Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2)

by Donna S. Frelick

  She fought to hold her tears back. She couldn’t let Jack know how worried she really was. Ethan would have fought until they beat him unconscious. Please, God, tell me it ended there. Tell me he’s still alive.

  Jack clung to her without a word. He had been just as silent when he’d first come to them. He hadn’t talked for weeks, hadn’t slept a night through without waking to scream in rigid horror, hadn’t smiled or played with toys or done any of those things that a six-year-old boy could be expected to do. Ethan and Asia weren’t surprised by his behavior. They knew what he’d been through—stolen from his home in the middle of the night by creatures from some grown-up nightmare; torn from his parents in the midst of bloody chaos; subjected to procedures that would make any lab animal cringe in the corner of its cage.

  Asia knew from her own abduction what it was to be forced to carry those memories, though they ate at your heart with corrosive power. It was one reason Rayna had brought Jack to them.

  Ethan, of course, was the other reason. Ethan, who had helped her find her own way back to sanity. He had used all his professional knowledge as a psychiatrist and all his warmth as a man to bring the boy out of his shell. Now she was afraid the little guy would never speak another word after this new violation.

  “Mom?”

  “Jack!” Asia sat up and held him at arm’s length to examine his expression in the wan light of the moon. “Hey! You okay?”

  “I’m thirsty and my head hurts. Are we gonna stop soon?”

  “I don’t know, baby. I hope so.”

  He climbed off her lap and sat next to her. “We can talk if you want to.”

  She looked at him. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to stop talking now.”

  Ice slid down her spine. “What are you . . . what do you mean?”

  He sighed in exasperation. “You know. Like before. When I first came to live with you and Dad?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I remember.”

  “I didn’t talk then because I thought you could hear me without my voice. But you couldn’t. So I had to use my voice again.”

  Asia shook her head. “I don’t think I understand, buddy. How could we hear you without your voice?”

  Jack sat for a moment, his brows drawn together. Then his face lit up.

  “You know how Dad says you have to listen to that little voice inside you that tells you what’s right and what’s wrong?”

  Asia nodded, not even remotely certain where the boy was headed with this.

  “Well, I thought I could just use that voice to talk to you and Dad, but you couldn’t hear it, so I had to use my regular voice. The loud one.”

  “You mean your thoughts, Jack? You thought we could hear what was going on in your mind?”

  “Well, yeah. I guess so.”

  Asia looked at her son, her eyes wide. She was almost afraid to ask the next question.

  Before she had even opened her mouth to ask it, he had answered: “Yes.”

  “You know what I’m thinking?”

  “Not all the time. Just like when you’re getting ready to say something.” He grinned. “Or when you’re really mad, or happy, or like that.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  She dragged him into her embrace. “No, honey. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She kept the surface of her mind carefully neutral, while the depths of her consciousness were in turmoil. What the hell did this mean? And how had she not noticed it before?

  She tried to keep her tone casual, as if she was asking him about his favorite TV cartoon. “Have you always been able to listen to people’s thoughts, baby?”

  Jack stared at the floor of the van and didn’t answer.

  Asia tried to meet his downcast eyes, but he looked away. “Jack?” There was a stubborn set to his features that she had begun to recognize after their time together. She didn’t press. “Okay. It’s not important. Any other superpowers you want to tell me about?” She grinned and poked at his ribs.

  The teasing earned her a shy smile and half a shrug.

  Oh, God. If the men who wanted her because of what she knew found out about Jack . . . Until now he’d just been an inconvenience to them. If they found out what he could do, Jack could become the focus of their “scientific investigation.” The Men in Black had just hit the Bonus Round. Shit!

  She did her best to scan the interior of the van—corners, ceiling, seams in the metal sides. She checked the seal of the sliding metal window connecting the rear of the van with the cab in front. Still shut tight. There was a vent for the circulation of air, but her inspection revealed no obvious monitoring devices.

  She kept her voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Jack.” She put both hands on his shoulders and squared him up to look in his face. “Promise me you will never tell anyone else about this. Except for Dad, when we see him again. You can tell him, but no one else, okay? Especially these men. If they find out about it, they might hurt you. So it has to be our secret. Do you understand?”

  The youngster matched her grave expression and nodded.

  Asia thought a moment. “Have you heard anything from the men in the front?”

  Jack shook his head. “I can’t hear people I don’t know very well. I have to try really hard.”

  “Do you think you could listen to them if you were a little closer?” Asia twisted to take a look. “Or if the wall wasn’t in the way?”

  “Maybe. Then we could find out who they are.”

  Asia grinned at him. “Smart boy. Or where they plan to take us.”

  “I could do that!”

  “Okay. But you have to be really careful.” Her throat went dry as she understood the fine line she walked between encouraging him and exposing him. “Remember what I said. They can’t find out what you can do, right?”

  “Right. Maybe I should pretend I can’t talk again.”

  She nodded at him. “And we’ll wait for a chance to listen to them, okay?”

  Not long afterward, the van veered off the highway and slowed down. It came to a stop at last, and a face appeared in the window. Despite the dark, the man wore sunglasses, and his buzz cut made it impossible to determine his hair color. Otherwise, he’d made no effort to hide his features—a bad sign, Asia realized.

