by R. L. King
But whether the treatments had worked or not, his grandmother had done them—she and her colony of druidic witches specialized in such things, even aside from their plans to bring some kind of extradimensional old god back into the world to provide knowledge humans weren’t meant to know. If she did it, then others could as well.
He gripped the steering wheel and bowed his head, reluctant to acknowledge the next thought that popped into his head.
If the kidnapper and Nessa Lennox were pursuing similar aims, were they aware of each other?
Would his grandmother know who he was, and how to find him?
“No,” he whispered. That was too much to ask of him.
No way was he going to contact her again—not after what she’d done to him. Not after what she’d tried to do to Verity. He hadn’t killed her back then, but it hadn’t been for lack of trying. He didn’t know what he might do if he saw her again.
Best to leave that one alone. They still had other ways to find this man.
But if those were all exhausted without success…?
Would he risk it then, to potentially spare any other children who might remain on their man’s list the same fate as Roy Darner, and the other boy who’d committed suicide because he couldn’t deal with the voices in his head?
Stone didn’t know the answer to that.
He didn’t think he’d sleep, but he tried anyway. The one thing he noticed that seemed to be left over from his ordeal in Indiana was that he tired faster than usual. He supposed it made sense: his body needed time to regain its strength, and even whatever strange forces making him harder to kill couldn’t compensate fully for that.
Or maybe it was his mind that was tired. Either way, there wasn’t much else he could do tonight, so he climbed into bed and switched off the light.
Raider immediately leaped up and snuggled next to him, purring. He stroked the cat’s sleek fur, already feeling some of his tension ebbing away. There were few sounds in the world more relaxing than the purring of a contented cat. “I don’t know, Raider,” he murmured. “We seem to be a bit lost on this one. If you’ve got any insights, feel free to share them.”
Raider didn’t, of course—the days of him carrying on semi-intelligent conversations had departed at the same time Professor Thaddeus Benchley’s echo had moved on—but sometimes talking things out aloud, even to a cat, helped. Ev Neely, a Computer Science professor and member of Stone’s Friday-night pub-crawling group, had once told him about the concept of “rubber duck debugging”—when programmers had difficulty cracking a problem with their code, they explained it to a rubber duck on their desk. Stone, a teacher to his core, understood this principle all too well, even though he’d never put such a whimsical name on it. Sometimes the best way to understand something yourself was to explain it to someone else.
“Why are all the children blond? That can’t be a coincidence.” He pictured Sylvia Ellerman; she was blond too. Maybe the kidnapper had a type, as Jason had suggested. Some predators targeted victims of a particular body shape or hair color. It was possible it was a coincidence, but Stone didn’t think so. He knew enough about genetics to know blond hair was a recessive trait, so unless both parents were blond, it was more likely the child would be dark-haired.
Were blond children more receptive to whatever treatment they were being subjected to? Maybe the kidnapper or his associates tried it on a wider variety of subjects, but only the blonds showed any promise? Stone gave Raider a wry smile, picturing creepy legions of white-haired kids with glowing eyes. “Maybe he’s a fan of that old horror movie Village of the Damned, and he’s trying to re-create his own cast.”
Raider continued to have nothing to say on the subject, and eventually Stone’s exhaustion got the better of his chaotic thoughts and he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were haunted by swirling visions of a ring of light-haired children surrounding him, moving inexorably toward him as their eyes blazed with magical fire. Behind them, a taller male figure loomed, his protective arms outstretched to encompass them, almost as if he were their—
Stone jerked up in bed, instantly awake, startling Raider to the point that the cat growled and leaped to the floor.
“Bloody hell…” he whispered.
He knew the answer.
He had to be right.
He was certain of it.
He snatched up his phone from the bedside table, noting the time—2:57 a.m.—but paying it no heed. He hit Jason’s contact button and waited as it rang.
“Hello?” Jason sounded fuzzy and annoyed, as if he’d just been woken up. Which, almost certainly given the time, he had.
Stone ignored his tone. “Jason! I’ve got it!”
“Got what? Al, it’s three in the fucking morning.” In the background, Amber’s voice murmured something Stone couldn’t make out.
“It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ve got it. I’ve got the answer.”
“The answer to what?” Jason sounded a little more awake now.
Stone’s heart was pounding hard. “What our man is up to.” He sighed, shuddering. He was a man of science, and not averse to taking the occasional not-entirely-ethical shortcut if necessary, but this… “I know why all the children are blond.”
“Okay. Why?” Now, he sounded completely lucid. “I’m putting you on speaker so Amber can listen too.”
“We were trying to figure out what our man was doing to the kids—how he chose them, and why he thought they might be more receptive to magical manipulation, even though they didn’t have any magic that we know of in their backgrounds.”
“Yeah…”
“But they did have magic in their background, Jason. Because he was putting it there. Personally.”
