“Ellie Montgomery.”
She rolled her eyes. I’m not that out of it! “Who am I according to my new fake passport?”
“Michelle Millay. You’re Jake’s sister this time. He’s Zachary Millay. You’re both from Montreal. You’re tourists, and I’m Philip Carter, your good friend from Portland, Maine.”
She stared at the top of her dresser, where her clothes were now neatly folded and stacked. The last time she recalled, they’d been in a heap on the bottom of her closet. Either Daniel or Jake had done her laundry yesterday. Or on Saturday. All she needed to do was stick her clothes in her backpack or dufflebag. That feat still felt undoable.
“Is she up?” she heard Jake ask Daniel.
“Yes,” Daniel said.
“No,” Ellie said, lying back down.
Jake entered the room. “Ellie. You have to get out of bed. We should have moved yesterday.”
“I’ll get up later.”
He held out a small pill and a glass of water. “Take this.”
“What is it?”
“Alprazolam. It’s an anti-depressant. I’ve . . . had to take them from time to time. It’ll get you through the four or five hours.”
She propped herself up on one elbow and swallowed the pill.
“I’ll help you pack.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. I just . . .” She didn’t have enough energy to finish the sentence. She lay flat once more.
Jake started stuffing her clothes into the dufflebag she’d brought from Alexis’s house. “Did you finish the drawing of John Deere yet?”
“Not yet.”
He selected a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve black top, and a black bra and panties, and set them on the corner of her bed. “Daniel probably has a pair of sunglasses from an ex-girlfriend lying around. You can hide your puffy eyes behind them.”
“You think my eyes look so bad I need to hide them?!” She sat up and glared at him.
Jake tilted his head toward one shoulder in what she supposed was an apologetic shrug.
“I can take it from here,” Ellie said.
He studied her features. “I can help you get dressed. I’ve been in the medical profession for two years now. Four, if you count Johns Hopkins. I’ve seen a lot of naked women.” His tone of voice was haughty.
Ellie gritted her teeth. “Congratulations, Jake,” Ellie grumbled, getting to her feet. “As if seeing lots of unclad, sick women is a major accomplishment.”
Jake grinned at her. “Your meds seem to be working.”
“No, you’re just too annoying to bear while lying down!”
“Either way, you’re on your feet. My work here is done.” He gave her a visual once-over then strode toward the door. “I’ll have your breakfast ready in ten minutes.” He shut the door behind him.
By the time Ellie stepped into the shower, her stomach was growling. She still felt helpless and hopeless, but at least her appetite had returned.
Jake made her pancakes and bacon, and the three of them were packed and on their way within the hour—a high-rise apartment building that Daniel said they’d chosen for its security. He handed her a fake Canadian passport, which he deemed “low-quality.”
“Is this going to get Jake and me past the apartment building’s ‘excellent’ security?” Ellie asked.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I already used mine to get my key from the front desk.
Jake winked at her in the rearview mirror. “Come to think of it, the security there is just so-so.”
Ellie mustered the semblance of a smile, then zoned out as she stared out the window. The anti-depressant was working. She could go through the motions. It’s just that she didn’t want to do anything beyond that. Yet here she was—fighting an unbeatable foe.
They arrived at what appeared to be an extended-stay hotel. The security was much better than at Daniel’s building, but more lax than ABTC’s. As the manager returned Ellie’s passport, he said to her, “I’ll bet you’re used to real cold in Montreal. This weather must feel downright balmy to you.”
Ellie nodded.
“How long are you staying in the United States?”
Unable to muster the energy for banter, she answered in French that she spoke very little English.
Jake and Daniel waved off the doorman’s or manager’s help with their luggage, and the three of them stepped into an unoccupied elevator. The moment the doors shut behind them, Jake said, “That wasn’t very smart, Ellie. I’m supposed to be your brother, remember? I don’t speak French.”
“Je vous demande pardon,” Ellie said in a half-sincere apology. “Is it too late for you to pretend to be a deaf, mute French Canadian?”
“Yeah, it is,” Jake retorted. “I already talked to the guy.”
