by J. E. Taylor
Steve sighed as the elevator closed on the clan, closing his eyes and leaning on the back wall, bracing himself on the banister. He cast a weary gaze in Sarah’s direction.
“You look like a dung heap, Steve.”
He snorted. He felt like it too, but at least she changed it up this time. Exhaustion crept into each and every cell of his being. And while he had pulled all-nighters in the past, this was different. This was beyond exhaustion and he didn’t know why.
It’s the juice.
“Thank you very much for the commentary,” he said with his eyes closed. It took almost all his strength to open his eyes when the elevator stopped. He stumbled into the hotel room and instead of sitting down and chatting with Jennifer, he headed to her bedroom, oblivious to the stares of Jessica, CJ, and Jennifer from the couches.
* * * *
Jennifer stared at Sarah whose gaze bounced between the bedroom door and her.
“He’s tired.”
“Doesn’t he have another hotel room?”
“Yeah, but it looks like he’s crashing here.” Sarah waved at the door. “He barely made it from the elevator.”
Jennifer stood and slid into the bedroom, leaving Sarah with CJ and Jessica.
She crossed to the bed and put her hand on Steve’s back, trying to read him but she came up empty. Tired was an understatement. He didn’t stir, not to the movement of the bed and not to her touch. He had hit the bed and passed out like he’d drunk a gallon of hard liquor, his chest rose and fell in the even rhythm of deep sleep.
She curled next to him, rubbing his back gently for what seemed like hours, her own eyelids getting heavier and heavier with passing time.
“I don’t know if I can stop him.”
Jennifer turned her head staring at his glossy blue eyes.
“I don’t know if I can stop him,” he repeated. Tears brimmed, gathering at the corner of his eyes before he blinked and they tracked down the bridge of his nose.
“You can,” she said with conviction. The slight curve of his lips belied his dark thoughts and Jennifer shivered. “You have to.”
Chapter 45
A knock on the hotel door woke Steve and he stumbled out of the room, swinging the door open and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Cleary stepped inside. “A report of a third child came in after you left.”
The bedroom door opened and CJ stepped into the living room, shutting the door quietly behind him. It was dark out. Quiet, but the knock on the door had woken him as well.
Steve glanced at the boy. “CJ Ryan, this is Special Agent Ron Cleary. My boss. Ron, this is the boy I mentioned. His brother was the one taken the other day.”
Cleary raised his eyebrows at the sleepy nine-year-old. “Do you mind if I speak with Steve for a moment?”
Steve and CJ exchanged a look.
“He can hear what you’re thinking anyway, Ron.”
Cleary cocked his head. “Frankly, I don’t care. What we need to discuss is not for his ears.” I need to know where you were this afternoon.
CJ’s eyes narrowed. “He was here.”
Steve shot his gaze to CJ and then to Cleary. “You...” He trailed off, dumbfounded. Anger swelled and the vase on the table next to Cleary shattered. “I can’t believe you would even ask.” He spun staring out at the lights over Atlanta, reigning in the anger. He glanced over his shoulder at his boss. “Where were you?”
Cleary inhaled sharply, staring at the shattered vase. “You know damn well where I was.” He glanced at the boy and back to Steve wondering which one had broken the ceramic piece.
“I did.” Steve said, focusing on the reflection of Cleary.
Jesus.
Steve laughed and turned back. “He’s got nothing to do with this.” He turned his gaze to CJ and raised his hand, pointing toward the bedroom. “Go back to bed.”
CJ started to argue, but Steve shook his head. “Bed, now!” The command sounded more like his father than Steve and CJ nodded, retreating into the bedroom.
Steve’s gaze snapped to Cleary once the door closed. “You had no fucking right to throw that accusation my way.”
“Where’d the money come from, Steve?”
Steve tilted his head. “What?”
“Where did the fifty million come from Steve?” Cleary stepped closer.
“A trust fund that Chris Ryan set up for Kyle’s victims. Chris designated fifty million to me and named me successor trustee to distribute the rest.”