  “In a minute we’ll come around to open the back. We’ll walk you to the restroom when there is no one inside. You won’t have a chance to speak to anyone or leave a note or do anything heroic, you understand? We’re in control here. Anything jumps off and Junior dies first, get it?”

  Asia nodded. She had no doubt that the man meant what he said. He’d been the one driving, and he was in charge, in all the ways that counted.

  They waited in the van for an endless time, the sounds of other cars, of people talking, all around them. Asia gritted her teeth, shaking, her hands clenched into fists in an effort to keep from pounding on the side of the van and screaming for help. She knew it would do no good; that kind of move would only get them killed. But the evidence of life flowing in an undisturbed stream around the island of their misery nearly sent her over the edge. She took a deep breath and convinced her rebellious mind to stick with the plan—get a precious break, get close enough to their captors for Jack to “hear” something.

  Finally Asia heard the two lesser partners return and report that all was ready. Another minute and the doors in the back of the van swung open and let the night in—the damp smell of diesel exhaust and freshly mown grass, the glare of the lights in the parking lot, the oddly comforting glow of the Interstate Visitor Center. Despite the noise she’d heard in the van, they were parked at the far end of the parking area, and there were few people in the vicinity.

  Asia crawled out of the van and found her feet, stretching as much as she could before she was pushed toward the restroom. Her legs wobbled, not wanting to cooperate until they got a decent suppl
y of blood. When she made it to the Women’s, she saw the team had found the custodial closet and posted a “Closed for Cleaning” sign to keep people out. One of them knocked loudly on the door to confirm the restroom was empty, and when he got no reply, he walked Asia and Jack inside. His companion stayed outside to guard the entrance.

  The chance to use the facilities was such a relief that Asia gave little thought to anything else. Even if she had given it a thought, the man watching her gave her no opportunity. He stood right outside the stall and checked it afterward, making sure she’d left no plea for help on a scrap of toilet paper or scratched into the wall. He did the same for Jack. As soon as they washed up, he ushered them out and back toward the van again.

  Asia had nearly given up on the idea of leaving any sign behind when she caught sight of an older woman walking a dog not far from the van. The woman and her poodle were dappled in shadow on a grassy strip near a stand of trees; Asia’s guards were watching their charges. There was a chance she could attract the woman’s attention without their knowledge. Without further thought she sneezed—loudly, twice.

  The guard just in front of her turned as he felt something wet hit the back of his neck. “What the fuck!”

  “Sorry! Did I spray?”

  “Get in the fucking truck! Now!”

  She kept her head down, but she managed to glance toward the woman at the edge of the trees. Sure enough, she had seen them. Maybe it had been enough to matter.

  As they climbed back into the vehicle, the driver handed them several bottles of water and some wrapped sandwiches and snacks from the vending machines.

  “Make those last. We won’t be stopping again for a while.” To emphasize the point he shoved a large bucket filled with a noxious, pine-scented disinfectant cleaner lifted from the custodial closet into the back with them. “For emergencies.” He gave them a last emotionless glance and disappeared around the front of the van. Then the doors swung shut with a heartless clang, and she and Jack were left alone.

  Alana was relieved to find her apartment empty when she got home past two a.m. She was looking forward to sinking into bed—alone. She didn’t feel like dealing with Mark right now, with his questions and his teasing and his insistence. The man knew his way around the bedroom, but, damn it, she was tired, and he seldom took no for an answer.

  Besides, there was one little job left to do before she slept, an itch she meant to scratch or she knew it would keep her up the rest of the night. Lana shrugged out of her jacket and holster and threw them on the bed, then went back out into the living room and booted up the computer in one corner of the room.

  It wasn’t long before she found him, courtesy of the Department of Motor Vehicles of the State of Florida: Gabriel de Santos Cruz, born March 21, 1979, Miami, Florida. His record was clean in Florida and everywhere else. He had a gun permit and a Private Investigator’s license. She Googled the name of the PI firm on the license (Guardian Angel Investigations) and found a nicely designed website with an understated brief of his scope of work (broad), his qualifications (impressive) and several of his clients. One of his specialties was locating missing persons.

  She searched her desk for a pen. Maybe she should talk to one or two of those clients. Before she could find something to write with, her cell bleated at her, making her jump. Cursing, she reached across the desk for the damned thing and thumbed it open.

  “Matheson.”

  “Hey, baby.” She could tell by the husky whisper that Mark was calling from bed.

  “Mark, do you know what time it is?”

  “I can tell you’re not asleep yet. You don’t have that little sleepytime purr in your voice.”

  “I’m about to have that little fuck-off growl in my voice.” She sighed, but she allowed the corners of her mouth to lift.

  “All right, I know it’s late.” He sounded appropriately contrite. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. Rough night?”

  “I’ve had better. There’s a kid involved.” That sense of panic rose again. She crushed it.

  “Yeah. Ballard will be using everybody on this one.”

  Lana sat up. “You got a call?”

  “Nah, I just checked in with dispatch to see where you were. Asked a few questions.”

