by Jeff Abbott
Celeste sat at the computer and started to type.
‘I want you to know I had nothing to do with Allison’s death. Neither did Groote,’ Hurley said.
‘What about Sorenson? He planted a bomb there.’
Celeste paled. ‘How do you know?’
‘I’ll explain later.’ He put the gun back on Hurley. ‘While she hunts, you tell me about Quantrill.’
‘There are consultants – off the payrolls – who find promising research for the drug companies to develop further. Quantrill is one.’
‘How long have you worked on Frost?’
‘A year. The refinements to Frost are my ideas, you know, you’re stealing my ideas.’
‘I don’t think she used an e-mail program,’ Celeste said. ‘She erased the browser’s history file. Possibly she used an FTP program.’
‘FTP?’ Hurley asked.
‘File Transfer Protocol. A kind of program used to upload files from one system to another. People use them all the time in building Web sites, moving the Web site’s files from their computer to the host system. I’ve got one…’ Celeste opened a folder. ‘Here. Every upload creates a log entry. It’ll list any files uploaded to another system from this computer.’ Silence while Celeste hunted. ‘She did use it. Here’s a whole series of files uploaded to a remote Web server. Here’s the address.’ She hit a keyboard command; the printer spooled out the log for her.
‘We need to find who has that IP address.’
Celeste went back to typing, querying the server’s URL against an Internet database. ‘It’s registered to a Mercury Mountain Hosting, but there’s no information as to where the server’s located.’
‘I know how to trace the server but I need additional software,’ Miles said. ‘You know Mercury Mountain, Doctor?’
‘No. I’ve never heard of the company. But I’ll make you a deal. We contact them, we get Frost back. Together. I’ll get Groote off your ass; one word from me to Quantrill and he leaves you alone. You stay silent, you get the drug first. You get your heads straight. Forever.’
Miles jabbed him with the gun. ‘I’m not shutting up.’
Hurley gave him the glare of a man emptied of patience. ‘You aren’t very smart at playing hero. You don’t want to go there, not the two of you, not two fucked-up messes who can’t talk without waving a gun in a face or don’t dare step outside because your fear cripples you.’ He practically spat his words at Celeste. ‘I can give you your lives back. Free of the nightmares, free of the trauma. All we need is your silence.’
Miles thought of Sorenson’s strange promise, echoing in his head: What if you could forget the worst moment of your life?
Hurley said, ‘Celeste, I’m sorry I frightened you. But Frost could cure you. Isn’t that what you want?’
Miles stepped back from him. ‘Celeste. Is there any copy of what she uploaded to this remote server still on your system?’
‘I’m searching the hard drive, but, no, not so far.’
‘I don’t want the good doctor to see anything else we find.’
‘Okay.’ Her voice was steady and she took her hands off the keyboard. ‘You say you won’t be silent. Are you going to kill him?’
‘No,’ he said, then he added a lie: ‘But I won’t let him hurt us either.’
Hurley said, ‘You’re making a grave mistake, Michael…’
Surprise spread across Celeste’s face. ‘You said your name was Miles.’
‘It is. He thinks it’s Michael. Long story.’
‘He’s lied to you, Celeste. His name’s Michael and there’s a federal cop at the hospital asking for him,’ Hurley said. ‘You can’t trust him. I’ve only tried to help you, to protect you…’
‘How did you know my name?’ Miles said. He thought back to Hurley’s arrival – he had never spoken his fake name, or his real name, and neither had Celeste. Realization hit; Hurley had lied. ‘You do have Nathan.’
‘Yes.’
The fed wanting to talk to Hurley about Michael Raymond – why? What had Groote said? We could be of service to the authorities. What did that mean? One thing – setting a trap for Miles, one designed by the feds and executed by Groote. And Hurley had put Groote off for no real reason, and knowing how badly Hurley and Groote wanted Miles, Groote would be suspicious…
‘Celeste!’ he hollered. ‘We got to go! We have to leave. Groote could be heading here right now.’ So could the feds, but he didn’t say that – she would argue to stay, and he couldn’t leave her alone.
