by Jill Cooper
“Yes, in just a few weeks.”
Cameron chews thoughtfully before wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I read he’s made quite a few dollars for himself in the stock market. Fascinating.”
“You should know,” I picked up my coffee and balanced my elbows on the table as I leaned forward, “Since you helped him do it.”
Cameron chokes on his eggs and I take on the full brunt of his eyes. “Pardon me?”
“I know you wanted an introduction to Delilah Chase and I know what you gave Don. You want control of the TTPA. I just don’t know why.”
“Well,” Cameron put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, breaking the gaze between us, “I can see that with you, games aren’t going to be necessary.”
“If you think you can control me through Don, you can’t. I’m my own woman.”
“Perhaps, but we both know if you were going to go to the cops, you would’ve by now. If you did, Donovan would go down with me.”
True. But can I really let that stop me?
“And if he goes, you’ll go down too. No one is going to believe you had nothing to do with getting stock information through time travel. I’m sure, after everything you’ve been through, you value freedom above all else.”
He’d threaten me so openly inside the very agency I’d helped build? “You don’t know anything about me. I value the truth over all else.”
Cameron laughs through his nose. “Funny.”
I don’t see what’s so funny about it. “How’d you get your hands on the stock market information without triggering the time travel alarms? Without the TTPA stopping you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cameron growls as if he’s going to lash out. His cheeks flush. It’s clear that whatever he had thought was going to happen today, this wasn’t part of his plan. He hadn’t expected me to be so forward, or to have pieced everything together. “If you want to know, I guess you’ll have to stick close to me, won’t you, Lara?”
“Did you kill Delilah?”
Cameron’s eyes widen. “Well, now I’m insulted. I would never…never hurt someone like that. And to kill? I’m afraid you give me too much credit,” he laughs, “Or too little…aren’t you going to add in your raisins?”
“He hasn’t brought…” My voice trails off as I gaze down at the table. My breath stutters. On the table is a bowl of raisins and one of brown sugar, neither of which had been there before. I touch the small white bowls and gaze back at the kitchen. Cameron and I had been engaged in an intense conversation. It’s possible that the waiter had come and put them down when I hadn’t been looking. That I had been so angry with Cameron that I hadn’t noticed…
I get a full-on headache in a split second. Groaning, I grip my temple and flex my legs under the assault. A new image flashes in my mind. The waiter had just left. As he did, a waitress with a blond bun slipped brown sugar and raisins on the table beside me.
“Thank you,” I spoke the words; I recognize my voice but have no memory of saying them.
She nodded her thanks and was off again.
But that hadn’t happened. It hadn’t.
So how was I holding the white bowls in my hand?
“There are many possible outcomes in the universe, Lara,” Cameron stands and buttons his suit jacket, “Go right, go left, stay exactly where you are. For years, that’s been your…decision. Those choices are infinite and only one brain in the entire world has the power to comprehend them all. Someone just had to remind you of that.”
Cameron touches my chin. A gentle touch, but one that causes me to recoil. I jerk my head away.
“It’s a pity you stopped time traveling. Pushing your potential, instead of locking it in a cage. Now, it might be gone forever, but before…you could’ve become so strong.”
Was he right? Should I have kept pushing myself for more abilities? Time travel, alternate time lines, past present and future. Who was I to play with those around me?
“You’re wrong. Time travel is dangerous. What you’re talking about….”
“Is brown sugar and raisins,” Cameron offers me his hand, “Why don’t we start that tour? I’d love to see how the monitoring systems actually work.”
I stand without taking Cameron’s hand and follow him to the elevator. Part of what Cameron said made sense. If he knows I had a flashback about an alternate timeline, he doesn’t say anything about it.
He might have suspected, but does he know? I doubt it. How could he? Could even Rex Montgomery control so much?
But if my mind could see something that an alternate Lara Montgomery also sees, maybe my powers aren’t so dormant after all. Maybe my powers, like a muscle, are just waiting to be flexed.
****
“And here is the security office.” I use my badge to swipe the door open. Inside, the overhead lights are dim, but the glow of computer screens and a giant world map light up the place. The room is sprawling with rows of terminals and workers.
I grip the railing as Cameron steps up beside me. “Fascinating. And that map? Is it in real time?”
“As real as it gets, so I’ve been told.” In the center of the map a small blip blinks off and on. “That’s us. The TTPA. Its frequency pulses out every few seconds and can detect any subtle changes in the timeline.”
“Based on what they gathered from your brain? When you time traveled?” Cameron asks.
“That’s right.” I don’t get what he’s getting at, but I figure he must be leading me somewhere. This man, whether he’s my Uncle Rex or not, has an agenda behind everything he does.
Cameron edges closer. I’m flustered as he puts his hands on the railing on either side of mine. “I’m just saying, Lara,” his voice tickles my hair in a way that revolts me, “what if the frequency of time travel isn’t always the same as yours.”
The implications… That’s the answer, isn’t it? Someone is traveling in time and the system can’t detect them. If it’s true, the TTPA is worthless. If it’s true, I might as well consider my life fair game, because whoever this traveler is, she can get to me anytime she wants.
