by Sharon Sala
Breath caught in the back of her throat, and for the second time in her life, she was speechless.
Merlin had cared enough for her to make her his heir, and Charlie, in the middle of his grief, cared enough about her to keep her safe.
“Well?” Charlie asked.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. “You’re welcome. Uh...are you going to eat your pudding?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay. Just thought I’d—”
“Kidding,” she said, and handed it to him.
He poked a spoon into the pudding. “At least the smart-ass part of you is back,” he said, and took a bite.
* * *
It was a beautiful day in Houston, but there was a storm heading to Dallas. It wasn’t due to arrive before midafternoon, and they were due to fly out at 9:00 a.m., giving them plenty of time to get back and settle in before it hit.
Charlie had gotten special permission for Billy Wright to land on the hospital helipad to get her home, and they were checked out and waiting in her room when a nurse came hurrying in, pushing a wheelchair.
“Your ride just radioed that he’s inbound with a fifteen-minute ETA. Hop into this hot rod, Miss Jade, so we can get you up to the roof,” she said.
Wyrick was wearing scrubs and a zip-up hoodie that belonged to Charlie. She slid off the bed, balancing on her good leg, and hobbled to the wheelchair. She couldn’t use crutches or a walker because of her injured arm and shoulder, but Merlin’s motorized wheelchair was still in his room. Once she got home, she would manage.
Charlie shouldered his bag and walked beside her, judging every curious look they got as a possible threat. They rode the elevator up, and then were in the shelter waiting for the chopper to arrive.
To Charlie’s relief, Billy Wright was early. He landed, then jumped out and opened the door as they approached.
The sound of the rotors and the whipping wind put a knot in Wyrick’s gut. This was going to be a tense flight back, trying not to relive the crash.
Billy gave Charlie a quick pat on the shoulder. “I see that was a successful search.” And then he smiled at Wyrick. “Ma’am, if you would rather lie down on the flight back, I have a new sleeping bag, or we’ll buckle you up in a seat. It’s your call.”
“Sitting,” Wyrick said, shouting to be heard over the noise. Then before she could think, Charlie lifted her out of the wheelchair and into the cockpit.
She grabbed on to a seat to steady herself, and he climbed in behind her.
“Sit in the outside seat so you don’t have to bend your leg,” he said, so she settled into the seat behind his and let him buckle her in, appreciating the time he took to adjust her headset and seat straps to accommodate her shoulder wound and the sling she was wearing.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
Satisfied, Charlie loaded his gear. Then both men climbed in and they were gone.
Wyrick was sick to her stomach, scared that another chopper would appear out of nowhere and kill them all. She couldn’t sit still for looking out and then leaning forward, looking up and looking down.
Then all of a sudden, Charlie’s voice was in her ear.
“Wyrick, close your eyes. I’ve got this.”
Once again, the panic she was feeling subsided as she looked up at the man in the seat in front of her. He was a physical presence between her and danger, and her trust of him was implicit.
She closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, they were landing.
“Rise and shine, sunshine... We’re here,” Charlie said.
Wyrick woke just as the chopper was making its descent.
“We’re in Dallas?”
“Wright’s Aviation... It’s on the outskirts,” Charlie said.
“Any relation to Wilbur and Orville?” Wyrick asked.
Billy laughed. “No, ma’am. Just my daddy, Delroy, who taught me how to fly.”
He was shutting everything down as Charlie got out.
“Sit tight. I’m going to drive the Jeep up to get you,” he said, and took off running toward the office where he’d left his Jeep days earlier.
It reminded Wyrick that her car was still at the hangar. Even though it would be a while before she’d be allowed to drive again, she wanted it home.
Then Charlie pulled up beside the chopper.
“Do you want front seat or lie down in the back seat?” he asked.
“In the front,” she said, then held her breath against the pain as he scooped her up in his arms and moved her from the cockpit to his Jeep.
“Oh crap, that hurt,” she said.
“Pain meds are wearing off. Hang on a sec,” Charlie said, and got a blister pack out of his pocket, popped out a couple, then got a bottle of water from his backpack and opened it for her.
She swallowed the pills, then leaned against the seat, willing herself to relax as they drove away. They were back on the highway and heading into Dallas when she mentioned her car.
“All this time, I never once thought about my car still at the hangar,” Wyrick said. “I’m going to call Benny and see if he’d be willing to drive it in for me.”
Charlie shifted slightly in the seat. “Uh, Benny won’t be able to do that. I’ll figure something out and get it back to you,” he said.
She frowned. “What do you mean, Benny can’t do it?”
Charlie took a deep breath. There wasn’t any way to sugarcoat this.
“Right after you took off, a couple drove up in a van and began trying to get him to tell them where you went. He kept telling them he didn’t know, and the man beat him up pretty badly, but he wouldn’t tell. The cops said the office had been ransacked, though, so if anything had been written down, they found it. We think it’s how the sniper in the chopper found you.”