Celeste shook her head. ‘No. I can’t.’
‘We have to go, now!’
She shook her head; her hands began to tremble. ‘No, no, I can’t, I can’t leave…’
‘I’ll take you to my friend DeShawn,’ he said. He got up and moved past Hurley. Screw this, he’d give himself up to WITSEC, he couldn’t see her trembling and broken and hurt. They knew enough for the police to expose Allison’s killers and this medical research she’d died to stop, he was crazy to think he could set the world back to rights for the lost Allison, for himself, for anyone.
A needle slid into his neck.
He wrenched his head away from Hurley. Miles tumbled over a chair, grabbed at his throat, fumbled fingers over the syringe, pulled it free from his flesh.
He fell back in the chair. Miles screamed as Hurley’s thumbs gouged into his eyes with calm, surgical precision. He tried to kick away from the doctor but Hurley dug a nail into the soft corner of Miles’s eyes, intent on popping the orbs from his skull. He tried to aim the gun past the agony in his face and one hand went from his eyes, seized the gun from his hand. Miles closed his hands around Hurley’s wrists, lifted, and pushed. The barrel pressed against his lips in a cold kiss, as he heard Celeste screaming. Then the barrel jerked away from his mouth.
Miles pulled his knees between himself and Hurley with a mighty effort, kicked back, tore his face free of Hurley’s claws. He couldn’t see, his eyes blinded in pain, his head loose and light as a stringless balloon. Then the gun boomed, Celeste screamed, then sudden silence.
TWENTY-NINE
Groote didn’t like the conversation with Hurley. Not a bit. It made no sense, passing up an opportunity to help find Raymond…
Raymond. Maybe Raymond was there, with Hurley. At Celeste’s house. But how would he know about Celeste?
Because Allison had told him. Jesus, he had been in it with Allison.
He called Hurley’s cell phone again. It rang. And rang. No answer.
Their plan was off the rails, and, crap, Groote had Sorenson in one office, this fed in the other, caught between them. Hurley would have to fend on his own for a few minutes.
Groote gave DeShawn Pitts a shrug. ‘I’m sorry. You know doctors. They always leave you waiting. Doctor Hurley’s dealing with a suicidal patient – he may not be available until tomorrow.’
‘Then I’ll check back with him in the morning.’
Groote walked the officer out with hearty handshakes and then stood at the window. Pitts’s car remained in the lot; the officer sitting behind the driver’s wheel, talking on his phone.
Just hurry up and go. Please. Finally Pitts drove away.
He tried Hurley’s cell phone again. No answer. He went back to the conference room. Sorenson sat there, drinking coffee. ‘Where’s your fed?’ Sorenson asked.
‘Gone.’
‘Why the visit?’
‘It’s nothing to concern you.’
‘I still want to see Ruiz.’
‘I have some other very pressing business to attend to, right now.’
‘Our deal’s based on me seeing Ruiz,’ Sorenson said. ‘I’ve helped you. You help me. It won’t take but a few minutes.’
Groote decided. ‘But let’s make it quick. Follow me.’
THIRTY
‘Brian?’
Miles curled on the floor, focus blinking back into his eyes. Pain speared his head and the voice was hardly above a whisper. He raised his head from the tile.
Scuffed leather soles lay inches away from his face. He blinked again, past the salt of the tears, jerked to his feet, forcing his eyes to stay open.
Hurley lay sprawled on the floor, throat an open wound, breath a gurgle. The sounds of the gunshot echoed in his bones, made him want to close his eyes, surged bile into the back of his throat – but Celeste was more important than his fear. Celeste lay crumpled before him, the gun in her hands. He spoke, and his tongue weighed like lead in his mouth. ‘It’s all right, Celeste. Give me the gun.’
‘Brian, he won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt you anymore, I promise, I promise, I promise,’ Celeste said. Miles crawled to Hurley, fumbled at the man’s wrist. The pulse faded, then stopped.
‘Brian. We’re safe, all right, we’re safe from him, I never should have let him in the house…’ Celeste’s voice, down to a trickle.
