Ruthless

by John Rector

  “If you don’t hear from me in the next forty-eight hours, I want you to call this number and talk to Kara.”

  Mickey frowned. “I don’t think I like this.”

  “I want you to tell her I’m sorry.”

  “What’s going on, Nick?”

  I shook my head, looked back at Ellis.

  The waitress was gone, and he was staring at me.

  “I can’t tell you now,” I said. “I just need you to do this for me.”

  “If you’re in trouble, I can—”

  “Please,” I cut him off. “This is important.”

  Mickey was quiet for a moment. Then he took the napkin and pocketed it. “All right, but if you’re in trouble—”

  “Just remember, forty-eight hours.”

  Mickey nodded. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Yeah,” I said, standing up. “You can wish me luck.”

  I headed for the door, and Ellis followed.

  Once outside I felt his hand on my arm, leading me up the street.

  I pulled away.

  Ellis backed off, and we walked through the fog toward the SUV. I did my best to stay calm, but my heart was beating in my throat, and my chest ached.

  When we got to the SUV, Ellis stepped in front of me and opened the passenger-side door. Victor and David were in the back. Victor waited until Ellis and I were inside. Then he said, “Let’s go.”

  Ellis pulled away from the curb and we drove.

  We were a block away from Mickey’s when Victor sat up and held his hand out, palm up.

  I took the flash drive from my pocket. “She said it’s all there.”

  Victor hesitated. “Did she tell you what it was?”

  His tone was icy, and I swallowed hard, remembering Patricia’s warning.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  My voice must’ve sounded steadier than I thought, because Victor didn’t say anything else. He handed the drive to David, who opened his laptop.

  I turned and watched the streetlights roll quietly through the fog outside my window.

  The sound of David typing made it hard to concentrate. After a while I stopped trying and started paying attention to where we were going.

  Eventually, we left downtown and drove into the warehouse district.

  Deserted and dark.

  I didn’t want to read anything into it, but that was hard to do. At night the warehouse district was empty, the buildings were dark, and there was no one around.

  No witnesses.

  David stopped typing. I looked back. Victor whispered something to David that I couldn’t quite hear. David nodded and closed the laptop.

  Victor touched Ellis on the shoulder. “Pull over up here.”

  A thin line of sweat ran down the middle of my back, sending a wave of chills through me as the SUV slowed and stopped next to a line of blue Dumpsters and an alley leading off into fog and shadow.

  “This is your stop, Nick,” Victor said. “Get out.”

  I paused, feeling everyone watching me. Then I reached for the handle and opened the door. The overhead light came on bright, and it burned my eyes.

  “She told me it was all there,” I said. “If she—”

  “Out,” Victor said. “Now.”

  I stepped out into the cold and closed the door behind me. I thought about running, but then Victor’s window slid down, and I made myself stay.

  “You’re free to go,” he said. “But I would suggest taking that trip you’ve been planning. If we see you again, things will end differently.”

  A wave of relief passed over me, but it didn’t last.

  “What about Abby?”

  “Not your concern.”

  “We had a deal,” I said. “We get you the drive, and you let us go. Both of us.”

  Victor stared at me, a deep line forming between his eyebrows. “If you’re unhappy with how things have turned out, we can always—”

  “We had a deal,” I said. “I need to know she’s safe.”

  Victor stared at me for a moment longer, and I felt everything inside me go cold.

  “She’s safe,” he said. “Now go home, Nick. Today has been a good day for you. Enjoy it.”

  Victor’s window slid up, and the SUV pulled away.

  I stood on the side of the road and watched until the red taillights faded away into the fog and I was alone.

  29

  I called Abby as I walked home. She answered right away, and when I told her what had happened, she squealed.

  The sound filled me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Then it’s over?” she asked. “It’s really over?”

  I told her it was.

  “Oh my God, Nick.”

  “I can’t believe it worked,” I said. “But we did it.”

  “No, you did it.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t know what to say or how to thank you.”

  I felt my face go flush, and even in the cold night air, my cheeks burned. “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “Where are you?”

  I stopped on the corner and read the street names, then said, “They dropped me in the warehouse district. I’m walking home, but I’ve still got a ways to go.”

  “Nick, I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to go home, take a shower, and then have a doctor look at my finger,” I said. “After that—”

  “Your finger?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s fine.”

