I took the cards and nodded. He returned his gaze to the computer without a hint of suspicion. He really believed I was Cynthia Rose. I sighed and rode the elevator to the second floor.
The room was definitely worthy of the name “King’s suite.” I lifted the cushions of the red sofa and searched for any type of hidden cameras or bugs. Then I lifted the bed’s pillows and sheets. Ever since Lorenzo had burst into my home and killed my husband, I found it hard to trust any situation. I paused in the middle of the room and thought about Patrick. I was taking a huge risk letting him know where I was staying, but there was something about him that told me he wouldn’t say anything. I walked into the bathroom, which had white walls, sinks and floors that were spotless, as if no one had stayed there in months. Either that or the hotel replaced the tiles, showers and toilets after every guest left.
I took a shower, and the delightful torrent of water soothed my body. I wished I could stay there all night, but I had work to do. After drying off, I returned to the bedroom with only my towel. The laptop was easy to set up, as was the hotel’s Internet access. The Web browser went straight to Google after I opened it. I see not much has changed. I typed Michael Galloway’s name and waited. Please, come back with something. I clicked the mouse’s left button, and hundreds of results came up, many more than I’d seen when I searched in 2043.
Michael Galloway was a corporate heavyweight. His parents had died in a plane accident when he was just fifteen. He inherited his father’s company, Glixima, then a very small pharmaceutical company. But his father left the day-to-day operations to his business partner and Michael’s godfather, Bill Adams, who became the company’s CEO. The company saw steady profits and grew in size and influence around the world. But Bill died five years later in a skiing accident, and the archived newspaper articles I was reading hinted that Bill’s death was suspicious.
At twenty years of age, Michael assumed control of the company, and in less than five years he took its annual revenue to almost fifteen billion dollars. Most people interviewed said he just carried on with the exceptional work that Bill had put in before his untimely death. Some screamed about foul-play conspiracies, but such theories were quickly quashed. From what I read, it didn’t seem likely either. Michael seemed to love his godfather too much to have had him killed. He even continued paying Bill’s yearly salary to his family after his death.
In the years that followed, Glixima won many large contracts in the country and around the world. Michael was a very important person. Some of the images showed him with no fewer than three U.S. presidents, including Jack Grace, whose term had run from 2004 to 2008. But my gaze never strayed from Michael. He had a chiseled face and smooth dimples. Even though it was just a photo, his dark hair and blue eyes drew me helplessly to him. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked familiar. Maybe I could see Dylan’s dad, Tristan, in him.
I frowned at the ceiling. Michael was obviously a powerful man, but what did he have to do with all this? When had he started suspecting that something sinister had caused the worldwide infertility? My mind went in every direction, considering every possibility. I still needed to find the connection between the creatures from my time and Michael’s theory. That was the only way I’d find Dylan. Lorenzo’s coming through the portal meant that there must have been more like him here in 2013. Maybe Michael even knew something was wrong at this moment. But I couldn’t take that chance. If I approached him sounding like a fanatic, he would never trust me again. Hell, he might even call the police, and then I could kiss my chances of finding Dylan good-bye. I knew the meteor would strike in two days, but I needed to get Michael on board right now. I’ve just got to break it to him gently.
I searched for Glixima’s contact number and found it within seconds. A chirpy-sounding woman answered after two rings. “Glixima. Sharon speaking.”
“Hi, I’m looking for Michael Galloway please.”
“Is he expecting your call?”
I hesitated. “Yes.”
“I’ll put you through.” Classical music came on.
That was easy. I sat on the phone for almost twenty minutes before I realized what had probably happened. The woman I spoke with was most likely central switchboard and all she did was put me through to his office. I put the phone on “speaker” and got dressed. The smell of the Dior perfume I bought was stunning. Midway between flossing, I heard someone speaking through the phone. I ran out and placed it to my ear.
“Hello. Is anyone there?” I heard.
