My forehead scrunched. “Didn’t you say that you accessed the floor that day?”
“I did. No gas leak. No repairmen.” Kader shrugged. “So...everyone was contacted. You and Cartwright didn’t respond. Olsen sent Stephanie to your house and the Jennifer you hadn’t mentioned to Cartwright’s.
“Back to you, Stephanie didn’t enter your house. She knocked multiple times on the front and side doors. That afternoon, Dr. Olsen called your parents for the first time. I don’t have a recording of the call. It came from his cell, not office or home. He called again on Wednesday, and they arrived Thursday.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“What?”
“One day of not being able to reach me and he resorts to calling my parents who live out of state.”
“It does seem like a jump. What I do know is that the telephone logs show that after Olsen’s initial contact, both of your parents called your phone repeatedly. Stephanie also called you. She was the one who picked up your parents at the airport, and then she took them directly to the university. I have footage of them in Olsen’s office. You can watch it if you want. He asked them if you’d been in touch. He also asked about your relationship with Dr. Cartwright.”
I swallowed, my heart growing heavier as I thought about my parents being questioned. “I feel so bad for my parents. How did they answer the question about Russ?”
“Your mother said she believed you two to be friends, coworkers. She went on to say she’d met him a time or two and he’d always been nice.”
My head shook. “She’s covering for me.”
Did that mean she believes the lies, believes that I’d run off with Russ?
“He wasn’t nice?” Kader asked, his words separated.
“No, he was. I always said the two of us were only friends, but my mom knew it was more.”
“How?”
I shrugged as tears prickled my eyes. “She’s my mom. She just did.”
Kader sat taller, continuing, “Stephanie then drove them to your house. The people with them that we watched weren’t IMPD. I hadn’t looked closely at the badge or pins on the officer’s uniform.”
“Were they like the men who came to my house?”
“No, they weren’t impostors. I ran facial recognition. They came up as employees of the university, the university police.”
My nose scrunched. “How could they enter my house? The campus cops wouldn’t be able to get a search warrant for off-campus.”
“No, but they probably avoided the issue by gaining your parents’ permission. Did your parents or anyone at your work have a key to your house...besides Cartwright?”
“I had one hidden outside. My dad knew where it was.”
Letting out a long breath, Kader shrugged. “The campus cops wouldn’t hold up in court, but if your dad used that key, there was no trespassing. Given the circumstances, I can understand why your parents wouldn’t question their authority. As for the men who took you to your lab, remember, I put trackers in their wallets? They’ve been off the grid since Thursday.”
I was thinking more about my parents than what Kader was saying about those men. I looked up to his green stare. “Kader, where is my phone?”
“I destroyed it.”
My nostrils flared as I exhaled. The news of my phone’s demise crushed me even more than learning of my own. With tears in my eyes, I said, “I had pictures and files.”
“Cell phones are too easy to track, especially with social media apps that alert half the world to your current location.”
Logically, I understood. Emotionally, it was another blow in a series of blows.
Kader’s hand came toward my knee and just as quickly retreated before making contact. “I saved your pictures and any files. This afternoon, I’ll put them on a laptop, one I’ll get set up for you. The thing I have to know, with one hundred percent certainty, is that if I set you up with this unknown presence on the internet, you promise you won’t search yourself. The FBI is involved now. You could inadvertently set off red flags.”
My lower lip disappeared beneath my upper teeth as I considered Kader’s warning. “How can you search about me?”
“I’m one hundred percent invisible. I don’t leave a trail or a footprint. You will be mostly hidden. It takes more time to do what I’ve done with this.” He waved his hand over his keyboards.
His answer made me think of something else. “Kader, did you wear gloves?”
“Did I wear gloves?”
“When you...cleaned my house.”
Lifting his hand again, he turned it over, revealing his palm. “No fingerprints. No worries.”
I reached for Kader’s hand and holding it in mine, I ran my finger over the underside of his fingers and then over his palm. From the first time he’d touched me, in my bedroom with the transmitter in the bra, I’d thought his fingers were callused. They weren’t; they were rough from the removal of his fingerprints. “How did you do that?”
“It’s handy for my line of work.”
“I get that, but how? New skin regenerates our fingerprints.”
Kader’s chest moved as he contemplated his answer. Despite how he’d behaved this morning, I didn’t expect him to lie. He might deny me the information, but he wouldn’t lie.
Finally, he said, “I don’t recall exactly.”
Laurel
My head ached as we sat down to dinner in the large kitchen. The day had been long, and beyond the windows, night had fallen. Without the lights on within, the windows throughout Kader’s house showcased a black velvet sky glittering with more stars than I ever recalled seeing, even at my parents’ home in Iowa. I’d almost commented on the splendor, but then Kader’s words came back to me from earlier in the day. A clear sky meant the loss of warmth, no clouds to retain it.
How fast could a person freeze to death on a night like tonight?
