Find You First

by Linwood Barclay

  “You mean he’s into them, or he writes them?”

  “Both. Well, he’s trying to do one. He posted a few pics. He’s not that great an artist, but his story lines are kind of interesting. The good news is, he’s not dead or missing or anything like that.”

  “That’s a plus.”

  Miles didn’t have the heart to tell her Dorian and Heather had compiled profiles. Besides, Chloe might have found some new, interesting tidbits.

  As if they mattered.

  “Okay,” Chloe said, “so this Nina Allman, she lives in Seattle and works at something called Pike’s?”

  “Pike Place Market. Top tourist attraction in the city. You can get fresh fish, vegetables, anything. Great restaurants.”

  “And Barbara Redmond?”

  “Yes?”

  “She’s an actress. Did you know that?”

  “I did.”

  “So I’ve got a half sister who’s done NCIS and The Good Place? Looking at IMDb, they haven’t been big parts. Yogurt seller? Dead body?” She paused. “That’s not a good omen.”

  “I hadn’t looked up her acting credits.”

  “And this Neaseman guy, he’s not that far from Nina. He’s in Portland. The Oregon one. So what I’m thinking is, you start in Fort Wayne, since that’s closest, and blow this Roben guy’s mind by telling him you’re his dad and that maybe someone wants to kill him, then—”

  “Just another day.”

  Chloe shrugged, and continued. “And then you head to the coast, since everyone else is along there. Seattle, Portland, L.A. Start in the north and work south. You know I’ve never been west of Albany? Too bad I don’t have a half sibling in San Francisco. I’d love to see San Fran.”

  Miles’s heart was pounding. He bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “Dorian did tell me something else.”

  Chloe blinked. “What?”

  “When they did the test, they were comparing your profile to mine.” He paused. His mouth was getting very dry. “Charise, do you have any water?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, Charise unzipped a small bag on the seat next to her. She pulled out a bottle of Aquafina and extended it, backhand, over the seat. Miles took it, but when he tried to unscrew the cap, he couldn’t make his fingers close around it.

  “Here,” Chloe said, taking the bottle, cracking the seal, and returning it. Miles took a long sip and set the bottle into a cup holder between the seats.

  “You were saying,” she said.

  “They looked at my profile, and …”

  Chloe’s face fell. “You’re sicker than you thought. This thing you’ve got, it’s moving faster?”

  “No, not that. Something … worse. I think. Depending on how you look at things.”

  “Jesus, just tell me,” Chloe said.

  “I’m not your father.”

  Her face did not move. She was dumbstruck. For several seconds, she had no words. Slowly, she retreated to her side of the car, leaning up against her door.

  “I was as stunned as you are,” Miles said. “There’s no DNA match between us. I don’t know exactly what happened. It’s something Dr. Gold did. He falsified the records. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but he—”

  Chloe erupted. “If you’re not my father then who the fuck is?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, oh, that’s great.” She put a hand to her forehead and turned away, as if trying to escape him. “This is just absolutely fucking terrific. So he could be anybody. Anybody in the whole goddamn country.” She pointed to a man on the sidewalk, walking back and forth in front of an electronics store, wearing a sandwich board. “Maybe it’s him.”

  Miles was betting it was Gold himself, but without proof he did not want to speculate. He said, “Chloe, I feel terrible about this.”

  “Oh, you feel terrible? I thought one of the great mysteries of my life had been solved but it turns out it was all bullshit, but you feel terrible?”

  Miles had no words.

  Chloe shook her head and bit her lip. Her chin trembled. “I can’t believe this … I just can’t …”

  She sniffed, and as her eyes began to mist she turned away so Miles couldn’t see her. “All of this was for nothing. I don’t really mean anything to you. You’re not anything to me.”

  The words went into Miles like a knife.

  “I can’t deal with this.” She leaned forward and said to Charise, “Stop the car.”

  “Ms. Swanson, I’m about to get onto the interstate.”

  “Stop the car.”

  “Chloe, please,” Miles said. “It’s not like that. All I wanted to do was—”

  “Stop the fucking car!” she screamed.

  Charise hit the blinker and steered the limo over to the side of the road.

  “You don’t even know where we are,” Miles said.

  Chloe waved her phone. “You of all people should know there’s an app for that.” She pulled on the door handle, undid her seat belt, swung the door wide open, and got out.

  “Please, Chloe!” Miles shouted.

  But she had slammed the door before he could get her name out. Chloe slammed her hand on the car’s trunk as she walked off in the direction they’d come from.

  Charise asked, “Do you want me to go after her?”

  Miles had no doubt Charise could catch up with her, pick her up, and bring her back, but he couldn’t see the point.

  “Let her go,” he said.

  Forty-Seven

  New Haven, CT

  Caroline had received a text from him, that he was back after attending to some out-of-town business, so she found herself once again at the Omni Hotel—as always, in one of the nicer suites on an upper floor that afforded a view of Yale and much of the city—standing by the window, wearing the lingerie he’d laid out for her, silk blindfold in place, waiting for Broderick to arrive.