  I could tell she wanted to ask more, but I didn’t want to upset her, so I changed the subject.

  “You should still be careful,” I said. “Patricia came after you once. She could try again.”

  “I’m not worried about her,” Abby said. “Right now I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted. I want to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”

  “I need to see my father,” I said. “I’m sure he wants to know what’s happening.”

  “I bet he’ll be happy you’re not leaving anymore.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You’re not still leaving, are you?” Abby asked.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  This time it was Abby’s turn to be quiet.

  I let the silence grow, then swallowed hard and said, “You could come with me.”

  “Nick.” Her voice was soft. “You barely know me.”

  “I’ll get to know you,” I said. “And I’m not saying we go with any kind of expectations, only that we get the hell out of here for a little while, as friends.”

  Abby hesitated. “Can I think about it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I need to wrap up some loose ends around here, anyway. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

  Silence.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I hope I didn’t—”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “No, I’m great, actually. Will you have dinner with me this weekend?”

  “What?”

  “As a thank-you,” she said. “Not a very good one, considering everything you’ve done for me, but I’d like to take you out.”

  “Like on a date?”

  Abby laughed. “Is that too forward? You did just ask me to run away with you, you know.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I did.”

  “So, it’s a date?”

  I thought about it, but not for too long.

  “Yeah, it’s a date.”

  Abby and I talked while I walked the rest of the way home. By the time we hung up, I no longer noticed the cold.

  When I got to my building, I stopped at the front door, then changed my mind an
d kept walking down the street to where I’d parked. There was a government-green parking ticket under the windshield. I pulled the ticket out, crumpled it, then took the keys from my pocket and climbed in.

  Before I started the engine, I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, letting everything sink in. Somehow I’d come out of a bad situation better off than when I went in, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  My luck had changed.

  I started the engine and drove. I’d just reached the highway when my phone rang. I looked down at the name on the ID, then put the phone to my ear.

  “I was just on my way to see you,” I said. “You’re still up?”

  “Of course I’m still up,” Charlie said. “Where are you? Is everything okay?”

  I could tell he was trying to sound tough, but his voice was tense and worried.

  “Everything’s fine, Pop,” I said. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  “I’ve got a lot to tell you, too,” he said. “I looked into the name you gave me, Lillian Pierce. She’s got quite a history.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Did you know she was some kind of genius?” Charlie asked. “Graduated from Stanford when she was nineteen, top of her class. Then went on to Harvard and got her doctorate a few years later.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s true,” Charlie said. “And you were right about her working at Holloway Industries. She started there right out of school and stayed for a few years until she apparently had some kind of breakdown.”

  “The fire.”

  Charlie paused. “You know about it?”

  “Only a little.”

  “Well, you’re right, there was a fire,” he said. “She disappeared after that. Gone for about a decade. Then six years ago she was arrested for a DUI. They ran her name and prints through the system, and that was it. They got her.”

  “After ten years?”

  “Everyone gets sloppy,” Charlie said. “I don’t care how careful they are, eventually they slip up and it all comes apart.”

  “Still, ten years.”

  I heard the sound of pages being turned. Then Charlie said, “She was convicted of arson and endangerment, along with a list of evasion charges. She went inside and died during her first year. Cancer of some sort.”

  “Ovarian.”

  Charlie paused. “How much of this did you know?”

  “I knew about the fire and that she died in prison.”

  “How?”

  “Abby told me about the cancer,” I said. “She showed me the death certificate.”

  “That reminds me,” he said. “Abigail Pierce. I finally got the rest of her information back, for what it’s worth. There’s not much there.”

  “What information?”

  “The last of her background check,” he said. “It’s mostly foster care records. She wasn’t there long enough to build much of a file. I was hoping for her medical records to see about the paternity test, but we’re still having trouble with those.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Someone screwed up,” Charlie said. “They sent them to us twice, and both times they’ve been incomplete.”

  “What do you mean incomplete?”

  “There’s nothing there,” he said. “Couple routine exams, and that’s it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that someone made a mistake and lost her medical records.” Charlie laughed. “Either that or she’s never been sick a day in her life.”

  The words seemed to hang in the air.

  I felt myself sinking, and I stared out at the dark road ahead, silent.

  “You still there?”

  “I’m . . .” My voice cracked and my throat tightened. “I’ve got to go, Pop. I’ll call you in a little while.”

