by Julie Drew
“Don’t worry, Jane,” Beckett said. She stood up and brushed the grass and whatever off her skin-tight jeans. “We’ll protect the kids while you’re gone.”
Tesla looked daggers at her. She was so angry she couldn’t trust herself to speak, and she felt the flush of helplessness suffuse her face—she would not concede.
Jane glanced at Tesla and sighed. She knew her well enough to recognize the signs of imminent battle. “Tesla,” she said in her low, deep voice. “What’s important right now is that we work together to find your father. We all have to do what we can to make sure we get him back quickly and unharmed. Which means you and Max need to stay with Lydia—I need you to work with them as much as I need for you to be safe, so I don’t have to worry about you while I’m gone. You’ll get more accomplished if you stay there. For now, Lydia’s house is command central.”
And now here she was for an indefinite stay with these spies who’d watched her do and heard her say God knows what. Half of them didn’t even like her, and the jury was out on the other half. And they all made her feel like a little kid, a burden. She tried to let it go so she could focus on her dad, on the ill-defined work that lay ahead of her to figure out what it all meant while the clock ticked away.
When Max left, clearly excited to explore the house a bit, Tesla realized that she should go downstairs as well, so they could all work out a plan for how to proceed from this point. Jane had said she would be over, briefly, before she left town, as soon as she’d made travel arrangements. Tesla took one of the pain pills Bizzy had brought up with them, picked up the long, green cotton scarf that she’d brought with her from home, and tossed it onto the bed. With her right hand she folded the scarf so it was narrow and long, and then sat down on the bed to try to rig some sort of sling for her broken arm. She put one end of the scarf in her mouth, and wound the thicker mid-section of the fabric underneath her cast. Then she picked up the other end, and brought it up toward her shoulder from the other side—and stopped, the scarf in place, but with one end in her mouth and the other end in her uninjured hand. She had no idea how she could even begin to tie it with only one hand.
“Want some help?” asked Finn, who had appeared silently in the doorway.
She dropped the end that she held between her teeth and spoke in the coldest voice she could manage. “No thanks.”
“Could you possibly be more of a pain in the ass?” he asked conversationally as he walked into the room anyway. He sat down where Max had sat, on the edge of the bed next to Tesla, and got to work. He watched his hands, not Tesla’s face, and talked while he settled her cast, at exactly the right angle, into the scarf and tied the soft fabric in a square knot at the back of her neck.
“You know, you’re not here because anybody is trying to punish you,” he said. “This is dangerous stuff, and you’d be here if you were ninety years old.” His hands were behind her neck as he tied the knot, while Tesla held her long hair up with her good right hand. She could feel his fingers, warm and sure, on her skin and see, for the first time, that the light brown of his irises were shot through with flecks of gold.
“Well, if I was ninety, I hope you wouldn’t put me on the third floor,” she said lightly. “That would just be mean. You know, with my walker and all.”
Finn stopped and their eyes met. They sat close together, and he had leaned in toward her to fix the sling. “I’d still put you up here.” He finished off the knot, slowly and deliberately. “It would take you awhile to get up and down the stairs, but we’d know where you were. It’s probably the only way we could keep you out of trouble.”
Tesla felt her heart beat loudly, certain he could hear it, too. Finn wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was focused entirely on tying her sling, but all she could think was that his mouth was six and a quarter inches from her own. It was all such a mess—she was angry and resentful, sick of everyone telling her what to do, she’d been attacked and spied on and Finn treated her like a child, she was nothing but a pain in the ass to him, and she wanted to be—she didn’t know what she wanted to be.
“All this is not my fault, you know,” she began, her face hot and her voice unsteady. “I don’t mean to get in trouble, but I—”
Finn suddenly moved forward those last few inches and pressed his lips, softly, to hers.