The lights now illuminating the kitchen bathed it in their golden hue. The large windows were no longer revealing the night sky; instead, they were mirrors featuring two individuals doing their best to eat a meal and stay on the topic of Kader’s assignment—me.
Unlike last night, tonight I’d helped with the food preparation. It wasn’t as scrumptious as last night’s steaks, yet the tilapia and salad were better than the uneaten protein bar and yogurt. I pushed the lettuce around my plate as my thoughts were frenzied with all that we’d learned. I also couldn’t get my mind off the proposed statement of sale I’d helped Kader write, constructed in a way to alert a knowing potential bidder to the fact that what Kader had up for sale was the latest and most up-to-date R&D for our compound.
I laid my fork down and let out a breath as I looked up at Kader. “What if it’s a sting? The FBI is involved. Don’t they have task forces that scour the dark web?”
“They do.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“No.”
I leaned back against the back of the chair and took in the length of the table. “This is a long table. Why do you have all these seats if you never have company?”
Pressing his lips together, Kader tilted his head as his gaze met mine. “I could tell you the same answer, that I don’t know, but I’ve got this one. The interior designer thought it was a good idea.”
“So...the bedrooms...did the designer choose the furnishings for those also?”
He nodded as he lifted his fork to his lips. I shouldn’t notice their fullness or think about their possessive strength as they have taken mine. After how he’d treated me and acted this morning, any thoughts of pleasure with Kader should be few and far between.
They weren’t.
Perhaps, I preferred those memories to the thoughts that had dominated all day long.
In an attempt to stay on the mundane subject of furnishings, I scanned the table and chairs. “She was right. It’s perfect for this area.”
Kader shrugged. “Last night was the first time it’s been used. It seems fine.”
“What? Why wouldn’t you use it?”
“Why would I?” He tilted his head toward the tall stools at the breakfast bar attached to the island. “That works too.”
A small smile began to bud as my lips curled upward. The first time he’d used his table was for me, for us. “How long have you lived here?”
Kader laid his fork beside his plate and exhaled. “I expect the offers to be coming in as early as tonight for the R&D. I’ve been able to backdoor some of the early offers on the original post. Sinclair isn’t one of the bidders, unless they’re doing it with extravagant firewalls and protection. Unfortunately, that is what the higher bidders have. The only way to find out who they are is to contact them.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked.
“It’s not like a dead drop. We aren’t passing notes in a newspaper. There’s no physical location or contact. It’s all well encrypted, buried deeper than the FBI task force goes.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know.”
I looked down at my half-eaten dinner and the glass of ice water that was half-full. Reaching for my plate, I began to stand.
“Laurel, sit down and finish eating.”
His directions didn’t deter me. I lifted the plate and stepped toward the sink.
“Laurel.”
Turning back, our eyes met. “Kader, I’m exhausted. My head hurts and I just want to go to bed.”
“Your head hurts because you have barely eaten. Sit back down and finish your dinner. You’ll sleep better.”
“So now you’re the doctor?”
Pushing his chair away from the table, Kader sighed as he stood. It wasn’t like I could forget this man’s height or girth, but sometimes as I observed his actions, it was as if I were seeing the Hulk growing in front of me, unfolding himself as his neck and broad shoulders straightened. Despite his size, there was nothing awkward about him, as if each movement were calculated, precise, and perhaps even graceful.
He’d wanted me to see him as he truly was or as he saw himself—a killer.
I did, but I didn’t.
Thinking back, I remembered the first time I saw him, standing in the shadows at the gathering. I also remembered the way he disappeared into the crowd that night as well as the next morning at the coffee shop. It was as if despite his size, Kader’s agility and prowess were assets for his occupation.
In two strides he was before me, taking the plate from my grasp. With a pointed look, he turned and returned my plate to my place setting at the table.
Although he hadn’t spoken his directive again—for me to return to the table—the expression he sent my way as he resumed his seat made his intentions clear.
“Fine,” I said as I returned to the chair and lifted my fork.
Each bite was more difficult than the last. It wasn’t the food. The fish was tender and flaky. The salad was crisp and fresh. The vinaigrette dressing was sweet and tangy. We’d even made rolls. They weren’t anything special, the kind you pop out of a tube and bake in the oven. It was the day that had taken away my appetite, the discoveries and the new encrypted post floating through the depths of the dark web.
Had I said too much?
To the knowing individual, there was too much information to have been written by anyone besides Russ or myself.
Kader said that he wasn’t worried. Of course, he wasn’t. He had no digital footprint. I was the one accused of stealing my own research and now, if that post were to be discovered, the accusations would be confirmed.
Will his plan help us or hurt me?
My stomach continued to twist, each thought another knot in a litany of knots.
The temperature of the kitchen increased as my skin grew warm. My throat dried with each bite despite my continued sipping of the cool, lubricating water. With more food eaten than before, I turned to Kader. Instead of eating his dinner, he was staring my direction.
