Guarding Grace

by Rebecca York

  When they reached the trees, Grace dragged in a deep breath and let it out as she leaned against a tree. “We made it.”

  “I hope. Move around the tree, so it’s between you and the back of the strip mall.”

  She slid around the trunk, and he did the same.

  Easing his head out, he looked back toward the rear of the restaurant in time to see an officer striding toward the car.

  “We’d better put some distance between us and the cops.”

  As they both turned and made tracks, he pulled out his cell phone and called Light Street again.

  “Change of plans. The bad guys showed up at the pizza parlor where we were eating. We’re crossing a wooded area in back of the shopping center.”

  “Not to worry,” came the answer from Max Dakota. He was silent for a few moments, then said, “Livestock Market Road is on the other side of the woods. Head for the road. We’ll detour and pick you up.”

  “Thanks.”

  As they pushed on through the trees, Brady muttered, “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “We should have cleared out of the area instead of holing up in a restaurant.”

  “You made the best determination you could. You wanted a place where I could sit down. And if we had started down the road, they might have scooped us up with no chance to get away.”

  She was right, of course, but he still felt guilty.

  They ran until they reached the far edge of the woods and stopped short. A police car was pulled up along the shoulder.

  Brady cursed under his breath.

  “How did they find us?”

  “The cop must have spotted us go in. Or they could have come this way because it was a logical escape route.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He thought fast. “We can’t retrace our steps. We’ll have to go parallel to the road.”

  They moved cautiously to the side and kept going, picking up their pace. But Brady suspected they weren’t putting enough distance between themselves and the patrol car.

  Looking in back of him, he saw another cop car hugging the woods, closing in on them.

  He was thinking they weren’t going to make it when a series of explosions split the air.

  Brady grabbed Grace and threw her to the ground, rolling on top of her. They lay wedged together as two more concussions banged against them.

  “What’s happening? Was that the car?” she breathed when the noise and vibrations stopped.

  “Don’t know. It’s not aimed at us, I think.”

  He could hear running feet and looked up in time to see the officer out of his car. He was taking off toward a farmhouse on the other side of the road.

  “We’d better get out of here while we can.”

  He rolled to his side and was about to stand up when he saw someone striding toward him through the woods.

  It took a moment to recognize Hunter Kelley, who was dressed like a farmer who’d just come in from plowing the fields.

  “You change professions?” Brady asked as he got to his feet.

  “No. I’m trying to look like I live in West Virginia. This way.”

  He led them back the way they’d come, circling around the cop car.

  “What were the explosions?” Brady asked.

  Hunter laughed. “Must have been some kids setting off fireworks at that vacant house down the road.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Grace Cunningham—Hunter Kelley, from the Light Street Detective Agency,” Brady said.

  “Nice to meet you,” they both answered.

  A car pulled onto the road from a side lane, and they climbed into the backseat.

  Max Dakota was at the wheel. “I see you can’t stay out of trouble,” he commented as he pulled away, driving at a moderate pace. Once again, Brady made introductions.

  Sitting back, he took a deep breath, allowing himself to relax for the first time since he’d met Grace outside her apartment.

  Ten minutes later, the car turned into a field where a helicopter was waiting.

  Grace goggled at it. “You came in that?”

  “Faster than driving here from Western Maryland.”

  “That’s where the Randolph Security test labs are located,” Brady explained to Grace. “Randolph and Light Street are sister companies. We work together on an as-needed basis.”

  They climbed out of the car, and Brady helped Grace into a seat on the chopper and handed her a pair of earphones with a microphone attached. “It’s going to be noisy,” he said. “If you need to speak, you can use the comms unit.”

  They took off as soon as they were belted in, but both he and Grace were silent on the trip from Martinsburg. There was no point in starting a conversation now, because they would have to repeat it as soon as they got to the Randolph facility.

  By helicopter it was only a forty-five-minute ride to the secure lab. As soon as the chopper landed, Brady sighed. He’d half expected a guided missile to come streaking at the helicopter. Now they were safely on the ground, and no one could reach them here. However, they had a lot of explaining to do.

  These people had come to their rescue with no questions asked. They were about to find out some inconvenient facts.

  After helping Grace down, he turned to see a dozen colleagues he’d worked with before he went out on his own. Hunter’s wife, Kathryn Kelley, was there. As well as husband and wife Jo O’Malley and Cameron Randolph, who owned The Light Street Detective Agency and Randolph Security, respectively.

  Thorn Devereaux, Jed Prentiss, Max Dakota, and Nick Vickers also joined the group.

  “We were sorry to hear about your brother,” Jed said.

  “It’s complicated,” Brady clipped out, then glanced at Kathryn Kelley. She was a psychologist, and she probably saw the tension coursing through him.

  When Grace hung back, he brought her forward, introducing her to the crowd. But he could see she was on edge. He knew these people. She was stepping into an unfamiliar situation, and what she was going to say wouldn’t put her in a very flattering light. But he’d help her through it.

  “Why don’t we get comfortable in the lounge,” Kathryn said, and he was grateful for the reprieve.

