all, he’d intended to join them the next day.

  Unable yet again to reveal everything on her mind, she said instead, “Did you hear from Jeff after I called to tell you he was missing?”

  “No. He never called me. We weren’t on the best terms when he died.”

  “You could’ve reached out to him before all this happened.”

  “I tried. He refused to listen. Don’t you think I wanted him working in our lab? He was brilliant. We could have used his big brain on our side.”

  Interesting way to phrase it. Were there sides here? What were they?

  “All you had to do was talk to him. He wanted to do what’s right.”

  Stefan shook his head. “He bought into the conspiracy theories floating around about the company. I don’t know why, but he believed we created the grendels.”

  “No truth to any of that?” she poked.

  He chuckled. “None whatsoever. We do research. Provide intel on them to you protectors so you can enter the forests better equipped to fight them. We provide a necessary service. Beneficial research.”

  “What else do you do with the information?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you experiment with it?”

  “Of course. That’s what labs do. We want to use this knowledge to create a better world through genetic engineering.”

  She tried a different avenue. “Are the grendels they brought in with Jeff’s body still here?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see them?”

  “We’re working on them. It’s not a good time.”

  “When will be a good time?”

  “When my examiner and the examiner from the university are done with them.”

  No good. She’d be in the woods by then. “I’d like to see the results, then.”

  “I’m sorry, but those findings are classified.” He paused, studying her. “What’s your interest in this?”

  “Are you serious? My brother is my interest in this.” And the mysterious state of his body and the two grendels they’d found lounging against a tree. But intuition prevented her from vocalizing that. Perhaps he didn’t have all the details on the state in which they’d found the creatures and Jeff; in which case, he wouldn’t hear it from her.

  She stayed quiet, watching his face as she considered the implications of what he’d said. It sounded logical. She just didn’t accept that he did what he did for the good of humanity. Her dad wasn’t a philanthropist. Whenever he got involved in charity work, it was strategically done: for PR, for tax breaks, for personal benefit.

  “Have you been up to the cottage at all, Dad? You know, since it first happened.”

  He grimaced at her. “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “Jeff’s death made me think about Mom. I wondered if you ever sent teams in after her.”

  “Once.” He hung his head. “I sent them to where you and Jeff had said you’d seen her die, but they found only the boat. I had them pull it from the water, but we left it there.”

  “I wish you’d told me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d have gone along.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You were barely fifteen then.”

  So, he’d waited two years. “What did they find? Anything helpful?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About the grendels—where they came from.”

  “No,” he said, quickly. “What’s to find? The trees they’d grown in rotted away.”

  “Did you do any tests on them?”

  “They examined them. Took samples.” He squinted at her, frowning. “What is all this?”

  “I’m curious. All this time and no one knows how they got here? Why they exist? Why they appeared where they did?”

  He shrugged and glanced at his watch again.

  “I know, Dad, you’re busy,” she said, a trace of resentment in her voice.

  “I’m not trying to rush you out, but I have work to do.”

  “Yes, of course you do.”

  “That’s not fair. You know I loved your brother.”

  She also knew he kept referring to Jeff in the past tense. “I still love my brother.”

  Stefan sighed in exasperation. “Rachel, please.
What do we need to review regarding the funeral arrangements?”

  She stood. “I guess your part’s done. All you’ll need to do is show up.”

  He rose, levelling his gaze at her. “You’re upset, grieving. I understand. It’s just you and me, kid. We have to stick together.”

  “Oh? Did you and Marne split up?”

  He scowled. “Of course not. I meant our original family.” He shook his head. “Take it however you will. Neither of you seemed to want to meet me halfway.”

  “Meet you halfway? What does that mean?”

  “You should be running the business with me. You both should already be climbing the ladder here—Jeff in research, you in the business end.”

  “Me? Business?” She almost laughed. When his expression remained grim, she said, “You’re serious?”

