by V. E. Lemp
“You have another opinion on his death?”
“Yes, I think he was murdered. You needn’t look surprised. I’d imagine a researcher like you might’ve asked a few questions about the case, just on general principle.”
“I hadn’t given it much thought, I’m ashamed to say.”
“Oh?” Karen raised her eyebrows. “You hadn’t heard that he was in possession of some mysterious file? I suspect it was taken from Exocorp five years ago or more. You never heard of that?”
“No.”
Karen sat up straighter. “Drew had an appointment with me that day, Mr. Cole. Made the night before. He was going to give me a file, something he thought quite important. Then I arrive, and he’s supposedly committed suicide, and there’s no file to be found. Doesn’t that sound the least bit peculiar to you?”
“You left out the part where Mark Hallam accompanied you. Yes, Exocorp knew you were there. But you see”—David spread out his hands—“no one has contacted you or Mr. Hallam for questioning. Obviously the company views your involvement as a minor inconvenience. Certainly nothing that should concern you.”
“Really?” Karen said dryly. “So I guess the people watching my friends’ home are nothing? Or the fact that I was given a rather pointed message by an unusual lady named Isabelle. That’s nothing as well?”
David swallowed hard, smothering some retort. He stood and strode to the tall table pushed against the wall. “I hadn’t heard of that,” he said, keeping his back to her. “Are you sure this person’s name was Isabelle?”
“Quite sure. She offered me a job with Vance and Exocorp. Something to do with a revamped Morpheus Project. She even dangled an incentive package. Not the usual type of insurance, but rather, protection for my friends. She implied my refusal might put them in danger.”
David swore and slammed his hand against the tabletop. Karen jumped in her chair and watched for a few moments as David deliberately forced the tension from his body. When he finally turned to face her, his expression was perfectly composed.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid some Exocorp employees like to overstep their authority.”
“Isabelle also told me to speak to you. She said you might give me good advice.”
His composed expression didn’t falter. “Did she? How extraordinary. What about?”
“Whether I should accept her offer, I suppose. She suggested you might know more than you like to admit, about a lot of things.”
“How intrusive of her.” David leaned against the edge of the table. “Sorry that happened, Karen. Believe me, I’d never authorize someone like Isabelle to contact you.”
“You know her, then?”
“We’ve met. She works closely with Ian Vance. Certainly more closely than I do.”
“You think she’s yanking my chain? Just tossing out your name to see how I’ll react?”
“Possibly.” He turned away to stare out the window. “You know, Karen, you should walk away from these investigations. This whole situation is getting out of hand. If Hallam wants to keep digging, let him, but please stop placing yourself in the line of fire. Why should you risk it all for a few answers?” He sighed deeply. “I’ll even tell you what I know concerning Alex Wythe’s death if you stop trying to uncover anything else. It may cost me, but I’m willing to give you information in exchange for your promise to walk away.”
“And why would you do that, David? Why are you so concerned for my safety?” Karen eyed him with curiosity, remembering Mark’s recent comments.
He graced her with a gentle smile. “I thought you knew. Surely you realize I’ve taken an interest in you. I want to keep you safe, for your own sake, but also for mine. I have selfish motives—I’d like to get to know you better.”
Karen considered this for a moment and shook her head. “That’s very sweet, but I don’t know if I can make such a promise.”
“Why not?” Exasperation edged David’s voice.
“The thing is, this investigation has mutated into something I never imagined. It began with me wanting answers about Alex Wythe’s death. I really thought that information would improve my life, or at least make me feel better.” Karen took a deep breath. “Listen to what I’m saying, David—make me feel better. It was always about me, you see, even though I told everyone I wanted justice for Alex. Sure, that would be a nice benefit, but I wasn’t being honest with myself. I know that now. It wasn’t about Alex, it was about me. Alex was taken from me, I was alone, I’d lost something I couldn’t bear to lose, something I wanted to keep. This”—she held up her hands, the inside of her wrists facing out—“this was about me. About my pain. Not about Alex. Because he … Because Alex would always want me to live life to the fullest.”
“Yes.” David was absolutely still, his face an unreadable mask. “As I had a few dealings with the man in the past, I suspect you’re right.”
“I’ve recently come to this conclusion,” Karen said, fighting the quaver that threatened to invade her voice, “after realizing my pain isn’t so extraordinary. Others bear equally terrible burdens with grace. So now this investigation, as you call it, isn’t just about me. It’s bigger than my life now, bigger than the pain of losing Alex, bigger than my own misery. I might’ve been able to let it go if it’d only been about me. There was a point where I could’ve walked away if I‘d been given a story about Alex’s death that actually made sense. But now there are other people involved. It isn’t just how I was hurt by the Morpheus Project, it’s how all the subjects were harmed, one way or another. It’s about a young woman who suffered such debilitating headaches that she self-medicated into addiction. It’s about a dancer who has to take pills to get a decent night’s sleep. It’s about a bright, creative architect who has to be medicated to keep from being overwhelmed by anxiety. It’s about a brilliant actor who still suffers from terrible dreams. It’s about a woman who loses hours of her life and doesn’t remember what happened or where she’s been and feels as if everyone sees her as something weak, something damaged. It’s about a wife and children who think their husband and father decided one day that they weren’t important enough for him to go on living.” Karen stared at David Cole’s stoic face. “It’s about threats to my friends, about the truth that no one will speak, about people who feel that they can badger and intimidate and always get their own way. It isn’t just about me anymore, David, so nothing you offer will make me back down. Only the truth will satisfy me now—the truth that will liberate all those who’ve been harmed by Vance and Exocorp and the Morpheus Project. It won’t make things right—” She shook her head—“It won’t bring back Alex, or Drew, or cure all ills, but it will bring vindication and meaning to what we've suffered. And perhaps, justice or even protection for countless others that I don’t know. For everyone caught up in this great lie that Vance and his supporters are determined to perpetuate.”
