Chapter Eighteen
Val gripped the edge of the lobby’s granite countertop with white knuckles, as if she could dig her fingernails into its smooth surface. “I said Asclepius Incorporated. Asclepius.”
The receptionist held his empty, nonconfrontational smile in place. “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no company by that name in the building.”
“I know Asclepius rented space here in the past.” Val showed the receptionist the crumpled paper she’d swiped from Lucien’s office the night before. “Can you at least tell me what space they used when they were here?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t—”
Val slapped the paper on the countertop. “God, just let me talk to your manager already.” She knew she should’ve been nicer—more flies with honey and all that—but she wasn’t in the mood to play along. Not after last night.
The receptionist’s steely smile slipped into a slight frown, and he made a call on the phone behind the front desk. “Julia, can you come to the front, please? I’ve got a customer here with some questions.”
A moment later, a woman who might have been about Val’s age emerged from the “Employees Only” door, though graying hair and a square build made her seem older. “Can I help you?” Julia asked.
“Asclepius Incorporated rented office space in this building at some point in time. I know because this memo lists this building in the return address. So can you tell me where they used to be?”
Julia glanced at Val’s paper, then smiled. “Oh yes, I remember a man from Asclepius coming in here often, about six months ago. Christophe, I think his name was. I didn’t see him again after their lease expired and they didn’t renew. Too bad, he was a really nice guy. Very charming. French.”
“He’s under investigation for rape and kidnapping.”
Julia’s smile fell like a lead weight. “Oh.”
“Where is the space he rented?”
“On the twelfth floor. There are doctor’s offices there now.”
A seed of hope sprang up in Val. Doctor’s offices were perfect places to conduct experiments on people, though how Lucien could get unwilling participants up there and keep them imprisoned without attracting attention was an open question. “I need to go up to those offices and look around.”
Julia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who did you say you were again?”
“Abigail Westlake, with the Seattle PD.”
“Can I see your badge?”
“It’s in the shop right now. Listen, all I want to do is look around. You can follow me if you want.”
“I can’t let you up there without some identification, or a warrant.”
Great, someone was a Law and Order fan. “You’re impeding a criminal investigation.”
Julia set her jaw and put her hand on her hip like a stern mother. “I don’t know what you’re really doing here, but the only people allowed in this building are employees and people with appointments. Please leave.”
Val gritted her teeth and shoved the Asclepius memo back into her pocket. “If you want to put innocent people’s lives at risk for the sake of your draconian rules, then fine. I’ll be back with my badge, and a warrant.” She stalked to the exit, then cut right just before the revolving glass doors. In a quiet corridor, she took a pen from her pocket and flipped the fire alarm. Val tossed the ink-covered pen in the trash as she exited the building with the other evacuating occupants. She snaked through people loitering in the parking lot, got into her car, and waited.
Two minutes later, a couple of fire engines roared up. They’d have to sweep the building, even for a false alarm. If she couldn’t search Asclepius’s old offices, the fire department would do it for her. Val drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and watched the firemen enter the building. Twenty minutes later, they came out, got back in their trucks, and drove away.
“Fuck.” Val pounded the dashboard with her fists. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Another dead end. Her last hope was the mangled hard drive.
She drove to Zach’s house in the Kent suburbs. Usually she didn’t go to his place, since his mother was around most of the time, and it made doing business with him face-to-face awkward. This time, it was just Zach at home—his mom had gone to the plant store—and he gleefully led her to his room.
“Uh, sorry about the mess,” he said, pushing dirty clothes off the foot of his bed. “I don’t normally, you know, get girls up here…” He blushed, a bright flame across his face when contrasted with his pale skin and black eyeliner.
“It’s fine.” Without sitting down, she handed him a baggie with the hard drive pieces inside. “I need you to see what information you can pull from this.”
He emptied the baggie into his hand, the pieces clinking against the huge silver skull-and-crossbones ring he wore. “Damn. Someone throw this off a building or something?”
“Can you work with it or not?”
“Hmm…maybe. Probably.”
“Good.” She dropped five twenties on the desk in the corner he’d piled high with computer equipment. “The sooner the better.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
As she left his room, he called after her, “Hey, you can come by anytime and I can show you how I do my magic, it’s pretty cool—”
She stepped outside and shut the front door behind her.
Back in her car, she let out a long, exhausted sigh. At this point, she had no choice but to tell Nora that even though she knew who had her daughter, she still couldn’t prove it. Nor had she been able to find Margaret, despite being only a few steps behind Lucien.
She should also apologize to Max, maybe in a couple of days, after he’d cooled off. What could she say that would make up for keeping such a big secret from him? He’d told her a lot of things about himself that weren’t any of her business. Hell, she knew practically everything about him. And he knew almost everything about her. That intimate knowledge bound her to him in a way she would never experience with any other person. Her stupid, stubborn heart couldn’t give him up, no matter how hard she tried to force it to.
