“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
She didn’t take her eyes off the screen. “Bingo.”
Langston watched her text until the elevator doors opened. He trailed after her through the lobby.
She frowned at him. “Why are you following me?”
“I want to talk.”
“Don’t you have friends for that?”
“I want to talk about Dr. Wiseman.”
She sighed loudly and tossed the phone back in her bag. “Everything you need to know is on the Internet.”
When they stepped outside, she slipped on an oversized pair of dark sunglasses. Langston was surprised to see a driver standing next to a sedan parked in front of the building. The man opened the back door when Antoinette approached and, at the flick of her wrist, he left the door ajar and got in behind the wheel.
“I know I’m his son,” Langston said.
“Congratulations.” Antoinette got in the back seat and grabbed the door handle.
Langston leaned down and held the door open so she couldn’t close it. The driver turned around and glared.
“You knew him, didn’t you?” Langston asked.
Antoinette’s phone started ringing in her purse. “Either get your hand off my door or lose it.”
She tried to jerk the door shut. Langston resisted. “Why won’t you talk to me? If you know something, just say it. Don’t you think you owe me that at least?”
The glare Antoinette gave him over the top of her sunglasses was ice-cold. “Don’t you ever, for one second, think that I owe you a damn thing.” She grabbed his arm so tightly her rings bit into his wrist bone. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Door.”
Langston let go and was relieved when she did the same. She slammed the door and, the car pulled away from the curb. Holding his throbbing wrist, Langston slowly walked back to his office.
Everett was back at his desk. “Where’d you go?”
“I went to find Antoinette. I figured if Dr. Pillay was that upset, she had to be here.”
“Was she?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“I did.” Langston sat at his desk. “Did you and Cody see anything?”
Everett shook his head. “No. Dr. Pillay had gone back into his office by the time we got there, and Dana said she was in the bathroom and missed most of it.”
Langston inspected his sore wrist. There were still indentations from her rings. “Antoinette said if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.”
“What does that mean?”
“I have no idea, but she knew Dr. Wiseman.”
Everett stared at him. “She did?”
A reminder popped up on Langston’s screen. “I have to go to a seminar on campus. What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Can you meet me at my place? I gotta figure this out.”
“Sure,” Everett said. “I’ll stop by around six.”
Chapter Nineteen
When Everett arrived, Jade neatly placed index cards on Langston’s coffee table, circumventing a bowl of popcorn and a bag of gummy bears.
Everett sat on the couch beside her. “Hey, Jade. What’s this?”
“Hey. These are all of the puzzle pieces that we need to figure out.”
Everett turned to Langston. “She’s very organized.”
“She is.” Langston sat on the other side of Jade, and they all leaned over the index cards: Wiseman family, Dr. Chang, car chase/gun, Agent Roswell, telekinesis, birthmark/Missy, Dr. Pillay.
“Wait a minute.” Everett picked up a card. “Car chase? Gun?”
“Yeah,” Langston said. “About that…”
“What car chase?”
“Back in December I got chased down the 405. And I got shot.”
Everett sat back. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t know,” Langston said. “All I saw was an arm pointing a gun at me from the back window of a car.”
“Where?”
“A few miles from Bronze Leaf.”
“No, I mean where?” Everett drew a circle in the air in front of Langston.
“Oh. My arm.”
“Lemme see.”
Langston lifted up his t-shirt sleeve, revealing the mostly healed wound on his upper left arm.
“You didn’t tell him?” Jade asked.
Everett answered sulkily. “No. He did not.”
“Excuse me.” Langston took the card from Everett and put it back on the table. “I’m the one who got shot here.”
“What did you do?” Everett asked.
“I filed a police report while I was at the hospital, but I haven’t heard anything. Probably won’t.”
“Damn. Who would have done something like that?”
Langston shrugged. “Can we come back to this one?”
Everett rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
The gummy bear bag crinkled as Jade reached inside it. “Okay.” She slid the Wiseman family card closer. “We know Dr. Wiseman was a geneticist. He and his wife, Eve, had four children. Supposedly, all of them died, but according to Langston’s mom, at least one of them didn’t. So why the cover-up?”
“The same reason anyone would cover up the whereabouts of their kids,” Everett said. “Protection.”
Jade looked at Langston. “What was he hiding you from?”
“The deaths of the Wisemans are shrouded in mystery. The conspiracy theories are endless.” Langston put the Agent Roswell card next to the Wiseman family card. “Whatever happened, Agent Roswell is a part of it.”
“Maybe Dr. Wiseman knew trouble was coming,” Everett said around a mouthful of popcorn, “and asked him to take care of you.”
Jade picked up two popcorn kernels Everett had dropped on the floor. “Just you? Or all of you? If Agent Roswell gave you to your mom for safekeeping, who’s to say he didn’t do the same with the other kids?”
Langston sighed. “Yeah, I thought the same thing. If Agent Roswell would just call me back, I bet everything would become much clearer.”
“Do you think the other Wiseman kids have that mark behind their ears?” Everett asked.