Charlie was watching when Wyrick went pale. When he saw her jaw set, and then her nostrils flare, he felt the anger.
“It’s not your—”
She held up her hand, her voice shaking with rage. “Like hell, it’s not my fault! Of course it’s my fault. He’ll take anyone down to get to me. This just confirms I am right in what I am going to do when I get home. And I’ll tell you now—if you don’t want the shit that’s going to become my life to bleed over onto you and your business, I will understand. I can still do research for you and will do so gladly, but I can do it anonymously. No one has to know we’re associated.”
Charlie frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? What are you going to do?”
“Tell the world the truth about Cyrus Parks and Universal Theorem—about what they do, what they’re involved in, which includes shit like Fourth Dimension, other levels of human trafficking, and experimenting with human life trying to re-create me. I’m the proof of their illegal experiments and the people they’ve made disappear to make it happen, and that’s why he wants me gone.”
There was a knot in Charlie’s gut that was getting tighter by the moment. She was going to destroy herself to take them down.
“I’ve got your back. I’ll always have your back. You do what you have to do,” Charlie said, and kept driving.
Wyrick absorbed the vow in a way Charlie would never understand. He could have said I love you, and it wouldn’t have touched her any deeper.
She tried to thank him, but knew if she opened her mouth she would cry, so she nodded instead, and the tears came anyway, rolling silently down her face as they drove.
A short while later, they were on the freeway and eyeing the darkening sky in the north, remembering there was a winter storm coming in, when Charlie broke the silence.
“I know the area you lived in, but I’ve never been there. You’re going to have to direct me.”
“Oh...okay,” she said, and then proceeded to do so until they were approaching the estate
. “It’s the four-story brick with the black iron gates.”
“Holy shit!” Charlie said. “That’s a mansion.”
“I know,” Wyrick said. “Merlin was very wealthy, but I live in the basement apartment. Unfortunately, the remote to the gates is in my car back at the hangar, so you’ll have to key in the code.”
Charlie drove up to the entrance and rolled down the window.
“What’s the code?” he asked.
“Seven, three, four, three,” Wyrick said.
Charlie punched in the code and the gates swung inward.
“Drive around to the back,” Wyrick said. “That’s the ground-floor entrance to where I stay.”
“Do you have an extra house key?”
She sighed. “Inside.”
“If I pick the lock, am I going to set off an alarm?”
“No. I didn’t set it because I was coming right back.”
Charlie pulled up to the back entrance, then opened the glove box and got out a set of lock picks.
“Give me a couple of minutes, and then I’ll come back and help you inside.”
She nodded, then watched him striding to the door. He paused to check out the lock, then opened the wallet of lock picks. She saw him take out a couple and squat down in front of the door. Less than two minutes later, he stood up and opened the door, then came back for her.
“That was too easy,” Wyrick said, thinking of all the months she’d spent sleeping here, feeling safe.
He shrugged. “Or I’m just good.”
She rolled her eyes.
He grinned. “Are we hobbling, or do you want a ride?”
“Probably the ride,” she said.
He leaned in, scooped her up into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him as they went.
She’d left lights on in the front part of the apartment, but she wanted to get into her bed.
“My bed’s down the hall. I’ve been thinking about sleeping in it ever since that first night in the hospital.”
Charlie carried her to the bedroom, then eased her down onto the side of the mattress. He took off her boots and the jacket she’d worn home.
She lay back with a groan, and when Charlie pulled the covers up over her, she sighed.
“I just need to rest for a little bit and then I’ll be in the office, bringing UT down around their ears.”
“Is the thermostat set okay for you?” Charlie asked.
“Yes. If you need to go home to get some things, now’s the time to do it. That winter storm watch said the front would hit Dallas by midafternoon and it’s really dark in the north.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then get my gun. It’s in the top drawer of that dresser.”
He stared. “You have a gun.”
“Yes, and it’s bigger than the one you carry,” she said.
Charlie opened the top drawer.
“Look under the bras.”
There weren’t any bras there, just a variety of colored socks, and then it hit him. She didn’t have boobs, therefore she didn’t have bras. He turned and glared at her.
“Your sense of humor is weird as hell,” he said, then shoved the socks aside and put the gun on the table beside the bed.
“Go do what you need to do. There’s a remote for the gate and a spare key to my apartment in the kitchen upstairs. Go up the stairs at the end of this hall. You’ll come out in the kitchen. They’re in the drawer next to the sink.”
Charlie left the bedroom, curious as to what was above her, and hurried up the stairs, then came out into a huge kitchen. The design was old-fashioned, but the appliances were state-of-the-art. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of the mansion must look like, but that was for another time. He found the remote and key, then ran back downstairs.
“Got them,” he said. “I’ll lock you in, and I won’t be long, so don’t shoot me when I come back.”
