Rodolfo knew the man needed a release. “Actually, there’s a friend who’s been putting up missing posters for that fertility doctor who was so helpful to us a while back. It would good if she stopped doing that, don’t you think?”
Nicholas took a quick inhale before his breathy response. “Yes, sir.”
It felt like an almost sexual exchange; it clearly gave the man so much pleasure.
“She needs to stop doing this permanently?” Nicholas asked, his eyes growing vacant.
“Yes. That would be best,” Rodolfo said. “And soon.”
Nicholas stood, not waiting to be dismissed.
Rodolfo had to put up his good hand to stop him. “And please see Vin on the way out. We have a new safe house that is to be yours in the interim while you find a new home. I know you like to have your own space.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vitullo. You are too kind. Thank you so much. Her name?”
Rodolfo dragged an envelope out from under the book he’d been reading. “It’s all here.”
Nicholas put the envelope to his nose and inhaled like it was an expensive wine. “Thank you so much, sir.”
Eve and Beckett were in Virginia before lunch on what should have been a lazy Sunday. She was anxious to meet the woman Beckett, via Spider, claimed might have information on Nicholas’ current whereabouts. He’d explained that this woman’s friend had gone missing a while back and seemed to have come to a similar fate as her father, probably by the same evil hands. Treats and Spider had provided them with an exact location, and they pulled into the driveway of the house without the benefit of its occupant having a warning.
Eve led the charge from the vehicle and knocked on the door. It took three rounds of knocking before it finally cracked open. “Hi. You were a friend of Sonia Kore?” she asked politely when a face appeared.
“Was? I am. I am a friend of Sonia’s. Unless you know something I don’t.”
“According to your posters, she was wearing a yellow dress the night she went missing. Is that correct?” Eve pulled out her phone and brought up the picture Ryan had sent her of the shard of dress he’d seen at Nicholas’s place.
“Are you with the police department?” The friend pulled her robe closer and gave Eve a skeptical once over.
“No. I’ve recently lost someone. And I think my someone and your someone might have had the same killer.” Eve showed the woman the picture. She knew her name was Carly Logan, but didn’t want to freak her out by using it.
Carly peered at it before shaking her head. “I need to get my glasses. Give me a second.” She shut the door for a moment before opening it again, this time wearing glasses.
As Carly took a moment to decide if the bloodstained yellow dress piece was possibly Sonia’s, a glint of metal caught Eve’s eye. She focused on the window above the kitchen sink, visible off to the left, and then the entire window shattered.
Eve pushed the woman to the ground and drew her weapon in one motion, going low. She knew Beckett would be circling around back. She tried to get a bead on where the attack had come from. She looked at Carly’s head and saw a laser dot right at the nosepiece of her reading glasses. She took a blind shot with her gun pointed in what seemed to be the general direction of the attacker.
The dot fell away just as Carly got over her shock enough to start screaming. Eve shook her head no, but the woman was in a panic. She jabbed the woman in the windpipe just hard enough to quiet her. Carly’s eyes bugged out.
Eve pulled her hard by the arm into the hall, where there were no windows. She whispered quickly, “That’s the man who killed Sonia. You’re supposed to be next. But stay quiet, and you’ll stay alive.”
The woman nodded. Eve pointed to the floor, and Carly crouched.
Eve kept her gun leveled at the doorframe as a man’s silhouette took shape. She aimed for the neck before she recognized Beckett.
“He ran,” Beckett told her. “She okay?”
Eve nodded and helped Carly off the floor.
The woman had to clear her throat a few times before she could speak. “That was Sonia’s dress,” she confirmed. “At least it was the same type she was wearing. I recognize the little bit of lace she added to make the cap sleeves. I can’t imagine many people do that to a store-bought dress. Does that mean…what you said? Is she dead?”
Eve looked away, and Beckett stepped up. “I’m pretty close to positive she was killed,” he told her. “I’m so very sorry.”
Carly lost her shit, right there in the hallway. “I knew she took too long. But there was a cute guy, and he was winking at me. I shouldn’t have let her go alone. Oh, God. And now he wants to kill me? Oh no.”
She sat down again on the floor, sobbing.
Eve headed out the door to see if she could track what seemed to be Nicholas trying to tidy up his messes. She could hear Beckett speaking soothing words to the distraught woman as she left.
Once outside, Eve dialed Ryan.
“’Sup?”
“You got a second?”
“Yes. I’m taking Midian on a picnic today, but I don’t have to leave for, like, eight minutes.”
“I need you to call the police station in Fallom, Virginia, and tell them we’re bringing in a woman named Carly Logan who needs to be protected. Can you do that? Is there, like, some courtesy bullshit you can do without explaining much?”
“I can try. When you bringing her by?”
“Actually, can you have them pick her up on Route 35? By the Wawa? We have to follow Nicholas. He just tried to kill this chick.”
Beckett widened his eyes at her as he walked Carly to the Challenger.
“Sure,” Ryan said. “I’ll call you right back.”
Eve widened her eyes back at him as she put away her phone. Message received. Try not to freak out the freaking-out girl. She followed them to the car.
