Vows of Vengeance

by Rita Herron

  DR. YATES, the medical examiner, showed Luke and Stella to his office. Seconds later, Detectives Black and Fox joined them.

  Dr. Yates motioned for the men to follow.

  Stella hung back. “Should I come?”

  “No,” Luke answered. “Wait here.”

  She nodded, and took a seat in the office, while Luke followed Black and Fox.

  “Cause of death was a bullet wound to the head,” Dr. Yates said. “We retrieved the bullet, and I’ve sent it to ballistics.”

  “Any other wounds on the body?” Luke asked.

  “Bruises. Some old, some new. He has a lot of scarring, too.” Dr. Yates turned the body so they could see his back. “These appear to be burn marks.” He indicated a few other scars which looked suspicious. Some to his feet and hands.

  “I thought this was odd, too.” Dr. Yates indicated a small mark behind the man’s ear. “Look at this carving, it’s like a tattoo or burn, triangular shaped. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  It reminded Luke of a prison or gang tattoo, or perhaps a prisoner of war marking.

  He remembered Stella’s scattered memories of her youth and wondered if this man had been part of some kind of experiment or brainwashing technique as well.

  He’d have to probe Stella further.

  In fact, maybe he should have Stella view Jarad’s body and watch her reaction.

  STELLA’S NERVES ping-ponged between nausea and disbelief as she stared at Raul Jarad. Sutton had claimed that Raul was her handler, that he was going to expose her. So why did she have this uncanny sense of sadness as she looked at his face?

  Luke pressed a hand to her back. “Do you remember him?”

  She experienced a brief flash of the two of them on a mission, shooting and covering for one another. But as quickly as the image came, it faded. “Not really.”

  “He died from the gunshot to the head,” Luke said. “The bullet’s in ballistics.”

  “You know it’ll match the gun I was holding.”

  Luke shrugged. “Probably.” He escorted her outside, then hesitated as if he wanted to say more.

  “What is it, Luke?”

  “Jarad had an odd marking behind his ear.” He gently lifted the hair from Stella’s neck and checked behind it. She definitely had a scar, but the marking was different.

  “What is it, Luke?”

  “You have one, too, but it’s a number,” he said quietly. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it before. But it was so tiny it was almost indistinguishable.

  “A number?”

  He nodded. “My guess is it had something to do with those memories of yours. Of being given shock treatment, and undergoing sensory deprivation experiments.”

  “I was a number in an experiment?” She fought the idea, although other brief snippets of her past flashed back. The girls lined up. Their numbers being called. Being divided into sections.

  Luke stroked her back slowly. “Come on, let’s look for that disk. Maybe it will provide us with the answers.”

  She nodded, struggling to fill in the blanks, but once again, the curtain closed on her memories.

  The ride passed in virtual silence. Stella regarded the beautiful serenity of Skidaway with envy, willing the peaceful atmosphere to tame the anxiety riddling her. A deer hesitated at the sound of their car rumbling by, perked its ears and stared at them but didn’t move. A fawn loped up beside it, nudging its mother. Her throat swelled as she watched the pair together, their trust of the environment and people on the island evident. The land was well preserved, its natural habitat and terrain undisturbed save for the occasional house or subdivision which had apparently been built to code to glorify nature, not destroy it.

  How odd that the animals that should be defensive of strangers trusted so easily when she herself couldn’t.

  Of course, she didn’t remember ever feeling safe…

  You were a number. Not even human.

  Luke parked in front of his cabin, and they hurried inside to search for the disk. An hour later, they’d come up empty, so they headed to Andrews’s place.

  Luke turned onto the road leading to Savannah, then veered onto a side street leading to an older development. A few houses, mostly wooden and weathered were scattered through the marshy area.

  Luke checked the address, maneuvered another turn, then followed a road which seemed uninhabited. A few hundred feet away, smoke plumes floated upward.