Cleary’s eyebrows rose.
“I can put you in touch with Chris’s lawyer if you’d like.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing for Lynn Trueman’s card and handing it to Cleary. “I asked you about will settlements and you said there was no problem.”
“I was talking about your parent’s estate, not Chris Ryan’s.”
“It’s legal, Ron.” He slid his wallet back into his pocket. “He also left me property.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?” Cleary slid the card in his shirt pocket. He would follow up on the name when he got back to his hotel room.
“I don’t know.”
Tell him you reminded me of Eric. Chris’s voice whispered.
“Maybe I reminded him of Eric, maybe he just didn’t have any close friends. Maybe he felt sorry for me because at that point I had nothing. Kyle had killed my daughter, my folks, Jack, and anyone I got close to. And Jenny, Jenny was in a coma.” He took a breath. “How the hell should I know why?” He turned away, still asking himself those questions. He still didn’t understand it, not in the least.
That’s pretty much it in a nutshell but you forgot to mention maybe it was a bribe. Chris’s chuckle erupted in his ear.
“Just shut up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” Steve stared out the window. “Kyle almost wiped my family off the map and frankly, I don’t really care what Chris’s reasoning was, it was damn charitable of him to put a hundred million of his own money into the victim’s fund.” He refocused on the image of Cleary. “Maybe he couldn’t do enough for the victims that his brother killed and it’s his way of finding atonement for the family name.” Turning back to his boss, he crossed his arms. “I don’t know, but I’m not giving the money back.”
Cleary tilted his head, studying Steve. He glanced at the vase and then back at Steve, crossing his arms. “You said the other day that this...” He nodded his chin toward Steve. “…this stuff happened sometime after the explosion.”
Steve’s eyes shot to the vase and back, hearing the silent questions flurrying in his boss’s mind. “I didn’t use this to coerce Chris Ryan to put me in his will.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
Steve sat on the couch and took a deep breath waving at the chair across from him. “Because if I was in your shoes, I probably would be thinking the same thing.” He shook his head and studied his hands. “All of this is courtesy of the Ryan’s.”
Cleary moved to the chair Steve had indicated and took a seat. “Tell me what happened.”
Steve leaned back against the soft cushions. “It started with Eric. Eric could read minds and one night when we were having an argument he grabbed my wrist and something happened.” Steve traced his right wrist and a small laugh escaped. “I’m not sure what happened really, just that in the matter of seconds, I had his entire history embedded in my brain as well as his ability to read minds. I’d always wondered what it would be like to hear what everyone was thinking.” He shook his head and brought his gaze to meet Cleary’s. “It was nothing like I imagined. Always having the drone of other’s thoughts in your head can drive you crazy. It doesn’t go away. Even when I was at the cabin with just Jen, it wasn’t silent. I don’t know what my range is but anyone who comes within my radar, I hear their thoughts. Unless they don’t think linearly, then I can’t hear shit.” He inhaled again. “That wasn’t the only gift Eric passed to me either.”
Cleary pointed his thum
b over his shoulder at the vase.
“No, that came later.” Steve’s hand ran over the spot on his chest where Kyle’s knife had cut him instead of Jennifer. “I seem to be able to put myself between a knife and someone I care about, like a protective barrier without physically being there.”
Cleary leaned back a fraction, pursing his lips and crinkling his brow.
“Kyle was going to stab my wife.” He shook his head. “And I was nailed to a cross ten feet off the ground.”
“I don’t understand.”
Steve closed his eyes, concentrating on the picture, on the fraction of history of what happened in the warehouse, the crucifixion, Sarah’s rape, Jennifer’s miraculous recovery, and Kyle’s subsequent attack on her. He bundled and transmitted everything about that day except the truth of who Chris Ryan really was. He opened his eyes when his boss hissed in disgust.
“Jesus!”
“He wasn’t there that day, but Chris Ryan was and he saved our lives.”
