Relic_An Iniquus Romantic Suspense Mystery Thriller

by Fiona Quinn

  “Brainiack comes from his full name. Brian Ackerman—the Iniquus operatives all go by their radio handles from the military.”

  Nadia tossed a loose ball back over to the kids. “How do you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  The ball sailed back over their heads, and Nadia caught it with her fingertips. “Huh, I should ask Thorn how he got his name. What else did Brian tell you?”

  “Nothing. Though you should know, I asked him about learning more self-defense. I want him to teach us how to shoot a gun and beat someone up.” Sophia hid the fact that her gaze was tracking Marla with the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses. It meant keeping her head forward while her eyes strained to the left in order to keep Marla in her peripheral vision. It was giving her a headache as she slid her attention from the boys to Marla—back and forth.

  Nadia showed her a photo of Brian in his Iniquus uniform, standing outside on Sophia’s sidewalk. “Come on, Sophia, you have to admit Brian has some serious hunk power in that uniform.”

  Sophia turned her head. She didn’t want to encourage this conversation any longer. She had another problem to deal with. She’d deal with her Brian issues a different day. “I see Brian as a teammate. A professional. I don’t need to be comparing him to Hollywood hunks, getting my panties in a bunch.”

  “But you asked him to teach you how to wrestle.” Lana laughed. “If I had a man like that holding me down… Whew!” She fanned her face.

  “I was thinking more of kicking someone in the nuts to give myself enough time to put a bullet in their head. The last time we were in the field things didn’t go very well.” Sophia turned to catch Nadia’s eye, remembering the sheer terror of the experience. Lana had never been interested in archaeology. She spent her summers in the US with her mom. She’d been safe at home when Sophia and Nadia were kidnapped and their dads held at gunpoint. They’d never told anyone except for Lana about the “incident.” Their dads made them promise. It was safer to keep their mouths shut.

  It had been bad advice. Sophia’s therapist said that stuffing those emotions at the beginning of her long road had complicated her recovery, leading to her problems with post-traumatic stress and NEAD. To be honest, since the kidnapping, her life had been a series of traumatic events, that’s why she disagreed with the “post” part of the diagnosis.

  “Mommy, I have to pee.” Turner stood beside her pinching himself through his swim trunks.

  “Bathroom run,” Sophia called. “Chance, Joshua, Francis, Jake, come on, guys.” Lana’s boys helped Chance get over to her, and they all clambered out and made their way to the bathroom.

  Sophia stood at the sink, lifting one little boy at a time up onto her elevated knee to help them wash their hands. Joshua and Turner were already playing under the hand dryer, so Sophia missed Marla sneaking up behind her.

  “Shhhhhhhhhh,” Marla hissed like a dementor come to suck all the happy from the environment. She stood so close that her warm breath tickled the tiny cilia in Sophia’s ear. So close that Sophia could feel Marla’s body heat. Sophia’s skin iced.

  “I’m going to get you,” she whispered, her spittle flecking Sophia’s cheek and throat. And then she moved off, heading back outside before Sophia could react.

  “Ouch, Aunt Sophia, you’re squishing me!” Francis wriggled on her knee.

  Sophia set the child down. Fear was a throbbing pain behind Sophia’s eyes that clouded her vision. She could no longer feel her feet against the cement, her legs bearing her weight. The sounds of the hand dryer and the boys’ giggles hung in a cloud over her head. Her breath stopped. Held. A push sent her reeling into the sink. Snapped her back into her body.

  “Sorry, Mommy.” Little black eyes looked up at her.

  “It’s okay, baby, let’s wash your hands.”

  Sophia shook herself to get rid of the veil of anxiety that Marla had left behind. She forced herself to smile at Jake. “You’re up next, buddy.” The boys were oblivious, but Sophia knew that she had been slipping into a seizure. The second one this week. If she told her doctor…if anyone knew, she could lose her driver’s license for a year. She reflected on how hard things had been when she wasn’t allowed to drive. Back then, she was living on the bus line with a student pass. Now, she’d have to pay for Lyfts. Wait for them to show up. Transfer the car seats. The hassle would be enormous. It also would put her and the kids at risk by not being able to jump into a car and go. Right there and then, she decided to hide this from Lana and Nadia. No one could know she was having problems again.

