Burning Bridges (Shattered Highways Book 2)

by Tara N Hathcock

  She was dressed in her usual running gear so he let her have space. This wasn’t a problem of immediate danger - it was a Quincy thing. She’d told him that running helped when the pressure inside her head became too much. If she needed the release, he’d let her have it.

  Of course, she’d also promised to never take off in the middle of the night on her own again, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t exactly being sneaky when she sprinted by the clinic so maybe she’d been hoping he would see and follow.

  The fact that she hadn’t waited for him didn’t bother him as much as how she was running. This wasn’t her pace at all. It was a dead run, as fast as she could go. Her form was off; she wasn’t in control. Whatever she was wrestling with, it was bad.

  Logan finally skidded to a stop. It was really, really bad.

  They were back at Bear Canyon Creek. Or more specifically, the bridge over Bear Canyon Creek. Last time they were here, they had merely leaned up against the old railing. This time, Quincy was sitting on top of it, legs dangling over the side.

  Logan approached carefully and quietly, heart thudding painfully against his ribs. The way she was leaning over, looking down - he didn’t want to startle her. He didn’t want her making any sudden movements.

  “I know I told you I could do this,” she said without preamble, “but I’m not so sure I can.”

  She obviously knew he’d been following her, which gave him a little relief. But only a very little.

  “Not so sure you can do what?”

  “This,” she said, releasing the rail with one hand and gesturing around. “Life. Living, breathing, fighting. Every day, every hour. No rest.” Her eyes closed and she tipped her head back, face towards the sky, and released a sigh. “I’m just so tired.”

  Logan didn’t breathe until she had both hands firmly wrapped around the railing again. He stayed quiet.

  “It doesn’t stop,” she breathed out. “It never stops. And it never will. Unless I make it.”

  He’d had no idea it was this bad. He’d had no idea it was bad at all. How did he miss this? How did it get to the point that she was sitting on a bridge, thinking maybe this was the best answer?

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she went on, Logan edging slowly closer. “But it’s not that easy ignoring what happens inside your own head.”

  “I never said it was,” he finally said, stepping up beside her, being careful not to touch.

  “I can’t remember their names.”

  “Whose names?” Logan asked, keeping his eyes locked on Quincy’s hands. He couldn’t see her eyes, but the only way she could come off that bridge was if she opened her hands. He needed to see it before it happened.

  “My friends. I had friends, right? Back in that last town?”

  She couldn’t remember the name of the town, either.

  “I know I did. They were nice,” she said, and he could hear the smile. “She gave me free coffee and homemade leftovers for dinner, and he treated me like the granddaughter he never had. And I can’t remember their names or their faces.”

  “Mackie and Mabel Boatright, in Sheraton, Arkansas,” Logan supplied. “You don’t have to remember right now. I can remember for us both.”

  “I do remember one thing, though, from our time there.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “You said that what’s wrong with me couldn’t be fixed.”

  Well of course that’s what she’d remember. He took his eyes off her hands for a few seconds, just long enough to peer closely at what he could see of her face. Her voice was mournful but strong. No trace of tears. That was troublesome.

  “Actually, I said there was nothing to be fixed, if you want to really get down to it,” he remarked lightly. “Don’t misquote me.”

  “What’s the difference?” This time, she glanced towards him. She didn’t seem upset by how close he was, didn’t seem threatened by his proximity. That was a good sign.

  “‘All theory is gray, my friend. But forever green is the tree of life.’”

  She tipped her head and regarded him seriously.

  “Did you just quote Faust to me?”

  Logan allowed the corners of his lips to turn up, ever so slightly, though still not willing to look away.

  “So the grass isn’t always greener, yeah?”

  “I just don’t want you to burn any bridges while you’re standing in the middle of one, that’s all.”

  “That’s a lot harder than it sounds.” Quincy sighed and the silence stretched out between them.

  Logan relaxed, ever so slightly. He shifted his eyes from her hands, still locked tightly around the top railing of the bridge, to the creek below them. It really was beautiful out here. Quiet. If she couldn’t find peace inside her own head, he was glad she at least had this.

  Some of the desperation seemed to fade away as Quincy sat there, looking out over the trailing creek that ran quietly below her. There seemed to be something else she was struggling with, something she wasn’t saying. Something she was afraid of. But he didn’t push. One problem was enough for her to face down at the moment.

  “I have a plan, you know?”

  “Oh yeah?” His mind spun hard, trying to track down the tangent.

  “Yeah. We can get them out.”

  Oh. That.

  And then, finally, “Let’s go home.”

  Whatever worked. She’d said it quietly, tiredly, but with resolve. If focusing on getting the other RNB patients away from the Rhinehardt Collaborative was what she needed to put this away for now, then so be it. How long the reprieve would last, Logan didn’t know. But he’d be on watch a little better from now on. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe keeping an eye on the outside was less important than keeping an eye on what was happening on the inside.

  He reached out his hand. “Come on,” he said.

  Quincy reached out for his hand.

  And slipped on the black, invisible ice coating the bridge railing beside her.