Cleary’s face blanched and his eyes shot to Steve’s exposed wrists. Not a mark on the agent, nothing but smooth perfect skin.
“When Chris died, I somehow got his unique gifts on top of what Eric gave me.” Steve rubbed his face.
Cleary stared at him. “You have no scars.”
Steve nodded. “I know. That’s another benefit of the Ryans’ collective powers,” he said and chose not to divulge those details, Cleary was too good of a cop. Steve knew he still might put two and two together, but didn’t want to point him in the direction of who Chris Ryan really was. “I’ve got to keep a check on my temper now.” He raised his eyes to Cleary. “I lost it the other day.”
Cleary tilted his head. “The fountain?”
Steve nodded.
“What else can you do?”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t know.” He wasn’t about to explain astral projection to Cleary or the latent ability to control others.
“And Jack?”
Steve shook his head. “Jack never knew about this. Kyle killed him before I was supercharged.”
Cleary laughed at the description and then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “And you didn’t use any of this to coerce the Ryan’s?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Both Cleary and Steve swiveled in the direction of the voice. Jessica Ryan stood leaning on the wall.
“How long…”
“CJ told me you gave Agent Cleary a glimpse of what happened in the warehouse. I’ve been listening ever since.” Thank you for not revealing the truth about Chris.
Cleary’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jessica Ryan. He had done his homework after her son was abducted and knew exactly who Chris Ryan was related to and where the billions had originated. He glanced back at Steve, noodling on the information he had just been given and then turned back to Jessica. “Interesting that your husband had no idea what his brother was doing, especially in light of his, uh, gifts.” His stare bore into Jessica.
Jessica’s lips spread into a mocking smile. “What are you driving at Agent Cleary?”
“Ron.” Steve spoke, pulling his boss’s attention from Jessica. When their eyes met Steve continued, “Chris Ryan wasn’t the original source of this.”
Cleary tilted his head, his mind scrambling over the facts and then his gaze shot to Jessica, his eyes widening. Her son Eric. Her son CJ. Her... “Jesus,” he whispered, remembering the oddities in the video feed he saw of her escape from captivity. “Jesus Christ Almighty.”
“She’s the one who brought Jenny back.”
Cleary’s head snapped in her direction. Holy Christ, what is she?
“Jessica no longer has any of that power.”
His head snapped toward Steve.
“Yeah, I have the power to kill and somehow the power to heal transferred over to Jennifer. However, none of this does me any good if I don’t know who the hell has those kids. And yes, I can still die. A head shot would take me out just as effectively as the next guy.” He flashed a sly smile. “But again, that’s only if I didn’t know it was coming.”
“Uh, um,” Cleary began and audibly swallowed.
“Need a drink?” Steve stood and crossed to the mini-bar, pulling out a couple of scotches. He dumped them in one of the glasses and dropped a few ice cubes in before handing it to Cleary. “Try that.”
Cleary downed it in one gulp and then stared at the ice in the bottom of the glass. “Is this shit for real?”
Steve tilted his head and the glass lifted from Cleary’s hands floated across the room and landed on the bar.
A new thought dawned on Cleary.
“Jennifer is a bona fide clairvoyant,” Steve answered before Cleary could ask the question.
Cleary turned toward Jessica. “And your son, what’s he?”
“He’s a nine-year-old boy who misses his brother.” She spun around and disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door on any further conversation.
Steve sighed. “CJ is a special boy, Ron, if the killer had taken him instead of Tommy, we would have him right now,” he said.
“And Tommy, what can he do?”
“He sees ghosts.”
Cleary glanced at the empty scotch glass.
“We could go down to the hotel bar if you want.”
Cleary shook his head and reached into his pocket pulling out a sheet of paper with twenty names written on it. He handed it to Steve. “These are the officers who had a more derogatory reaction to your little announcement.”
Steve scanned the names. Both Lieutenant Danforth and Officer Gagnon were on the list. “I didn’t catch anything from these guys.”