  Luke sped up, and Stella leaned forward to search through the thick, heavy, black smoke.

  “Damn.”

  “What is it?” Stella asked.

  “That’s Andrews’s house.” He screeched to a halt at the end of the driveway, then tossed her the new phone the Feds had given him. “Call 911, then Detective Black at the police station!”

  “Wait, Luke, where are you going?”

  “To see if Andrews is inside.”

  He vaulted from the car and took off running.

  Stella punched in the emergency number, her heart in her throat as fire shot into the sky, and Luke darted directly into it.

  Chapter Ten

  Stella called 911 as fire crackled and popped, and wood exploded. Part of the roof caved in, and Stella screamed and raced toward the house. “Luke!”

  The front porch completely erupted in flames. Heat seared Stella’s face and arms as she approached, thick black smoke curling and rising toward the heavens. She ran to the back to see if there was another entrance, but flames clawed at the floor and walls there, blocking her way. Panicked, she darted to the side window and glanced inside, searching desperately for Luke. More flames crawled along the den carpet toward the hall, patches of bright orange fireballs bursting in front of her eyes.

  Once again the memories of her childhood flooded her.

  SHE WAS TRAPPED. Caught in the bed in the long dormitory room. It had been so dark before, and cold, but now fire scalded her face and hands, and lit the darkness. The bright yellow and orange flames rose around her, dancing toward her, burning the bedspread that had fallen to the floor. She climbed toward the top of the bed to escape.

  From their beds, Nadine and Bianca cried and screamed. But the fire was already licking their sheets. Nadine batted at it with her pillow. Bianca was coughing and choking, jumping up and down to dodge the flames as they drew closer and closer.

  “Take my hand, Stella. Come on, I’m going to save you.”

  She saw the man. His dark hair. Those soulless eyes. He was reaching for her. And so was the fire. She lurched for him, knowing he was the devil. But she had to save herself.

  Just then the fire exploded around Nadine.

  “No!” Stella screamed and cried, yelled at the man to save them.

  He jerked the sheet off her bed, wrapped it around her, then ran for the door, hauling her to his side as he sidestepped the fire. She scratched and pounded at his arms to go back and save Nadine and Bianca, but he raced through the hallways, not even looking back. Metal and wood exploded around her. Terrified screams mingled with the shattering wood. Cries of pain and death.

  Another man appeared in the smoke-filled distance. The Master they called him.

  A real-life monster.

  A shrill scream pierced the air. Stella covered her ears to drown out the sounds. She was sobbing uncontrollably. She should have told the man to get Nadine and Bianca first. That she would follow.

  Now they couldn’t make it out. And it was her fault…

  A SIREN WAILED in the distance, louder, closer. Stella jerked from the memories. The ambulance was coming to save Luke. They had to be in time.

  Just like years ago with the other girls, she had been too much of a coward to do so herself.

  LUKE FOUND an afghan on the floor and used it to bat at the flames and help protect himself from inhaling the smoke as he darted through the house. Fire and heat seared his back, feet and arms as he dodged the worst of the blaze, and slithered between the patches of floor that hadn’t yet caught abl
aze.

  Andrews wasn’t in the den. The computer equipment was already melting and ruined, any papers or diskettes destroyed. The furniture was ablaze, and smoke filled the room and rippled through the house. A loud sound jolted him, and pieces of the ceiling crashed down around him. He jumped aside, but one caught him on the shoulder. He slapped at the fire eating at his sleeve and jogged through the hallway to the bedrooms.

  Andrews wasn’t inside the first bedroom. He checked the bathroom, and tub, but it was empty, too. More of the roof crashed behind him, and he dashed to the last bedroom. Fire already seeped along the edges, consuming the curtains and old wooden dresser. He crouched low, covering his mouth and coughing, then blinked to clear his eyes from the fog of smoke. Seconds later, he spotted Andrews on the floor, unconscious.

  He raced toward him and knelt, then checked for a pulse. He couldn’t find one.

