“A simple trick I learned before I was nine.”
After opening her eyes, she stared hard at the wood barrier. So many mixed emotions, so many uncertainties. “Why are you here? Why come to me? And you never answered my question. What’s so important about the orphanage?”
“I want to find my sister. Like me, she lived there for a time as a child until we were separated. I thought you might be her. So much so, I followed you to Vegas. Do you remember a blond-haired boy with freckles?”
Frowning, Skye searched her memories, but panic churned and threatened to take hold. She sensed the creature from her nightmares about to erupt into her conscious mind. “I can’t remember much.”
“None of us can. Ferguson intentionally implanted a false memory into our head to keep us from digging into our past. I swear the bastard got his idea from the movie Alien. I’m sure you’ve got some similar lizard-like monster running around inside your head.”
“Yeah. How did you—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Impatience edged his voice. “What about the boy? The name would be Logan. Anything?”
“No.”
“And what of a girl? Freckles also. Red hair. Do you have any memory? She would have been close to seven.”
“No.”
“Do you have any memories of a deck of cards? The jack of hearts?”
“I don’t know what cards—”
“Just answer. Please.”
“I’m sorry. No.”
“Shit.”
Skye stared at the door and splayed her right hand across the smooth wood. Even though she heard the rawness in his voice, she didn’t dare soften. “If you thought I was your sister, why are you coming to me now and not before?”
“Hell. One, I don’t trust you. Two, Gordon’s son is glued to your side, which makes it damn difficult to get near you. Third, I felt I had to do something now because you’re getting in way over your head.” Frustration thickened his voice. “I tried earlier at the October House to talk to you, but he showed up before I had a chance. And remember the roulette wheel? And how the ball hit a different number than either one of you planned?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “That was me feeling you both out to see what either one of you were capable of.”
Skye frowned, distrust and unease pricking the back of her neck. “I don’t know you, and you won’t even show your face. Tell me why I should believe you and not David?”
“No real reason other than a healthy dose of caution. Plus, David’s father and Ferguson were inseparable for a couple of years. Gordon saved Ferguson’s life back when David’s father was a cop. You’ll find the story in the archives of the local paper if you look hard enough. Then soon after Gordon ends up with a son. All very strange. Actually, more than strange when you find out that Ferguson’s ties are linked with the October House. What’s a little adoption without papers between friends, right?” A sigh whispered along the edges of the door as if the man had brushed against the wood. “Seems to me Ferguson decided to return the favor after Gordon saved his life.”
His voice faded as if he’d stepped away from the door and was about to leave.
“No! Don’t go. Tell me about Ferguson! Where can I find him?” She grabbed the doorknob, rattled the metal between her fingers, then waited, desperate for an answer and fearing he’d already left.
“I can’t tell you that. He’s dangerous. He experimented on all of us from October House. At least the ones that didn’t die from contaminated groundwater. He didn’t care how much pain he inflicted, how much sorrow. It was all about finding out what made us tick.”
“He has my son. Tyler. I have to find him. Please. He’s just a child. He means everything to me.”
Silence. Oh, God. He’d left without answering her. Closing her eyes, she slumped against the wall beside the door. She should have threatened him, cajoled, done anything to get him to tell her.
Now she had nothing but empty hope.
“He’s over on Elm Street and 40th.”
Awareness snapped open her eyes and hurdled across the bones of her spine. “And?”
“It’s the second house from the corner. The gate’s like many of the others, but there’s a lion’s head on the wrought iron entrance. Just watch your back. He might not appear dangerous, but he’s got all the right people around him. As for David. Don’t trust him. The tie between his father and Ferguson might get you killed, and I sure the hell don’t want another death on my hands.”
She dragged in a shuddering breath. “Thank you.”
Her heart crashed against her ribs. Finally. A lead. One that would guide her to Tyler
I’m almost there, sweetie.
Relief, giddiness, almost hysterical in intensity swept through her body. Then just as quickly ugly reality and doubt perforated Skye’s thoughts.
The stranger on the other side of the door could easily be lying, leading her to a trap, a complete rouse to keep her away from Tyler. She needed to confront him face to face, read the truth in his eyes.
Skye stared at the lock and reined in her scattered thoughts. A pulse point later, the latch unlocked. With an unsteady hand, she wrenched open the door, ready to confront the person on the other side but already suspecting what she would find.
No one.
She stumbled outside. Both sides of the hall lay empty. A whisper of sound to the left propelled her down the corridor and toward the intersecting hallway.
She ran past several closed doors, then slammed a hand against the wall directly in front to stop herself from colliding against the drywall as she reached the next hallway. She looked on either side of her.
Empty save for a startled man in slippers and silver hair.
Dry, stale air rasped loudly in and out of her lungs as she rested both hands on her hips and grappled with getting her breath under control. Damn it. The stranger was more elusive than a shadow during a moonless night.
“You okay,” the man asked, his gaze wary as he shuffled past.
“Yeah.”
A lie. She wasn’t okay, but she imagined if she told him the exact truth, he’d scurry away that much faster. She pulled her hair away from her face with cold, trembling hands and turned back to her room. After a quick, fumbling sweep of her key card, Skye stumbled into the hotel room.