The very air she breathed tipped Tesla toward him—the weight and pull and curve of it led, inexorably, to his warm mouth, and the points of contact where they touched became all that was left of her physical self: her mouth against his, the tender skin of her neck under his fingers. Her body flooded with heat as he paused, his mouth on hers, as if he were surprised. Both his hands were now behind her head and he pulled her in closer, deepening their kiss.
It lasted a second, maybe two, a month, a year. And then he moved away and left her with lips slightly parted, eyes wide open. He smiled and stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You just can’t help it. See you downstairs.”
Lydia poured freshly steeped black tea into the bone china cup, then looked over at Tesla. “Milk? Lemon?”
Tesla looked up, puzzled, as if she’d forgotten where she was. “Um, lemon, I guess. Thanks.”
Finn watched her from his customary position in front of the fireplace as he drank his tea—black and hot enough to scald. It had taken them all awhile to get used to this little quirk of Lydia’s, her insistence that they have afternoon tea, but he now looked forward to it, and not just because it meant a decent snack in the middle of the day. It was a chance to sit and chat, to catch up, in addition to whatever business related to the Abbott case they might all have to discuss. Everyone in the house knew each other a little better because of these teas, and that meant they functioned more efficiently as a unit.
Lydia picked up a fresh slice of lemon with little silver tongs, placed it carefully on the saucer, and then handed it to Tesla, who sat in a chair by the coffee table. Tesla seemed unsure what to do. Her eyes darted around the room—landed on Finn then hastened away again—until she scooted out to the edge of her chair so she could set her cup and saucer on the corner of the table, just inches away from where Lydia was doing the honors.
After she’d served everyone else, Lydia proceeded to make her own cup which gave Finn a moment longer to watch Tesla from beneath his hooded eyes. He stood casually, lazily, his legs crossed at the ankles and his shoulders slouched as he leaned up against the fireplace—a deliberate contrast to his silent anger. He was furious with himself for that kiss—he circled back to it again and again. He could still feel her soft mouth, the faint scent of soap on her skin, the inevitability of the way she had moved toward him. The memory was a scourge with which he lashed himself, without pity.
Lydia sat back, took a sip of her tea, and closed her eyes for a brief moment, a relaxed smile on her face. And then she opened her eyes and spoke, and everyone remembered what she did for a living.
“Tesla, we have new information on your father,” she began without preamble. “His credit cards have not been used since he disappeared, his car is parked on campus near his office, and we have a team there now to gather any forensic evidence.”
Tesla glanced at Max, who swallowed visibly. Neither of them responded.
“His cell phone records indicate that he made only one call that night, to your house phone—and he left a voicemail message. He called the house—importantly, a few minutes after the explosion at his office. Which of course is excellent news.”
Tesla sat up very straight. “What did the message say?”
“It’s very brief, and we have a copy here.” Lydia turned to Joley. “Can you play it for Tesla, please?”
Joley didn’t answer, but held up his iPhone and played an MP3 file, the volume up high enough for everyone to hear.
“I had to go out, kids, so do me a favor and clean up the kitchen from our pizza party. Oh, and DVR that TV show we want to watch, the one with the really high ratings. I�
��ll be home as soon as I can.”
“What does it mean?” asked Tesla. Like everyone else, she had already learned to look to Lydia for answers. Her father’s voice had sounded normal, she thought, maybe a little excited. Surely that was a good sign?
“There is still some question about what he might have meant, but we’ve got some ideas,” Lydia said, then looked to Finn with a slight nod.
“First, he sounds good: strong, lucid.” Finn watched Tesla’s face as he spoke. Her expression reflected quite clearly what she thought and felt—he couldn’t remember what it was like to be that open to life—that open to being hurt—if, indeed, he had ever been.
“I think so, too,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t sound like he’s scared or—or hurt.”
Finn nodded once. He would not allow himself to smile at her, encourage her—about her father’s situation or about that kiss. He didn’t think either was good for her, and didn’t want to be responsible for where either might lead. “And let’s assume that his voicemail is supposed to send you, and us, a message that no one else would understand,” he continued smoothly. “First, his voicemail tells us that he’s alive and well. He didn’t text, he wanted you to hear his voice. It also tells us that he was able, at least, to make that phone call—he is not gagged, and his hands aren’t tied.”