  Knowing he had to start CPR, but not in the burning house, he dragged Andrews over his shoulder. The hallway was completely ablaze, the roof collapsing in sections like dominoes falling.

  Heaving air, he threw the afghan over Andrews and searched for a back door, but the only way out was the window. Flames already encircled the glass, black curtain ashes raining down to the burning floor. He braced Andrews over his shoulder, then ran through the firey window, diving to the ground outside. The man’s dead weight pummeled him as he collapsed.

  A second later, Stella screamed his name.

  “I’m out!” He rolled over, slapping at the flames on his boots, and saw her running toward him. The fire engine barreled into the drive. Firemen jumped from the truck and began to hose down the flames. It was too late to save the house, but they needed to keep the fire from spreading.

  He reached under Andrews’s arms and hauled him away from the flames.

  “Luke!” Stella grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

  Terror darkened her eyes as she clung to him. “I thought you were dead!”

  He massaged her back to soothe her. “I’m okay. But get the paramedics!”

  She nodded, brushed at her tears then ran toward the front to signal the rescue team while he knelt and checked for signs of life from Andrews.

  Again, he couldn’t find a pulse.

  Then he noticed the gunshot wound in the man’s temple.

  It looked like a professional hit.

  The paramedics rushed up, and he moved aside to give them access, but at the sight of the gunshot, they shook their heads. Luke pulled Stella into his arms and held her, trying to calm her. She was trembling, almost hysterical.

  “Look at me, Stella, I’m fine.” He forced her to look at him. She seemed dazed. Then he remembered the fire she’d described as a child, and understood her terror.

  The police car arrived, and Detectives Black and Fox jumped out, joining them.

  “What happened?” Black asked.

  “The house was ablaze when we arrived,” Luke said. “I found Andrews unconscious in the bedroom.”

  Fox walked over to the paramedic. “Is he going to make it?”

  “No. He was probably dead before the fire started.” While the paramedics retrieved the stretcher, Luke showed Fox the gunshot wound, then rolled the man’s body over. Deep gashes marked Andrews’s head as well as an exit wound for the bullet.

  “We need a CSI team to go through the place,” Fox said. “My guess is that bullet will match the ones from your cabin, Devlin.”

  Luke nodded and glanced down at Stella, who paled even more. She didn’t ask any questions. She must have recognized the work.

  They both knew who had probably done it.

  But any information Andrews had obtained had died with him.

  STELLA LISTENED quietly while Luke and the detectives discussed how best to handle the case.

  “I think Sutton is responsible,” Luke said. “But we need proof.”

  “You think this fire is connected to Nighthawk Island?” Black asked.

  “Maybe. I also suspect it’s connected to Stella and Sutton, and a research project that took place years ago.”

  “You can try questioning the director of CIRP, Ian Hall,” Black said. “But I doubt you’ll get very far. The doctors are extremely secretive and protective of their work at the research park.”

  “I know, but I’ll pressure him,” Luke said. “Maybe if I explain the circumstances, he’ll cooperate.”

  Stella watched the flames die to embers as the firemen doused them with gallons of water. The charred remains reminded her of her own life, gray and ruined.

  Drake Sutton was the one with answers, the one who had made her existence as dirty as those brittle ashes. She had to make him explain why he’d saved her and not the other girls.

  And why he had saved her life only to turn her into a killer.

  The answers were probably in that elaborate computer system in his basement. If only she could gain access to it. Maybe she could hack her way through and find out the truth. Discover a way to hang Sutton.

  She contemplated various ideas while Luke met with the crime scene unit that arrived shortly after the firemen. Luke had resorted to all business. But occasionally, he shot her a concerned glance. Several times, she considered taking the car and driving to Sutton’s. But she had to choose the right time.

  Besides, Luke had almost died earlier. She wasn’t ready to leave him, would blame herself if something happened to him.

