“It’s the world that’s crazy,” I say. “Not you.”
Later that night, when the hour is nearer to dawn than the previous dusk, I crawl into bed. I’m so tired I fall asleep almost instantly, barely breathing into my pillow before I’m pulled away. If I dream I do not remember it. All I am aware of is being shaken awake what feels like a minute later. It’s Felix who leans over me, the graveness of his face instantly making me sit upright.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“There’s been a murder,” he says.
The words fill me with dread. I dress and follow him down the hall and up a flight of stairs. A small crowd has gathered in the hallway, making us push through until we get to the center. A figure lies dead upon the floor, a small boy sobbing in the arms of a woman who hovers over him. I recognize him immediately: the smiling man who only hours ago called me a catalyst for change. He wasn’t only killed. He was butchered, a dozen stab wounds clearly visible through his torso. I feel as if this is one of my nightmares, but the hushed silence and foreboding feeling is far too real.
“Did anyone see anything?” I ask, feeling sick.
“No,” Felix says. “But there was this.” He looks apologetic as he hands over a folded piece of paper. I take it wordlessly.
More bodies will follow until Morgan Taylor surrenders himself to me. You have three days. —Barr.
Chapter 15: (Morgan)
A dull ache has taken permanent residence behind my eyes. I feel it pulsing beneath my palms even as I try to rub it away. I’m as successful in the attempt as I am in catching the person who gave me it. Not very. Through the pain sits a weary mind, the past 24 hours leaving me mentally exhausted. It would be worth it if I felt we were making progress, but for all of our arguments and theories, we’re no closer to catching the mole than we were before they struck. I could have spoken with them face to face and would have no way of knowing. That’s what makes this so frustrating. It could literally be anyone. It could be a group of people. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, only the needle is poisoned and everyone is afraid of being pricked. It shows only too well.
Since we found the body there has been panic. Fear. And though we have done our best to stem both, there is no erasing it. There’s not only mistrust between the different groups, but within them as well. The Animals may share a single characteristic in that they were all victims of Barr, but most share little else. I doubt a single one of them knows every face, every name. Even Owen has admitted he doesn’t know them all. But he does know many. If there’s one silver lining in this, it is him. I doubt we could have managed to keep this under control without his help. He is still prone to hateful looks when it comes to Frank, but he’s at least been willing to put it aside and work alongside him. It’s all I could ask for.
The whole situation is tenuous at best. The tension within the hotel taught as a piano wire. Already it has led to a handful of scraps. Thankfully, they were mainly harmless, escalating no farther than a few thrown punches and injuries no worse than minor cuts and bruises. I shudder to think of how quickly things could have gone south. If someone had reached for a gun, that could have been it for us. Even after all my talk for banding together, Barr might have undone it all without even getting his hands dirty.
Not for the first time, I feel the rage burrowed deep within me. I’ve felt it off and on for a while, but now it will not fade. All the better, I suppose. It reminds me not to let my guard down. Still, it’s unnerving. I brought my family here. I convinced them it was for the best. Now, I am not so sure. One could easily argue we would be better off far away from this place. But where would that leave us? If we leave, these people will be back under Barr’s control within days. I feel certain of that fact. For that reason alone we must stay. Barr cannot be allowed to reclaim his throne. It’s game over if he does. And while I know this, it doesn’t make it any easier to do, especially with a known traitor among us.
“I just can’t believe nobody saw anything,” Owen says. “Over three hundred people here, and nothing.”
He takes the words right out of my mouth. It’s frustrating as hell. You would think somebody would have seen what happened, but no. I think of the man who died, his smile burned in my mind, his words of praise echoing like a poisoned memory. He believed in the future I spoke of. Believed in me. And he got a knife in the heart for it. It’s not right.
We’ve asked everyone on his floor and nobody had any insight on what happened. There was no shout, no sound of a struggle. Just a scream of alarm when his wife found the body. What does that mean? Is the killer on their floor? Did he somehow manage to slip away without being seen? The one thing we do know is they were free to move. That rules out the guards locked away in the basement level. At least, it should. Somehow, they were accused of the killing. Even after pointing out that they were locked up, and therefore, couldn't have had anything to do with it, there was still a call for their heads.
“So what if they didn’t do it?” one woman demanded. “They are still guilty of plenty. And what will we do if the killer realizes he has a dozen allies beneath his feet? If he finds a way to free them, we’ll have an even bigger mess on our hands.”
She’s not entirely wrong. It is a risk keeping them alive. They are loyal to Barr, and we have done nothing to try and win them over. If they were released, I have no doubt they would flock back to that tyrant and do all they could to bring us down. But I still believe what I said: if we want to build something better, we have to be better than what has come before. That means giving them the chance to reform themselves. I have no illusions about that being easy. But I have to believe there is a better way than killing them outright.
