by K. C. Archer
She expected Miles to turn away. Instead, he reached for her hand. Then his face relaxed, and he drifted to sleep without bothering to pull up his pants.
Teddy watched him for a moment, then reached for the syringe and checked the label. Xantal. Manufactured by none other than Hyle Pharmaceuticals. Must be nice to have a rich grandfather who could custom-make you a cure.
Kate walked into the room and froze. Saw Teddy holding the needle, Miles unconscious with his pants bunched around his knees. “Whoa. Oh. Um. Sorry to interrupt.”
Teddy blushed. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“I don’t even know what it looks like. Anyway, the boat is leaving.”
Miles turned over in his sleep, nestling deeper into the couch. Teddy put the empty syringe on the desk and followed Kate out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MONDAY MORNING FOLLOWING THANKSGIVING BREAK brought the return of Whitfield Institute’s student population. Which meant classes resumed, intense physical training continued, exploding shells echoed from the firing range, and the scent of vegan lasagna wafted from the cafeteria. Everything was back to normal. With one notable exception.
“Hey! Look. That’s her!”
Two first-year recruits nearly stumbled over themselves as they craned their necks to watch Teddy trek from her dorm to the academic buildings.
Word had spread about what had happened at Hollis Whitfield’s party, making Teddy a bona fide hero. Her. A hero. Absurd. If Teddy Cannon ever achieved any sort of notoriety, it was for screwing up. This lavish, undeserved praise made her skin crawl. The IED could have just as easily exploded in her face. Instead of calling her a hero, everyone would be reminiscing at her memorial service about her witty sense of humor, peculiar eating habits, and unusual choice of footwear.
Worse, she had lied by omission to Clint by not telling him Eli had been mentally manipulated into setting off the IED. Clint was already on edge, his mood foul. One word and he’d have Eli jailed and Jillian expelled. God only knew what he’d do to Teddy for encouraging Eli to slip away from the party. The criminal charge of aiding and abetting came to mind.
She spotted Dara moving through the commons and doubled her pace to reach her.
“Well, look who’s here,” Dara drawled. “Ms. Hero herself. You and Kate sure have—”
“I need to talk to you,” Teddy blurted. “It’s important.”
Dara studied her face for a beat, then said, “C’mon, let’s go back to my room.”
Once they were there, Dara seated herself on her bed, back pressed up against the headboard and ankles crossed. She looked at Teddy. “Go. What’s on your mind?”
Teddy hesitated, looking for a place to sit down before she launched into what she wanted to say. Ava wasn’t there, so Teddy could have sat on her bed, but the fluffy pink comforter, along with the messy sheets and pillows, screamed private, personal space. Ditto Ava’s desk chair, which was littered with strewn clothing and undergarments. In the end Teddy sank onto the floor, back pressed up against the closet door and legs stretched out in front of her as she filled Dara in on what had happened at Hollis Whitfield’s home.
“Eli?” Dara said. “Jillian’s Eli? He planted that bomb? I can’t believe it.”
“Well, that’s the thing—”
“I mean, I know he drives us crazy with his batshit commitment to his causes. But planting a bomb? Deliberately hurting and maybe even killing people?” Dara let out a breath. Shook her head. “Does Jillian know?”
“I haven’t seen Jillian since before break, so I haven’t had a chance to tell her.”
“You will tell her, right? I mean, she has to know.” Dara’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh my God. You don’t think Jillian had anything to do with it, do you?”
“No. I don’t think Eli did, either.”
“Wait a minute. What? You told me you saw him fiddle with the IED just before it went live.”
“I did. But I also saw him in the kitchen after we stopped the explosion. His eyes had that dazed, I’m-knocking-but-nobody’s-home look we’re so familiar with.”
Dara drew in a sharp breath. “You think somebody mentally influenced him into setting that bomb?”
Teddy gave a single nod.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Yates. Maybe that pair of psychics who broke in to Eli’s apartment a few weeks ago. Maybe someone else.”
“Jesus. Was I the only one who wasn’t at this party?” Dara shook her head. Then, “Did you tell Clint? Wessner?”