“I’m still trying to figure out why Missy has it,” Langston said.
“And the mark is for people with superpowers?” Jade asked.
“In a way,” Langston said. “I think Missy’s superpower is being able to walk.”
Everett leaned forward to look at Jade. “Have you seen that,” he wiggled his fingers and crossed his eyes, “thing Langston does?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. You?”
“He showed me today. Almost had a heart attack.”
Jade laughed. “Crazy, right?”
Langston stared at the cards as Everett and Jade continued to talk.
“He made the change I got from the deli swirl around my head! So then I was like, ‘Lift me,’ and he did.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He got me all the way up to the ceiling… then dropped my ass.”
Jade gasped. “Langston!”
Langston looked at her. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Everett rubbed his leg. “I’ll probably get arthritis in this knee.”
“Aww.”
“Don’t ‘Aww’ him,” Langston said. “He was the one who suggested it. I told him I’d never done it.” He turned to Everett. “I told you I’d never done that.”
Everett stopped rubbing his leg. “Tell that to my rheumatologist.”
“Let’s focus,” Langston said. “The logical conclusion is that Dr. Wiseman gave me this ability and then marked me, but it’s not really congruent with Missy’s experience. Plus, by the time she got her mark, Dr. Wiseman had already passed away.”
“Since we know Dr. Wiseman and Agent Roswell knew each other, maybe Dr. Wiseman taught him how,” Everett said.
“How to what
?” Langston asked.
“Give another person superpowers. Maybe it’s a serum or something.”
“But I thought you said Missy had surgery,” Jade said.
“That’s what she was told,” Langston said, “but she was out for two days. Anything could have happened, and she wouldn’t have known.”
Everett nodded. “What’s up with this card for Dr. Pillay?”
Jade shrugged. “Langston said something strange was going on with him, so I added it just in case.”
Everett asked Jade for a pen. He wrote Antoinette’s name on Dr. Pillay’s card. “That’s who we need to be concerned about.”
“Why?” Jade asked.
“I talked to her today,” Langston said, “and—as she was cutting off my circulation—she said if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“How’d she cut off your circulation? And what did she mean by that?” Jade asked.
“I have no idea what she meant. She was trying to leave, but I was keeping her car door open, so she grabbed my wrist in a death grip.”
Jade’s eyes grew big.
“And the plot thickens,” Everett said.
“You don’t think she’s your biological mom, do you?” Jade asked.
Everett and Langston both reared back in disgust, speaking at the same time.
“Hell, no!”
“God, I hope not.”
Jade bristled. “Why else would she say something like that?”
“Dr. Wiseman was married,” Langston said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a man cheated on his wife,” Jade said, “and you already said she knew him.”
“No.” Langston waved his hands. “No way.”
“Why else would she say it?”
“Maybe,” Everett said slowly, “she was a family friend and saved Langston’s life—like he choked on a hotdog, and she gave him the Heimlich or something.”
Jade frowned. “Babies don’t eat hotdogs.”
“You know what I mean. Maybe she saved him from falling into a pool or sticking his finger in an electrical socket.”
“No offense,” Langston said, “but Antoinette doesn’t seem like the baby-saving type.”
Jade stuck out her bottom lip and blew, making her stray hair flutter. “What are we missing?”
Langston took the pen from Everett and wrote on the car chase/gun card.
“Weapons engineering,” Everett read. He looked at Langston. “What’s this supposed to be?”
“I… make weapons. Underground.”
Everett cocked his head to the side. “Say what now?”
Langston took a deep breath and let the words rush out. “This guy named J.T. found me at a convention in California and threatened to hurt my mom, so I’ve been under contract to design weapons and defense systems for anonymous clients. Nate told me J.T. had been using my real name when he’s not supposed to and that might be why I got shot in December.” He gasped for air.
Everett stared at him, slack-jawed.
Jade looked indignant. “You told me you had no idea why someone would attack you.”
“I know, but it’s not the easiest thing to admit,” Langston said.
“Who are you?” Everett asked, sounding impressed.
“I’m still me.”
“You make weapons,” Jade said, enunciating each word slowly. Langston was reminded that girls have a real gift for making the things guys do sound idiotic.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Langston said. “It was either do J.T.’s bidding or become an orphan… again.”
“What kind of weapons?” Everett leaned forward. “Guns? Knives? Explosives? What are we talking about here?”
“It’s not just weapons. I develop protective equipment, too.”
“Like helmets?” Jade asked.
Everett frowned. “I will take away your engineering card if the best you got is a damn helmet.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Langston said. “I’ll show you later.”
“Who’s Nate?” Jade asked.
“J.T.’s assistant. He’s the liaison between J.T. and the techs who make the products.”
Jade got up and walked to the kitchen, muttering to herself. “‘Products’ he calls them.”
“What are you doing?” Langston asked her.
“Making coffee, Langston. This is clearly going to be a long night.”
Four hours, one pizza, and several cups of coffee later, Langston, Jade, and Everett were running out of theories.
Everett rubbed his eyes. “My head is about to explode.”
