Nine

by Rachelle Dekker

  Tomac tossed Scooter down and nodded to two others behind him.

  “I didn’t know, Boss,” Scooter cried. “I swear!”

  Two larger kids helped the boy up and escorted him out forcefully. “She’s crazy! She broke my wrist.” Fresh tears filled his eyes and slid down his face.

  Tomac stood and addressed the gathered crowd as Scooter was dragged out of sight, his pain echoing after he was gone. “Stealing is for the streets, never under my roof!” he yelled. “Now get lost!”

  The others scattered like mice, and a moment later it was just the three of them. Tomac turned to face Zoe and Lucy, forcing a long exhale to calm. Zoe didn’t want to think about the kind of penance Scooter would owe to satisfy Tomac’s temper.

  “I apologize,” he said to Lucy. “I’ve had problems with him before. I promise you won’t have any other trouble.” Then to Zoe, “My guy located three potentials for Summer Wallace.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to her. “There’s an early bus. I put the tickets under a secure alias. You should try and get some rest.”

  Zoe reached for the envelope and felt resistance when she tried to take it. She locked eyes with Tomac as he held on, his gaze shrouded in a mixture of curiosity and concern. They stood there just a moment, then he released the envelope and headed for the exit.

  “Thank you, Tomac,” Zoe said.

  He paused at the door and gave Zoe a final look. It said, Be careful.

  She gave him a nod. I will.

  He shut the door as he left.

  Zoe cautiously turned back to Lucy. “You alright?”

  Lucy shook her head, her eyes dotted with tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just didn’t want him to take your things.”

  “It’s okay,” Zoe said. She mustered the courage to reach out to Lucy. The girl she’d watched snap a boy’s wrist like a twig. The girl who could have easily done the same to her.

  Lucy moved to meet her touch. It was as if a different girl were standing before her now. The scared puppy. Zoe wouldn’t have believed Lucy was capable of breaking a boy’s arm if she hadn’t witnessed it herself.

  Zoe rubbed Lucy’s upper arm softly as tears escaped the girl’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Zoe could see the wheels behind Lucy’s eyes turning toward dangerous thoughts. Running down paths that led to holes covered in darkness.

  “What am I?” Lucy asked, her terror hushed. She looked up at Zoe, her eyes pleading for understanding.

  Zoe didn’t know how to answer or how to ease the girl’s suffering. The same dark questions that were running around inside Lucy’s mind were also growing inside her own.

  “Am I bad?” Lucy asked. “Am I the bad guy?”

  Zoe wished she could convince Lucy she was good, lift the troubled burden the young girl was shouldering. But the truth was simple: Zoe didn’t know who Lucy was or what she was capable of.

  ELEVEN

  ZOE STEPPED OUT of the yellow taxi that had delivered her and Lucy to 1616 Columbus Drive. She’d expected a housing development or apartment building, but instead she found herself looking at what appeared to be a junkyard. A tall metal fence ran around the property’s outline with large red DO NOT TRESPASS signs placed every couple yards. Behind it were mounds of waste—abandoned cars, kitchen appliances, furniture, metal scraps.

  “This can’t be right,” she whispered. She turned back to the cab as Lucy took in the strange scene. Zoe tapped the window and it descended. She poked her head inside. “This is 1616 Columbus Drive?”

  “You betcha,” the driver replied.

  “Could there be another Columbus Drive?” she asked.

  “This is the one and only. You want to go somewhere else?”

  Zoe looked back over her shoulder. She didn’t know where else they’d go. Maybe someone lived here behind the heaps of rubbish?

  “Can you wait for a couple minutes?” Zoe asked.

  “Sure, if you pay me.”

  “I’ll pay you afterward.”

  “You’ll pay me now for the time I’ve already spent, and then the rest afterward.”

  Zoe huffed and dug out thirty dollars from her back pocket. She handed it over. “Just wait here, okay?”