  “I thought you were coming over.”

  “Later,” I said. “There’s something I need to do.”

  Charlie paused. “What’s going on?”

  I wanted to tell him everything was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I hung up and dropped the phone on the passenger seat, then pulled over and turned around, heading back toward the city and Jefferson Park.

  I drove in silence, and the road rolled black in front of me.

  30

  Abby’s lights were on when I arrived. I saw her shadow through the window as I walked up the path, and when I got to the porch I could hear her singing along to the radio.

  I knocked, waited.

  The music stopped, and I heard footsteps inside. Then Abby opened the door just enough to see out. When she saw me, she pulled the door open and smiled.

  “You’re here.”

  I stared at her, silent.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You and I have to talk,” I said. “Can I come in?”

  She hesitated, then stepped back, letting me pass. Once I was inside, she closed the door and slid the bolt into place, then turned on me.

  “You said this was over.”

  “I thought it was.”

  “What happened?”

  “Maybe nothing,” I said. “But I wanted to talk to you and make sure.”

  Abby leaned back against the closed door. “You’re starting to scare me, Nick. What’s going on?”

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Just tell me.”

  I stared at her, unsure where to start. “Have you ever heard of Project Aeon?”

  Abby’s eye twitched, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that I’d found a sensitive spot.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Did your mother ever tell you what she was—?”

  “Patricia.”

  “What?”

  “She told you, didn’t she? About my mother.” Abby folded her arms over her chest. “What did she say to you?”

  “Everything.”

  Abby laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I seriously doubt that.”

  “That’s why we need to talk.” I motioned toward the living room. “Can we sit down? I don’t know how much time we have, and I don’t want to waste it.”

  Abby pushed away from the door and angled past me, heading for the living room. I followed her, and we both sat on the red couch.

  “Okay,” she said. “Now tell me.”

  “We might have a problem.”

  “No.” Abby shook her head. “We made a deal. We got them what they wanted. They agreed—”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  “Patricia told me what was on the flash drive,” I said. “She said it was some kind of master list of everyone who was directly involved with Project Aeon.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” Abby asked. “That was my mother and Daniel, not me.”

  “Did she ever tell you what they were working on?”

  “Why would she?” Abby asked. “I was just a kid. Even if she had told me, it was science stuff. I didn’t care.”

  I nodded, looked away.

  “What is this about, Nick?”

  “I think you’re still in danger.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think your name is on that master list.”

  I went over everything Patricia told me about Abby’s mother and Project Aeon. When I finished, Abby leaned back on the cushions and stared out at nothing for a long time.

  I asked her if she was okay.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “You’re telling me that I was one of these children? That my mother knew I was some kind of lab experiment?”

  It sounded harsh, but she was right.

  I nodded.

  “And you think
I’m in danger?”

  “I think if your name is on the master list, then it’s possible they’re not done with you.”

  “But you don’t know?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t know.”

  “Christ.” Abby sat up, shook her head. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”

  I started to say no, but she stopped me.

  “Never mind, I’m making you one.” She stood up. “I’m not drinking alone. Not tonight.”

  “A small one,” I said. “We can’t stay here for long.”

  Abby headed for the kitchen.

  I stayed on the couch and stared up at the black and red Rothko painting and tried to figure out what we should do next. If what I suspected was true, our best chance was to leave town and not look back. But we’d have to hurry.

  Abby came back a few minutes later with two glasses. She handed one to me and sat down, silent.

  I took a long drink, then leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ve been sick before, right?”

  Abby laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “It sounds stupid, I know, but—”

  “Of course I’ve been sick,” she said. “Everyone gets sick. I’ve had colds.”

  “Did you see a doctor?”

  “For a cold?”

  “Have you ever been hospitalized?”

  Abby frowned. “A lot of people never get seriously sick when they’re young. That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “But there’s no record of you—”

  “No record?”

  I stopped talking.

  “Forget it,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

  “What do you mean there’s no record?”

  I took another drink. “Your medical records are—”

  “How would you know that?”

  I could feel her staring at me, wanting the truth. I had to tell her, and I didn’t see any way out of it.

  “I ran a background check on you before I came out here that first night.”

  “You what?”

  “All I had was your name and this address.” I turned to face her. “I didn’t know anything about you, so—”

  “So you invaded my privacy?”

  I nodded. “I guess I did.”