  Sometimes she thought that this part, the anticipation, was what she enjoyed most. It was better than the actual sex itself, which was nothing to complain about. Waiting for the sound of the door opening, his barely perceptible steps across the carpet, his soft breathing, directly behind her. She was not allowed to turn around until after he had touched her. There were times when he would stand there for several minutes, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body, saying nothing.

  Building the suspense.

  Other times, things would move much more quickly. He’d walk right over and grab her. Yeehaw! That was fun, too, but she much preferred it when things moved slowly.

  When she arrived, as always, the tub had been run. The champagne was open and chilling. She had filled one flute and sipped on it while she luxuriated in the tub.

  She wondered what he did during this time. He would have had to come to the room first, prepare things, then leave. Caroline guessed he went down to the bar and had a drink. Was the anticipation as much fun for him as for her?

  This time, it wasn’t just the sex that filled her with anticipation. She wanted to hear how things were going. She wanted an update.

  When she’d first told him about her situation, about the terrible thing her brother-in-law had done, essentially cutting Gilbert—and by extension, her—out of his will, Broderick had seemed skeptical that there was anything to be done about it.

  But it was so unfair, Caroline pleaded. Leaving his estate to a bunch of total strangers. Okay, sure, maybe they were the product of his seed, but that was a very clinical connection. Gilbert was his brother. Was there a stronger bond than that? The two had grown up together, shared a room when they were younger. How do you cut out someone like that and give the money to people you’ve never spent one moment with in their entire lives?

  It was a gross injustice.

  I’m no lawyer, Broderick had told her. Maybe she should talk to one. But it really should be Gilbert w
ho initiated any legal action. Or maybe, he said, Caroline should talk to Miles and explain how devastating his decision had been to her husband.

  He’d see right through that, Caroline thought. “And we have a bit of a history,” she admitted, without getting into details.

  But she did have an idea for a new scheme. Certainly more ambitious than her attempt to get Google to invest in her idea, which actually had been pretty clever. All she lacked was the technical expertise to make it work. Was lying about Miles being a backer really that big a deal? If Google had gone for it, she would then have gone to Miles, shared her idea with him, told him Google was a backer—which would have been true—and he’d probably have invested in it.

  Or so she liked to tell herself.

  But this new idea, it was different. And she thought someone with Broderick’s background might be able to not only advise her, but roll up his sleeves and help her out.

  “Wow,” Broderick had said when she’d shared the plan with him. “That seems pretty … out there.”

  He’d given her a look, like he thought she was crazy. Yeah, right. What did they say? Crazy like a fox? That was her.

  “And what would my role be?” he’d asked her.

  She’d told him. In the beginning, he’d be more of an adviser, a go-between. And then, later, if the first part of the plan went okay … maybe he could play a more direct role? Doing what he did best?

  He had reservations. “This sounds like something that could go off the rails very easily,” he said. “A lot of variables, a hard situation to control. Emotional unknowns. An extra personality playing a major role. Are you really sure you want to go that route?”

  “Are you saying it couldn’t be done?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “If the first part went okay, then—”

  “I get it.” In the end, he’d said, “Let me think about it.”

  “I’d make sure you were properly compensated,” she’d said.

  And he had shot her a look suggesting that was a given. In fact—

  Hang on. She could hear the hotel room door opening.

  He was here.

  He never let it slam. He closed the door gently.

  Her breathing became shallow and rapid.

  I don’t want to wait. Not this time. Let’s get to it.

  She sensed his approach. He couldn’t be any more than a foot or two behind her. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to break the rules. She was going to speak.

  “Do me,” she whispered.

  And he said, “What the fuck is going on here, Caroline?”

  Her heart stopped.

  She whirled around, whipping off the blindfold at the same time. There he was, standing right there before her.

  Gilbert.

  Broderick was, in fact, killing time in the bar. He’d taken a seat that afforded him a view of the hotel lobby.

  He usually enjoyed this time. The anticipation. Going up to the room, getting things ready, then slipping away before she arrived. He even took the stairs back to the lobby level so he wouldn’t accidentally run into her coming off the elevator.

  He would order his drink and think of the pleasures to come, no pun intended.

  Also, if need be, he’d get a few things done. Check his phone, answer emails, respond to texts.

  One had come in while he was on his second drink. Short and sweet:

  ITS ALL GONE TO SHIT. CANT DO THIS.

  Hmm, he thought. There was trouble in Fort Wayne.

  He looked up from his phone, glanced in the direction of the lobby, and that was when he saw Gilbert Cookson.

  Broderick knew what the man looked like. When he’d gotten mixed up with this woman, he’d made a point of finding out what he could about her husband. Learned his routine, his cell phone number, places he hung out.

  But Broderick had not seen this turn of events coming. Caroline’s husband was crossing the lobby tentatively, as though unsure about whether he should be there or not. He was turning his head from side to side. Was he looking for her? Had he followed her in? When his eyes landed on the entrance to the bar, he came that way, took two steps in, glanced about, then retreated.