Val took a deep breath and pulled out her phone. Might as well start the process of making uncomfortable calls, beginning with Nora. She paused when a new e-mail notification popped up, from an address she didn’t recognize. An article was embedded in the message: “Mysterious Death Outside Local Bar Baffles Authorities.” Val’s blood pressure spiked as she read the story of Calvin Williams, a Lakewood mechanic who’d somehow choked to death on his own blood. The article speculated about possible viruses. Was someone trying to blackmail her?
Then she read text underneath the article:
Calvin Williams: cokehead and amateur hacker. Five arrests. One conviction for drug possession with intent to sell, two misdemeanor convictions for mail fraud and unlawful cybercrimes, sp. hacking into corporate servers and personal e-mail accounts. Restraining order in effect for stalking ex-girlfriend.
It was signed simply at the bottom:
Asshole.
Sten had sent this to her.
So Cal had worked in Lakewood as a mechanic…hadn’t Zach told her the spoofed IP address where Margaret’s video came from originated from a car garage in Lakewood? If Lucien was the source of the rape videos, maybe he hadn’t intended for them to pop up on the Internet. Could Cal have hacked into Lucien’s computer and stolen the videos? It was also possible Lucien sent the videos to certain sickos—people like Ginger—as a fucked-up “memories” keepsake for recruitment, and Cal hacked into their accounts and found the videos. The second scenario seemed more likely, given Lucien’s gift for covering his tracks. Could be Cal targeted Ginger in particular because the two knew each other. The mechanic had a history of selling drugs—maybe he was Ginger’s dealer? And when Lucien found out about the theft, he dispatched Ginger to take care of the problem, with poison in the form of a bribe.
It seemed a viable theory, taking into account everything she knew so fa
r. How could Max be engaged to a woman whose brother was such a piece of shit? Val assumed Abigail and her brother grew up together. Was she really so much better than Ginger, or just better at hiding her depravity?
Val scoffed and shook her head at her spiteful thinking. Here she was, hoping her true love’s fiancée was somehow a demented psycho—after she pushed him away. Pathetic. Val started her car. She’d call Nora after she was done being an emotional basket case.
On the way home, she rehearsed the conversation she knew she needed to have with Nora, though her mind kept wandering back to Max and what she should say to him. Jesus, a woman was being tortured somewhere, and she fretted over her ex-boyfriend. Way to have your priorities straight, Val.
Feeling like a complete piece of shit by the time she pulled up to her house, she saw an unfamiliar car parked in her driveway. Val put a hand on the gun at her hip, then relaxed as Josephine stepped out of the driver’s side. She hadn’t seen Robby’s sister since Dean’s funeral close to a year ago. She couldn’t think of any pleasant reasons why Jo would make an impromptu visit.
As soon as Val got out of the car, Jo asked, “Why does Maxwell Carressa keep trying to give me money?”
“He’s what?”
“He keeps offering me money, first as a scholarship fund in Robby and my dad’s names, then as a charity donation. You…know him. Why is he harassing me?”
“Maybe you should ask him.”
Jo scoffed. “I don’t want anything to do with that asshole. He killed my father.”
“He didn’t kill your father. I was there when it happened.”
“Well, Carressa somehow pushed him to do what he did. Dad never would’ve killed himself.”
Except he did, right in front of Val and Max. In fact, Val was the one who’d pushed him. The familiar taste of bile rose in her throat. “It was Dean’s choice to take his own life,” Val said, repeating what her logical brain knew was the truth, though it didn’t help her sleep at night. “It’s not Max’s fault.”
“If it’s not his fault, then why does he keep trying to pay me off? Tell him to leave me the hell alone.”
Val sighed. Max would be furious with her for this. But he was already furious with her, and sitting on the truth was making things worse. “Max is your brother, Jo.”
Jo blinked as if Val had spoken a foreign language. “Excuse me?”
“He’s your brother; half brother, specifically. Dean had an affair with Max’s mother. Max was the result. He’s probably trying to give you money as an excuse to have some contact with you.”
Jo’s mouth fell open. “That’s a lie,” she said, her words choked.
“Dean told us himself, right before he…passed away. I don’t think he’d lie about something like that. You’re Max’s only immediate family member; vice versa for you now, I guess.”
Jo pressed her lips together as if prepping for a yelling fit. Instead tears filled her eyes and her shoulders slumped. She let out a trembling breath, then turned away from Val, got in her car, and drove away.
Poor Jo. Poor Max. Val rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. A headache began to take root, born from too much pressure between her ears, from the weight of the entire goddamn, terrible world. She itched to call Sten, the perfect drug for relief with a side of self-loathing. No, she wouldn’t do it again. He’d already done too much for her. Just thinking about what he might want in return made her shudder. She went inside, made a beeline for the fridge, cracked open a beer, and rubbed the condensation on her face. Three more beers and the last terrible twenty-four hours would only be a nattering in the back of her mind. At least Stacey wasn’t around to give her shit about it. Where the hell was her roommate? Val hadn’t seen her in…days, it seemed. She didn’t remember. Fuck it. Val couldn’t take Stacey’s pity anyway. It hurt too much.