  He nodded and grabbed the money, and Zoe joined Lucy. An evening chill crept in as the sun set on the day, a day that was beginning to feel eternal. Zoe and Lucy had left Tomac’s while it was still dark and boarded a bus as the sky filled with morning light. Eight and a half hours later that bus pulled into the station in north Corpus Christi, and the girls had started their search. Three addresses, each one dozens of miles from the next.

  The first two had turned up nothing useful. Both had belonged to residents with the name Summer Wallace, but neither seemed to know anything about Lucy or Ollie or a robin. Now, Zoe and Lucy shared a worried look, both knowing this was where their plan ended. They’d kept conversation simple and shallow since the startling events at Tomac’s yesterday. Zoe suspected their minds ran in similar directions, but neither of them wanted to verbalize their thoughts. She hoped they’d find Summer and she’d know what they should do next. But this seemed less than hopeful.

  “Come on,” Zoe said as she started toward the fence. The entrance was marked with a wide gate. She reached it and yanked. Locked. She looked around, and two details stood out. To the right side of the gate was a small code box and a keypad. Above it, at the high point of the fence, a black camera was directed down toward them but seemingly inactive.

  Lucy was beside her, looking through the chain links, searching for signs of life.

  “Anything?” Zoe asked.

  “Lots of things,” Lucy replied.

  Zoe moved to the code box and pressed the keypad. Nothing happened. It appeared offline or broken. She probed it with her fingers, hoping something might trigger the gate to unlatch, but still nothing.

  “This is useless,” she said. She could feel her exhaustion and frustration melding. To make matters worse, she heard the taxi behind her roar to life. She turned in time to see it pulling away. “Hey!” she screamed, rushing after it. “Wait, come back!” But it was too late. In a few seconds the car was turning back onto the side road and was gone.

  Zoe cursed loudly. “That’s just great!” Now they were stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no ride, at a dead end. She wanted to scream, throw her backpack on the ground, kick the air, anything to expel the anger gathering in her chest. Instead she rolled her fingers into fists, pressed her nails into her palms, and let out a shaky exhale. She couldn’t lose control. She needed to come up with a plan for what to do now.

  “Zoe,” Lucy called.

  She took another deep breath. She was pretty sure they had passed a gas station a couple of miles back. If they started walking now, they could probably get there before it was too dark.

  “Zoe,” Lucy called again.

  But then what would they do? They were running out of money, and Zoe didn’t know anyone in this city. She guessed they could get back on a bus to Dallas, head back to Tomac’s. Would he even let them back in?

  “Zoe—”

  She swung back around. “What?” she snapped.

  Lucy was staring up at the camera and pointed. “I think someone is watching us.”

  A shiver ran down Zoe’s spine. She walked toward Lucy and saw a small red light blinking at the base of the camera.

  “Was that light there before?” Lucy asked.

  No, Zoe thought. She wouldn’t have missed that.

  “Hello,” she said toward the camera. “Is anyone there?”

  They waited.

  Silence.

  Maybe it was motion sensitive and had activated when they walked by. That didn’t mean someone was watching. Right?

  Zoe waved her hands over her head. “Hello? We’re looking for Summer Wallace. Is anyone by that name here?”

  The light blinked and silence met their words. Zoe dropped her arms and sighed. She needed sleep. “It’s going to be dark soon. We ne
ed to make a plan.” She turned away from the fence and dropped to a knee, yanking her backpack around and inspecting its contents. “I think we have enough for a room and bus tickets. We should get some rest and then—”

  “Hello,” Lucy said. “Please, if someone is there, I need your help.”

  “Lucy, there’s no one there,” Zoe said. She didn’t even bother looking back.

  “Ollie sent me to find the robin,” Lucy continued.

  Zoe shook her head. No one would understand the cryptic code. She was starting to think this Olivia was a nutcase.

  “She said I could trust you, that you’re a friend,” Lucy said.

  “Lucy, there’s no one—”

  A dull buzz cut Zoe’s words short, and after a moment the gate’s lock turned and popped open. Lucy looked wide-eyed back at Zoe. Zoe’s mouth was open in similar surprise. Lucy pulled the gate to the left, and it slid open enough for her to step inside.