“You’re safe,” she said. “I’m not a very good shot.”
“With a gun that size, you don’t have to be,” Charlie muttered, and left on the run.
Wyrick heard him leave, and then his car driving off the property. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the pain in her body. She didn’t quite understand how it worked, but in the same way she’d stopped herself from bleeding out, she could also block out pain. She needed to be clearheaded and at ease when she kicked the first block out from under Cyrus Parks. After that, it would be like a house of cards. It was all going to come tumbling down.
Eighteen
Charlie took all of the shortcuts to get to his apartment, then grabbed a suitcase and started packing. He didn’t know how long he was going to be there, and he didn’t expect it to be easy. They got on each other’s last nerve on a regular basis, but she was, by God, worth the hassle. And after what he’d learned about her these past few days, all he wanted to do was fix every damn thing they’d broken in her.
He tossed in his laptop and iPad and a handful of charging cords, his favorite old sweats and his toiletries kit, then ran into the kitchen and put his entire candy stash into a plastic bag and packed it, too.
Chocolate.
It was what tamed the dragon in her.
He could hear the wind changing as he carried his suitcase out of the apartment into the parking garage and put it in his Jeep. Even as he was getting in, he could feel the temperature dropping. Damn, it was cold—cold enough to snow, as he headed back to the old mansion.
* * *
Wyrick conquered the pain, but she still had to get from her bedroom to the office without face-planting. She threw back the covers to get up, then gasped. Putting weight on her leg was hell.
Damn you to hell and back, Cyrus Parks, for doing this to me.
Then she hobbled out of the room, grabbing on to furniture as she went to steady herself, then into the hall, holding on to the wall to balance herself until she got to the office.
She slid into the seat with a sigh of relief, booted up the computer, then took her arm out of the sling, wincing as the muscles pulled.
The first thing she opened was the FAILSAFE file. She’d thought long and hard about how to do this, and who to tell first. Part of her concern at the outset had to do with who might be involved that would squelch the revelations of what she was about to unveil.
Her solution was to become the whistleblower, and she began sending the same information to every media outlet in the free world, including the Associated Press, and then to the judicial side, the FBI, the CIA and to the US attorney general, uploading the proof of her claims by sending file upon file, with data and test results of using humans as guinea pigs for their tests, and all of the failures—the bodies buried in doing it—then files with proof of the illegal testing and research they’d used to accomplish what they’d done.
It was an avalanche of information that, once released, could no longer be hidden, and the people guilty of collusion would fall along with them.
She sent proof of Cyrus Parks and UT’s involvement in human trafficking to the FBI, to the attention of Special Agent Hank Raines, who had been in charge of taking down the Fourth Dimension, explaining that the very high-tech security installed at that place was from a system she had personally designed and created for UT when she still worked there, and that the only person who would have had knowledge of that specific system would have been Cyrus Parks. Then she linked the file she’d sent to the FBI to Hank’s file, as well.
But the denouement—the final proof was her. Her personal story, from the time they’d experimented with the DNA of four scientists, to the gene-splicing and gene manipulation they’d used on the harvested eggs of the women who were their surrogates, to replanting the viable embryos, trying to create a race of geniuses.
All of her story was in that file...including her mother, who’d
carried her and raised her until the age of five, her own kidnapping and her mother’s murder meant to keep her from fighting UT for custody.
The file detailed her life in UT, and how she became an experiment they studied, using her abilities, testing her mental acuity daily, and pushing her constantly to see what she could do. Then she delineated, in detail, why they threw her away when she got cancer, then why they wanted her back when she survived, and why they now felt threatened by what she knew when she refused them.
It was all there...why they wanted her dead, and what they’d done in an effort to make that happen. Jade Wyrick was giving up all the secrets of her life to stay alive.
And when the last file was sent, she was too sad and exhausted to cry. This was the last day she would ever call her own again.
She was about to get up when she remembered Benny. Her shoulder was throbbing, but she couldn’t rest until she made things right. She always paid him monthly by direct deposit, so she logged in to one of her local bank accounts and sent half a million dollars into his checking account, then sent him an email.
Benny, I just found out what happened to you. There are no words for how sorry I am that you were hurt because of me. I just want you to know that all of your medical bills will be taken care of, and I have deposited a sum of money into your account to offset any financial hardships as you are recovering. If anyone asks, I’m just someone you work for, and you know nothing about my life. It’s safer for you that way.
She signed off, then hit Send.
The room was silent. The showerhead was still dripping. But she could hear the wind rising, and it felt like the temperature was dropping.
She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. It was a duplicate of the one she’d lost in the crash. The texts from her old one wouldn’t be on it, but she still had all of her contact info, so she put it in her pocket, slipped her arm back into the sling and turned up the thermostat as she hobbled her way back to bed. She made it to the bathroom, and when she came out, she got in between the covers, pulled them up to her chin and closed her eyes.