  “I tried to interest both of you in what we’re doing here. Neither of you wanted to work here—not part-time when you were in high school, not during summer vacations when you were in university. You showed no interest.”

  “That’s not true, Daddy. You tried to force us into specific jobs. I wanted to work in law enforcement. You wouldn’t even let me work on the security team here doing the smallest, most menial job. Even though you have your personal teams of protectors, you wouldn’t let me join them. You wanted me in accounting. Jeff wanted to work in genetic research on grendels. You tried to place him in microbiology.”

  “I knew where you’d have best fit.”

  “No, you didn’t. You wanted us where it suited you.” To keep an eye on them?

  “Which was best for you. I understood what you and the company needed. You were just kids. I had to decide for you. Who do you think I want to leave my business to? You’re still named as my successor—Jeff too. Isn’t it about time you started acting like the future CEO of this company?”

  “Not Marne? Or your investors?” He’d always made the investors a priority.

  “Over my flesh and blood? No. I need you here, involved. I intend to live a long time, Rachel, but you need to be groomed for—” He bit off whatever else he wanted to say, snapping his mouth closed. After a second, he said, “Okay, you’re angry. Why don’t we wrap it up for today? Go arrange your brother’s funeral. Let me know if you need help, and I’ll get Avery to give you a hand.”

  “Avery. Sure. Got it,” she said, her voice flat, cold.

  He let that one slide.

  “All right, then, sweetie.” A smile lit his face. “Call me anytime, right?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” She let him walk her out. As Stefan’s door clicked shut behind her, she realized that not once during the time she’d spent with her father had they hugged or kissed.

  ***

  On the way to her car, Rachel detoured to the laboratories. If her father didn’t want her to see the bodies, she’d deke around him. Perhaps she could charm her way in. If she had to, she’d use her protector badge. Security doors manned by a guard stopped her before she could enter any part of that section of the building.

  “Miss Needham,” the guard said. “How may I help you?”

  “My father said the grendels they brought in the other day are still here. I’d like to view the bodies.”

  “I’m sorry, but this section is off-limits to non-personnel.”

  “Didn’t anyone call you to let you know I was coming down here?” she asked in a tone that betrayed utter puzzlement with a hint of frustration. Her heart thudded against her chest, but she’d played it pretty smoothly.

  “No, but if you wait a moment, I can confirm it with the front desk.”

  “Confirm it with Avery—my father’s assistant. He should’ve called down here when I left my dad. Oh, wait,” she added as if it’d just occurred to her. “Here’s my protector badge. I’m the one who brought the bodies in.” She’d brought them in to Protector HQ, but the guard didn’t need to know that.

  The guard hesitated. Finally, he said, “I’ll give Avery a quick call.”

  Rachel’s heart sank, but she didn’t give up all hope.

  He placed a call to the CEO’s office and Avery picked up immediately. Rachel listened to the guard’s half of the conversation, plastering a bored expression on her face.

  “I have Miss Needham here, Mister Bloom, requesting entrance to the laboratories where they brought the most recently captured grendel bodies. She says she has clearance?” His gaze met Rachel’s as he listened to Avery’s response. He frowned. “No, she said her father approved it. Said you were to call down?” After another pause, he said, “Yes, I’ll hold.”

  Rachel knew she’d lost then. Avery would check with her father, and he’d tell them not to allow her in. Frustrated, she almost reached for the phone and demanded to speak to her father, but Avery must’ve returned because the guard said, “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Mister Bloom.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her father ordered her escorted from the building. He provided no option, refused to speak to her, and Avery hung up the phone after the guard assured him Rachel would leave. She went without struggling, in silence.

  What would this do to her relationship with her father? Would he have her watched now? Had he had Jeff under surveillance? If so, then he’d known everything that had happened to Jeff. A ball of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach. Her father had been concerned about what Jeff was involved in. However, Jeff had never indicated he worried anyone was following him. Perhaps the situation hadn’t been that drastic. It’s possible their father only knew what he heard from Jeff or from the media.