  Yeah, he’s followed her here, Broderick thought. He suspected his wife was up to something and he’d tailed her. She must have screwed up somewhere. Maybe he’d found a hotel napkin in her purse. Maybe he had that phone-tracking app.

  Could have been any number of things. One thing was for sure. The message he’d received from Fort Wayne could just as easily apply to his situation here. It was all going to shit. Once the husband was involved, well, nothing good could come from that.

  He’d been thinking of bailing for a while now, anyway. Cutting things off with Caroline, walking away from the mess she’d started. He didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. A great fuck was not worth this much hassle. The woman was nuts, didn’t think rationally.

  I’m out.

  He downed the last of his scotch and left enough cash on the table to cover it. He took the key card from his wallet and held it firmly in his hand as he exited the bar.

  Headed straight for Gilbert, who stood in the middle of the lobby looking bewildered and apprehensive.

  Fucking loser, Broderick thought. No wonder Caroline was looking elsewhere for what she needed. In more areas than one.

  Broderick pretended to be distracted by something else, and deliberately bumped into Gilbert.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “No problem,” Gilbert said.

  Broderick kept on walking until he was out on the sidewalk. He stopped, took out his latest burner phone, and entered a number.

  Three rings later, Gilbert said, “Hello?”

  “There’s a key card in your pocket,” Broderick said. “Eleventh floor. Third room on the right after you get off the elevator.”

  He ended the call, tossed the phone in a garbage can at the corner of Temple and Chapel Streets.

  Chuckled.

  Forty-Eight

  New Haven, CT

  “So, Dorian has explained some of this to me, but why don’t you start from the beginning.”

  Her name was Lana Murkowski, and she was not only a friend of Dorian’s, but an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and she had met Miles a few years before, when the Bureau was conducting a wider investigation into cyberhacking by the Russians. She also happened to live in nearby Darien, was on her day off, and was here in an unofficial capacity as a favor to Dorian. She had put a call in to Lana while Miles was in the limo on his way back from New Rochelle, without, as it turned out, Chloe.

  Miles didn’t want to talk about it.

  A few hours later, Lana showed up at the Cookson Tech offices, and they’d taken one of the conference rooms for a private chat.

  Dorian had brought in coffee and snacks and had asked to sit in, provided Miles had no objection.

  “No,” he said. “You need to be up to speed on this, too.”

  When Lana asked Miles to outline the situation for her, he took a breath and did his best. He started with his first visit to Dr. Gold and his acquiring the list of women who had been impregnated with what he had thought at the time was his sperm.

  “How’d you get that list?” the agent asked.

  Miles glanced at Dorian and back to Lana. “Is that important?”

  “Yes.”

  “We bribed someone at the clinic to get it for us.”

  “Who did that?”

  “Heather,” he said. “The company investigator.”

  “Wouldn’t it be helpful to have her here today?”

  “It would,” Dorian interjected. “But her mother went into the hospital last night. Possibly a heart attack. Heather’s off the map for the next few days.”

  Lana said, “Go on with your story.”

  Miles said that once he had the list, Dorian and Heather ascertained the names of the children those women had given
birth to, tracked down their whereabouts, and compiled as much information on them as possible.

  And soon after that, they began to disappear.

  “Let’s go through them one by one,” Lana said.

  Miles did. Most of the information he and Dorian had on Katie Gleave, Jason Hamlin, and Dixon Hawley came from media reports. Miles had learned firsthand that Todd Cox was missing. So far, the remaining individuals had not met with misadventure.

  “But I’m worried,” he said.

  “Okay,” Lana said. “Let’s see what we have here, starting with this Todd Cox. For all you know, that hand under the bed belonged to him.”

  “No,” Miles said quickly. “Because of the finger.” He explained.

  Lana nodded. “Okay. But the woman in the van? There’s no proof she had anything to do with this.”

  “What about the two cups of coffee?” Miles asked. “That deer?”

  Lana flashed him a patronizing smile. “Deer run pretty fast and it would have been easy for your driver to miss it. And she could have had an old cup of coffee that had gone cold and bought a new one that was hot.”

  Miles was undeterred. “What about how clean Todd’s place was?”

  Lana shrugged. “Some people are tidy. And if they’re moving on, they want to leave the place in good shape. Look, I’m not saying this doesn’t all seem a bit strange, but if you want to get the authorities involved, you need something a little harder. You don’t have any bodies. No concrete evidence of foul play. It could all be coincidence.”

  “No,” Miles said. “What about the doctor?”

  “He’s worth talking to, sure,” Lana said. “Sounds like he’s covering up something.”

  “Miles has a theory,” Dorian said, “that the doctor is impregnating all these women himself.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened,” Lana said. “Say that’s the case. How does it explain the disappearances? How do those things connect?”

  “I don’t know,” Miles said. “But Dr. Gold as much as threatened me if I didn’t drop this.”