  “And they told you what was going on?” Holy shit. If security was this lax, the media would have the whole story by tomorrow morning.

  “Like I said, Ballard’s planning on calling everyone in on it. Got a staff meeting set for 8:00. Hey, you’re the lead on this. I figured you knew.”

  She ran a hand down her face. “Of course I know about the meeting, Mark. I just didn’t think the old man would have everybody and his brother there.”

  “Well, shit, girl, thanks a lot.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, I’m just tired. And that meeting’s coming up really early . . .”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll let you go. Hey, and don’t worry about tomorrow. This one’s open and shut. You know the husband’s got to be good for this somehow.”

  Anger flared at hearing this bullshit for the second time tonight. “Actually, Mark, I don’t know that at all.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Lana.” There was both disbelief and condescension in Mark’s voice. “Don’t tell me you’ve got another one of your famous hunches.”

  “My hunches usually play out pretty well, you know.” She tried swallowing the hurt his disdain caused her. It didn’t go down so well.

  “Yeah, except when they don’t.”

  “But in this case, the evidence so far is on my side. The husband looks clean.”

  “Looks can be deceiving, darlin’. We haven’t even begun to look into him. Don’t you dare go into that meeting tomorrow defending his ass. Right now he’s your best hope of finding that mother and her son.”

  Shit. “I know.” She blew out a breath. “I gotta get to bed.”

  “You’re right, sweetheart. Wish I was there with you. Good night.”

  She ignored the honey in his voice and answered with a single, curt, “’Night.”

  She keyed off the phone and stared bleary-eyed at Gabriel Cruz’s handsome image on the screen in front of her. He was grim and unsmiling in his DMV photo. She couldn’t help remembering how his slow, incendiary smile had transformed that predator’s face earlier, how it had ignited something deep in her chest. And yet there was no question. The man was a hunter.

  Damn it. Ethan Roberts had brought in a ringer. To help find his wife and son? Or to run a very elaborate and professional interference?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gabriel Cruz had spent time dirtside on most of the planets clustered around the galaxy’s busier jump nodes. He’d pulled a few tours on some of the worlds of the distant Outer Reaches, too. His job required plenty of travel and a familiarity with many of the galaxy’s exotic locales and bustling centers of commerce, the slums and the luxury resorts, the slave markets and the sex trade. Gabriel hadn’t seen it all, but he’d seen a lot of it. And he could still find much to admire in a summer morning in a temperate climate zone on the planet its inhabitants called Earth.

  The yellow sun was shining out of a flawless blue sky as he got out of the car and followed Rayna up the sidewalk toward Ethan’s house. It would be hot soon, but Gabriel didn’t mind the heat. He hated the cold of ships and space stations and dank colonial outposts, always balancing the scarcity of resources against the needs of many. Here he could smell the rich earth, the vegetation growing in it, the asphalt and the car exhaust. He could hear the birds singing, the neighbors mowing lawns and taking out the garbage. For one minute, he could pretend his life was like anyone else’s. Gabriel took that minute. Then he took a deep breath and went up the steps into Ethan’s house.

  A young man in the white uniform shirt of a Metro Nashville PD officer stopped them at the front door with the usual bluff and bluster. Gabriel could see Ethan start toward them from the office inside on the right, but FBI Special Agent Alana Mathes
on was quicker.

  She waved them in from a desk in the smaller office to the left, dismissing the uniform. “It’s all right, Officer. They’re friends of the family.” She nodded as she came to join them. “Morning, folks.”

  “Agent Matheson.” Gabriel was intrigued by the way her grass-green eyes locked on to his. They studied him as if they’d never quite encountered anything like him before. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted by the thought, but he recognized he had that much in common with the FBI agent. He’d never seen local law enforcement like her before either.

  Slightly unnerved, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Have you been here all night?”

  She smiled, her fatigue showing. “No, I did get a little sleep. Don’t think your friend got any at all, though. He’s looking pretty slammed.” She indicated the office where the doctor was talking with Rayna.

  Gabriel noted the signs of weariness in Ethan’s body that went beyond the obvious need for sleep and healing, his bone-cracking tension and heart-rending pain, his desperation. He felt his own chest tighten in sympathy. He turned back to Alana to see her watching him.

  “How long have you known Ethan Roberts, Mr. Cruz?”

  He held her gaze to see what her reaction would be and was delighted to see the color rise in her face in the seconds before he answered her question. “Not long. Sam and Rayna are mutual friends. They asked me to see if I could be of help.”

  “In what way?”

  “You might say I specialize in recovering what is lost.”

  “As in missing persons.” She gave him that thorough once-over again. “I’m aware you’re a private investigator. Has Roberts hired you to find his wife and son?”

  Gabriel smiled. It hadn’t taken her long to find his data plant.

  “As I said, Sam and Rayna asked me to help. I’m not being paid.”

  “Mr. Cruz, I hope I don’t have to tell you that interfering with a Federal investigation is against the law.”

  Somehow, he found her warning intensely sexy. “I have no intention of interfering. I’m simply here helping a friend recover something he’s lost. In this case, starting with his memory of what happened yesterday at the river.”