  Somehow, she doubted that. Her father had always been the proactive type. His motto was strike first; strike hard. Had he struck Jeff into silence?

  As Rachel drove home, she glanced frequently into the rear-view mirror.

  ***

  The next morning, Rachel and her team left her house at five. Hound Dog drove, Rachel rode shotgun, and the other three squeezed into the back seat of the pickup truck. They had no issue from the sentries when they reached the gates out of the city. Hound Dog showed his protector badge and the woman on duty waved them through. She never even asked them to state their business.

  When they’d left Rachel’s, darkness still reigned as a crisp and clear early morning ushered them to the highway. Rachel wore a turtleneck under her down jacket. The woods would be chilly, but at least the trees would be shedding their leaves. Places for grendels to hide would be fewer and obvious enough that trained protectors could avoid them or hunt them down.

  The creatures would be burrowing in for the long winter ahead. Based on what Rachel had learned over the years, grendels semi-hibernated through winter. They’d leave their nests to forage for food, stalking anything living. If the winter was particularly harsh, many of them would die before the spring thaw.

  Yet more always burst from the trees come springtime.

  In the intervening years since the grendels had first appeared, those who hunted them had learned to destroy trees that sported burls. Whether the bulge was just a burl or it gestated a grendel became irrelevant. Since they couldn’t tell the difference, they’d chop down the tree and burn it.

  Not environmentally friendly, and certainly not a solution for the long term, but if they didn’t prevent new grendels from birthing, humans wouldn’t be around to worry about the environment.

  As they drove, Rachel kept her eye on the rear view. No one appeared to tail them, but she remained uneasy. At least the extra copy of the files from Jeff’s memory stick would soon be in the lawyer’s hands. Rachel had snail-mailed them—no return address on the envelope and with a note instructing the lawyer to store it in a safe deposit box until something happened to Rachel. She’d assured herself as she composed the letter that writing as if something would happen rather than that something might happen served only to highlight the seriousness of the situation. It didn’t mean she’d eventually lose the battle.

  While she’d been nervous trusting such valuable and dangerous information to sn
ail mail, she worried hand-delivering it would endanger the recipient. If anyone her dad had sent to spy on her saw her acting suspiciously, all involved would be in immediate danger. At least this way, she could conceal mailing the files with a trip to the variety store to pick up milk.

  “Our only entrance is from Storm Lake Road?” Hound Dog asked, breaking a silence that had lasted from the time they drove onto Highway 115 until they reached Highway 28 via Television Road—County Road 4 route.

  “Correct,” Rachel replied. “We have to pass through Ridley—whatever’s left of it, anyway.” She hadn’t been up that way in twelve years. Every mission HQ posted that took a team out Ridley way she’d passed on. Pattenden understood and never pressed her to go. Missions out to Ridley had been few and far between anyway. Storm Lake missions had been rarer still—only one or two search and rescues in the years since the grendels had first appeared.

  They had her father to thank for that. He always sent his teams in to clear out the area so he could get maintenance crews to the cottage. Or so he’d told everyone, including Captain Pattenden and HQ.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  Hound Dog glanced at her. “What’s up?”

  “None of our teams from HQ ever go to Storm Lake because my dad’s company has it covered.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m just saying, if he’s hiding something, covering up his role in this, it’s the perfect smokescreen. He pretty much has his monsters guarding his secrets. We don’t even know if he’s actually clearing them or letting them proliferate to keep people out.”

  “A little dramatic, don’t you think?” The speaker was Foot-Long.

  “I hope so,” she said. “Otherwise, we’re in for a hairy time.”

  “No one goes into the woods anymore,” he continued. “He’d have no reason to let grendels run loose. The threat of them is enough.”

  “I hope you’re right, but stay alert out there. Don’t assume anywhere is safe.”

  “At least we’ll have indoor shelter, right?”