“Hi. I’m trying to get hold of Michael Galloway, please.”
“And you are?” The woman sounded unhappy to even be on the phone.
“Cynthia Rose.” I said the name on the stolen license like it meant something, like the woman would be insulting me by not knowing who I was.
I heard her on the other end of the line going through sheets of paper. She spoke a few seconds after. “I’m sorry, but Mr Galloway is in a meeting right now. Can you call him back tomorrow?”
I frowned. She just didn’t recognize my name and didn’t want to bother her boss. I’d known it was a long shot anyway, trying to get hold of a man as important as Michael with a random phone call. “Do you know when he’ll be finished? Maybe I can call him back then.”
“I’m afraid he’ll be going home straight after. Sorry.”
I grunted in frustration. I didn’t have much time. “Is he in the office tomorrow?”
“Yes, he is, but he’s in meetings all day and can’t do any face-to-face mee—”
I hung up and stared at the ceiling. The digital clock on the table struck four. Time was ticking by. I clenched my fists and pounded them against the bed. Then I got up and paced around the room, aware that Lorenzo was still out there, searching for me. I thought of the 2013 version of myself. The fact that I was still walking around meant that no one had hurt her. But how long would she be safe? Maybe if I could somehow persuade my 2013 parents to leave town with the younger me and go somewhere far, they’d be safe. But what would I say to them? I stared at my wad of cash and wondered if I could persuade them with some of it. I ruffled my hair. I knew they’d probably laugh in my face and think I was mad, but I had to try something.
I drank a bottle of water from the minibar and rode the elevator downstairs. I asked the receptionist to call me a cab. It arrived ten minutes later.
“Where to, ma’am?” asked the young black cabdriver.
“Silver Lake, please. Kenilworth Avenue.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He joined the traffic and headed east.
When we arrived twenty minutes later, I was dizzy. My head pounded and my breaths grew short.
The driver looked at me with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I grimaced and nodded. “I’ll be okay. I just need water.”
He forced his glove compartment open and gave me an unopened bottle of mineral water. I took a swig and sighed. Then I gave him thirty dollars and got out. He stared at me as I crossed the street. I turned back at him and waved. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
He waited another minute and drove off. I still felt faint. It couldn’t have been my medication; I had just taken it a few hours ago. It was something else. I’d known it would be hard coming back to where I’d grown up, but I had no choice. I stood by the porch of 2005 Kenilworth Avenue, my home address when I was four. There was no car in the driveway, so I assumed no one was home, but I still had to check it out. I had many memories of this house. We’d stayed here for only two more months from this day before we moved. I’d hated our house in Pasadena, but it was where I met Kevin, on September 24, a week after my fifth birthday. A tear fell when I remembered how Lorenzo killed him.
I straightened and wiped my eyes and walked up the stairs to the front door. The stone house was just as I remembered. The roof tiles were a dark gray color, with hints of lime green around the windows. Just then, the sprinklers rose from the ground and turned on. Water splashed in my face and I jerked ba
ck, but then I smiled. I remembered running out of the house to play with my mom whenever I saw them on.
I dismissed the memories from my head and braced myself. This is a bad idea. I walked to the door and knocked.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I knocked again. Still nothing. I walked to the living-room windows and tried to peek through, but the curtains prevented me from seeing anything. I tilted my head left and right, trying to find a better angle.
“Can I help you?”
I spun around and got myself in a tangle. I fell in a heap to the ground and grunted in pain. A woman in her late fifties ran over to me and extended her hand. I grimaced and took it. After I got back to my feet, she wiped some grass from my trousers.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” I said.
She didn’t speak until my clothes looked spotless again. “There,” she said. “Good as new.” She adjusted her thick glasses and stared straight into my eyes. “What in God’s name were you doing? You do know an ex-police officer lives just across the street, right?”
I started to speak, but she waved me to silence. I tried to jog old memories, but I didn’t recognize her.
