by L. C. Shaw
“Dad. Stop. You have to trust me. I have to see where this leads. Jack is not going to hurt me.” What did she expect? That the bad blood between her father and Jack would just disappear?
“Tell me where you are.”
“At a motel in Pennsylvania, but we’re leaving shortly.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’re following clues Malcolm left in a letter to me, trying to find someone named Jeremy.”
“Are you crazy? This makes no sense. Come home!”
She had to hang up. “I love you. I don’t know when I can call again, but I will as soon as I can. Try not to worry.” She pressed end.
Beau sensed her mood and jumped, putting a paw on each shoulder, and gave her face three quick licks. Laughing, she rubbed his head.
“No matter what happens, I’ve always got you to cheer me up.” She took a seat on the bench by the motel’s front office and lifted her face to the sun. Beau curled up on the ground and rested his head on her foot.
The first time she had seen Beau, he had been a mess. Abandoned on the side of the road, his coat mangy, and with sores all over his legs, it was impossible to see what a beautiful dog he was, but Taylor had loved him from the instant his soulful eyes locked upon hers. After a visit to the vet, he began to look better. But Malcolm had been less than thrilled.
“How do you know where he came from? He could be rabid for all we know.”
Taylor had been floored. “The vet’s checked him out, and he’s fine,” she’d said fiercely. “All he needs is a little TLC. Please, Malcolm. He needs me.” Her voice broke. “And I need him.”
He’d softened. “All right, but at the first sign of any aggression, that dog goes.”
She had cupped Beau’s head in her hands and lowered her face to his.
“No one will ever hurt you again. I promise,” she’d whispered and kissed him on the nose.
Beau had turned out to be a loving, gentle, and loyal companion. It was his calm and nurturing presence that had gotten her through all her days of disappointment and devastation month after month, year after year, when it looked as though she would never achieve her dream of becoming a mother. Despite his teddy-bear nature, he had also turned out to be a fierce guard dog and was particularly protective of Taylor. She had discovered this one day when the cable repairman had shown up unexpectedly at her door saying there was a downed cable. Before she could let him in, Beau had gotten between her and the door, a deep growl rising from his throat. She had tried to calm him, but he’d been immovable. He began to bark ferociously, and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull him away from the door. Finally, she had to call through the intercom and ask the man to come back later. When she’d phoned her cable company to reschedule, she had been shocked to discover that they had no record of any repairs being done in her area. She wondered then who’d raised Beau the first few years of his life, and after that she’d never doubted his instincts again.
The wind kicked up and Taylor stood. “Come on, let’s walk around a bit and find a place for you to go potty.” Beau walked close beside her as she walked him around the parking lot toward a grassy section near the back. She knew better than to hurry him, and at least twenty minutes passed before he finally did his business. She’d brought a bag with her from the room and cleaned it up. “Come on, let’s head back.” Beau didn’t move as she tugged on the leash but stared across the lot and began to growl. Following his gaze, she saw a dark car idling. The skin on her arms turned to gooseflesh, and she pulled the leash harder, suddenly anxious to get back inside the room. As she began to run, pulling Beau with her, the car accelerated and raced toward them. Before she knew what was happening, a man jumped out of the back seat and grabbed her, tearing the leash from her hand and throwing it to the side. “What are you doing?” she screamed, but his hand clamped over her mouth as he struggled to push her into the car. She kicked at him and bit his hand, but he was too strong for her and she couldn’t break his grip. Just before he could slam the door shut with her in the back, Beau jumped in next to her, his jaw snapping as he tried to bite the man’s hand.
The man jumped in the passenger side and yelled at the driver. “Go!”
Chapter Eight
THE INSTITUTE, MAY 1975
I LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD AS THE SEDAN CLIMBS THE LONG hill, and the stone building comes into sight. It is immense and imposing and makes me think of knights and maidens from a long time ago. The building is surrounded on all sides by forest. Thick evergreens everywhere increase the sense of isolation and secrecy. A chill runs through me, and I have the urge to scream: Go back! Let me out! Then I think, Get a grip. My overactive imagination is at it again.
The moment I learned about this fellowship, I knew I had to apply. The program is a three-month postgraduate fellowship into cutting-edge medical research. Out of the thousands who apply, only one hundred are accepted. The faculty list is impressive, boasting thought leaders in every endeavor from all around the world. During the program, we will be completely isolated from the outside world. This is necessary, we are told, to help us to focus on our goal—to get into the top 20 percent of the program and prove we are worthy of the one-year fellowship, all tuition paid. There is no time for distractions from family, friends, or lovers. I said my good-byes to my parents and my dear sister with the assurance that the months would fly by, but they were still upset to see me go. Greek parents don’t like to be away from their children for so long. I would miss the weekly Sunday dinners at their house, but a part of me was eager for the break. No matter how much I loved them, I felt suffocated at times. I was ready to spread my wings.