Miles lurched away from her, away from the dead man. Leaned over the sink, threw cold water in his face. He tasted blood in his mouth and thought, If he tore out my eye there would be more pain, right, or would I just be in shock? His fingers probed at his face. Blood oozed in the skin between his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He rinsed it away. He managed to open his eyes, inspected his face in the mirror of a hutch that sat in the breakfast nook. His eyes were bloodied but both whole.
‘Brian?’ Now Celeste’s voice rose again. She flinched at him as he came out of the kitchen, mopping at his face with a dish towel, holding out his hand.
‘Celeste. I’m not Brian. I’m Miles. Remember? Miles.’ He knelt by her and held out his hand. ‘Give me the gun.’
She crawled away from the dead man. ‘You’re not Brian.’
‘No. I’m Miles.’
‘I… my house… my husband…’
‘It’s okay, Celeste. Let me help you. It’s now. Not then.’
Celeste stopped shivering, nodded, put her face in her hands. ‘He came into my house,’ she said. ‘He came into my house and he killed Brian. He made me wait with him, waiting for Brian to come home so he could kill him in – in front of me.’ Her voice was low and guttural, as though it belonged to a shadow, not a person.
‘I’m so sorry.’
She gestured at Hurley’s body. ‘I got the gun… to make him stop. Just to stop. But I really killed him.’
Miles picked up the syringe. Hurley must have had the injection in his lab coat – a perfectly good place to hide one. Probably to sedate Celeste, bring her to the hospital for… he didn’t want to think. Hurley hadn’t gotten the whole dose in him but enough to make him numb and sick and to clog his head.
‘Celeste. Listen.’ His voice sounded thick in the air. ‘The man who hurt you, who killed your husband, he’s not here. Hurley was trying to kill me, you saved me, do you understand?’ He forced himself to speak slowly and calmly.
Now she nodded.
‘Will you give me the gun?’
She clutched the gun close to her T-shirt. ‘Never again, I swore. The cameras. The locks. Never again. Fort Celeste. I made this place Fort Celeste.’ She wasn’t listening to him.
‘We can’t stay here. Groote could be on his way. We have to go. Now.’
Celeste’s voice started to break. ‘I have a dead man on my floor. I want him… gone. I want you gone and my home back.’
‘I know you do. But here you’re a sitting target. Please, give me the gun.’
She handed him the pistol. Along her arms a web of paper-thin scars scrolled toward the elbows.
She saw him notice. ‘I don’t cut myself anymore,’ she said. ‘I’m better.’
‘That’s great, Celeste, that’s wonderful.’ He tucked the gun in the back of his pants, tried to think through the sedative haze.
‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to get you safe, and then I’m going to get Nathan Ruiz out of that hospital.’
‘How?’
He went and searched in Hurley’s pocket, found an electronic passkey, a set of regular keys. ‘Walk in and take him.’
‘Who is he to you?’
‘The key to finding out the truth; but they still have him locked up.’
‘But this Groote’s at the hospital.’
‘Not necessarily. He’s out hunting for me. With the key and a gun I can walk in, get Nathan out.’
‘That’s absolutely crazy,’ she said. She shook her head. ‘And I can’t leave the house.’ She spoke as though he’d just informed her the world was flat.
‘You were brave enough to help me. You’re brave enough to walk through a door. It’s just a door. Walk the hell out of it.’
‘I can’t…’
‘I’ll hold your hand,’ Miles said. ‘You can sit on the floor of the car, keep your eyes closed, stay away from the windows. Pretend the world’s not there.’ He closed his hand around hers. ‘He will come here, he’ll kill you.’
She crawled to her purse, dug out a bottle of antidepressants, swallowed one dry. ‘I’ll try.’
He slowly got to his feet, bringing her to her feet as well. She stepped around Hurley’s body with a choked moan.
‘Don’t trust him, lady,’ Andy called from the corner. ‘Bad idea.’
Miles shot Andy the finger behind Celeste’s back and opened the door for her. He leaned out, scanned the street first. Empty. ‘It’s okay.’
Celeste cringed at the world beyond the open door.