“Not a word. I told Eli to get the hell out of there. If someone was using him, I didn’t want him to get into trouble. He’s hiding out with a buddy in Mendocino. I figured I’d wait until it was clear, then go see him and find out what happened.”
“Did you?”
“I couldn’t. Didn’t have a chance, I swear. Every time I tried to get off campus, I ran into Clint. I’m starting to think that wasn’t a coincidence.”
“What about Yates? Has he been in touch?”
Teddy shook her head. Not since he’d slipped her the Polson file. In typical Yates fashion, he’d dumped that mess in her lap and then slipped away, leaving her with far more questions than answers.
Dara sighed and leaned her head against the headboard. Tilted up her chin to study the ceiling. “All right,” she said. “We find Jillian, tell her everything that went down. Ask her if she spoke to Eli about Whitfield’s party. Ask her if she knew anything about the bomb.”
“And then?”
“Then we need to get our asses out to Mendocino to see Eli. Figure out what’s going on.”
Finally. A plan. As Teddy stood, she felt the burden she’d been carrying for days slowly lift from her shoulders, almost as though it had been a physical weight.
She and Dara filled Pyro in over lunch. All they had to do next was speak to Jillian.
Except she never showed up. Not for morning yoga, not for psychometry with Dunn, not for fitness with Boyd.
Fighting an escalating sense of panic, Teddy, Dara, and Pyro grabbed the four o’clock ferry to Tiburon, then rented a car and shot north on 101 toward Mendocino.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TEDDY, PYRO, AND DARA FOLLOWED a long dirt driveway to a dilapidated two-story farmhouse. Tucked beside it was an enormous red barn with a chain-link enclosure. At least a dozen dogs of assorted breeds—or no breed at all—romped and played. When the three of them stepped out of the car, the dogs erupted in a chorus of howls.
They’d found the place. Or at least they hoped they had. A quick scan of the phone book in the local Laundromat had shown Matt’s Mutts of Mendocino as the only animal rescue in the area.
They skirted the barn and went directly to the house. Pyro rapped on the door. It was a cop knock, firm and no-nonsense, that meant important business. The kind of knock that would bring someone around.
Except it didn’t. Only the sound of excited barking greeted them. One was a high-pitched yip, the other deep and throaty.
Mitzy and Percy.
If Eli was inside, he didn’t respond. Which was probably a smart defensive move on Eli’s part but a hassle for them.
Dara reached for the doorknob. Locked.
Pyro said, “Step back. I’ll get it.”
Teddy placed her hand on his arm to stop him. Pyro’s method would damage the mechanism, and she didn’t want that. Too obvious a tell. She had no idea whom they were up against. Until she did, they had to be careful. Better they find Eli and leave no evidence that they’d been there.
“Let me,” she said, fishing a bobby pin from her pocket. It was a flimsy lock, after all.
She heard the faint clicking sound she was after and pushed the door open.
They were met by the jubilant tail wagging and sloppy licks of Mitzy and Percy, who crowded through the doorway to greet them. Teddy shoved the dogs back and stepped inside. They moved quickly through the house, searching for Eli. He wasn’t there.
; But Jillian was.
She sat huddled on a bed in an upstairs room, her knees drawn up. Eli’s beloved Greenpeace T-shirt was clutched in her hands. She turned to face Teddy, Pyro, and Dara. “He’s gone,” she said, her voice so weak and trembling that Teddy could barely make it out.
“Gone?” Teddy echoed, immediately imagining the worst. “As in—”
“No,” Dara interrupted, cutting her off. She shot Teddy a dire look that telegraphed, He’s not dead, you idiot, so don’t go there.
Pyro moved to the bed. The mattress groaned as he sat down beside Jillian. “Hey. We were pretty worried when you didn’t show up for classes. Next time let us know what’s going on, okay?”
Jillian turned her tear-streaked face toward him. “Okay.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, then said, “Something’s happened to Eli. We were supposed to meet here the Friday after Thanksgiving, but he didn’t show up. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t forget about me. He just wouldn’t. Something’s happened to him. I know it.”
“Jillian,” Teddy said, “I saw Eli on Thanksgiving Day at Hollis Whitfield’s home.”