As I got ready to leave after dinner on that last Sunday, my mother looked at me with tears in her eyes. “We can’t even speak for three months? That is too long.” I hugged her and told her that before we knew it, we’d be celebrating my elevation into the full-year program. Because, of course, I intend to win. It’s my only chance to work under Dr. Strombill, the bioethicist I’ve admired for years. Now that I am actually going to meet him, to have the opportunity to impress him, I am feeling awestruck and giddy, and I’m never awestruck and giddy.
The car comes to a stop, and the driver walks around and opens my door. I smile at him, but he looks right through me.
“Please proceed to the front steps.”
I grab my backpack, throw it over one shoulder, and walk the cobblestone path to the immense structure. I wait for the others to fall in line, and while I do, I study the ornate carving on the door. I’ve never seen anything like it before; it’s a crest featuring a dragonlike creature. The beast is otherworldly and grotesque but beautiful at the same time. I am oddly drawn to it and reach out to trace the lines of its head when a voice behind me makes me snatch my hand back.
“Put your belongings on the ground next to you. You will have no need of them.”
There is an instant outcry of protest from everyone, and I clutch my purse to my side as my heart pounds in indignation. But then the door opens, and when I look inside, my indignation turns to awe.
Chapter Nine
JACK RUSHED DOWN THE AISLE AT WALGREENS, THROWING hair dye, scissors, makeup, and some local maps into his basket. He glanced over at the newspaper shelf by the cash register and swore to himself. The pixelated picture of him and Taylor in her garage was on the front page of the Washington Daily News. He pulled his baseball cap down lower and hoped no one would notice him, jiggling his keys nervously while the line moved at a snail’s pace. Why were there never enough cashiers? Biting his lip, he tried to stay cool as the elderly woman in front of him fumbled with a stack of coupons. At last, she was done. As she moved away, her foot caught on the rug, and she went tumbling. Jack lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground.
“Oh my goodness. I don’t know what happened.”
The contents of her purse went flying. He collected them and handed her purse back. “Are you okay?”
“Thank you, dear. I am
a little unsteady.”
“Let me help you to your car.” The blood pounded in his ears, but he maintained an air of calm. The poor woman looked like she was in pain. He was worried that she might not be well enough to drive. It took them ten minutes to cross the asphalt lot to her battered sedan.
“Do you want me to call someone for you? Are you going to be okay driving?”
“I’m fine, dear. Have a sore hip, that’s all. Doctors keep trying to convince me to have it replaced, but I’m not a fan of surgery. I manage okay.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. Thanks. You’re a kind young man,” she said as she smiled at him. Before taking a seat behind the wheel, she leaned in and opened the center console. “I want you to have this.” It was a Saint Christopher medal on a chain.
He shook his head. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly take it.”
She pressed it into his hand. “I won’t take no for an answer. There aren’t too many young men like you, who would stop and help an old lady. Please, he’ll look after you.” She put a hand on his and held his gaze. “Saint Christopher is on your side.”
He doubted that, but he closed his hand around it anyway. Seeing the earnest look on her face, he said, “I could use a little help.” He gave her a warm smile and waited for her to drive away before running back to the store. The line was five people deep again. He picked up his basket from the counter and got back in line. No good deed goes unpunished, he thought with a sigh.
When he was finally done, he threw his purchases on the passenger seat, put the medal in his jacket pocket, and pulled out his cell phone. Finding the contact, he pushed send.
“Hello?”
“It’s Jack. I need you to leave Kyle’s truck unlocked with the keys in it. I have to borrow it for a while.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll text you when I’m close. Also, can you get your hands on some progesterone oil?”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. I need fifty milligrams, and needles, too.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.
“It’s for a friend. Don’t ask.”
“I’ll see what I can do. And Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Love ya, sis.” He hung up and got back into his car to head to the motel. As he pulled into the lot and got out of the car, he looked toward their room and cursed. Their door was wide open. Jack broke into a run.
Chapter Ten
BRODY HAMILTON WATCHED FROM THE BED AS RITA AVERY rose and hurried to the bathroom and the steaming shower. He admired the view as she walked away, the perfectly rounded buttocks with the creamy skin, unblemished except for the tiny scorpion tattoo on her left cheek. He knew she was eager to wash away his touch. He found it amusing—the depths to which she was willing to sink to achieve her goals. He grudgingly admired her tenacity and determination, which had made her the most admired and sought-after lobbyist in the business. Hamilton knew all about her shabby beginnings, her mother’s insistence that she attend an upscale school, blind to the fact that their trailer park existence made it impossible for Rita to fit in. Yes, he knew all that and more, but not from Rita—Brody never let anyone get close to him without having them thoroughly investigated. No one would have ever suspected she had grown up in poverty. She carried her Birkin bags like badges of honor—a different one for each season.
She came out of the bathroom in a beige Chanel suit, her Christian Louboutin alligator pumps clicking on the marble floor.
“Thanks for the tumble, darlin’.” He liked rubbing it in her face. Hamilton snorted, and his naked belly shook with his laughter.
She smiled tightly.
“I’ll go on ahead and meet you at the Blue Duck. Everyone will be there soon.”
He swung his legs over to the side of the bed where they barely reached the carpeted floor. Grabbing his robe, he put it on and stood. He was all business now.