“Or at least that wasn’t the case at that time,” Beckett corrected him.
Tesla swallowed, hard. Gagged and tied? What kind of a world did she now live in?
“Third,” Finn said. “We should assume that every word was deliberate—he said I should be home soon. He doesn’t want you and Max to worry about him. And finally, we have what appear to be two coded messages, which we hope you two can decipher.” He paused and looked from Tesla to Max. “He asks you to clean up from a pizza party, and to record a TV show you are all interested in.”
Tesla looked at Max, who shrugged, and she looked back at Finn. “I’m not sure,” she began, but Lydia interrupted.
“We think his request that you clean up refers to the note we found yesterday at your house, which seems to be an attempt to make up after the argument you had.” She paused in order to let Tesla weigh in.
Tesla frowned. “Yeah, I guess so. That’s certainly what I thought when I read it.”
“What about the reference to a TV show?” Beckett asked without malice or sarcasm. She was a professional, at least for the moment. “Has your family talked about a new show, one you all wanted to watch?”
“No,” said Tesla. “We really don’t watch the same shows, and actually my Dad hardly watches TV at all. I like science fiction and the occasional reality show, and Max likes stupid stuff.”
“Oh, because The Bachelor is an intellectual and artistic tour de force?” Max said.
Finn jumped in. “So your dad didn’t mean it literally, then. What TV shows right now are highly rated? Maybe the name of a show, or an actor, will be a clue.”
Joley had already googled highly rated TV shows on his phone, and he began to read aloud from the screen as he scrolled down. “In May, Game of Thrones received the highest Nielssen rating—”
“Nielssen—Nilsen!” Bizzy said excitedly. “Sebastian Nilsen! You were right, Lydia!”
Everyone began to talk at once, and it took a moment for Tesla to realize that Aunt Jane had entered the room and set a nondescript overnight bag at her feet.
“That’s right,” Jane said, and everyone quieted down. “Nilsen has kidnapped Greg Abbott. We just got confirmation, a phone call was made to the local FBI ops office from a burner.”
“A burner?” Tesla asked.
“A prepaid disposable cell phone, untraceable,” Joley answered. “Doesn’t anybody watch The Wire?” he asked as he turned to Finn. They both shook their heads in disbelief.
Everyone began to talk again, but Lydia held up her hand and silence dropped on the room like a blanket. “Hello, Jane. Nice to see you.”
Finn was surprised by the lack of warmth in Lydia’s voice, her stone-cold expression as she spoke to the younger woman.
“Lydia.” Jane nodded at the woman seated behind the tea pot. There was an odd tension in the room, and everybody else looked as confused by it as Finn felt. Everyone but the two women, that is. They looked calmly at each other, and Jane Doane appeared slightly amused.
“What else do we have from the phone call?” Beckett asked. “Who called, and from where? Is there a ransom demand?”
“No ransom demand yet. We’re triangulating tower signals now to narrow down the call’s point of origin, which appears to be Niagara Falls on the Canadian side. The voice was altered and our voice recognition software came up with nothing. We need someone from an agency that operates internationally on this, so I’m on my way up there now. Hopefully the trail isn’t too cold.”
Lydia nodded. “I’ll carry on here,” she said vaguely.
“Good. I’ll check in with you after I’ve arrived and catch you up.” Jane took two steps and leaned down to give Max a hug where he sat on the couch, and then she turned to Tesla. “Tesla, try not to worry. If there’s one thing you and Max can trust it’s that I want to get your father back.”
Lydia moved suddenly, a quick jerk of her hand that seemed unintentional, and Tesla’s cup and saucer, filled with now-cold tea, crashed to the floor and broke into several large, sharp pieces of china as the dark liquid seeped into the thick rug beneath the coffee table.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” said Lydia. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” She dabbed at the wet mess at her feet with a linen napkin, her face hidden from sight as she attempted to clean it up.