  She moved back toward the kiddie area. The five boys tucked their hands into their armpits, quacking as they waddled after her. Lana was grinning at the kids. “Come on, little duckies, it’s time to eat.”

  Nadia’s face was painted with worry. “What happened?”

  Sophia blinked innocently. “What do you mean?” Nadia wasn’t buying her act. She sent Sophia a worried look as she bent down and took two little hands in hers and moved toward the parking lot where grills were being manned by dads in “King of the Coals” and “In Dog Beers, I’m Two” aprons.

  Sophia could smell the meat cooking, and it turned her stomach. Lana held the hands of two more boys, and Sophia scooped Chance into her arms. “Where are your flip-flops, sweetie?”

  A dimpled hand pointed to the corner of the children’s area. Sophia moved to get them—she wouldn’t be able to balance their plates and Chance at the same time, and the pavement would be blistering hot in this sun. She bent to pick them up, and as she righted herself, she realized that she had been cornered. Wedged into the corner with fencing to her right and left, Marla stood behind her hissing like a snake. Sophia searched her brain for a quip or a something. Her muscles held her frozen like a mouse between the paws of a cat.

  “Mommy, down!” Chance wriggled himself out of her arms and down her leg.

  “Sophia!” Nadia’s stern voice yelled from behind her. “Come on.”

  Sophia was freed. She pushed to the side to follow Chance as he ran toward Nadia and his brother.

  “I’m going to get you,” Marla whispered.

  Sophia fell in line with Nadia. “What the hell was going on?”

  “Marla’s nuts, we all know that. Don’t respond. Any reaction is a victory.”

  “I don’t think that strategy is working. Look, you’ve got goose bumps. What did she say?”

  “Nothing worth repeating,” Sophia said, waving at one of the life guards who always smiled at her kids. “Let’s get the little ones fed.”

  Lunch did not go well. As Sophia stood in line, Marla stood inches behind her, so close her breath shifted the hairs on the back of Sophia’s neck. Her heart was pounding as she warned herself to ignore the woman. Pleaded with herself not to react. But her mouth took control, and Sophia turned. “Get away from me, you psycho.” The moment she said it, she regretted it. Marla’s eyes lit with triumph. She had given this woman proof that she was getting under her skin.

  Lana and Nadia were flanking her in a moment. They walked together back to the pool and to the privacy of their umbrella-covered table. Lana and Nadia took control of the kids and let Sophia sit with her back to the rest of the pool, looking out over the lawn to the trees beyond. Repeating the mantra her meditation teacher had given her, trying to keep her sanity intact and her outward composure calm, Sophia knew she was going to need a new strategy to handle Marla. Maybe Brian would know what to do.

  Pierre Richards had brought one of his kids in to play in the kiddie pool. He waved to the women then moved over to chat. Pierre had an easy-going disposition, a wiry, runners body, and a persistent Quebecois accent. “Are you ladies having a fun time at the pool?”

  “No. Not particularly.” Sophia stood and moved to talk with him.

  “No?” he asked, seeming a bit mystified that his banal greeting didn’t get the normal “Great! How about you?”

  “Marla is a certifiable nut job. Your wife has been following me around all day his
sing in my ear and telling me she’s going to get me.” Sophia’s anger felt good. She liked the power it gave her and wanted to keep that sensation brewing.

  “Wait. Marla’s not my wife. We’re just…she just decided… Hissing?” Pierre drew his brows together. His gaze sought over the area, trying to locate Marla.

  “Slithering up behind me, leaning up against me, hissing in my ear,” Sophia repeated.

  Marla barreled in their direction.

  The lifeguard was blaring her whistle. “No running in the pool area, even if you’re an adult.”

  Marla slammed to a halt next to Pierre. Sophia planted her hands on her hips to make herself look bigger, like Brian had when Marla tried to run them off the road.

  “What are you telling Pierre? What poison are you pouring into his ears?”

  Nadia stood up. “Why would you be so freaked out, Marla, if you hadn’t done something crazy in the first place? Why wouldn’t you assume they’re talking about the kids and vacation plans?”