  Zoe scooped up their belongings and followed Lucy down the wide dirt path that cut through the piles of abandoned things. They’d traveled a few feet when the gate buzzed back to life and slid closed behind them. With a click it locked, sealing them inside. They paused, sharing a look, and then continued.

  Zoe’s eyes wandered over the terrain as they moved. Thousands of discarded items had found their way here. More threatening signs stood from the ground along the path.

  DO NOT ENTER

  TRESPASSER BE WARNED

  PRIVATE PROPERTY

  Zoe half expected a handwritten message: Turn around, go back, you aren’t prepared for what lies ahead.

  After a minute of walking the path that twisted back and out of view of the main entrance, they came upon a small house. Zoe wouldn’t actually call it a house but rather a small shed with a slanted steel roof, wood walls, and a single door cut out in the front. It was attached to a good-size warehouse—no windows, no doors—with a matching metal roof that lay flat across the top. A huge satellite and tall antenna occupied one corner. Two more black cameras sat on the front two corners of the warehouse, and a third camera watched from above the strange home’s single entrance.

  Lucy started toward the door, but it opened before she reached it. They saw the end of a long shotgun before the person holding it. Zoe took long strides, reached Lucy, and yanked her back as a middle-aged woman emerged, gun extended, face stone-cold. Her light blonde hair was pulled atop her head in a tight bun, her skin pale and freckled, her black clothes plain and functional and paired with heavy dark boots that could easily knock out teeth.

  All the warning instincts that existed inside Zoe’s body went off. This woman did not want them here, and they should not be here.

  “Who are you?” the woman barked.

  “Are you Summer Wallace?” Lucy asked bravely. Or stupidly. Zoe wasn’t sure yet.

  “I’m asking the questions! Who are you?” the gun holder demanded.

  “This is Zoe,” Lucy said, “and I’m Lucy.”

  “Where did you hear that phrase? Ollie sent you to find the robin—where did you hear it?”

  “Olivia told me.”

  The woman flinched slightly and her eyes darted between the girls. “How do you know Ollie?”

  “You mean Olivia?” Zoe asked.

  The woman nodded, and Zoe’s assumption was confirmed. Ollie and Olivia were one and the same.

  Lucy remained quiet, and Zoe could feel her thinking.

  “I asked you a question!” the woman yelled, cocking the shotgun and setting Zoe’s teeth on edge.

  “I don’t remember,” Lucy replied. “I can’t remember.”

  Again the woman’s body responded to Lucy’s words. She pulled her shoulders back, and the coldness in her eyes chipped away.

  “But she told me to find you, and to tell you that Ollie sent me to find the robin, and that I could trust you because you’re a friend. She said you would help me,” Lucy said. Zoe could hear the emotion capturing her words. “And I really need help.”

  The woman held the gun steady, sizing them up, searching them with her eyes. The moment seemed to linger for an uncomfortable amount of time, most likely because it involved a gun being pointed at their faces, but eventually she lowered the weapon and held it to one side.

  “Why isn’t she with you?” she asked.

  “We got separated,” Lucy replied. “She said she would meet me here.”

  Sadness filled Summer’s eyes, and after a moment she turned around and kicked the side of a barrel that sat beside the open door. She kicked it again and swore at the evening sky. Then she swung back around, tears sitting in her bottom lids. “Did anyone follow you here?” she demanded.

  “No,” Lucy said. “We got away from them.”

  “From them?”

  “The men chasing Olivia and me.”

  Summer dropped her eyes, and even in the fading light Zoe could see that she was thinking it all over. “They must have figured out what she was up to.”

  “Do you know what’s going on here?” Zoe asked.

  “Olivia can tell us everything when she gets here,” Lucy said.

  “Don’t be stupid, child,” Summer snapped. “Ollie is never coming here. They got her.”

  Lucy shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Yeah, I do. They always get you if you let them. But not me, not here!” She paused a second and then paced.

  Zoe wished she could see inside this woman’s mind. Something was clearly off.

  “You two should leave,” Summer said as she turned away.

  “No,” Lucy cried. “Please, we have nowhere else to go.”

  “Not my problem,” Summer said.