  Finally he approached her and climbed into the car. “We’re going to meet Ian Hall, the Director of CIRP.”

  She nodded, and they rode to the facility on Catcall Island in silence. Soot and sweat stained Luke’s face and shirt. The scent of smoke permeated the car, reminding her of his close call with death. The second since she’d resurfaced in his life.

  Luke didn’t deserve to die because of her.

  Twenty minutes later, they were seated in Dr. Hall’s office. Ian Hall was attractive, very well dressed, nice mannered, distinguished looking. But Stella didn’t trust anyone, and wondered if his appearance and demeanor were simply a front.

  “What can I do for you, Agent Devlin?”

  Luke explained about the reporter’s death and the circumstances leading to it. “We believe that Miss Segall was a victim of an experiment that was conducted about twenty-five years ago.”

  “As you know, I’ve only recently accepted the directorship role at CIRP,” Hall stated. “I wouldn’t have knowledge about something that happened that long ago.” He steepled his hands. “I’m working diligently to earn a better reputation for the research facility.”

  “So I’ve heard. That’s one reason I thought you might help us,” Luke said smoothly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d look for any old files that might contain information about past research experiments using children as subjects. Perhaps some early brainwashing methods or programming techniques using sensory deprivation and shock therapy.”

  Hall swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “You believe someone brainwashed children—for what purpose?”

  “To turn them into agents. Specifically, killers.”

  Hall’s face blanched. “In all the work I’ve read about here, I know nothing of such a project. And I can assure you that if I had been in charge, irreputable project would never have been sanctioned.”

  Luke frowned. “Unfortunately you weren’t around then, Dr. Hall. This experiment occurred during the Cold War. The climate was different at that time, government restrictions not as monitored.” Luke hesitated, leaning forward. “You’re aware of the unethical experiments and cover-ups that took place here before you came?”

  When Hall conceded, Luke explained about Drake Sutton. “I don’t think Sutton was in charge of the project, but believe he was and still is answering to a higher authority.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Agent Devlin.” Dr. Hall stood and shook their hands, signaling the end of the meeting.

  “How do you think that went?” Stella asked, as they exited the building.

  Luke shru
gged. “I didn’t expect him to offer up anything directly. But if he’s the good guy he’s pretending to be, he’ll check out my theory. If for no other reason than to avoid bad publicity for the research park.”

  Luke’s cell phone rang, and he answered it, speaking in a hushed voice as he climbed into the car. Stella glanced at the research building again, then noticed someone staring at them from a top window above Ian Hall’s office. When the person saw her looking at him, he flipped the blinds closed. A shiver raced through her. Someone had been watching them. Which meant that someone here at the research park knew why they’d come. Maybe they even had the answers to their questions.

  Drake Sutton’s face flashed into her mind. He had all the answers she wanted.

  Like what had happened to her mother. And as soon as Luke left her alone for a minute, she intended to confront Sutton and force him to admit the truth.

  LUKE LISTENED to Quinn Salt’s findings in abject silence.

  “I don’t have all the answers yet,” Agent Salt said. “But I discovered some old notes in a storage unit. There was a project named SHIP around the time you mentioned. Young children were forced to endure sensory deprivation as well as other torture. There has to be more details here somewhere, but I haven’t located them yet.”

  “Were names mentioned?”

  “No, everything was in code. It appears that the project might be related to another one involving genetic engineering to create a physically strong child, but one with with no emotion.”

  “They wanted to train the children as spies and agents. Without emotion, they could be hired killers.”

  Quinn grunted. “It’s hard to believe a group like that existed twenty years ago.”

  Yet if they were right, Stella was a living example.

  “Does the file list the names of the children or provide any personal information about them?”

  “No, but I’ll keep looking.” Quinn hesitated. “You think Stella was part of this?”

  Luke glanced at the woman he’d married, the one he’d half hated the last year for leaving him, and emotions welled in his chest. “Yes.”