‘There’s my car.’ He had found a set of spare keys and driven Blaine’s car to Celeste’s home. ‘Forty steps. I’ll walk with you, I’ll count.’
‘Just hold my hand,’ she said, and she closed her eyes, and made the first step.
The spring breeze rustled in the cottonwoods. Ten steps. She moaned. He kept his eyes fixed on the street, expecting a car to speed toward them and screech to a stop, carrying Groote, carrying death.
‘You’re doing great,’ he said.
‘Don’t talk to me… like I’m a toddler… learning how to ride a freaking bike.’ She started breathing in panicked hitches and he steadied his arm across her shoulders.
Twenty steps. The wind danced across her face and she flinched.
‘You’ve done this before,’ he tried, as a joke, not knowing what the hell else to say. Celeste kept her eyes clenched shut. ‘Been outside.’
‘I used to love the outdoors. Brian and I…’ and she swayed on her feet.
‘I’ve got you.’
She took another step. And another. Celeste made a low moan in her throat and walked faster, stumbling, her eyes clenched shut, and Miles guided her to Blaine’s car. He had left it unlocked and she stretched out on the backseat. She folded her arms over her eyes.
He gritted his teeth and slid the key into the car’s ignition. If she could get out of the house, he could drive the car again. At least the sedative shot made him less panicky; he just hoped he didn’t drive the car into the ditch.
He started the car. No boom. He steered out onto the mud road.
‘Where will you take me?’ she asked.
‘A friend’s house… well, he doesn’t know I’m hiding there. He’s out of town for a couple of days.’
‘Go to the hospital,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait in the car. Now. For Allison’s sake.’
He floored the accelerator, testing his reaction. The haze from the drug seemed to fade, overwhelmed by fear and adrenaline. He wheeled left onto the first street he passed, heading back toward the hilly rise leading to the hospital, praying that Groote was hunting him in the night, far away from Sangriaville.
THIRTY-ONE
Miles drove past a set of quiet homes, past empty lots, past the Sangre de Cristo Hospital, to Canyon Road’s dead end: an Audubon Society complex. He U-turned at the Audubon gate and headed back down the road toward the hospital. He went past the clinic, giving it a curious scouting, wondering if eyes in the building were watching him. There was no security that suggested this facility housed anyone dangerous – no wire, only a high adobe-wall enclosure, no
guard posted.
‘Waiting for that next chess move,’ Andy said. ‘Show me the brilliance.’
He wanted to tell Andy to shut up, but he didn’t want Celeste to hear him. He U-turned again, wheeled Blaine’s car into the hospital’s parking lot, parked near the back.
‘How will you find him inside?’ she asked.
‘Nathan mentioned the top floor when I saw him at Allison’s,’ he said. ‘So I’m going straight to the top. Can you drive?’
‘Oh, sure,’ she said. ‘Driving’s easy compared with shooting.’
‘If you’re approached – security guards, anyone – run. Go straight to the police, or a friend’s house. Don’t wait for me.’
‘Miles,’ she said, ‘if Allison’s giving me Frost, I think it works. I should be in a fetal position right now. I killed a man. I left the house. But I’m coping.’ Nevertheless her voice shook and she swallowed, struggling to steady it. ‘Maybe it’s Frost. Hurley acted surprised when I told him she’d given me new pills.’
‘Or you’re just strong,’ he said. She blinked at him. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Can you bear to sit in the front, keep the engine running?’
She nodded. She climbed over the seat, squirmed low in the passenger seat.
‘I should get out more often,’ she said. Trying to joke. She shivered.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said. ‘Run if you have to.’
She nodded.
‘Celeste?’
She raised her eyes to his.
‘Thank you. You saved us both.’
She swallowed. ‘Go. Leave me your cell phone. If I have to drive off… call me, I’ll come back for you.’
He shut the door, waited for her to click the locks, and headed toward the hospital’s rear parking-lot entrance.
Every step made him want to run in the opposite direction. A mental hospital. The place he’d feared the most as his mind started to play tricks on him, as Andy began to chime into his days and nights. The place he was afraid Allison would send him. He kept walking toward the building.