They had drawn timelines, diagrams, and family trees, and had written lists on several pieces of paper strewn over the long-forgotten index cards. Langston’s laptop sat on top of the heap.
Jade stretched. “I don’t think the caffeine is working.”
“I think we’re close,” Langston said.
“I think we’re done,” Everett said. “We can keep guessing, but we need some validation. If Agent Roswell isn’t going to talk to you—and clearly he isn’t—you’ve got to either have Missy get the information for you or get Antoinette to talk.”
“At least we’re pretty sure Dr. Pillay doesn’t have anything to do with it.” Jade put on a sandal and searched around for her other one. “He’s just trying to get more money from Antoinette after they took away your nano thing.” She found the sandal under the couch. “It’s still unclear what’s up with Dr. Wiseman and Dr. Chang, though. Were they in cahoots or not?”
Langston started gathering coffee cups and empty soda cans. “You want to get back together tomorrow?”
“Can’t,” Jade said. “I have a paper due. Last one of the semester, thank God.”
“My sister is making me go shopping with her. My mom’s birthday is Friday, and I have to contribute.” Everett rolled his eyes. “But I can meet this weekend.”
“Me, too,” Jade said.
“Cool.” Langston put the cups in the sink and tossed the cans in the recycling bin.
Jade kissed him. “I’ll call you tomorrow after class.”
“See you in the morning,” Everett said.
Langston shut the door behind them and turned on the television to ESPN. He put the laptop back on the desk and gathered all the paper and index cards. Stacking them neatly, he put them on the shelf in his workroom.
He tried to imagine where his siblings were at this very second. Do they know about me? Are they looking for me? He threw away the pizza box. What does my big brother look like? I bet my sisters are pretty. He smiled. Are any of them married? I might have a niece or nephew. He laughed aloud at the thought, but stopped abruptly. What if they had really died? What if I’m the only one left? Loneliness draped him like a cloak.
“Feeling depressed?” a man on television asked.
“Yes,” Langston said sullenly, digging popcorn out from between the couch cushions.
“Then come on out to Crazy Eights!” the man shouted. “Fun and food for the whole family!”
“Sorry, Crazy Eights. Not gonna solve my problem.” Langston stepped on something hard. It was Everett’s cell phone. Langston inspected it to make sure he hadn’t cracked the screen. When he saw the phone was still intact, he put it on the table. More than likely, Everett would realize he’d left it before he got to his car and come back. Langston filled the sink with warm sudsy water and slowly washed the cups and plates by hand instead of using the dishwasher because he was feeling restless.
There was a knock on the door, and he dried his hands and picked up Everett’s phone. He jiggled it as he opened the door. “I figured you’d come back for—”
His hand dropped to his side.
A man stood in the hallway. He appeared to be in his early 60s, and well-built. Even in winter, he had a deep tan. His silver hair was cut close and he had steely blue eyes.
“Hello, Langston,” he said. “I’m Jake Roswell. I heard you were looking for me.”
Chapter Twenty
Langston’s thoughts ricocheted in his mind. His attempt to return Agent Roswell’s greeting resulted in a guttural noise.
“May I come in?”
Langston nodded dumbly and stepped aside. Agent Roswell walked in and looked around.
“Nice place.”
Langston whispered an inaudible “Thank you” then resorted to charades, presenting the couch like he was in a furniture showroom. Agent Roswell sat.
Speak! Langston shouted in his head. “I hadn’t expected to see you… here… now.”
“Is this an inconvenience?”
“Not at all.” Langston walked to the kitchen. “I can make coffee or…” He stopped and doubled-back, picking up a throw pillow from a chair. “Are you comfortable?” He offered the pillow.
“Have a seat,” Agent Roswell said.
Langston was grateful for the direction and sat on the chair, resting the pillow on his lap.
“My daughter told me you were in Virginia.”
Langston nodded. “Yes.”
Agent Roswell looked very much like the photos in the articles Langston had seen, except his crow’s feet were a bit deeper and his hair was now grey. The man sat ramrod straight, feet planted perfectly parallel to one another. His slacks and cashmere sweater were neatly pressed, and Langston could almost see himself in the buffed leather shoes. Agent Roswell’s piercing blue eyes studied Langston. The longer they sat, the smaller the room felt.
Langston picked at the braiding on the pillow. “Are you angry?”
“No. I’ve been expecting to hear from you.”
Langston stopped picking. “I’ve read everything about Dr. Wiseman and the case, and I saw a picture of you and him together.”
Agent Roswell said nothing. He tilted his head slightly as if patiently waiting for Langston to get to the point.
“Is William Wiseman my father?”
“Yes.”
Langston took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. “Are my brother and sisters alive?”
Agent Roswell glanced at the television. “I know Garvey and your sister, Billie, are alive. I haven’t been able to confirm Ella’s status.”
Langston clutched the pillow, feeling his hands shake at Agent Roswell’s confirmation of his living siblings. His head was swimming. They were real now. Really real.
The Wiseman Revelation (The Wiseman Series Book 2) Page 17