Jane watched her for a moment, then grabbed her bag and walked out the door.
Lydia set the broken pieces of china on the coffee table and put the tea-soaked napkin beside them. “We still have a lot to discuss,” she said to the room at large. “Tesla, if you’re up to it, I believe you left your story unfinished. Let’s hear that first.”
All eyes turned to Tesla. “Should we maybe get Aunt Jane back in here first?” she asked. “She hasn’t heard any of this either, and it might be important.”
“We’ll catch her up later,” Lydia assured her.
CHAPTER 14
Tesla began her story, hesitatingly at first, but with increased confidence as she relived that strange night at the hospital. She went back over what she’d already told Finn about her concussion and exploration of the subfloors under the hospital last fall, about her assumption that what happened had been a head-injury-induced hallucination.
“So, you found yourself in this room, and you heard your dad’s voice do some sort of countdown, then bright lights and you passed out,” Finn summarized. “Then what?”
“Then I dreamed—I thought I had dreamed—but maybe I woke up.”
“Well what happened?” Bizzy asked, too excited to sit cross-legged on the floor any longer, so far away from Tesla. She had sort of walked on her knees over to where Tesla still sat, in the chair by the sofa, and plopped down right in front of her to sit on her heels. “What happened when you woke up?
“It was kind of awful—I’m not really claustrophobic, but I woke up and I was sort of curled up in a ball on my side, my knees up by my face, and it was completely dark. For a second I wondered if my eyes were still closed.”
Finn noted the tension in Tesla’s voice, but she didn’t sound scared, as she had when she’d started to tell this story to him the first time. She had clearly begun to adapt to the fear and the danger, and it had given her confidence. Time alone would tell if, like Finn, she would find it addictive.
“My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see, it was too dark—and I could hardly move. I was packed into a space that was barely big enough for me, and something hard and sharp pressed into my back…. It was like those scary stories you tell at camp when you’re a kid, the one where someone wakes up to find they’ve been buried alive in a coffin.”
Tesla paused a moment, and no one said a word.
They knew exactly what she meant.
“So I tried to move, arms and legs, head, and there were literally only a few inches at various points where I wasn’t pressed up against a hard, smooth wall, but I had about six inches above me. That same hard, smooth material made a solid ceiling on top of me.”
Lydia handed Tesla a new cup of tea, without the saucer this time, and Tesla took it and sipped, gratefully. The strong brew, with just a hint of tangy citrus, was delicious and gave her a chance to pause and remember.
“That space above me was enough, so I started to push against the ceiling with my legs and my shoulder,” she continued. “I was afraid I was completely sealed in, but once I started to push it was clear it was movable, latched but not locked. Once I popped the latch with one good shove of my shoulder I could see light, so I moved the top up until it clicked. It was hinged on one side, like a lid or a door. I sat up and looked around.”
“Tell us what you saw—and take your time, don’t leave out any details,” Lydia encouraged her.
“I was in a room, not really dark, there were a couple of dim lights on.” Tesla closed her eyes and tried to visualize it all over again. “I was in a rectangular box, four by three feet, two and half feet deep. Once I sat up I could see that this box—with me in it—sat on a large metal table, right in the middle of what was clearly a lab.” She opened her eyes then, and looked right at Bizzy, who looked like she wanted to ask a question. “I’ve been in and around labs all my life, Bizzy, and there’s no question what this place was.”
“Okay, so you passed out and woke up in a box in a lab,” said Beckett. “Weird, but okay. Then what?”
“Well, my head was killing me, and I felt a little dizzy, and—you’re right, this is weird—my heart monitor and the wheeled-pole it had been attached to were in the box with me, but the pole was bent, a perfect ninety degree angle, to fit in the box. The monitor still beeped and my heart sounded and felt normal.” Tesla stopped and looked at Finn, and he felt his own pulse in response. “I told you this would sound crazy.”