  Marla hadn’t moved her eyes from Sophia. “Don’t you dare lie about me. Don’t you dare spread your vile filth.” And then she hissed. Spittle dancing over her tongue as air streamed between her lips and teeth.

  Pierre’s eyes widened; confusion painted across his face. “What the…” He moved to get his body between Sophia’s and Marla’s. He fixed his hands on Marla’s shoulders and gave her a shake. “What is wrong with you?” He pointed toward a lounge chair. “Get your things. We’re going home.”

  Marla didn’t move.

  “Get. Your. Things. We’re going home.”

  Marla tried to send Sophia a hate-filled glare around Pierre’s shoulder, but he leaned to the side to block her.

  Marla stomped away.

  Pierre turned toward Sophia. “I thought you were kidding. If I hadn’t seen that—I’m so sorry. I’m at a loss. Here, here, you’re trembling.” He put his hands on Sophia’s arms, they felt warm and supportive. His eyes were pleading with her, but Sophia didn’t understand why. “You’ll feel better when she’s home behind closed doors. I’ll get her out of here.”

  “She was hissing at you again?” Lana was now standing by her side, as they watched the Richards crew scrambling out the gate. Marla turned and flipped Sophia the bird, but Pierre grabbed hold of her arm and wrenched it until she stopped.

  “I have to get out of that house. I’ve got to get my boys somewhere safe. I have no idea what that woman is capable of.” She turned frightened eyes toward her friends. “Now that I’ve outed her to Pierre, she’s going to come after me with a vengeance.” She put her hands on her head. “What did I do?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brian

  Saturday a.m.

  Nutsbe sat back in his chair, tossing a crumpled up ball of paper into the trash like it was a game-winning basket. “Thorn asked me to do a background check on Nadia’s foreign family connections, since her Dad is Palestinian,” he told Brian who was getting settled in front of a file. “There’s nothing in her call history or her passport history that would suggest that she has any family interaction. I shook her family tree to see if there was any fruit. Nadia’s grandparents are in Gaza. Her father’s brother and two sisters, their families—in-laws and cousins. I looked back at the phone records from the parents to see if there was a connection there. I took the search back to the point where Nadia’s dad had his stroke and couldn’t speak coherently; there’s no communication from that direction. The parents live in upstate New York, and Nadia talks to her American-born mother every Sunday.”

  “We have two clients on this case, remember.” Brian put his finger on the file in front of him. “The AACP thinks we’re putting together a team for them down in Peru. Human Resources gave me some people we’ve worked with in South America, their expertise, and availability.”

  “You don’t think it’s a waste of time?”

  “I think that if we’re taking a paycheck from them, we should be fulfilling our obligations. The teams will still be in place, even if AACP sends other archaeologists in to do the core samples. We’ll need to be able to adapt to new circumstances.”

  “Sophia’s back home,” Nutsbe said. “She’s kissing the boys goodbye. Huh.” He leaned forward and messed with the controls. “Something’s not right.”

  Brian moved around the desk to check the monitor. “The look on her face—”

  “Shell-shocked. I’ve seen that one before.” Nutsbe looked over his shoulder at Brian. “I thought you said she was going to the community pool for a potluck and to spend some time with her kids.”

  “That was the plan.”

  “You think the psycho stalker nut job might have been there giving her grief?”

  Brian pulled out his phone and scrolled through the apps. “Marla’s at home. Wanna look back at her history and see if she was up at the Community Center?”

  Nutsbe pulled up a split screen. While he typed the information in, Brian watched Sophia fling herself onto the couch. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but her gaze was straightforward.

  “Marla’s van was at the pool,” Nutsbe said. “She got there a half-hour after Sophia left the house in Lana’s van. She got home about twenty minutes before Sophia did. No way to tell if that’s what upset her. What’s on the wall she’s staring at?”

  “A picture of her sons.”

  A knock sounded at the war room door, then Lynx stuck her head in. “Nutsbe, hate to bother you, but I’m checking to see if you heard from Honey today? He’s supposed to pass on a message from our contact.”