“Do you mind backing up?” my voice wrestles with fear, “I need more personal space than this.”
“A thousand pardons.” Cameron straightens beside me, leaning against the railing. “Hypothetically speaking, I’m surprised no one has thought of this before. I know the original Rewind was invented around your mother’s brain waves and then later, your own were used to expand monitoring services. But it’s possible, isn’t it? That someone invented a machine that uses a different frequency?”
Anything is possible and that’s the scary part.
My phone rings and it jars me back to reality. “Excuse me a second.” With a relieved breath, I step out into the hall. The less time I have to spend with Cameron, the better. My first step; proving he’s Rex. But how? If I accuse him now, I’ll just sound like a raving lunatic.
I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lara?” It’s Dad. “Don’t….careful.”
My brow furrows. “Dad, you’re breaking up.” I plug my other ear with my finger as if that will help me hear. The background noise is loud, clinking, with loud voices as if he’s close to a construction zone in the city. Wouldn’t exactly be a surprise considering we live in Boston. “Dad, is everything okay?”
“Lara…don’t! Trust…”
The fear in his voice sets me on edge; it’s like a thousand pinpricks. “Don’t trust who, Dad? Dad!”
Click.
The line’s gone silent. I redial his number, but all I get is a series of fast beeps. He could’ve been in an area with low signal strength, but the way my stomach sours, I doubt that’s the case. I redial his phone again and wait impatiently for him to answer. “Come on, Dad. C’mon.”
Someone picks up. I can hear breathing on the other end. “Dad? Are you okay?”
Heavy breathing continues and it’s all I can hear. I suspect it’s a woman. “Hello?” I turn and rush for t
he elevator. “Dad?”
The line goes dead. Dad’s in trouble. Big trouble. I need to find him. I need to get to him. Maybe he’s fine and at work, but I must find out for myself.
When the elevator door opens, Marcus steps off and I’m relieved. I rush on as he leaves.
“Lara, what a pleasure—.”
“Marcus,” I don’t have time to chit chat, “I need to go. Personal issue. Can you keep an eye on Cameron? He’s observing right now. Nothing more.”
“Of course,” Marcus nods with a pensive look, “I haven’t seen you this rattled in a long while. Everything all right?”
I sure hope so, but I fear it’s not.
Chapter Eleven
Dad had put his life back together after his time in prison. He has a nice apartment and a good job. Maybe it wasn’t anything fancy, but he likes doing tech support at a local prep school. The dad I remembered made extra money doing odd jobs, repairing toasters, and working on electronics in our rundown apartment building.
It turns out his abilities never left him. Not even after prison.
By the time I arrive at Charlestown Prep, I’m at a full-on run. I slam through the double glass doors, and I can barely draw a breath. I can’t remember the last time I’ve run so hard. Trying to recover, I nod at the receptionist, whose hand hovered over her phone.
“Ms. Montgomery?” Good ol’ Betsy remembers me from my visits, and that’s good because I can barely talk.
I nod and push my hair off my shoulders. There was a day when I could’ve sprinted those two miles without breaking a sweat. I’m going soft. “My…Dad?”
“He was called away.” She points a well-manicured finger toward the door. “Science lab, third floor. Something about a printer network problem. Printers, right?”
Printers. I nod again and push off for the doors. Betsy follows me until I pass over the threshold. “I do hope everything’s all right, Ms. Crane!”
A shiver runs up my spine when she says it, but I take it for a slip of the tongue. A mistake. I don’t have time to believe it’s anything else as I rush into the well-oiled stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time until I’m on the third floor, I push my shoulder into the door until it squeaks open.
I spit out into a hallway. Through the row of glass-lined classrooms are more rows of students in uniforms and teachers in fine-pressed suits. It was so different from what Dad was accustomed to, I had to wonder why he picked this school. Had theirs been the only offer to come in? Had he been trying to impress me?
The printer lab is empty except for one faculty member and a few students loitering around the desks. In the background, the hum of printers going through reams of paper greets me.
But no Dad. Nothing seems broken, unless he had already fixed it and left.
Disappointed, I click my tongue inside my mouth. What now?
Just as I’m about to leave, a teacher in a white lab coat and bow-tie greets me. “Can I help you with something, Miss?”
“Looking for my father. John Crane. Was he here?” My questions come fast and are clipped.
“To fix the printer,” the teacher nods. “He came and fixed some Bluetooth connection problem we were having. A real wizard, but when his phone rang, he left again, I’m afraid to say.” The teacher sighs as I take a deep breath.
If Dad is okay, why the phone call? Why can’t I reach him? Maybe I am panicking over nothing.
“You’re not Lara, are you?”
I straighten and study his pinched eyebrows. “Yes, hasn’t he mentioned me?”
“Oh, it’s not that,” the teacher reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “It’s just, this printed this morning…well…you’ll see.”
Gaping, I take it from his clammy hands. Unfolding the note, my nerves on edge, I make out the bold, black font printed on the paper.
Give this to Lara when she comes in at 2:12 pm.
I have what you’re looking for, Lara. You had better hurry. Warehouse 36. East Pier Aquarium.