  In the lounge, everyone got something to drink. Nothing alcoholic, which he suspected was for his benefit. They all knew what had happened to him after Carol and Lisa had died.

  Brady reached for Grace’s hand, and she knit her fingers with his. He gave her a reassuring squeeze before saying, “I found out after my brother’s death that he was involved in a very nasty scheme to provide him with spare parts if he needed them.”

  “You mean an illegal organ-donor program?” Jo asked. A long time ago, she’d helped break up a ring that was providing organs to wealthy customers.

  “You could say that,” Brady answered. Deciding to spell it out before they got any further, he added, “In this case, John was going to get a new heart from a young man who was his clone. A man who was adopted and raised by foster parents who weren’t clued in that he’d been created specifically for the purpose of providing backup organs for John Ridgeway. Of course, he didn’t have a clue, either.”

  There were exclamations around the room.

  “How do you know?” Hunter Kelley asked with an edge in his voice.

  Brady had known Hunter would react to the news more than the others.

  “One of the clones found out about the secret project that produced her. She broke into the records of the laboratory and got the names of some others, and they vowed to join together to protect themselves. When they learned that John was getting ready to have a heart transplant, they came up with a scheme to eliminate him before he could kill his clone.”

  For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Grace cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her. She sat rigidly in her seat, and he pressed her hand again.

  “The news accounts said John Ridgeway was alone when he died. But that’s part of what his security men are cover
ing up. Ridgeway was having an affair with a woman, and his chief of security didn’t want the great man’s image tarnished with the sordid details of an affair. His paramour’s name was Karen Hilliard. I was her lookout because all of us vowed to help protect the others.”

  She raised her chin. “I’m one of the clones.”

  Hunter cleared his throat. “If you think we haven’t heard about clones being raised for unethical purposes, you’re wrong. That was exactly my role. So I understand where you’re coming from.”

  Grace gasped as she stared at him. “You’re saying you’re a clone, too?”

  “Exactly,” he answered. “But I was supposed to be the perfect assassin. I’d go on a mission to the Middle East, and they wouldn’t have to worry about getting me back.” He looked at his wife. “Kathryn rescued me. We’re married, and we have a son. Your background doesn’t mean you can’t lead a normal life.”

  Grace nodded wordlessly, obviously shocked by the revelation and probably relieved that this group of people had already accepted a man who was a clone. Still, her next words sent a chill down his spine.

  “Of course, that doesn’t excuse the fact that I was involved in a murder plot.”

  Brady watched the reactions around the room. He knew Grace had made the claim for shock value, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

  “You agreed to help Karen Hilliard go after John Ridgeway because he was going to kill his clone for spare parts.”

  “Does that excuse killing him?”

  “It was a case of kill or be killed,” Brady answered.

  “We felt that way,” Grace answered. “We swore to protect any one of us who was going to be…harvested.”

  “Tell them how Karen Hilliard found out about the secret lab that produced her,” Brady prompted.

  “Because she was also John Ridgeway’s clone.”

  In response to the looks of confusion and shock around the room, Brady went on to explain about Dr. Cortez and his unconscionable experiments.

  “How did you find out you were part of the program?” Jed gently asked Grace.

  She took a moment before answering. “When Karen came to me and told me I was the clone of a millionaire’s daughter, I didn’t believe her. But then the clone of an oil executive was sacrificed. And after that it was a diplomat. Because I couldn’t deny the evidence, I went into hiding. And I had plastic surgery, so I wouldn’t look like my…original.”

  “Can you give us some names of people who sacrificed their clones?” Max asked.

  She nodded. “William Swatson. Donald Henderson.”

  Brady sucked in a sharp breath. “I remember when Swatson was in the hospital.”

  “Yeah. And unfortunately, there have been others since.” She gave them the names of a governor, a drug-company executive, a football player, a woman news anchor.

  “What about the millionaire’s daughter?” Jo asked.

  Grace glanced at Brady. “I should have told you already. I was working up my nerve to say—it’s Barbara Frazier.”

  “Barbara Frazier,” Brady choked out. “The wife of Patrick Frazier, who was in line to take over as CEO of the Ridgeway Consortium?”

  “Yes.”

  He considered the implications. “She hated John.” He paused, thinking he should rephrase that statement. “Well, I guess it wasn’t personal. She thought her husband should be head of the Ridgeway Consortium. I’ve heard her talking about how much better qualified he was. It wasn’t true, and there was no way he was going to get the job—as long as John was alive.”

  Grace nodded in agreement. “Yes. She was ambitious for her husband, and she was willing to do what it took to advance his position.”

  Brady listened in disbelief. He’d never liked Barbara, but he hadn’t considered her a danger to his brother.

  “I told you Karen Hilliard and I met John Ridgeway at a party.” Grace dragged in a breath and let it out. “It was Barbara’s party.”

  “How did Karen know Barbara?” Brady asked.