“Pas de chance!” Daniel said.
Indeed, Ellie thought bitterly: Damn the luck!
#
Mid-afternoon, Ellie was sitting in the posh living room of their new apartment, putting the finishing touches on her drawing of John Deere. She assumed she should credit her medication for her increased ability to function. Even so, she needed to stay functional; she had to soldier on for a few more days, come what may. If Jake could identify the gunman in her drawing, the police had a reasonable chance of locating him, which would make her going to the police worth the risk. She planned to finger the shooter, along with Jennifer and Ethan McGavin. After all, there had to be some physical evidence left by John Deere at one of the two crime scenes.
She set down her pencil. Alexis would have been disgusted with her lack of skill, but it was an uncanny drawing for someone with Ellie’s dearth of artistic talent.
Jake had been working on a laptop at the mahogany desk across the room. He must have been keeping a steady eye on her, because after just a few seconds he asked, “Is it finished?”
“Yeah, and it’s a pretty decent likeness of the guy.”
Both Jake and Daniel drifted into the immediate area—Jake taking a seat on the gold jacquard sofa beside her and Daniel sitting on the adjacent ivory-and-blue striped chair.
She handed Jake her drawing pad and held her breath as he studied it carefully, her heart sinking as the disappointment registered on his features. “I’ve never seen him before,” Jake said.
He showed the sketch to Daniel. “Neither have I.”
They were silent for a minute.
“Our IPs are temporary addresses out of a large bank,” Daniel said. “That means they’re fairly safe. I think we have the best chance of luring both of Alexis’s parents at once if I make your phony location appear to be just a one-day drive away. I’m going to set it up so it looks like she’s in Montreal.”
Daniel had managed to feign optimism in his voice. Ellie couldn’t respond in kind. “No matter what we do, it’s only a matter of time till ABTC tracks us down.”
Neither Jake nor Daniel said a word.
“Jake, can you leak a story to the AMA that will force ABTC to shut down, temporarily, at least?” Ellie suggested.
He sighed. “I can lodge a credible complaint about improper patient care at the facility. I can claim that I faked my own death in order to blow the whistle. No matter what, though, the board will first want to investigate behind the scenes to see if I’m crackpot.” He grimaced. “I’ll send my files to a professor I know I can trust, too.”
“How long do you think it’d take before they take action?” Daniel asked. “Or till they at least send someone to investigate?”
“Two weeks.” Jake gave a small, frustrated shrug. “That would be shockingly fast.”
“What if you told them that Jane Doe had been murdered?” Ellie asked.
“The AMA investigators would immediately hand the matter over to the police, which gets us back into the same old bind,” Jake said. “Lack of evidence, lack of credibility. Unless we get both of the McGavins under immediate arrest, they’ll still be able to transfer their minds into hosts’ brains and walk away, scot free.”
El
lie got to her feet. She glanced at the time on her new cellphone. “Natalie will be leaving school in a few minutes. I’m going to call and meet up with her at some Metro stop in between. I’m telling her the truth.”
“That’s stupid!” Daniel cried, just as Jake was saying, “You can’t do that!”
“This is what I’m doing, and you can’t stop me! For all we know, they’ll sic the gunman on Natalie and her mom next!”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Daniel said, rising.
“No! My story to Natalie needs to be as simple as possible. It needs to be about me and ABTC, and how that has put her in danger. She’s all gaga over you, and she still thinks you’re my half-brother.” She held up a hand to Jake, who was already trying to insist that he go instead. “And, no, you can’t come with me, either.”
Ellie rifled through her backpack and found the slip of paper containing Natalie’s number. Natalie had jotted it down back when Ellie had stalled at giving Natalie her own cellphone number.
Jake and Daniel had risen, and Jake said, “Wait, Ellie. Let’s talk this through.
While dialing, Ellie said, “I don’t have time for that,” and left the apartment.
#
Ellie and Natalie met in a coffee shop in Crystal City. Ellie chose a bench for them to share that was in such a noisy, bustling area that she was certain they couldn’t be easily overheard.