  Chapter 49

  Claire

  “Three…two…one…”

  “What’s this, then?” the guard asked suspiciously, hand straying loosely towards the stun gun tucked securely in his belt.

  Dr. Cans stepped forward. “Good evening Davis,” she said, sliding smoothly back into her role. “On duty tonight, I see.”

  “Dr. Cans,” the guard, Davis apparently, recognized her instantly. He looked confused. “I’m not surprised to see you at this time of night, but what are the patients doing out of their rooms?”

  Davis liked Dr. Cans. He wanted to believe whatever she said. Claire could feel that much. But he was also a cop, and suspicion was a dangerous thing.

  “It’s been a difficult week, for everyone, really,” she said. Her performance was flawless. “Our daily therapy sessions haven’t been as useful as I had hoped, so I decided to try something new.”

  “New, huh?” he asked, eyeing Miguel as though he was about to make a break for it. Miguel, wisely, inched behind Dr. Cans.

  “Research shows that shaking up the routine can be beneficial in periods of trauma or stress,” she said. “So we’re taking a nighttime excursion to view the stars.” She glanced back at Claire and winked. “Stars can be very healing, you know.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Davis said, “but I do know you’re not authorized to take the patients outside.”

  For all of the doctor’s skillful attempts at persuasion, they were losing him. Claire had actually never seen the doctor fail to hook anyone, so it was quite a sight to behold. Unfortunately, she couldn’t revel in the doctor’s failure because her failure was their failure this time.

  “I’m going to have to call this in,” Davis said reluctantly, still wishing he could ignore this breach of protocol. He didn’t want to get the doctor in trouble, after all. But his training wouldn’t allow him to overlook what was right in front of him. Not without help, anyway.

  “I’m sorry to hear th
at, Davis,” Dr. Cans said calmly. “I thought we were friends.”

  She glanced at Claire again, this time motioning her head as though asking Claire what was taking so long. What was she…oh. Well. Now wasn’t the ideal time to try something new, but it was now or never, she supposed.

  Davis had taken out his radio and was glancing at the time on his watch when Claire stepped forward and gently took his free arm. She didn’t want him to feel threatened or attacked, so she patted it gently, like a mother or a grandmother might.

  “Are you really sure we need to bother someone with this right now?” she asked kindly. “You know Dr. Cans would never do anything without Mr. Anderson’s approval.”

  Not true at all, of course, but it felt true, which was all that mattered.

  Davis looked at her, a little surprised that she had spoken to him. The patients had always made it a point to never speak or make eye contact with the guards, so her sudden friendliness caught him off guard. Suspicion started to creep into his mind but Claire met it head-on. Once she tried, Claire could feel this strange ability she had. It was almost tangible, the way she could wrap her mind around what she wanted Davis to feel and push it towards him.

  She felt the moment her own emotions met his. There was a brief moment of battle before his suspicion rolled away, soothed by the calm that Claire was pouring into him. He looked down at her hand on his arm, blinked, and then relaxed.

  “You’re right. Dr. Cans would never do anything without Mr. Anderson’s approval,” Davis agreed, parroting Claire’s earlier words back to her.

  “Yes,” Claire agreed. “This will be just fine.”

  “This will be just fine,” he murmured.

  Claire patted his arm and gave him a little push on down the hall. “You just continue on with your rounds,” she told him. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be back in a little while,” he agreed as he made his way past the others to continue on with his rounds.

  Claire turned to watch him go and caught the stare of the others. “What?”

  Even Dr. Cans looked stunned. “Wow,” she said after a moment. “That was…impressive.”

  “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Claire asked, self-conscious. “You wanted him to let us go?”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t know you could make people do whatever you wanted,” Amy said. “Hey, have you done that to us?”

  “No!” Amy was making it sound like Claire had forced the man to do something against his will. That wasn’t…she didn’t…that wasn’t what happened.

  “He already wanted to look the other way,” Claire said. “He just didn’t think he could. All I did was give him a sense of, oh, I don’t know, calm, I guess. I nudged him towards what he wanted to feel anyway. I couldn’t make someone do something they didn’t want to do.”

  She looked towards Dr. Cans. “Could I?” She was almost afraid of the answer, and Dr. Cans was no help.

  “I really don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “You can feel and manipulate emotions. You can make suggestions. But can you force your will on someone? That’s something Dr. Garrison would have to answer.”

  Claire did not feel comforted.

  “Come on,” Miguel whispered. “The guard is gone now and the common room is just ahead. We’re almost there.”

  “Amy.” Dr. Cans motioned her forward. “Go on ahead with Miguel. Make sure we don’t have any more surprises.”

  Amy nodded and slunk forward, joining Miguel as he disappeared through the double doors of the common room. Claire started to follow but Dr. Cans put out her hand to stop her.

  “Hold on a second,” she said, and Claire could feel a new emotion from her.

  Regret. And determination.

  “Your ride will be waiting in the alley behind the back entrance of the kitchen. Once Amy and Miguel clear the area, take them through the door. You’ll find a driver waiting for you.”

  “Our mysterious ride?” Claire asked in confusion. “But aren’t you coming with us?”