David’s gaze never left her face, “So now you’ve taken up the standard and intend to carry it into battle, come what may?”
“Yes,” Karen said. “It does feel strange. It’s not what I ever imagined myself doing. But it’s almost like I’m in one of my dreams—one where I’m climbing a staircase, and at the top I walk through a doorway into a new hallway. For a moment I want to return to the stairs, but I know if I turn around the door will no longer be there. So I can never go back. I must keep moving forward.”
David stared intently at her. “But this quest may place you in danger, Karen. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You say you don’t want anyone else to be harmed, but what about yourself? If you were lost, I’d certainly be hurt. I know we just met, but I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.”
“Don’t worry.” Karen offered him a warm smile. “I don’t plan to be lost, ever again.”
“Good.” David sighed. “So why don’t you join me for lunch today? I need to take a break, but I’d like to talk with you some more. Perhaps we can come to some type of understanding.”
“Un
derstanding? About what?”
“About the truth, of course. How to discover it, how to protect it, and how best to reveal it.”
“If you’re willing to consider that, I’ll go with you anywhere.”
David’s expression grew serious. “Don’t promise anyone that unless you know how far they’re willing to go.”
“Well, lunch sounds safe enough. Just let me check my messages.” Karen scanned her cell for recent texts. She scrolled past a few before one name caught her eye. She quickly read through that text, her brow furrowed with anxiety.
After a moment, she stood, still staring at the phone. “So sorry, David,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “I have to go. I can’t have lunch with you. I have to leave right now.”
David walked toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mark. He’s been in an accident. I have to go.” Karen grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “His sister sent me a text. Car accident of some kind. Nobody really knows ... I have to go.”
“Karen, wait. They probably won’t let you see him until tomorrow. He’ll be in intensive care, and you’ll be sitting in a waiting room all day and night. Don’t dash off and drive in such a state. It isn’t wise. Wait until tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t care if I have to sleep in the waiting room and eat a week of meals out of a vending machine, I’m going right now. His sister claims”—a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter punctuated her words—“he’s been asking for me. Not because he wants me to hold his hand, but because he’s desperate to know I’m okay. He’s worried I’m not safe. That I … I’m not safe. You understand? I’m leaving now.”
“Very well,” David said. “Go then.”
Was there a tinge of anger in his voice? Karen shook the question from her mind and yanked open the office door.
“But please phone me when you get there,” David called after her.
“I will,” Karen promised as she ran into the hall, “when I have a moment.”
TWELVE
Karen reached the hospital in record time, cursing several other drivers in the garage before finding an open parking space. She dashed into the lobby and elbowed a candy striper out of her way to the information desk, almost causing the girl to release a large cluster of balloons.
“The emergency room, where is it?”
The receptionist looked at Karen’s face and instructed the candy striper to lead her to the appropriate waiting room.
“I need to make my delivery,” the girl protested.
“Help this lady first. The balloons can wait.”
Karen flashed the receptionist a grateful smile and followed the girl down the hall. The candy striper pointed out the waiting room, and Karen remembered, somehow, to thank the girl before she stalked off, balloons bobbing above her head.
As Karen entered the waiting room, she looked around for someone to question about Mark’s status. Her eyes fell upon a face she recognized, although she’d never met the woman before.
“Are you Claire?”
“Yes.” The woman’s eyes—Mark’s eyes—surveyed Karen. “I’m Claire Ledford. Claire Hallam Ledford,” she added, with a brief smile. “You must be Karen.”
“Yes, Karen Foster.” Karen held out her hand, and Claire took it with a clasp instead of a shake.
“So glad you’ve come. Mark’s been frantic. For some reason he feels you might be in danger. I know it’ll ease his mind to see you safe and sound.”
“How is he?”
“Very battered and bruised. A few cracked ribs, but thank God nothing’s badly broken. And no serious internal injuries as far as they can tell. It was a miracle he survived. The car was totaled.”
Karen clasped her shaking hands. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, of course. They’ve moved him into a private room. I waited here since I figured you’d check emergency first. Come with me, the room’s on the second floor.”
“What happened?” Karen asked as she followed Claire down the hall and into an elevator.