“You were the first on the scene,” I tell Owen, focusing my attention on the present. “Did anything look out of the ordinary?”
Owen shakes his head. “Nothing. Just an empty hall with a dead body and a grieving wife.” Anger laces his words. His hands ball into fists as he begins to pace, the gesture reminding me of myself. “After everything Barr did to us how can people possibly still be loyal to him?”
“Fear,” Frank says. “One would be surprised what fear could do to a man.”
Owen looks at Frank with loathing. “You must have been downright terrified when you were El Matador, then.”
Frank meets his gaze, the constant goading and reminders of his past starting to wear thin his patience. “He had my daughters. Of course I was.”
Owen stares daggers at him a moment longer and then looks away in disgust. I intervene before anything else can be said. “In any case, these people are now free of Barr. What reason do they still have to fear him?”
“You can’t see the wind, but do you doubt it’s there?” Frank asks. My silence is my answer. He continues. “My point is, there is still plenty of reason to fear that psycho. It doesn’t matter that he’s not in the building: his presence still is. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it.”
I have felt it. We may have the place, but this was Barr’s home—the little kingdom he built alongside his brother. We will never know this place as he did, will never feel as connected to it. In a way, it feels like we are occupying another man’s home. It’s a small wonder that he wants it back.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m assuming that’s a big reason why so many want my head.”
I say this jokingly, but a tremor of fear and hurt ripples beneath my words. Not many notice but I see recognition in some of their eyes. My mother. Felix. Lauren. Those who know me best see what the others do not. It’s hard not to feel betrayed by those who spoke out against me after Barr's note. They may have been in the minority, but their call to turn me still stung. It’s not surprising that many of those same voices packed up and left when others came to my aide, taking their chances outside these walls rather than wait for the axe to fall by Barr’s unknown assassin.
A wave of guilt overcomes me as I think of the dozens who left us. It’s an irrational feeling. The
same people wanted to throw me under the bus. And while I know turning myself over wasn’t an option, I can’t help but pity them. They won’t last long on their own. Starvation or the elements will make short work of them. And that’s only if Barr doesn’t find them first. That death may not be their worst fate is a chilling thought.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I understand what you’re saying,” I say. “So where does this leave us? How do we use this to find out who’s behind the killing?”
Nobody offers a suggestion. I myself am fresh out of them. I have no answer for the threat we are facing. For my family, and for everyone still within the DoubleTree, I’ve tried to fake it the best I can. I wear the mask I hate, pretending I have it under control and that we’ll pull through this. But the truth is, I feel like the wind's been knocked out of me. When I spoke of banding together and building a future I felt elated. I could feel their belief not only in the picture I painted but in me as well. Now, it feels as if that momentum is gone, and what’s worse, I have no clue how to get it back.
“Maybe catching the mole isn’t our biggest concern,” Lauren says. The dozen-plus eyes in the room turn her way. “Whoever they are, they’re acting on Barr’s orders. Everything streams back to him. That's why we took this place to begin with, to get to him. We failed. But that doesn’t mean we should give up trying.”
“There’s truth to that,” Richard says. “But it will be difficult to mount a successful search if he has someone here reporting to him. He’ll know we’re coming and go to ground. Might even set a trap for us.”
They’re both right. That’s what makes this whole situation so infuriating. Any move we make has the potential to blow up in our faces. Even if the mole doesn’t report our movements, the man is plenty dangerous on his own. With his followers still behind him, he could shred through any search party we send out. But what choice is there? If we do nothing, we’ll be playing right into his hands. He wants us to appear scared. Unsure. It will be all the easier for him to turn the rest of the DoubleTree against me if we just sit and wait for another body to fall. Risk or not, we have to take it.
“We can’t control what the mole reports to Barr,” I say. "Until we find them, we have to assume Barr will know of any move we make against him. But that doesn’t give us the luxury of doing nothing. Barr gave us three days before he kills again, and I don’t think he’s one to make idle threats. We’re running out of time. Unless one of you has a better suggestion, I don’t see that we have a choice.”
Nobody offers an alternative. They know taking out Barr is the key to ending all of this, and I know how badly they want this to be over. It makes the decision easy.
“We’ll have to let the others know what’s going on,” I say.
There’s some grumbling over this.
“If you announce it for all to hear, you might as well message Barr yourself and tell him we’re coming,” Leon says. “Anything you say will get reported. If we keep it quiet, there’s at least a chance the mole doesn’t find out about it.”
“You’re right, Lee,” I say. “Anything we say will be reported straight to Barr. So I say we use that to our advantage.”