“Where have you been? I was just about to go out after you. What the hell—” David paused from buttoning his low-slung jeans as he stood in the middle of the room. He must have stepped from the shower seconds before. The soft glow of the room’s bedside lamp revealed the sheen of moisture clinging to his upper torso. He rushed over, caught her wrist and tugged her over to the bright glare of the bathroom light. With a deep, penetrating gaze, he searched her face. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Skye stared up into his concerned face. The man from the hall and his accusations about David’s father sent doubts swirling. Could Ferguson and Gordon have some sinister past that David knew about? All this time, was David hiding it from her and deliberately sabotaging her pursuit of her son? Worse yet, could he, in fact, be somehow involved with Tyler’s kidnapping?
Did she dare trust him? Could his every action and word be a carefully disguised act?
David’s fingers twined with hers. “Skye, did you see someone or something?”
Skye searched the sincerity in his face and felt the tension and concern animating from his large body. Only moments before she’d been in his arms, surrendering her heart to the possibilities of something more than passion.
Then Skye realized she not only needed David, she needed to trust him. For too many years, she’d lost the ability to believe in herself and the people around her. Fear had kept her from reaching out for help, and she’d had a reason, but there came a time when she had to take that leap.
Skye decided to tell him everything she’d just learned. She just hoped to God she made the right decision. “I know where Ty is.”
~~*~~
Pillowcase in one hand, Peter walk
ed down the hall on the second floor of Ferguson’s estate. So far, no car alarms, microwaves, radios or other electronic devices had acted up. At least he’d dismantled the house alarm. The kid was probably hiding out, huddled in some corner and exhausted. He’d escaped five hours ago, but Peter wasn’t worried, not with the gate locked and an eight-foot block fence surrounding the perimeter.
But time was up. With no more distractions, Peter wanted to quickly capture and disarm the boy. He’d struggled with a way to do that without the kid sending the electrical wiring into a frenzy until Ferguson supplied the perfect solution. A solution that would crush Skye and have her feel the type of hell she’d put him through.
Hard to believe he’d lowered himself to chasing after a nine-year-old kid. But he could thank Skye for that. He’d once had the respect of his other co-workers in the police department. Respect not garnered by fear like he had now. He’d been damn good at what he did on the force. Hell, yeah he’d taken bribes, done some stuff on the side, but he hadn’t been the only one. But Internal Affairs had thought differently, all because of Skye, the stinking bitch.
He ground his teeth together. The second Internal Investigations had started nosing in on him, he’d been treated like a leper from his co-workers, the same ones who were just as dirty as him.
Again, he could thank Skye for that. Hand tightening around the pillowcase, Peter slipped into one of the guest bedrooms and turned on a floor lamp by a recliner in the corner of the room. Pain throbbed along the side of one temple. He yanked open the closet door and swore silently. Other than a few boxes on the top shelf, empty.
Come on, you little shit.
“Hey, Tyler,” he called, injecting warmth into his voice. He’d find the kid soon, because he didn’t plan on playing this hide and seek game much longer. “It’s safe to come out. Seriously. That old man made me bring you here. But now he’s gone and you don’t have to worry.”
Peter moved out in the hall then into another bedroom, his step muffled against the thick carpet as he snapped on the switch by the door. Light flooded the room, revealing bedding and walls in muted shades of green and tan. “Seriously, kid. You’re safe. I promise.”
No answer other than the hum of the air conditioner. Peter’s nostrils flared. The little shit was going to be difficult.
So far, Peter had gone through each room on the main floor a second time, checking cupboards beneath bathroom sinks and kitchen countertops. Finding nothing, he’d moved on to the second floor.
In the bedroom, he paused by a low slung window with a bench seat and peered outside. Night had since descended across the city. The light from a neighboring street lamp filtered through an old, elm tree. A breeze kicked up, slapping at the leaves. Branches scraped across the window, sounding strangely like Ferguson’s last cry.
From beside the queen-sized bed, Peter dropped down on his knees, whipped back the bed skirt and peered along the floor. Only the scent of dust greeted him. Peter smothered a savage oath and rocked back on his heels. For a second, he’d thought—
A hollow, metallic sound carried into the room.
Stiffening, Peter thrust the bedding away and rose silently to his feet. Careful not to make noise, he edged around the bed and glanced to the doorway that led into an adjoining bathroom.
Agitated breathing. Unmistakable.
Peter smiled. On silent feet and still carrying the pillowcase in one hand, he moved closer to where the lamp threw light across the bathroom’s beige marble floor. His athletic shoes whispered across the tile until he stopped in front of the bathroom vanity with its raised sink. He flung open both ornate cabinet doors.
The kid sprang through his legs.
“Fuck!”
Peter whirled, then lunged. He grabbed the kid’s ankle as the bathroom light flashed on then off. Any second the alarm would go off, and he didn’t have Ferguson to convince the security company they were dealing with a malfunctioning system.