There was a pause. “Al, I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to say. My brain’s barely online yet. What do you mean by—”
But Amber caught on. “No way,” she said, and her shock came through even over the phone line. “Are you saying he—”
“I didn’t see it initially because Ravi and Isabella said the man they saw had gray hair. When I saw the vision in Darner’s mind and saw light hair, I assumed it was gray. But it wasn’t. It was light blond.”
Another pause. “Shit…” Jason breathed.
“Yes. It all makes sense. If our kidnapper had a connection to fertility clinics—either as an owner, a doctor, a lab technician, or even a friend of someone with access—he’d have had no trouble getting hold of the samples. Or, even more insidiously—he might have specifically chosen the couples he did.”
“You mean because they were blond too, so they wouldn’t suspect?”
“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to pick dark-haired parents, though?” Amber asked. “You know, hide the blond so it didn’t show up?”
“Remember your genetics classes.” Now that Stone had passed the initial shock of discovering the kidnapper had done something so unethical, his analytical brain had kicked back in and taken over. “Blond hair is recessive—it’s possible for two dark-haired people to have a blond child if both of them have a blond gene floating around somewhere. But it would look a lot more suspicious if that happened, though, than for two blond ones to. And since our man is blond himself, he probably thought it would be safer not to raise suspicions.”
“Fuck…” Jason said. “I’ve heard of situations like that—where they caught a fertility doctor splicing a little bit of himself into the mix. The guy ended up fathering almost a hundred kids. And you think this guy—”
“It all makes sense,” Stone said. “It answers all our questions: why he’d be so certain the children had a magical heritage—because he was providing it himself—and why all the subjects were boys, since magic passes through the same-sex parent.”
“I…don’t even know what to say,” Jason said. “You’re right—it does all make sense. But it doesn’t answer all the questions, though. I get why he’d have to wait so long to check, because magic isn’t usually detectable until puberty
. But why would he need to kidnap them? Why not just call the parents in for a follow-up appointment? And what’s he planning to do with them, if he finds any with magic?”
“Those are good questions. I think I can answer the first one: probably because whatever treatment he gave them, it involved more than substituting his own genetic material for the father’s. As I don’t have to tell you at this point, magical talent doesn’t pass reliably, not by any means. So he probably did something else—likely alchemical—to help things along. If that’s true, then it’s possible whatever testing method he has requires a fair bit of time, and it would make the parents too suspicious if he asked them to hand over their sons or manufactured some fake reason to have them admitted to the hospital.”
“But I thought testing people for magic is pretty straightforward. I saw you do it with V, way back when we all first met.”
“It’s straightforward if you know the technique. Not all mages do. Also, it’s possible that whatever method he used, especially if it’s alchemical in nature, doesn’t display the same sort of results. It might be that an additional catalyst is required. I’ve got no idea. That’s an area of magic I’ve not spent much time studying.”
Amber was staring off into space. “I had another thought.”
“Yes?”
“About why he’s kidnapping the kids, then letting them go.” She settled her gaze on Stone. “What if it’s not just that he needs time to test them? What if he has plans for any he might find that he succeeded with? Like, he never intends to give them back to their parents? It would look too suspicious if he called them in for a medical consult and then they disappeared shortly afterward. This way, nobody finds out.”
Stone’s chill returned. “That…makes a lot of sense. I’ve got no idea what he plans to do with any of them he finds—so far it doesn’t seem he has found any—but it does hold together with what we know about him.”
“So, what’s the next step?” Jason asked. “It sounds like we really need to step up looking for more dirt on these clinics—and also try to find out if any others are currently operating. He might be cooking up another batch of kids right now.”
“Yes. That sounds like a job for you and Gina.”
“And what about you?”
“I want to talk to Sylvia Ellerman again.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Al…”
“Yes, well, at this point I don’t care if it’s a good idea. I’ll be persuasive. But we’ve got to know if she remembers anything helpful about that clinic or the people who were running it.”
22
Stone knew he had to be careful when contacting Tyler Ellerman’s mother—he couldn’t afford to set her off, or give her too much information. Even though it was likely the local police and even the FBI had already questioned her about everything she knew (or at least everything relevant to what they knew), he had no official reason to be connected with the case any longer. That, and despite his need to get her story, he had no desire to upset her any more than necessary. She had been through a terrifying ordeal, and making that worse wouldn’t get him anywhere.
He called her the following morning at eleven a.m., and was surprised when she answered. Apparently enough time had passed that she was no longer dogged by reporters.
“Ms. Ellerman—my name is Alastair Stone. Do you remember me? I consult with Jason Thayer, the investigator you hired to help you locate Tyler.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She sounded wary. “What can I do for you, Dr. Stone?”
“I was hoping we might chat for a brief time. I’ve got a few more questions I’d like to ask you.”