Beckett checked his texts while she told him to head for the Wawa they’d passed earlier and answered her ringing phone. He took off like a drag racer, and Carly gasped from the back, still in her pajamas and robe.
“What’s going on down there?” Ryan was on high alert.
“We’re getting closer to that reunion with Nicholas. Listen, I gotta go.”
“Eve.” He sounded serious. She expected the “be careful” warning.
“I have to tell you something. It’s classified, and I can’t tell you how I know either.” He sounded reluctant.
“Just a minute,” she told him.
The Wawa convenience store was only a three-minute drive away, and a police cruiser was already there when they arrived. The cop must have been gassing up or getting donuts, whatever. Beckett pulled around to the side and sent Carly through the doors so she would meet up with the cops on the other side of the store. She promised not mention them or anything that had happened that morning, though whether she’d keep her word only time would tell. Beckett told her to say a domestic dispute was the reason she needed protection.
“Okay, spit it out, Morales,” Eve commanded once the woman had left the car.
“Well, again, this is really not something I’m at liberty to share.”
Beckett looked at his texts again and shook his head. “We got something from the car info Spider was tracking. Two places that vehicle has been quite a bit.”
“Eve, I’m sorry, but Rodolfo is still alive. The last intel we had put him in a safe house in Virginia. Tell me where you are. We need to know, if you’ve spotted Nicholas.”
Are you fucking kidding me? “Do you know the address?” she asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Thanks for your help. Tell Midian I said hi.” Eve hung up and sent Ryan’s next three calls to her voice mail.
He would probably start tracking her cell phone immediately. She sighed and threw it out the window, watching it smash in the rearview window. The sun made it almost difficult to watch.
“Rodolfo is alive—so says the Poughkeepsie Police department.” She turned to her husband.
“I find that pretty fucking hard to believe, being that I lit his ass on fire,” Beckett countered.
“Did you, though? Did you really light him on fire?”
“No. I wanted him to see it coming. So I guess there’s a wild chance in hell that someone got him out. I doubt it, though. My guys were all over that old turd’s house.”
“Well, okay. I guess we’ll know if we see him. Anyway, you have two places for Nicholas? Let me see.” After taking his phone from him, she scrolled through the addresses and information Spider had sent. “He can’t determine which one Nicholas has spent more time at yet,” she reported. “Still working on it.” She looked at the two addresses on a map. One seemed more remote than the other. “I think we should assume Rodolfo is at one of these spots and Nicholas at the other. Eenie meenie?”
Beckett thought for a few before asking her to navigate to the one close to the main road.
“I would go for the other,” she said. “Why this one?” She scrolled through the map as Beckett put the pedal to the floor, letting the Challenger’s engine have its head.
“Gut feeling. We go there.”
Alison adjusted her gown and watched the doctor as he recorded the heart rates in the babies’ chart.
“How are they?” she asked.
He gave her a grandfatherly smile. “Beautiful. You’re doing a great job.” As he turned he added, mostly to himself, “It’s always amazing to see a theory come to fruition. We’re almost there!”
Alison pounced. “The surrogate theory? That’s been around for years. No big deal, right?”
The doctor put down his clipboard and helped her sit up in the bed. “Well, actually, it’s more than that in this case. You’re quite an amazing specimen and the direct result of tremendously cutting-edge fertility science.”
“I figured as much,” Alison said, nodding. “You certainly seem like you’re meant for more than monitoring only one lady’s twins.” She hoped the praise would keep him talking.
“You’re not ‘only’ anything. You were chosen from a very wide pool of women because you’re a very close match to the original ovary tissue.” He clamped his lips shut after that.
“I’m fascinated. Please, tell me more.” She smiled, working to make herself the most non-threatening person to share information with.
And with that, he went professor on her, seeming to relish telling someone what miracles he’d worked. “Well, the ovarian tissue was taken from a young woman who lost her pregnancy in an accident and was about to lose her uterus. A forward-thinking specialist was called in, and the father of the woman was open to trying anything to preserve his daughter’s fertility. So the tissue was cryogenically preserved and kept for years. In my home country I’ve been working on this sort of procedure—getting frozen ovarian tissue to begin maturing eggs again—and an investor here in the U.S. contacted me last year. When I received the opportunity to not only move into a human trial, but fertilize, implant, and track the results, I knew it would be a tremendous experience. I had to come.”
He shook his head at the magnitude of the whole thing. “I don’t mind telling you that developing eggs from this girl’s ovarian tissue was quite a chore. To wind up with seven viable eggs is mind-blowing. Such a huge moment. And look at you! Twins. Healthy twins. The findings here can help millions of women.” He flipped through his notes and consulted his iPad, a genius lost in his own thoughts.
“So let me get this straight,” Alison cut in. “You harvested eggs? From someone else’s ovarian tissue? So these babies aren’t mine. And I’m guessing not related to Flint either?” Anger raised her blood pressure, and the monitor on her fingertip recorded the spike.
“Whoa. Take a few deep breaths.” The doctor took both her wrists in his hands and checked her pupils.
“No, I will not. Answer me. Are these babies even related to me?”