“No one’s quite sure. The police say someone ran him off the road. Probably a drunk or some idiot falling asleep at the wheel. This was last night, you understand. I didn’t hear about the accident until this morning, or I’d have called you sooner.”
“But I spoke with Mark last night,” Karen said as they exited the elevator. “He was fine then.”
“Well, apparently he drove out on some errand later.” Claire glanced at Karen as they walked down a tiled hall. “Quite late, as it turns out.”
The packages. She had to contact Thea and Aaron as soon as possible. “How did you know to call me?”
Claire stopped in front of a door that was slightly ajar. “Mark told me to check his cell phone for your number. He could barely speak but was insistent I reach you. I thought I’d better see if I could convince you to come. It was the only way to calm him.” She looked Karen up and down. “I’ve heard him mention your name a few times.”
Karen’s face flushed. “He’s talked about me?”
“No, not really. Not in any detail. He never talks about such things. But I knew you must be important to him, even before this.”
“Why was that?” Karen lifted her chin and met the inquisitive gaze of Claire’s brown eyes.
Without breaking eye contact, Claire pushed open the door to the hospital room. “It was the way he said your name.”
Karen stepped into the room ahead of Claire, who stood back by the door.
“I’m going to call my mother.” Claire held up her phone. “They prefer we do that outside.” She gave Karen an encouraging smile before leaving the room.
Mark was very still, his head propped up by the incline of the bed. The left side of his face was purpled with bruises, and his eye was swollen shut. His left arm, thick with bandages, lay across his chest. A deep cut, closed with what looked like a thousand stitches, ran from his chin down to his collarbone. His eyes were closed.
Karen sat in a chair pulled up next to the bed. She took hold of Mark’s undamaged right hand. His lashes fluttered.
“Mark,” she said softly, “it’s Karen. I’m here. No one has tried to harm me. I’m just fine.”
Mark opened his good eye and looked up at her. “Karen,” he said in a battered voice that still held a hint of happiness.
“You see? Here I am, safe and sound. You can stop worrying.”
“So good to see you. I thought they might’ve tried ...” His voice faded for a moment before rebounding, stronger. “Tried to hurt you too.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying this wasn’t an accident?” Karen leaned forward, still clutching his hand.
“No accident.” His words were slurred. “Damn pain meds. Can’t talk right.”
Karen examined him. “I don’t think you’d want to be without them.”
“I must look a sight,” he said softly.
“I’ve seen worse.” Karen was surprised to see the ghost of a smile flit across his damaged face.
“Listen, Karen.” He used her grip on his right hand to pull her a little closer. “You need to check on Aaron and Thea.”
“I know. I’ll call them soon.” Karen lightly brushed her fingers across his lips. “You need to rest now. No more talking, just sleep.”
“Yes, can’t stay awake. Stupid meds. But, Karen, no accident, you understand?”
She nodded. “I'll be careful.”
“Tried to kill me.” Mark’s voice was only a whisper now. “Afraid they’d go after you too.”
Karen laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “You rest now. I’m here, and no one’s going to harm me, or you. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
“Long time.” Mark closed his eyes. “That’s a long time.”
A hand on Karen’s shoulder startled her awake. When had she drifted off to sleep? She turned to find Claire behind her.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Claire said. “But I have a favor to ask.”
/>
“What? Yes, of course.” Karen sat up and looked down at Mark. He was sleeping peacefully. She gently extracted her hand from his relaxed fingers.
“Wonder if you’d mind checking on the cat? I’ll give you a key to Mark’s place. I’d go myself, but I want to stay tonight and see what the doctors say in the morning. If you could look after Kate, I’m sure it would be a great relief to my brother.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Karen rubbed her eyes.
“Thanks so much, that’s a big help. And Karen”—Claire handed her a key ring—“I know it’s late. I’m sure Mark wouldn’t mind if you slept at his house tonight instead of driving back to your place. I imagine you’ll want to stop by the hospital tomorrow on your way home anyway.”
Karen rose stiffly to her feet. “Definitely. I’ll be here tomorrow, promise.”
Claire sat down in the vacated chair. “I thought so. I’ll keep watch tonight. Don’t worry.”
Karen mustered a faint smile for Claire and walked to the door, stopping to cast one backward glance at Mark’s sleeping form.
“Karen,” Claire called, “I look forward to getting to know you better. I always did want a sister, and Emma never quite fit the bill.”
Karen stared at her for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Claire,” she said, as she backed out of the room.
“So you think someone deliberately ran you off the road?” Karen asked Mark the next day as she sat beside his hospital bed. He’d sent Claire out of the room on some errand she undoubtedly sensed was a fiction. His sister had given him a searching look but left without challenging his request.
“Not just someone.” Mark’s bruises were still livid, but his voice was much stronger. “One of your dark-haired people, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?” Karen glanced at the open door.
“There’s no one there, except for a gentleman sent by my superiors to keep an eye on things.”
“They put a guard on you? But the official report called it an accident.”
Mark shrugged, wincing slightly. “Well, whenever something odd happens to one of their own, my bosses tend to overreact. They never assume anything is an accident, not at first. And I’m involved, you see, in some other sensitive projects.”