  “Olivia said we could trust you.”

  “She was wrong.”

  “You’re supposed to be her friend! You’re supposed to help me!”

  “It’s too much of a risk. Without Olivia . . .”

  Zoe stepped in front of Lucy. “They’ll kill her,” she said, which caused Summer to pause. “They’ll kill Lucy like they killed Olivia. And if you can help us and don’t, then that blood is on your hands. Do you want that?”

  Summer glanced over her shoulder at them, and Zoe approached her, ignoring the terror still creeping up her back. “Tell us what you know and we’ll be gone. Don’t and we die.”

  Silence hung around them like heavy smoke, making it hard to breathe. The wait felt longer than Zoe knew it was, their fate in the hands of this stranger. A stranger who could as easily shoot them as invite them in.

  Summer didn’t shoot them. She didn’t turn around to face them. She just spoke over her shoulder. “Let’s make this quick.” And then she disappeared inside.

  TWELVE

  SEELEY FOLLOWED DIRECTOR Hammon as he pushed through the double doors that led into the central communications office at Xerox. There was news. A possible connection that may give them a viable lead on Lucy’s location.

  There was a new sense of urgency as Krum had let on that there was now a deadline, an unknown date that they had to beat. Otherwise the world would know about Grantham and what they had done. And that couldn’t happen.

  “Talk to me,” Hammon said. His voice drew the attention of the room. It was a large oval space filled with screens that displayed images of ongoing operations, data streams, and the site’s security feeds. In the center was a long comms central, four operators working its switches and buttons.

  Dave McCoy, data pad in hand, took several steps from his position to greet Hammon and Seeley. With a swipe of three fingers across the data pad’s surface, he took over a large screen that hung on the left wall before them. A profile appeared, the face of a middle-aged woman and her details displayed.

  “This is Robin Hester, an old classmate of Olivia’s while she was getting her graduate degree at Cornell University. Robin was a structural biologist, and she and Olivia were both employed by Corp Tech for nearly a decade.”

  Seeley studied the woman’s photo. She had kind blue eye
s and light blonde hair that brushed the tops of her slender shoulders. Pretty and unassuming.

  “It seems Olivia and Robin were close through their school days,” McCoy continued, “as well as while they worked together at Corp Tech. We spoke with several of their colleagues. It seems Olivia and Robin were always talking about changing the face of science by merging structural biology and genetics in a groundbreaking way.”

  “This Robin Hester is helping them then?” Hammon asked.

  “No,” McCoy answered. “She was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2001 and passed away eighteen months later. But she had a stepsister who served in the US military from 2004 to 2007. She was honorably discharged after failing a psych evaluation. Apparently, she’s a bit of a conspiracy theorist.” He smiled at Hammon, who didn’t return his sentiment. McCoy cleared his throat. “Anyway, we scoured all the communications coming and going from Xerox and turned up nothing, but when we widened the search to the surrounding cities, a landline in Jasper turned up several phone calls to a pay phone on the outskirts of Corpus Christi. The landline belongs to a Melissa Glass, a known associate of Olivia.”

  “So, you think Olivia was making the calls?” Seeley asked.

  “Scanning security cameras shows Olivia wasn’t on campus when the phone calls were made, so if she wasn’t here . . .” McCoy said.

  “Then she could have been there,” Seeley said. “We need to talk with Melissa.”

  “We sent a couple agents, but no new information came from it,” McCoy continued. “Meanwhile, I’ve been looking for a connection to Corpus Christi.”

  “I’m assuming this ties back to Robin Hester?” Hammon said.

  “That’s what we think.” McCoy swiped the data pad again, and the profile on the screen changed. Another blonde woman replaced Robin’s photo. She was stockier with mean, dark eyes. Troubled.

  “Meet Summer Wallace,” McCoy said. “Robin’s stepsister. She took possession of her ex-husband’s junkyard back in 2015 after their divorce. It sits on the outskirts of Corpus Christi, only six miles from the pay phone where Olivia’s calls were going.”

  “Couldn’t she just have been checking up on an old friend?” Hammon asked.