“Technically, they are not biologically related, but you are their home. They need you, and you are creating life. It’s incredibly important.”
“To who? Vitullo? I’ve heard you mention his name.” She yanked her wrists from the doctor’s grasp.
“Yes,” said the doctor, looking decidedly nervous now. “He’s the man funding this study, allowing my research to go forward.” He crossed his arms on his chest, watching her.
“You took me from my life, from my husband. Where is my husband anyway? Wait, don’t tell me—they killed him. Someone killed him. And I’m next. You know it, and still you stand here, doing their bidding. What kind of doctor are you? I thought you were supposed to do no harm.”
“That phrase is actually a myth, though its meaning is implied.” The doctor couldn’t seem to stop himself from offering more of his knowledge.
“You know what I mean,” Alison snapped. “And I know you care, at least a little. You lied to protect me from Nicholas just last week. Or was it to keep your precious research safe? What are you? How can you see value in helping millions of women yet fail to see that you can save the one in front of you?” She bit the inside of her cheeks, not wanting to cry but losing the battle.
“How about a walk? Would you like to take a walk?” The doctor went to the door.
“Those aren’t allowed.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“No, they aren’t. But let’s go.” He opened her door for her.
She knew he was trying to give her something—anything to make up for the fact that he was a mad scientist, and she was his lab rat. She went with him anyway, because the air sounded good.
These babies weren’t even hers. Weren’t even Flint’s. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and the twins kicked in response. Whose babies were these going to be? And for what purpose? Who was going to raise them? Would they live in a room like she had, desperate for a breath of fresh air?
She had to get out of here. Get these babies out of here. Walking slowly across the backyard, Alison could once again pick out the car noise from the road, but it seemed clearer than last time, maybe because they walked in silence. It was on her right, for sure. Through the woods.
“Do you have children?” she asked the doctor.
“No. Never got the chance. I had prostate cancer when I was younger.” He touched her elbow.
“Do you at least acknowledge that this is wrong? Or are you too involved in the science of it?” She pulled her elbow away.
“I was tempted by being granted a human trial so quickly. Usually there are so many hoops to jump through. You’re the first human subject, and the first not related in any way to the ovarian tissue.” He finally looked at her and seemed to really see her, not just check her pupils for once. “But this is too much pain,” he added, looking down. “It’s wrong.”
Her heart quickened, and she felt almost afraid.
“I will help you. I will help you get out of here.” His nostrils flared and his accent thickened with the adrenaline boost he too must have been feeling.
Alison began to look around, but they both stopped still when they heard a car tearing up the gravel in the driveway.
“It’s him,” she gasped, no doubt stating the obvious. “He must be angry we went outside. But how would he know?”
“The nurse might have texted him. Let’s just stay here for a minute.” The doctor took her hands. “Breathe in, and slowly breathe out.”
A roar from came from inside the house, followed by stomping, and then the little-used back door flung open. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Nicholas’s eyes were wild, and he held his upper arm, blood seeping out around his fingers and staining his white dress shirt.
“She seemed to be having some pregnancy-related asthma, and in lieu of an inhaler, I wanted the patient to take a more natural course of action first. It appears you have a wound that needs to be attended. Shall we?”
“Yes. Get in here and bring her.” Nicholas stepped backward, blood dripping from the crook of his elbow.
“She needs to rema
in out here for a few more minutes until I’m happy with her respirations. The nurse will stay with her. Let’s get you up to Alison’s room. That’s where I have what we need to examine that wound.”
Nicholas shouted for the nurse.
Alison stood frozen as the doctor turned to face her and mouthed his true intentions: “Run.” He looked pointedly in the direction of the car noise.
As the doctor and the nurse passed each other in the doorway, he grasped the nurse’s arm. “Do you have an inhaler for Alison? Make sure you have that; we don’t want her in distress, in case the fresh air isn’t enough. It’s in the sitting room downstairs.”
As soon as everyone disappeared from sight, Alison tried to run as best she could, straight for the woods.
26
Be Careful
Beckett was relieved that Eve hadn’t scrolled through his other messages before handing the phone back. He hadn’t told her about the possibilities, like the fact that her father might have taken something from her. Or the possibility that he knew she had frozen her chances at having a future without mentioning it to him.
Nicholas bouncing between two houses was just the beginning. Beckett had taken a call from Treats while Eve was talking to Carly, and a hunch he’d had worked out in the worst possible way. Treats had done an investigation on recently missing women to see if any were of childbearing age and perhaps under the care of a fertility doctor.
He’d confirmed one who fit the profile—an Alison Wexford. She was last seen driving to her fertility appointment with her husband almost nine months ago, and neither of them had been heard from since. Add that up with the old bastard’s taunting words, and Beckett began to fear Rodolfo might have found a way to Frankenstein together a baby with his and Eve’s DNA. It made him sick to his stomach to even imagine it.
But if some woman were carrying Eve’s child, his tactical brain told him she’d be near a main road and close to a hospital in case things went wrong—hence his choice of address to visit first. As they neared the location, Beckett pulled over on the road running behind it, and they decided to go in on foot through the woods at the back of the house.
Saving Poughkeepsie Page 29