“Why would you want to rob this place anyway? The people who live here are the loveliest people I’ve ever met.”
“So you know them? The Harrises?”
“Of course I do. I’ve lived here nearly thirty years. I know everyone here.… Wait—you said their name. You know them, too?”
Thirty years? Why didn’t I recognize her? I started to think that I might have been in an alternate version of 2013, different from the one I remembered. Maybe something had changed. Or maybe I just couldn’t remember her. I nodded and smiled. “Yes, I’m Ra … Rosemary Nichols.”
She gave me a bewildered look.
“I’m Justine’s sister.”
Her face lighted up. “Oh, I see.” She gave me a huge beaming smile, but embarrassment soon followed. “I’m so sorry for saying all those things about you wanting to rob the place. I’m just real protective of my neighbors. I’m Holly Wicker.”
“Hi, Holly. And don’t worry about it. You’re just looking out for your neighbors. I take it they’re not home then?”
She shook her head. “No. I think they’ve gone to pick up their daughter, Rachel.”
I swallowed. It was weird hearing someone talk about me to me.
“What’s she like?”
She gave me another of her strange looks.
“Rachel.”
“You haven’t met Rachel?”
Oh, damn. I just said I was my mom’s sister. Come on, Rachel, get it together. “Weird, right? My sister has a four-year-old and I haven’t even met her.” I smiled widely, but she didn’t reciprocate. I swallowed. “I’ve been working in Japan. I’m a reporter.”
Still nothing from her.
“Well, this is my first day back in, like, forever. I just can’t wait to meet little Rachel. Tell the truth, I’ve been looking forward to this day since she was born.”
She kept looking at me, as if deciding whether to believe my story. Then she gave me the broadest smile. “Sorry. I don’t know where my manners went.” She walked across the porch and waved for me to follow her. “Let me at least make you an iced tea.”
I hesitated.
“Come on. I won’t bite, I promise.”
“Maybe I should just wait for them to get back.”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me with her. “Oh, come on. They might not be back for hours. Besides, we can talk and you can tell me some secrets about your sister. I’ve never in my life met someone so perfect.”
We crossed the road and walked past two houses until we reached hers. She waved at an elderly couple who’d gotten out of a black station wagon. Then an elderly woman called out to her from a house across the street. They spoke for a moment before Holly walked onto her porch. I stared back at the elderly woman. She smiled and waved at me. I waved back.
I looked up and down the street. Almost every house looked identical, and all had perfectly trimmed bushes. The streets were empty aside from a few station wagons. It was so quiet; you could probably hear crickets every night. It certainly didn’t seem like a hip neighborhood. I hadn’t thought about things like that at the age of four, but now I wondered why a young couple like my parents lived in such a weird area full of older people.
“You coming or what?” Holly said.
I smiled and followed her inside. Her house was immaculate. The sofas looked like they hadn’t been sat on for years. The flowerpots around the living room were full. I walked toward the patio door and gazed at the square garden. It had a shed right in the middle. It was exactly how I remembered my house. I heard shuffling and turned around. Holly placed two glasses of iced tea on a square coffee table and sat down. I took a sip and smiled.
“It is strange you turning up today, though.”
I lost my smile. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.”
I sat beside her. “What is it? Has it got to do with Justine?”
“It’s just that they never get visitors, and today they’ve had you and the three people this afternoon.”
I swallowed and almost dropped my glass. Then I looked away. I didn’t want her to see my face turning white.
“Are you all right?”
I faced her after a moment. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Who came to see them?”
She started to speak, but her eyes widened. She stared toward the window. I followed her gaze and saw a black sedan with tinted windows being parked across the street. What the…
“It’s them again,” she said. “I think they’re police or something.”
I looked at her.
“The people who came to look for Justine this afternoon—that’s their car.”
I rushed to my feet and edged toward the window. “So did you speak to them?”