“Questions about what? I’ve already talked to the police and the FBI. They’re looking for the man who took Ty, but at this point I’m just glad to have him back. I want to put this whole thing behind us.”
“I absolutely understand that, but I have reason to believe the man who took Tyler might have done the same thing in the past, with other boys. I’m trying to piece together a few bits of information before bothering the police with them.” Stone wasn’t sure yet whether that was the truth, though he would probably pass at least some of what they’d learned on to Leo Blum and let him decide what to do with it. “Please, Ms. Ellerman. I promise, I’ll only take a little of your time. Perhaps I could buy you lunch and we could chat then?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know…I’m showing a house in a few minutes. I suppose I could meet you somewhere near there afterward. Ty’s with his father for a few days,” she added. Her tone sounded almost defensive, as if she anticipated Stone asking her why she was working instead of looking after her son.
Stone had had no intention of doing that. “Brilliant. Name the place, and I’ll be there.”
The restaurant Sylvia Ellerman chose was a tiny vegan café near Stevens Creek Boulevard in Cupertino. She was already there when he arrived; he spotted her seated at a small table halfway back. The place was crowded this time of day, packed with families out for a weekend lunch.
Stone wended his way through the crush and approached the table, indicating the chair across from her. “May I?”
She waved him down. She was dressed in a deep red, skirted business suit and a white blouse. A leather soft briefcase sat on the floor next to her. She looked a lot more composed than the day he’d last seen her, but that was understandable. She had her son back safe and well, so as far as she was concerned, all was once again right with the world.
Stone sat down. It was a good thing he was thin; there was barely room for him to push his chair back far enough to fit. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms. Ellerman. I’m sure you’d like to put this all behind you. But I promise, if you can help me you might also help prevent this man from acting again.”
She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about that horrible man. I hope the police catch him and throw him in jail for the rest of his miserable life.”
“How is Tyler doing, by the way? Is he adjusting?”
“He’s…all right. As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“No nightmares?”
“No, not that I’m aware of.” She brought her gaze up to meet his. “I check in on him in his room at least a couple times every night. I’m making him sleep with his door open. It’s all I could do to resist the temptation to get a baby monitor, because he’d kill me if I did something like that.”
Stone chuckled. “Yes, thirteen-year-old boys aren’t fans of constant monitoring, especially by their mums. But I understand.” He relaxed a little; apparently his natural charm was working, putting the woman at ease so she didn’t ask too many questions about why a consultant for a detective she wasn’t paying anymore wanted something from her.
“I didn’t want to let him go with Marshall…but during the time he was missing, I think I finally came to realize he loves Ty as much as I do, and would never do anything to hurt him. We still don’t get along, but…I think we understand each other a little better now. I’ve agreed to let him have Ty more often, when he can get away from work. And he’s actually making time to get away from work. It’s a start.” She looked suddenly startled, as if surprised she’d spill so much to a relative stranger. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“Don’t ever be sorry. If it helps you, I’m happy to listen.”
She studied him, and something in her expression changed. It was almost as if she was seeing him for the first time, realizing he was an attractive man in addition to being a consultant. Then she shook her head, driving the thought away. “What did you want?”
Stone glanced at the menu. He wasn’t a fan of vegan food, but he also wasn’t picky. The server came by to drop off glasses of water, and they placed their orders. After she left, he focused on Sylvia. “I assume the police have shown you the sketch of a possible suspect.”
“Yeah. I didn’t recognize him. I wish I did. I want to help put that bastard away.”
“Yes, as do I. Did they tell you where they got the sketch?”
>
“No—just that someone had seen him.”
“They got it from me. Remember I told you I have flashes sometimes?”
“Oh. Right. The psychic thing.” Now that Ty was back home and she no longer had to grasp at straws, it appeared her normal rationality was reasserting itself. “I don’t mind telling you, I don’t really believe that stuff. But…they got it from you? What did you do, have a dream or a vision about the guy?”
“Something like that, yes. You didn’t recognize him at all?”
“Not a bit.” She looked at her manicured hands. “Look, Dr. Stone—I also don’t mind telling you, I almost didn’t agree to this meeting. I’d appreciate it if you can get to the point. I’m disappointed to find out this sketch comes from some kind of psychic vision, because it means it probably won’t help them find the guy. He probably doesn’t even exist. I’m sorry if that offends you, but—”
Stone waved her off. “No offense taken, Ms. Ellerman. I completely understand that most people don’t give much credence to the sort of thing I do. I don’t blame them. There are a lot of frauds out there. You might be surprised to know I’m primarily a scientist. If I didn’t know what I was capable of, I probably wouldn’t believe it either.”
She looked skeptical of that. “So what do you want? What questions did you want to ask me?”
“I…” He paused, considering the best way to broach the subject. “Last time Mr. Thayer and I spoke with you, you made an offhand comment that remained with me. You said something about Ty being conceived with the help of a fertility clinic.”