“What’s going on, Ellie?” Natalie asked. “You look kind of . . . frazzled.”
Ellie knew that Natalie was understating how bad she looked. She’d seen her reflection. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes were bloodshot. “I haven’t been telling you the truth,” Ellie said, deciding not to mince words. “My parents weren’t killed in a car accident. They were killed by a gunman hired by Jennifer and Ethan McGavin. It was part of a cover-up for how the McGavins hijacked Jake Greyland’s invention, which was intended to restore the Alzheimer’s patients’ memories. Instead, Jennifer and Ethan have been testing it on coma patients, with the goal of selecting a pair of young, attractive host bodies so that they can give themselves eternal life.”
Natalie stared at Ellie for several seconds. “Um, can you run that by me again?” she said.
“I know it’s too wild to grasp. And that I’m throwing all of this at you out of the blue. It’s the truth, though. The McGavins wanted to use me as a test subject. They wanted to transfer the contents of my head into Jane Doe’s—the patient who died on Friday. They had already transferred Jake Greyland into a coma patient, but he fooled them and escaped from ABTC, then he downloaded my mind into this body instead.”
“Wait. I’m not following any of this. Go back. Your parents were shot while they were trying to protect you? From having the McGavins steal your brain?”
She nodded. “I know it sounds preposterous.” I might as well be telling her that I’m a Martian and I want her to be the copilot of my spaceship! “You shouldn’t go in to ABTC. Come to my apartment with me instead. Jake and Daniel will help explain.”
“‘Jake?’ As in Jake Greyland, the scientist?” Natalie asked.
“Yes. He’s the house-guest of Daniel’s that I mentioned. Jake’s . . . Dr. Greyland’s device digitizes a person’s brainwaves, so that they can be stored externally and then refreshed. That’s why Roger Culpepper suddenly got so sharp again. Tyler knows about this, too. He could back up that portion of my story. But the McGavins hijacked Jake’s invention, in order to get Jennifer out of her cancer-ridden body, and Ethan out of his aging body.”
Natalie lowered her gaze.
“I know this is all impossible to believe,” Ellie said, “but I had to warn you—”
“I believe you, Elizabeth. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe you’re crazy. But, I ran into Roger Culpepper’s daughter in the ABTC lobby Friday afternoon. She told me he’d had an experimental procedure that refreshed his memory to its status eighteen months ago.”
Ellie felt an enormous wave of relief. “You believe me?” she asked.
Natalie’s expression remained grim. “The procedure didn’t work, though.”
“Yes, it did! We talked to Roger on—”
“His Alzheimer’s came back.” Natalie shook her head sadly. “I saw him myself, for just a minute. He was in really bad shape. He was completely incoherent, and one of the male nurses had a shiner from Mr. Culpepper hitting him. He’s worse than ever.”
Chapter 30
“Oh, my God,” Ellie muttered to herself, terrified. What if that’s a delayed side effect of the procedure? And if it happens to all patients who’ve undergone the procedure? I could get violent and incoherent! Maybe I really am crazy!
“But just because it doesn’t work, long-term, on Alzheimer’s patients, doesn’t mean you’ll have any troubles,” Natalie said.
True. This might be the research project that Jennifer said they need Jake’s help with—or maybe this was a trap. The McGavins might have given Mr. Culpepper hallucinogens to lure Jake into coming into ABTC of his own volition.
Ellie rose. She needed to find out what was happening as soon as possible. “I’m going to ABTC.” She’d taken all of one sip of her latte, but it had lost its appeal.
“But . . . you can’t! Aren’t you scared of what they’ll do to you? You’re reporting to work like nothing’s wrong?”
“I have to talk to Mr. Culpepper myself. If I can get him out of ABTC and into an actual hospital, they can test him for hallucinogens. Maybe then I can get the police to shut down ABTC after all.” Ellie pitched her mostly full cup in the trashcan and hurried toward the turnstile for trains.
“Wait up,” Natalie said, also throwing out her coffee. “I’m coming with you.”