“You did?” Jillian’s face immediately brightened. She shot forward on the bed, eagerly leaning toward Teddy. “Was he all right? Did he say anything about me? Did he—”
“Something did happen. We need to talk to you about it.” With that, Teddy launched into a retelling of the events at the party, ending with the dazed and disoriented state in which she’d found Eli after the IED had failed to detonate.
“But he wouldn’t do that!” Jillian protested. “Eli would never hurt anybody. He would never set off a bomb in a roomful of people. Oh my God, has he been arrested? Is that why he’s not here?”
“Jillian, you’re not hearing us,” Dara said gently. “We think someone mentally influenced Eli to set off that bomb. He may be in trouble. That’s why we need to find him. Now.”
Jillian’s tears started anew. “Don’t you think I’ve been trying to find him? But Mitzy doesn’t know where he is, and neither does Percy, and neither does Tabby, and neither—”
“Let me see Eli’s shirt,” Teddy interrupted, before Jillian went on to list the entire Eli Nevin menagerie.
Thank goodness for Professor Dunn’s teaching. Although psychometry wasn’t Teddy’s forte, she hoped her work this semester would pay off. Eli’s shirt should act as a psychic shortcut, allowing her astral self direct access to Eli’s astral self. The method had worked in the classroom, and it had worked with her mother’s necklace. Now she just had to test it in a real-time, real-world application.
She wrapped the thin cotton around her hands. The T-shirt had been worn so often that the fabric was threadbare in spots, the Greenpeace logo cracked and peeling. The scent of Eli’s skin—or at least the scent of his organic aftershave—came through loud and clear.
Teddy sat at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes. Pictured Eli wearing the shirt, lecturing them all about the dangers of global warming. Eli wrapping his arm around Jillian’s waist and nuzzling her neck. Eli tossing Mitzy a vegan dog treat.
Eli.
Teddy freeze-framed an image in her mind as her astral self reached out to Eli. First and most important: Where are you?
Darkness and silence answered her. Either Eli didn’t know, or he didn’t want to say, or she had failed to make a connection. Impossible to know which.
Teddy swallowed her frustration and tried again. Recalling her suspicion that Yates could have mentally influenced Eli at the party, she telepathically asked: What did Yates tell you to do?
Images swirled before her, a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and motion as Eli’s memories shuffled. When they stopped, she spotted Eli standing at a farmers’ market at the Marina Green on an unseasonably warm San Francisco day. Teddy had a sense that this was a recent memory, weeks or maybe days old. Eli was deep in conversation with a man of average height and build. The man’s back was to Teddy, but something about the way he held himself was familiar. Teddy edged her astral self closer to listen in. The voice she heard sent shivers down her spine.
It’s time for action, Eli. Time to make a difference, to enact change. You don’t achieve anything with markers and poster boards. Use HEAT. Do whatever it takes to shut down Hyle Pharmaceuticals. You cannot allow X-498 to go into production.
Yates.
Teddy gasped, breaking her connection. Goose bumps broke out on her skin as a trickle of sweat raced down her spine. She blinked, once again back in a Mendocino farmhouse with her friends.
“Did you reach Eli?” Jillian asked anxiously. “Did you find him? Where is he?”
“No, I couldn’t find him.” Teddy shook her head, loath to let her friend down, but she didn’t have a choice. “I did confirm that Yates was behind the plan to use HEAT to shut down Hyle Pharmaceuticals. He planted the idea in Eli’s mind.”
Dara asked, “Was he the one who mentally influenced Eli to set off the IED?”
“I don’t know.” The phrase whatever it takes rang in her ears. “But yeah. Probably.” She should have known. She had given Yates an inch, and he had taken a mile.
“Why?” Pyro asked. “What’s he after?”
“It’s never clear what Yates wants, is it?” Teddy asked. “But it has something to do with the drug in the Hyle memo: X-498. He wanted Eli to use HEAT to stop it from going into production.”
“Right. So if we can’t find Eli, we find Yates,” Pyro said. “Obviously, they’ve been connected from the start.”
Teddy started to object, but stopped. Yes, Eli and Yates were connected. He had given Eli that note back in the summer. But she wasn’t sure how long Yates had been influencing Eli. Was their meet-cute engineered by Yates and not by fate? Or had Yates simply seen an opportunity in HEAT and twisted it for his own ends? A chicken-or-egg question if there ever was one.