  “He hasn’t called in yet. Communications in his area are kind of squirrely. I’ll give you a call when I hear, if you’d like.”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  “Hey, Lynx, can you come here for a second and look at this?” Brian asked.

  Lynx moved up behind the men, leaning between their heads to see the screen. Brian got up and offered her his chair, moving to grab another one for himself.

  “Wow, what happened?” Lynx asked.

  Nutsbe had honed the camera in on Sophia’s face. “We have no idea.”

  Suddenly, Sophia jumped up and screamed.

  Brian’s body jolted with adrenaline.

  “What the heck are you doing here in my house?” a man yelled.

  “Nutsbe, flip to camera E. That sounds like it’s coming from upstairs,” Brian said.

  With a few taps, the image shifted to a split screen to include an image of Sophia’s stairs. They could see two scrawny bare legs at the top.

  Sophia pressed a fist to her chest. “Mr. Rochester, you scared me to death.”

  “Who are you? Why are you in my house?” The elderly man stomped down the stairs, making himself as large as his emaciated body could look. He was wearing blue boxers that hung open, revealing gray hair and soft flesh. “Answer me! Who the heck are you?”

  “How’d he get in? I didn’t get a warning beep,” Brian wondered, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  Sophia stood, wide eyed, shaking her head. Her hands stretched out as if to ward off blows. The other side of the screen showed Mr. Rochester storming his way toward her, grabbing Sophia and throwing her down. He gripped her swim cover-up and shook her until her head bounced on the floor.

  “Holy shit,” Nutsbe said under his breath.

  Brian reached into his pocket for his keys. “I’m heading over.”

  Lynx put her hand out. “Give her a second. Let’s see if she can’t talk her way out of this. You barrel in there now, and she’s going to wonder how you knew to show up.”

  Sophia crab-crawled backward. “Mr. Rochester. I’m Sophia. Please don’t hurt me. I’m Joe’s friend.”

  “How’d you get in my house? What are you trying to steal?” Rochester yelled.

  Sophia had worked her way over to the side chair and used it to pull herself up and hide behind. “Mr. Rochester, Joe sent me to get you. He fell and hurt himself. He wants you to put on the bandage.”

 
“Liar!” Rochester’s fists were up. “You came to steal from me. What did you take?”

  Sophia inched her way from one chair to the next.

  “Mr. Rochester, Joe needs you. Let’s go find Joe. Your son? Joe?” Her voice was shaky and pleading.

  Rochester sprang toward Sophia. Sophia ducked and wove, grabbing the front doorknob, yanking the door open until it hit the wall and bounced back in place. But Sophia was already down the front steps, running for her neighbor’s house.

  Rochester locked the door behind her.

  “She’s coming back. That must be Joe,” Lynx said.

  A younger man tried the door, then rang the bell. “Dad, open up. Dad!” He rang again. When the door popped open, there was Rochester with his blue boxers askew, his junk dangling out. Joe turned toward Sophia. “I’m sorry. I am so embarrassed.” The younger man’s face was red. “This has gotten out of hand. Obviously.” He looked back at Sophia. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. This has,” he bent his head, “clearly surpassed my ability to deal with.”

  Mr. Rochester had gone back in the house to sit on Sophia’s couch.

  Joe caught Sophia’s eye. “Would you mind stepping out of sight for a second? I’ll get Dad home. I promise this won’t happen again. I’ll find some way…” he trailed off softly.

  Sophia moved behind a tree. And Joe very quietly encouraged his father to head home.

  After the men had left her property, Sophia went inside, shut the door, locked it, and leaned her back against it. Her breathing was ragged. Loud. She labored to get air into her lungs.

  “Do you know what that was about?” Lynx asked.

  “One of her neighborhood stressors. The old guy lives next door. Alzheimer’s. He gets confused,” Nutsbe replied.

  Lynx shifted toward Brian. “A lot?”

  “Almost daily, it seems.”

  She flicked a worried glance toward Brian. “Does she normally leave her door unlocked?”

  Brian had his focus on Sophia as she moved around her house checking the doors. “I don’t think so. Nutsbe, let’s go back and review the tapes.”