“Please don’t, Natalie.” Ellie whirled around and grabbed Natalie’s arm, searching her eyes. “You can’t be seen with me! It’s too dangerous!”
“I have to talk to my mom,” Natalie said. “She’s already there, working her shift today.”
“Don’t talk to her today. They’ve bugged the break room. They’ve got spyware in the data-entry computer. You’ll have to act like I never breathed a word of this to you. If you can’t do that, please go home. Call your mom and tell her you’re sick. Maybe she’ll leave work early.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “I’m going to be fine. You’re the one who’s in trouble with the McGavins, not me.”
They went through the turnstiles and made their way through a growing crowd of commuter traffic. Ellie’s mind raced as they waited. “If Culpepper and the other six patients truly are going crazy, Jake and I might be slowly going crazy, too.” She paused. “An attorney for the McGavins could use the patients’ sanity to discredit us. They can claim that Jake’s procedure wasn’t used on us or else we’d be crazy . . . yet if I we are crazy as a result, we’re no longer credible witnesses.”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Natalie said.
Neither will anybody else, Ellie thought, dizzy with fear.
#
Ellie rode in silence, she and Natalie having taken the only available seats, which were separated by several rows. As they emerged from the subway car, Ellie told her to go on ahead of her. There were people hurrying past them, heading toward the exits or to catch another subway. “It’s best for your sake if we aren’t seen together.”
“No offense, but you aren’t a paranoid schizophrenic, are you?” Natalie asked.
“I hope not. It’s possible that I’m crazy and not sane enough to realize it. In any case, I think I’m going to wait out here for a few minutes.” She forced a smile. “I’ll see you in a little while. Okay?”
Natalie studied her features. “Who are you really? Is your name actually ‘Elizabeth’?”
“No, but it’s close enough. I was a high school senior in Philadelphia.”
When Ellie didn’t elaborate, Natalie rolled her eyes and said, “See you later.”
Ellie waited for a minute or two, exited the Metro station, and, to delay her arrival time all the mor
e, went into the office building across the street from ABTC. Nobody was in the immediate area. She went up to the office space Daniel had rented. The blinds were open on the inner window, and she could see that he’d removed all of his surveillance equipment. Their surveillance had been rendered useless the moment the McGavins had suspected that they were being bugged. Ellie grabbed her cellphone and pretended to be listening intently, although her phone was turned off. Muttering the occasional “uh-huh,” she walked over to another pair of offices that, between them, currently had a dozen or so people within her line of sight.
Ellie tried to focus her racing thoughts. Jennifer’s odd visit to the data-entry room had occurred right after Ellie loaded the keystroke-recording spyware, not realizing that the McGavins were using one themselves. From that moment on—her second day on the job—the McGavins knew she was spying on them. Maybe they had suspected she was Ellie all that time and kept letting her come to work to see if they could get to Jake through her. Otherwise, they’d have fired her immediately. Or killed her.
She felt paralyzed.
Maybe I’m losing my mind. My brain could be shutting down, like Mr. Culpepper’s! Was his dementia caused by a deep flaw in Jake’s research, or by a hallucinogen?
It was risky and wrong to keep Jake and Daniel in the dark like this. They were probably already worrying that she’d gone to ABTC with Natalie.
She could call Daniel; this new cellphone was deemed “safe.” Ellie hesitated. What if she was now bugged? She’d deliberately left her backpack at home, but she’d worn this coat to work last week. What if, when this coat was in her locker, they’d planted a bug in its lining?
No matter what I do, I lose!
She stuck her phone in her pocket and headed toward ABTC. There was an ambulance outside the front entrance. And two patrol cars. The lights of all three vehicles were flashing. Why wouldn’t they use the emergency-only entrance at the brain-trauma wing?
Ellie’s heart seemed to stop. Natalie!? Had the McGavins staged an accidental hit-and-run the moment Ellie had left her side!?
Flanked by the patrol cars, the ambulance pulled away before Ellie could cross the street. Several doctors and nurses were watching from the sidewalk in front of the entrance. The sight reminded her of last night’s crowd of onlookers at her grandmother’s house.
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