Jillian, as if wondering the same thing, turned to Teddy.
“You okay?” Teddy asked.
Jillian gave a brave nod, but Teddy knew better than to believe her. No, she wasn’t okay. She wouldn’t be okay until she knew Eli was safe.
That responsibility fell squarely on Teddy’s shoulders. She was the one who’d opened the door and let Yates into their lives. Now it was up to her to contain him.
Dara stood and gestured to Mitzy and Percy. “Jillian, leave these beasts here. They’ll be in good hands. Write your friend who runs this doggy zoo a note. Let him know that if Eli does show up, he should get in touch with you immediately. You’re coming with us.”
“Shouldn’t I wait here, just in case?”
“No,” Teddy said. “No more waiting. Not for Eli, and definitely not for Yates.”
Derek Yates had finally gone too far. No more allowing him to string her out on promises that he’d help her find Marysue. They’d passed the point of playing games and keeping secrets. He’d used Eli for his own ends, then thrown him away, hurting Jillian in the process. If that IED at Whitfield’s party had exploded, dozens of people would have died.
Her gaze met Pyro’s, and she gave a tight nod. There was only one person besides Teddy who’d been zealously tracking Yates. One person who’d been trying to uncover more about whatever was happening at Hyle Pharmaceuticals.
It was time to talk to Clint Corbett. No more half-truths and evasions. It was time for them to all be on the same side of the table.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BY EARLY EVENING, THEY WERE back on campus. They’d skipped dinner, but Teddy wasn’t hungry. Apparently, neither was Pyro, Dara, or Jillian, for there were no requests to swing by the dining hall. They walked directly toward Fort McDowell and climbed the flights of stairs that led to Clint’s office.
Teddy sounded a quick rap on the weathered oak door. At Clint’s call to enter, she stepped inside. Her friends followed behind her.
“I was wondering when you four would show up.” He gave the clock that hung above his door a pointed stare, then tossed aside the magazine he’d been reading. “You reali
ze I could indefinitely suspend all of you right now for any number of infractions.” His gaze moved to Jillian. “Particularly you, Jillian. In light of your recent probation and what happened over the weekend with HEAT.”
Her face red and teary, Jillian drew a shuddering breath and said, “I think Eli’s in trouble.”
“You’re damned right he’s in trouble. Breaking in to Hyle’s lab was one thing, but—”
“No,” Dara interrupted, “not that kind of trouble.”
Pyro pulled out a chair and sat down. “You need to hear this, Clint. All of it.”
Clint frowned. He scanned them in turn, then his eyes fixed on Teddy.
“I think it might be best if I started from the beginning,” she said.
She took a deep breath, lowered all of her mental defenses, then launched into a history of the incidents she’d been hiding from Clint. Starting from Yates’s note at the Cantina last year: how they’d spent their summer researching, and the cryptic message he’d sent them containing the coordinates for the yellow house. How they’d met him in Jackpot the day before school started. How they’d visited Sector Three. How Yates had promised to help Teddy find her mother if she kept silent about his whereabouts.
She told him about the break-in at Eli’s apartment. How what Yates wanted from her was somehow connected to the Polson case. How she’d seen a mentally influenced Eli trigger the IED at Whitfield’s party, then she’d let him escape. Finally, exhausted, she told him that when she’d held Eli’s shirt in her hands hours ago, Yates’s true intent had been revealed.
“Yates is using Eli. Using HEAT to disrupt what’s happening at Hyle Pharmaceuticals. It’s all connected to that drug we read about in the Hyle report. X-498. He told Eli to do whatever it takes to see its production stopped.”
Clint sat for a long time. He shook his head and muttered, “He wants the drug for himself. This is why I wanted to stop him in the first place. Keep him behind bars.”
And Yates had been behind bars. Until Teddy had intervened and helped engineer his escape from San Quentin. A tsunami-sized wave of guilt washed over her. Clint could do as he saw fit. Punish her. Arrest her. Kick her out of school for good. She knew FBI track would never be hers now, but at least she wasn’t hiding anything anymore.