“I can’t...” I motioned to the plate. “...eat any more. It was good.” When he didn’t respond, I shook my head. “I’m not asking your permission to leave the table.”
His green eyes narrowed. “You’re pale.”
Personality number two was back, the one who protected and cared. Its presence was becoming visible, not only in his words but also in his changing tone and expression.
Kader reached toward me, his hand on the table and arm extended yet not touching. “It was like your circulation drained from your cheeks as I watched.”
When I started to stand, Kader extended his reach, the sleeve of his shirt pulling upward, revealing the color just above his wrist. “Laurel, tell me you’re all right.”
Although I wanted to stare at the colorful ink, I feared that if I did, he’d cover it. Instead, I pretended to look at my plate as I fought the urge to run the tips of my fingers over the tattoos. Similar to the texture of his hands, his ink appeared coarse. Then again, I wasn’t certain it was possible to interpret feel with only visual clues.
“Laurel.”
Prying my gaze upward, I met his. “Am I all right? No, I’m not all right. I’m not sure I will ever be all right again.”
“That isn’t what—”
Standing and lifting the plate for the second time, I took it to the sink and laid it in the depth. When I turned, Kader was near, not close enough to touch yet barely out of range.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, again meeting his gaze.
“Everything and nothing.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what that means.”
Kader ran his hand over his tethered-back hair. Taking a step back, he turned a complete circle as his bicep under his shirt flexed, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and the cords in his neck pulsated. When he made it back to me and our gazes once again connected, he sighed. “You asked me earlier about my need to be in control.”
Leaning back against the counter, I nodded.
“A man who does what I do...control is essential.”
“Okay.”
“You’ve asked a million questions.”
“I want to know more about you,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’m here with you. When you’re not being number four, I’m attracted to you like nothing I’ve known, nothing for a long time.”
His brow furrowed. “Four?”
“Never mind.” I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t really understand you or why I’m so...” I shrugged with a half grin. “I just want to know you better. I guess it’s also because you know more about me than I know about you. I’m curious.”
“Quid pro quo?”
“No, Kader. It’s not just because you know about me. I want to know more about you.”
“I told you, it’s not a pretty story with a nice happy ever after.”
I let out a long breath. “I think I get it. My story isn’t either. It was. At one time it had potential.”
“Laurel, you’re nothing like me.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just that whether I’m here with you or buried in a shallow grave, according to you, my life ended a day ago.”
He nodded. “I could say you get used to it. In some ways you do.”
“I don’t understand. Have you done this before, claimed someone is dead when the person wasn’t?” My tone went higher. “The same as you’re helping me do.”
If he had, maybe he knew what would happen.
Kader shook his head. “No, this is new for me. You’re new for me.”
“Oh,” I replied disappointedly. “Then how do you know if I’ll get used to it?”
“Personal experience.”
Laurel
Sleep came in restless snippets throughout the long night. One would think after my first day of being reported dead—even if only to the person who hired Kader—I’d have been asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. That wasn’t the case as I struggled to find a comfortable position in the large, otherwise empty bed and wrestled with ques
tions that had no answers.
Kader didn’t elaborate on the statement he’d made about personal experience, and for some unknown reason, I didn’t push. My exhaustion compiled with the growing gravity of my situation quelled my usual curiosity. Besides, I didn’t think he’d explain.
Maybe I was getting to know him.
If I were to ever figure this man out, I would need to take the clues he offered.
After coming upstairs, I soaked in a warm bath and then, wearing one of Kader’s long t-shirts, I climbed into bed. I didn’t analyze why I chose his shirt. Number four had frightened me, accomplishing his goal. And yet the shirt didn’t represent number four. The lingering aroma of cologne combined with the knowledge that at one time the soft material had covered his rock-hard body and colorful ink brought thoughts of number three, the man who brought me pleasure. If I could learn to isolate his personalities, I could admit that I found comfort in numbers one through three.
Slumber came and went.
While asleep, my dreams were plentiful and disjointed. Scenes and characters from a different time in my life floated through my thoughts as if the players weren’t humans but ghosts paying me a visit, only to disappear into the breeze.
Upon waking to the dark room, one of the many times throughout the night, I reasoned to myself that mentioning my father and childhood to Kader, combined with the name of his house, triggered the return of forgotten recollections.
My mind scrambled to put the pieces into place before they were out of reach, but like grasping at smoke, unable to hold it in your hand, my dreams were fading.
Perhaps it was my current predicament that had me reminiscing. There was nothing certain about my future and yet my past was set. The disjointed dreams caused my mind to go back to a time long ago.
The dream sparked the memory of the first time I’d joined my father during his volunteer work. Instead of being a participant, as I recalled in my thoughts, I was now an observer. No longer a young girl, I watched the scenes as a woman my current age viewing a younger version of myself and my father.
Obsessed Page 13