You have fifteen minutes.
Tick Tock.
My face is wet with perspiration. I gaze up at the clock as it ticks over to 2:13 pm. This person, this woman, whoever she is, had known exactly when I’d be here. She had known exactly what would happen, and when.
The time-travel assassin has my father; that’s the only explanation.
Now I’m the one at a disadvantage and I’m the one the clock races against.
****
In six years, I’ve learned a lot.
Not to be so spontaneous and quick to judgment, or action. Control my emotions, steady my hand. I have resisted the urge to time travel for so long, it’s gone dormant. I can’t access it anymore, no matter what I try.
With my dad in danger, possibly being held against his will, control goes out the window. My logical brain rages at me as I flag down a taxi. Call the police. Get help. It wants to be rational in an illogical situation.
But rational and logic don’t apply.
Time travel is real. It’s being used against me.
Once, I’d been the only one who could stop it. But times are different.
By the time I pay the driver, I have two minutes left on the clock. Racing across the pier, I’m spritzed with water. I slip between two buildings and sprint through to the other side into the alley. Across the way, I find a rundown warehouse with the number thirty-six set in thick, bold letters above the entrance. With barely any time left on the clock, I sprint toward the door, using the full weight of my body to shove it open.
It’s dark.
The door slams shut behind me and the sound echoes through the tomb of a warehouse. Shivers go up my spine as I hear high heels clicking on the cement floor. It sounds as if it is coming from everywhere at once. I can’t get a bead on its location, but I know it’s not my steps; I’m still in my ballet slippers.
I pause so I can get my bearings. Slowly, my sight adjusts to the dark. In the darkness of the shadows, I make out what looks to be a chair. Coming toward me is a silhouette…a silhouette of a woman?
Run!
My insides scream in terror. I’m in real danger. I duck as the area is lit by blindingly bright light. It’s the woman who had killed Delilah. She stands in her silver catsuit, wearing a helmet with blinders. She holds two electrical rods slamming them together to produce the bright glow.
I jump out of the way and roll to the ground and off to the side. “What do you want with me?” I scream at her, but there’s no response.
Now I wish I had called someone to tell them where I was going. Old habits die hard and if I am unlucky, they won’t be the only things that die today.
She pivots on her heel, following me and suddenly she’s on top of me—as if she’s used time as a skipping stone. I rise up on one knee and punch her in the stomach.
My attacker rears back and my vision darts behind her. I can make out the shape of a man in the chair behind her, but the image fades to black as the woman uncrosses her electrical rods. Everything’s dark again.
I can’t see, but neither can she.
I can only hear her breathing.
My heart pounds and my breath shakes with each passing moment. I pull myself backwards on the ground and try to remain quiet as a church mouse. If she finds me, I might not be able to escape again. I might end up dead, And I won’t even know why.
What does she want? Is Cameron Kincaid really holding her leash?
Had I outsmarted her? Had she lost me? I sit still, my breathing returning to normal, and that’s when I hear her. She’s right behind me.
“Lara!” A scream. A warning coming from my dad, but I’ve no time to answer him.
I crawl fast, searching the ground as I go. When I bang into the chair, I feel Dad’s beefy calf tightly secured to its metal leg. I have to get him out of here, but how? We have to move fast.
“Dad.” My heart races with fear. I’m a little girl in a run-down apartment building again, waiting for my dad to come ch
eck on me after a nightmare. For a second that image flashes before me, as if I’m really there.
I think I am. His hand is stroking my hair and his lips kiss my wet cheeks. “It’s okay, Lara. It’s okay.”
The intense emotion triggers a quick bout of time travel, but I can’t hold onto it. The present yanks me back as if I’m a chew toy. Back in the warehouse, the room lights up behind me as if it’s daylight. When I whip my head around, time slows down as the assailant tries to press her electrical baton into my brain port.
The last time that had happened, my time travel ability was reactivated. I don’t know if I should be scared of such a thing or if I should welcome it.
I can see the trail of where her actions will lead. I anticipate her next move. My hand clenches into a fist and I slam it into her gut. She groans and her body folds as she flies backward toward the wall. In a flash of color—silver and blue—she’s gone in a hazy cloud, but I can see the streak.
She’s running through time, planning to escape by teleporting behind me.
I whip around and catch both of her arms overhead. Raising my legs up high, I kick her straight in the gut. As she attempts to bash me with her electrical stick, I disappear in a way I thought I no longer could. Through a lightning storm, I reemerge behind her and kick her in the back.
With a grunt, she falls to the floor, as does one of the electrical sticks. I snatch it up and test the weight of it in my hand as the assassin picks herself off the floor. She limps with pain and we’re at it again, meeting blow for blow, caught in an electrical storm behind us, in front of us, and between us.
We’re both traveling in time. We’re anticipating each other’s moves. She’s good. Real good. And I’m exuberant. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I never want to let it go.
“Lara!” My dad’s voice pulls me back to the present.
The visions of all I’ve seen in the electrical storm fade and I stand behind him. I lift a hand and time slows down. I can see where the assassin will appear. I side-step to greet her and extend my hand just as she reappears, to grip her throat.