“Go down the back stairs and out the side entrance.”
She nodded and left.
* * *
Hamilton was the last to arrive. Two other men on Rita’s team were seated at the table with her.
Rita pulled out a folder from her briefcase and laid it on the table.
“I want to talk about ingredient labeling. The health nuts are pumping out more propaganda about the vaccines. People are asking for ingredient lists. We want to make the lists unavailable.”
Hamilton raised his eyebrows. “Do you now? And why, pray tell, should I support a bill that would do that?”
“The ingredients need to be proprietary, to keep other companies from copying our formulas.”
“Don’t people have a right to know what they’re putting in their bodies?” Hamilton asked. He didn’t give a whit about the people’s rights, only that the public believed he did.
Rita smiled. “Well, of course we’d label the main ingredients, especially those that are a potential allergen, like eggs. We don’t want to have to specify everything included.”
Hamilton took a sip of his Johnnie Walker Blue, licked his lips, and then took another long swallow. “Metals?”
“Aluminum, formaldehyde, mercury, silicon, polysorbate 80—they’ve been in there forever without hurting anyone, but people may opt out if they see all the ingredients.”
“Can’t blame them,” Hamilton said. Let her work for it.
One of the men jumped in. “Look, these are preservatives and bonding agents that are necessary to make the vaccines shelf stable. Sometimes there is a small downside to accomplishing a greater good. We don’t want children not to receive lifesaving vaccines because their tree-hugging parents are freaking out over a few metals. And no one wants a resurgence of diseases that we’ve successfully eliminated.”
Hamilton, his eyes mere slits, leaned in close and spoke so softly that everyone else had to lean in to hear him.
“Don’t give me that true believer crap. You don’t want to lose any money, pure and simple. And you don’t want to invest any money into replacing those so-called bonding agents with something safer. Let’s not kid each other here.” He leaned back in his seat and looked at Rita.
Rita sat up straighter and looked at Hamilton with what he had come to recognize as her let me stroke your ego so you don’t notice I’m full of crap look. He indulged her.
“Thoughts, Miss Avery?”
“Well, Senator, I respect your devotion to your constituents and your desire to look out for their best interests. They are indeed lucky to have someone like you representing them. Now I respectfully point out that there is no proof that these metals are dangerous, and to replace them with something that is only presumed to be safer would cost the company millions in research, development, and implementation. They would then have to pass those costs on to the consumer, thus making these vaccines unavailable to a large portion of the population. Additionally, my company would have to cut back on the vaccines they donate to developing nations. So, in effect, by changing these bonding agents, we would be causing great harm to many children, in the US and around the world.”
Hamilton stroked his chin, pretending to digest this last bit of baloney. After a few more moments, he said, “Well, my dear, as my grandpappy would say, your tongue is more silver than a tree full of tinsel. How are you going to position this?”
“We’ll list the organic materials and then we will put a statement like, ‘Could include a combination of minerals all within US defined safety standards.’”
Hamilton’s belly shook as he began to laugh. “Minerals. I love it. Honey, as my grandma used to say, you could sell ice to an Eskimo. I think I may have a solution that will suit all our needs.”
The three of them leaned forward like little birdies waiting for their mama to give them a worm.
“You know that my vaccine bill was unexpectedly scuttled, and I have to go back to the drawing board and make some revisions before
we submit it again. What say I add your little secret-ingredient-list law to it? In the meantime, I need you to start lobbying my colleagues to support the bill. Wine and dine ’em. Tell ’em stories of dead babies who could have been saved if only they’d gotten the RSV shot. I want a lot of people on it.”
Rita smiled. “Of course, Senator. Consider it done.”
Hamilton had been in Washington forever. The Senate’s longtime majority whip, he held a seat on the most important congressional committees and had the ear of the president. His hillbilly colloquialisms belied a mind sharper than a grizzly’s claws. There was nothing he enjoyed more than the look of shock on the face of some poor fool who had fallen for the hokey southern charm and failed to recognize the power he wielded—which is why he was furious that Phillips had voted against the Vaccinate All Children Act. Did the fool really think he could stop them? What had gotten into Phillips anyway? One minute he had been completely on board, the next he’d killed the very bill he’d sponsored. Well, he’d gotten what he deserved.
Hamilton got up from the table without another word. On the way to his office, he pulled out his iPhone and opened the Twitter app.
No child should die of a preventable illness. Support Senate Bill Vaccinate All Children Act #VACA
Chapter Eleven
AS DAMON SAT PUZZLING OVER HOW JACK LOGAN HAD reconnected with Taylor Phillips, Peritas came over to him and nuzzled his hand.
He held out a dog biscuit, and the Great Pyrenees sat and waited for the treat.
“Good boy. Down.” The dog took his place next to his master’s feet just as there was a knock at the door. Peritas growled deep in his throat and sprang up.
“Down.” The dog obeyed immediately. “Come in.”
Jonas escorted a woman in and seated her.
“Evelyn, I appreciate your making the long drive.”
“Of course, sir. I know how important this is to you.”
He drummed his fingers on the mahogany desk. “You heard from your stepdaughter?”