  “Karen started going to that fancy restaurant where Barbara likes to have lunch. They got to talking, and Karen told her it was a shame her husband had to play second fiddle to John Ridgeway. From there, it was a short step to hatching a plot. She helped us get to Ridgeway because she wanted him out of the way.” Grace looked at Brady. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I needed to know about it.”

  “And Barbara’s fingerprints are probably on record.”

  He laughed. “Then the cops will wonder what she was doing in a stolen junk car in West Virginia.”

  Grace nodded.

  “Let me tell the story from here,” he said.

  She leaned back against the sofa cushions. He was sure she wanted to be alone, but she stayed beside him.

  “You might remember that the man who produced the clones, Dr. Richard Cortez, was blown up, along with his lab,” Brady said. “But he wasn’t in charge of running the organ-donor phase of the operation. That’s a guy we know only as the Paladin. At first I thought Ian Wickers, my brother’s security chief, was after us. Maybe he is. But I think the man who’s been trying to kill us is this Paladin guy. He wants to make sure we can’t tell anyone about the clone program. And he wanted to pin John’s death on me—because that would be a plausible alternative to what really happened.”

  He gave them a condensed version of what they’d been doing over the past few days.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Kathryn said when he finished.

  “I wouldn’t be, without Brady,” Grace said. “He’s been my bodyguard since the Paladin’s men came after me.”

  He glanced at her, then continued. “We’re safe here now. Unfortunately, we’re not the only ones in danger. He apparently has a transmitter in every clone. I believe he’s figured out that some of them are looking for him, but he doesn’t know which ones. From the little I know about him, I’m betting his solution is to wipe all of them out before they can get him.”

  “Nice guy,” Hunter muttered.

  “You have a transmitter in you? Can he track you here?” Cam Randolph asked.

  “No. It’s not in me anymore. After Brady figured out how they found me, I dug it out of my arm.”

  Kathryn winced. “Do you need medical attention?”

  “Probably some more antiseptic. And a fresh bandage,” Grace answered.

  Brady stood and reached into his pocket. Feeling around, he located the pieces of the transmitter and fished them out, laying them flat in his hand. “Here it is. I figured cutting it up would disable it.”

  “I’ll want to have a look at them in the lab,” Cam said. “There may be some new technology involved that I’d like to know about.”

  Brady passed the pieces over.

  “I’m hoping you can help us find the Paladin and stop him from killing any more innocent people,” Brady said to the group.

  He glanced at Grace, then back to the others. “And I want to make sure that nobody is hunting Grace.”

  “We’ll give you anything you need,” Jo said, then asked, “How did the Paladin get the victims away from their families?”

  “Various ways,” Grace answered. “Sometimes it looked like they’d run away. Or they died in an accident where the body couldn’t be found. You’d be surprised how many options there are to make a body disappear.”

  Brady took up the story again. “The Paladin always acted as a gatekeeper, deciding who could sacrifice a clone and who couldn’t. Apparently he’d denied John’s request for a heart transplant, so John tricked me into locating his clone.”

  “His name is Kevin Parsons,” Grace said. “I’m hoping we can bring him here, where he’ll be safe.”

  “He may not agree,” Brady said in a gritty voice.

  “Why not?” Max asked.

  Brady answered, “Because I know my brother. He could be too stubborn to cooperate.” He swallowed, “And because he could think I want revenge.”

  “You don’t!” Grac
e insisted.

  “He may have to be convinced of that.”

  “Whatever his feelings, I hope we can demonstrate that it’s to his advantage to work with us,” Max muttered.

  Brady nodded. A plan was starting to form in his mind. A plan that would require Kevin’s cooperation. But he wasn’t going to start laying it out yet—not until he talked to Kevin.

  “What about the transmitter that’s in his arm?” Cam Randolph asked.

  “I warned him about it. I hope he removed it,” Grace said, then gave them a pleading look. “Even with Ridgeway dead and the transmitter removed, Kevin may be in danger. If Brady found him for Ridgeway, the Paladin may be able to find him, too.”

  “He was in a college dorm when I located him,” Brady said. “He’s in hiding now.”

  “It may be harder now,” Hunter said. “But we have to make finding Kevin a priority.”

  “Where do we look?” Cam asked.

  “I only have a cell-phone number,” Grace answered. “Last time I called him, I got voice mail. He’s being cautious about answering, but I’m assuming that he’s somewhere not too far from DC.”

  “Leave him another message.”

  “He didn’t respond to me last time. What should I say?”

  They all discussed the options and settled on a script.

  When Brady handed her the phone, she called the number, getting voice mail again.

  As per instructions, she was more direct than she had been on the previous occasion.

  “Kevin, I’m still with Brady Lockwood. We’re in a secure location with colleagues of his. I know that you have the file on him. You can look up the Light Street Detective Agency and see that they’re very good—and very good at keeping confidential information.”

  She paused for a moment, hoping he’d pick up, but she was still talking to his voice mail. “I want to bring you here so we can make some plans. You and I aren’t the only ones in danger. Our enemy has a list of others he’s going after. Please call me back at this number.”

  After clicking off, she sat very still, hoping that he would decide it was safe to answer.