  “Not just yet,” Dr. Cans said. “I still have one more thing to do before I can leave.”

  “Once they realize we’re gone, the blame will fall on you,” Claire pointed out, concerned. “If nothing else, the guard knows you were taking us outside.”

  “Then I’d better make sure I’m gone before they realize you are, too,” she said dryly.

  “What is so important that you have to go back?” Claire asked. It was such a dangerous idea. The company disposed of staff for much more mundane reasons than executing a jailbreak of their cash cows. If she was caught, she wouldn’t come out.

  “You are,” Dr. Cans said. “You and Amy and Miguel, and all the other patients they could be tracking right now. They have a database, Claire. And a profile I created. I can’t leave until I kill it.”

  “Then I’ll come with you,” Claire said decisively. “Two will be better than one, and I can convince anyone we come across to look the other way.”

  Dr. Cans smiled fondly at her. “I believe that you would,” she said, genuinely touched. “But you already have a responsibility. Amy needs you to get her back to her child. Miguel needs you to reassure him that he can survive in the world. Can you honestly turn your back on them, for me?”

  At that moment, Amy stuck her head back out into the hallway. “Are you done with the heart to heart?” she asked snidely. “Let’s go already!”

  She disappeared back through the doorway and Claire met Dr. Cans eyes. They both had jobs to do, and neither could stop until they were done.

  “Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll go. But what about you? At least tell me you have a plan to get out.”

  “Of course I have a plan. I’ll rendezvous with you all at the drop point,” Dr. Cans said with confidence. “But I need you to do one thing for me. I need you to give this to the man waiting outside for you.” Dr. Cans handed Claire a ragged, scuffed envelop. “He won’t want to leave without me. You need to convince him otherwise.”

  “By convince him, you mean …”

  “I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes, “tell him to stop being such a jarhead and finish the mission. Not everyone requires your special persuasion techniques.”

  “I don’t know,” Claire mused. “I haven’t been practicing like Amy. Maybe I should.”

  They shared a comfortable smile. For some reason, once Dr. Cans had dropped the act, Claire had felt a sense of kinship with her. Shared experiences, or some such.

  “You need to go,” Dr. Cans said. “This should get you on your way.” She pressed something into Claire’s free hand. Something thin and square, the soft leather of an expensive wallet. “Tell him to trust me,” she whispered urgently, backing away.

  Claire turned and placed her hand on the door to the common room before looking over her shoulder one last time. “At least tell me who you are before I go. You owe us all that much.”

  Dr. Cans smiled brightly. “You can call me Quincy.”

  Chapter 50

  “To save all we must risk all.” Friedrich von Schiller

  She’s done what she set out to do. She’s saved what can be saved

  She keeps forgetting that no one is coming to save her.

  ***

  Quincy

  Quincy walked away before Claire did. It felt weird, releasing them into someone else’s hands. They would be safe though. Safe with…her friend.

  Just because she couldn’t remember his name didn’t mean she didn’t know him. He had been the one to save her, after all. He was a big, warm, teddy bear of a soldier and she trusted him with her life. Which meant she trusted him with their lives. They would be fine.

  It was time to focus on the rest of her mission. She was losing her memories at a shocking speed now. She had to finish here before she lost that, too.

  Luckily, it was still early enough that the halls were practically deserted. Shift change wasn’t for another couple of hours. The one guard, Davis, had seen
them; that was unfortunate. Claire had been able to sway him into believing everything was on the up and up, but Quincy didn’t know how long that would last. She didn’t know if it was permanent, based on proximity, or time-related. Claire had been the least forthcoming about her abilities.

  However it worked, it had bought them time, which was all Quincy needed as she practically skipped her way back through the building to her office, where she’d kept her backpack hidden away, ready to leave on a moment’s notice. She wasn’t foolish enough to keep anything obvious in it, of course. She had no doubt Nathan Anderson had eyes everywhere. If the bag was spotted, all they’d find inside would be gym clothes and cash.

  It was a shame, really, that she hadn’t been able to leave anything incriminating inside. She could have written down the things she’d really like to remember. Like the name of the man she’d just turned her wards over to. The man that, even without knowing his name, gave her a sense of safety and calm whenever she thought about him. A brief flash of blue eyes and a wide smile shot through her mind before vanishing.

  Now wasn’t the time to worry about him, though. There were other things that would have been helpful to remember. Like the location of the drop point. She had told Claire she would meet them there, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t remember where it was. She had needed Claire to go though, and she knew neither Claire nor her stubborn friend would leave if they knew she wouldn’t be able to catch up. The RNB database was too dangerous to leave, and her patients were too important to risk. So she’d said what needed to be said.

  Quincy tossed her backpack over her shoulders and turned to give the room one last look. It was a shame to lose the books. There were first edition Austens that wouldn’t survive what was about to happen, but she knew she couldn’t save them all. People had to come before books, and she had to travel light. Still, the pocket edition of Jane Eyre she’d given Amy wouldn’t take up too much extra space. Quincy stepped over to the bookcase, running her fingers lightly over Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion in farewell, and grabbed the small book, shoving it into the front flap of her bag. It would have to do.