Peter yanked the kid backward. He didn’t care about inflicting any bruising, broken legs or superficial wounds. He just wanted Skye’s son alive long enough for her to see him one last time.
The boy kicked out, twisted his ankle from Peter’s grasp and started to scramble on hands and knees across the floor. An alarm clock went off in the bedroom.
“You little bastard.”
Peter maybe had one more second and all hell would break loose when it came to the kid setting off the electrical wiring everywhere. He leaped and landed on Tyler. Ignoring the boy’s grunt, he used a knee against his back for leverage and two fingers across the vulnerable section of his neck.
The boy slumped. The squirming stopped.
Chapter 26
Beyond the street lamp’s artificial glow, Skye stood tensely beside David as the scent of leaves and grass clung to the night air. Light pooled over the driveway leading to Ferguson’s house and a wrought iron gate with a lion’s head soldered to the bars. A thick chain and padlock bound the two sides of the fence, effectively preventing anyone from coming in or out of the property.
They’d parked several blocks away, hopefully, inconspicuous enough to keep neighbors from growing suspicious. Even so, Skye didn’t get a good feeling about the situation. She wasn’t a fool. A trap waited beyond the fence.
“Wouldn’t Tyler be able to unlock the chain from the gate and get out by using his powers?” David asked softly beside her.
“No,” she answered just as quietly, mindful of the silence around them and how easily their voices carried through the night. “He can’t move objects like us. He’s able to manipulate electrical currents, but not with any great control yet. At least not like he does when it comes to accessing computer programs. Several years back, he managed to do that. Problem was he got caught. What’s so strange is that the newspapers reported him as a brilliant kid but still nothing more than a hacker. If only they knew exactly how he got inside the company’s computer system...”
“Exactly when did he make the newspaper? Was the kidnapping soon after his name turned up in the news?” David peered down at her, the hard angles of his face inscrutable from the shadows.
Skye sucked in a breath. She’d been so blind. All this time she’d missed the clues, blatant and unmistakable now. “A couple months after. Ferguson must have guessed his talents. I never suspected that anyone knew of Tyler’s unique abilities with computers when the story hit the newspapers.”
“Ferguson must have had people waiting in the shadows, wanting to get their hands on your son. To get into a computer by remote access and manipulate the system without being detected all through telekinesis? Any military faction or corporation would be ruthless in acquiring that ability. Tapping into the international, financial sector would involve billions. And the power. It would be unimaginable.”
“No wonder they want my son,” Skye whispered, unable to shake off feelings of stupidity.
“Who wouldn’t?” Disgust thickening David’s voice. “Especially when it would be so easy to manipulate and frighten a boy into submission.”
At his words, Skye’s stomach rolled but she shoved her fear aside and forced her shoulders back with fierce determination. She glared at the chain wrapped around Ferguson’s fence. The lock clicked into the night, sounding like an engine backfiring much to Skye’s dismay.
David walked up to the gate and carefully unwrapped the chain. The black of his shirt and dark jeans melded against the shadows of a large oak tree. He eased the chain onto the grass to the side of the driveway, unable to completely mask the sound of metal against metal.
After David eased open the wrought iron gate, they both slipped inside and moved along the perimeter, their feet muffled from the lawn. Skye glanced between two, large, maple trees and saw the house forty yards away. The white siding glowed gray against the black windows. “Ferguson’s in there waiting for us.”
“Or he might be out for the evening.”
Even she heard the doubt in David’s voice. “Or he’s got
a diabolical trap set and ready to go.” Skye stopped and searched the yard for any movement. “And even if that’s the case, it’s not going stop me. Not tonight. Not any night. If Tyler’s behind that front door, I’ll find him.”
“Holding off until morning might be more of an advantage. What with not knowing the floor plan.”
“I can’t.” Just the idea of waiting a minute longer tore at her insides.
David cupped her shoulder with a large hand. “I’m with you. Whatever you want to do.”
The gentle, reassuring pressure of his touch brought a well of emotion rolling up her throat. She swallowed and took in a lungful of air. Right now, any sign of compassion threatened to weaken what strength she’d garnered.
“Let’s try the back of the house,” David whispered. “There’s probably several windows and possibly more than one back door.”
“I’ll try the front.”
He slid his hand from her shoulder and caught her wrist to tug her closer. “We need to keep together.”
“No.” She wasn’t going to be told what to do, not when it came to her son. “We’ve more of a chance if we go separately. What if we both run into a trap at once? Then what? Who’s going to get us out of the situation?”
With a firm grasp still on her wrist, David grunted, his warm breath fanning her temple as he leaned closer. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
She didn’t wait for him to try to change her mind but wrenched her arm from his grasp, hunched down into a crouch and raced across the yard and driveway toward the front of the house. David’s muffled curse followed her but not the sound of his footsteps. When she glanced over her shoulder to double check, she found his figure had disappeared into the other shadows. He must have moved toward the rear of the property.
Heart racing, breath ragged from fear and exertion, Skye slowed and eased around the corner of the house. She reached the front door on silent feet and placed a hand on the metal doorknob.
The handle turned easily. Unlocked.
Identity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance Page 23