“Those are the ones I want you to follow up on. You had a hunch when you pulled that stunt and I watched their reactions.” He leaned back in the seat. “I’m a kinetics specialist, Steve. I’ve got a doctorate in criminal psychology, and that’s the only thing that made me buy all this shit you’ve been shoveling in my direction. Well, that and the little display with the glass.” His lips spread into a smile. “But these guys...” He flicked the edge of the paper. “They’re all hiding something.” Cleary stood. “Find out what it is.”
Steve watched Cleary leave and focused on the list. Twenty names. Twenty possibilities. He wiped his face and put the list on the table. He needed a couple of hours more sleep before he went at it again and wasn’t sure whether Sarah took his rental or not.
He glanced at the bedroom and sighed. She hadn’t told him to leave and the draw of lying next to her in the plush luxury of this hotel versus heading back to his own economy hotel bed won the battle. He crawled in bed with Jennifer; the sweet smell of her shampoo chased him into sleep.
Chapter 46
Jessica cracked the door and crossed to the list lying on the coffee table. She picked it up, scanning the names and addresses before she gave a quick look in the direction of the second bedroom. She snuck out, heading for the business center in the hotel and the copy machine.
With the sun just peeking over the horizon, Jessica dressed in her jogging clothes, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and slid the folded list into her pocket along with the hotel key.
“Where you going?” CJ rolled over, opening a sleepy eye.
“I’m going for a jog; I’ll be back in a little while.” She leaned over and gave CJ a kiss. “Get some more sleep.”
CJ turned away and his breathing slowed to the rhythmic lull of sleep. Jessica scribbled a note for Jennifer and took off, grabbing a map in the lobby before she hit the street, hailing a cab, and heading to the farthest house on the list.
She peeled off the cab fare, sliding the remaining cash in her pocket and slipped into the sidewalk outside the old southern mansion in Emory a half hour northeast of Atlanta. The cab disappeared from sight and she turned toward the estate. Her palms broke out in sweat and she debated. What if this is where Tommy is? What the hell will I do then? She was kicking herself for not grabbing her cell phone but that would have tipped off CJ and she wanted
this to be a stealth mission. She stared at the house and the surrounding woods.
Huge.
Secluded.
Just a stone’s throw away from Chandler Lake and the VA hospital beyond.
Damn.
The police car sat under the portico and Jessica took a step closer to the house. Her heart hammered in her chest and she knew this was the right place. Ice prickled her bones and she glanced around, spying for cameras of any sort. There weren’t any readily recognizable, but the crawl of her skin told her she was being watched.
Chapter 47
Tommy shivered, unsure whether his eyes were open or closed in the silent darkness. Not even a sniffle from the other rooms. He inhaled as deeply as his constricted chest would allow. “Hey!”
He strained, tilting his head toward where he thought the door was. Then he heard it, the slight scrape of a chain and a muffled moan.
“What’s your name?” he yelled with the same force of volume.
“Annalee.” the faint voice said.
Tommy closed his eyes a second to gather the strength. “I’m Tommy.”
A soft sob echoed down the hallway along with the creak of a door. The familiar click of nails on concrete reached his ears and Tommy began to shake. Whistling followed, coming closer and closer. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the plume of light that came seconds later. The doctor stood in the doorway, regarding him with his cold brown eyes.
“My patients shouldn’t talk to each other.” He crossed the distance.
Tommy saw the gleam of anger in his eyes and his bladder let go. The surfacing of emotion was scarier than the void he had seen for the last couple of days. It transformed the doctor into a maniac, a bloodthirsty maniac and the only coherent thought that tumbled into Tommy’s mind when the doctor shoved the retractor in his mouth and spread it wide was Mommy!
The forceps dug into his tongue, yanking it out between the sharp blades of the surgical scissors. The doctor pressed the blades quickly together, cutting Tommy’s tongue in half. He tossed the amputated piece to Alex.