She took a long, desperately needed drink of her beer. Of course that’s when Sten called.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “Didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”
“I’d rather you call back when I’m drunk.”
“I assumed you were always drunk.”
“What do you want, Sten? Is this a booty call?”
“Please. Meet me at the corner of Second and Pine Street in an hour.” He hung up.
“Shit,” Val muttered, then chugged the rest of her beer. Time to pay her pound of flesh.
Chapter Nineteen
The corner of Second and Pine Street bustled with the tail end of rush hour traffic. Val parked on Second, then took a moment to bounce her head off the steering wheel a few times. If she knocked herself out, she’d have an excuse for not showing up…Nope, wasn’t working. Shit. She took a deep breath and heaved herself out of the car. Squinting at the sun blaring in her eyes and wishing she could curl up in a ball and sleep for a week, she walked to the corner and scanned the area. No Sten. Maybe he wouldn’t show. Hell, of course he’d show. She had to wait. Val was on his schedule now.
In the worst-case scenario, he’d order her to kill someone. She wouldn’t commit murder, even if it meant reneging on their deal and suffering his wrath. She wouldn’t seriously harm an innocent person, either. In fact, there were a lot of things she wouldn’t do under any circumstance. He might have to kill her. She didn’t doubt he was capable.
Val felt her cell phone vibrate; a text from Sten. Down the alley. She walked to the nearest alleyway on Pine, a dirty stretch of asphalt barely two car lengths wide and cast in shadow by the setting sun. In the center, Sten leaned against his unmarked police cruiser, casual in jeans and a plain dark blue T-shirt. Seeing him like that reminded Val why she’d been attracted to him in the first place, back in her early Army days. He struck an effortless, cocky pose, lazy expression hinting at a hidden intelligence. He made people come to him. Val set her jaw as she approached. She wanted to be free of him—and not. He made her body feel good, and he could hone her visions like no one else, despite the oily feeling he left on her soul afterward. And, God help her, he was the only person she could relate to anymore, now that her primary emotions were anger and frustration.
Sten opened the back door of his cruiser and motioned for her to get inside. She hesitated for a moment, wary of where he would take her, but decided her options were limited and got in the backseat. At least there was no one else already in there.
“Scoot over,” he said.
She did so. He slipped in beside her and shut the door. Then he grabbed her legs and yanked them toward him. She yelped when her back bounced off the leather upholstery. He popped off her shoes, tossed them to the side, then pulled down her pants.
“I thought this wasn’t a booty call,” she said, letting him tear off her jeans and panties.
“It’s not.” He glanced at his watch, then ran his hands up her naked thighs. “But we’ve got a little time to kill, and you look like you’re going to explode. You need your pressure valve released, baby.” He spread her legs and dipped his head down.
“Don’t call me that—” Her breath caught when she felt his tongue slide inside her. The car became a sauna as her body exploded with heat. She gasped for breath while Sten’s mouth caressed her, played with her, sucked on her. God, he was good at this—too good, like a terrible drug she couldn’t quit. She loved it as it killed her. He went on for a blur of time, soft and relentless. Her thighs trembled, body edging toward climax. Another terrible glimpse of the future was coming, either of someone dying, or the world ending, or a life with Max she couldn’t have, or worse. Not again.
She mustered all her willpower. “Stop,” she said, her voice breathless. “Stop.”
Sten lifted his head so his eyes met hers. “Why?”
“I can’t.” Her chest heaved with the effort to calm herself down. “I don’t want to know the future. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Are you sure?” He slipped two fingers inside her while his thumb rubbed her clitoris in slow circles. A spike of pleasure shot through her. “I can make it a pleas
ant experience.”
Val squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No. Please.”
Sten sighed and removed his hand from between her legs. “Have it your way.”
He moved up beside her and wedged his chest between her prone body and the seat back. His head propped on one arm, he used his free hand to skim his fingers along her bare thigh. Val lay limp beside him, the pressure of her day replaced by the raw need for sexual release that she took deep breaths to suppress. She tipped her head to the side until Sten’s moist shirt touched her nose. If anyone had seen them at that moment, she and Sten might’ve been mistaken for lovers.
He’d stopped when she asked him to. She hadn’t expected that, not after being used and violated by so many other people. The sliver of power he’d given her meant a lot more than he probably realized. A tiny kernel of real affection for him popped inside her.
“You taste good,” Sten said. “I don’t say that to every woman, just so you know.”
“You tried to kill me once.” She said it as much to remind herself as to rebuff Sten. No matter the positive feelings she was beginning to have for him, she couldn’t forget he was a killer.
“That was for show. I wouldn’t have killed you. I can’t anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Politics.”
Another vague clue. “But you would’ve killed Max.”
“Nah…well, maybe. That one was kind of up in the air.”
She scoffed. “If you’re going to kill him, you might as well kill me.”
Retribution Page 15