“I just told them they weren’t home.” She rose and walked toward the door.
I ran and sat her back on the chair. “There’s nothing out there,” I said.
She gave me an angry look. “What’s going on? Are you really Justine’s sister?”
“Course I am.”
“Then why are you acting so strange? Maybe I should just go out there and tell them that you were snooping around their house.” She started to stand again, but I held her hand. “Take your grubby hands off me, lady,” she snapped. “I might be older than you, but I can still scream.”
Damn. What do I do? “But I just got here. Can’t we just talk for five minutes and then you can go out there and tell them whatever you want.”
She yanked her hand out of my grasp and stood up. I stood with her.
“I’m going to the bathroom. I’m not going to talk to anybody.”
I raised my hands and stood aside. After I heard the bathroom door shut, I rushed to the window and ducked. Then I pulled the binoculars out and twisted the knob at the top. I ducked again in shock. Two men and a woman were standing outside my parents’ door. When I looked again, the woman was knocking while the men stood by the edge of the porch, looking around. One of the men had two dark marks across his face. It was the officer named Willie from Barstow. The woman was his blond boss, Sergeant Briggs, who’d insisted he release me. I didn’t recognize the third man. It made no sense that Willie and his boss were in L.A.; it wasn’t their jurisdiction. Even stranger was that they’d arrived in an unmarked car and Willie no longer wore a uniform but a neat black suit instead. If I hadn’t met them earlier, I would have thought they were federal agents.
I saw Briggs put a cell to her ear. Her lips moved for at least a minute before she hung up. They didn’t look like they were planning to leave any time soon. I had to stop Holly from talking. I shook my head, angry with myself for even thinking that. What was going on with me? There was no way I’d harm an innocent person. That just wasn’t me. If only she could …
An idea formed in my head. I heard her footsteps coming down the hall.
I was holding Holly’s glass of iced tea when she walked into the living room. I figured that a nice gesture would help ease the tension I felt before she went to the bathroom. She eyed the window for a second but came over and sat down.
“So, what do you want to know about Justine?” I asked with a smile. She sipped her drink, but I could tell she was deep in thought. I gulped my drink down and sighed. “That’s probably the best iced tea I’ve ever had.”
A huge grin filled her face. “You liked it?”
“Of course. It was amazing.”
She gulped hers down, too, but just then the glass fell from her hand to the floor. Her head hung down. Oh no. It’s happening too fast. I hope I didn’t give her too much. I lunged forward and held her head. Her eyelids flickered before she passed out. I put my finger on her neck. There was a pulse. She was just out cold. I’d taken a gamble, mixing some of my medication with her drink, but I knew that, at most, it was a strong sedative to anyone who had not been taking it for more than three months.
I carried her down the hall to her bedroom. She weighed a ton for a skinny lady. Her room had a pleasant aroma. I saw incense sticks burning in every corner. After I placed the covers over her, she started snoring. I rushed back to the living room and returned to the window. A second sedan was pulling up. The door opened and a man with prominent cheekbones stepped out. The wind tousled his long dark hair. I swallowed. It was Lorenzo, still in the same blue suit he’d been wearing at the station. First he’d posed as my lawyer, and now he was with the officers who’d questioned me. Nothing added up.
Lorenzo spoke to Sergeant Briggs and then to the other man. Willie stood at the edge of the road, looking up and down. I sat on the floor, away from the window, and thought of my younger version. Were they there to kill her? Me? Was I too late?
Four hours later, the clock struck nine and the cars still had not moved. I had no problem with staying where I was, but Holly would be waking up soon, and it would be difficult to sedate her again. But that was not my main fear. The people outside my parents’ house were obviously there to see the younger me, maybe even kill her and prevent me from ever using the portal and causing so much trouble. But if they wanted to do that, it would have made more sense if they went further back in time, to a period where I wouldn’t be able to stop them.
The Children Who Time Lost Page 20