The lightbulb goes off in Richard’s head. “Misdirection?” he asks.
“Exactly,” I say. “We tell everyone we’re going to check on some supplies we had stashed. We go out in a large group, one that will be hard to sneak around in. Then we split up into smaller squads. We’ll be able to cover a large area and move quickly enough to avoid being seen. Barr will bite. Especially if he thinks he can get to me.”
“Morgan, you’re the last person that should go,” Felix says.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say, taken aback. “But I can take care of myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t,” he says. “But we’re barely holding things together here. You’re too important to risk—No, don’t deny it!” He speaks over me as I try and protest. “Do you remember what I told you back in Denver? In the sporting goods store?”
I don’t need to stretch my mind, the memory is one I remember clearly. It was the morning after everything went dark, and I had just confessed to Felix that I wanted Lauren and Grace to join us. He was hesitant, but he said the decision would ultimately fall on me.
“You’re the leader,” he said. “Can’t you see that?”
It's what he’s getting at now. These people look at me and see a leader. Without me, this could all fall apart. And though I want to be out there, hunting the man I hate, I am more needed here. I may not like it, but it is my burden to bear.
“I remember,” I say. “Fine. I’ll stay and keep up appearances. Without me though, Barr might not be lured out.”
“He might for me,” Frank says. “He wants my head nearly as bad as he wants yours. I reckon it might be enough to draw him out.”
He’s right. If there’s one person Barr wants other than me, it’s him. Frank who was his General. Frank who broke the spirits of those who dared question Barr and his brother. He was their tool, their weapon. They turned him into a monster even those who knew him barely recognized. And then the monster struck back. Frank once told me that if Barr ever felt love, it was for his brother—the same brother whose death came from Frank’s betrayal.
“I think you may be right,” I say grimly. Straightening out, I address the rest of the room. “Whoever else goes needs to understand what they're signing up for. More importantly, we need to be sure we can trust them.”
Lylette is the first to step up. “I’ve been feeling cooped up for days,” she says. “I couldn’t think of a better way of stretching my legs than hunting that son of a bitch.”
Byron nods his agreement. “That makes two of us,” he says. He turns to Frank, a mixture of resentment and respect on his face. “The only person to ever catch us was you. Now that we’re on the same side, I’ll take my chances that it won’t happen again.”
The two share a long look, the tension between them not completely spent. Part of it will always remain, I think. Frank's story is well known, and while Byron understands the impossible position he was in, Frank will always be the man who raided his safe house and got people he cared for killed. That history won't just disappear. But they're willing to work together, at least. If only the rest of the people within these walls could follow their example and set aside their histories, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation.
Frank nods. “Your experience would be a huge help,” he says. “We still need more people. Byron and Lylette can lead one team. I can lead another. Assuming we don’t want to spread ourselves too thin, I think we can afford another team. Possibly two."
“I can lead one of them,” Felix says.
No surprise there. Felix has been our scout long before now. I nod.
“Of course,” I say. Beside him, I see Richard about to step up, and I intervene before he can speak. “I know you want to lead a team as well, but I’m asking if you’ll stay behind.” He doesn’t look like he thinks much of this suggestion. I continue before he can protest. “This whole gambit is a risk. We have to at least prepare for the possibility that Barr might see this as an opportunity to make a play for the DoubleTree. If he does, I’d feel a lot better knowing you’re here to oversee the security.”
He considers this with distaste, one I understand only too well. He’s like me. He’d rather be out there despite the risks instead of staying behind in relative safety. But he knows there is a bigger picture to all of this. And as much as he’d like to be part of the hunt, he knows he is more needed here.
“You’ve got a point,” he says. “I’ll stay and run security. But that leaves us one short.”
“I can lead the last party,” Owen says. I’m taken aback by this. After his ordeal with Barr and his followers, I wouldn’t think he would be so quick to risk another scrape.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You’re one of the cogs holding this together. If something happens...”
“Then the rest of the
people here will be in good hands,” he says finishing my sentence. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m going regardless. If Barr is out there, I want to be the one to catch him.”
I nod, still not entirely convinced. “If you’re sure,” I say.
“I am,” he says firmly.
“Very well,” I say. “Now that we know who will be leading the parties, we need people to fill them.”
We discuss possible numbers, deciding each party should consist of four to five people. Any more and it will be difficult to remain stealthy. Any less and they will be too vulnerable should they be spotted. Leon and Emily are quick to volunteer for Felix’s team, as is another. I knew it was coming, but still, I feel my heart wrench as Lauren steps up beside them. I lock eyes with her, the resolute stare that meets me stalling any plea before it can find a place on my tongue. She’s already made her decision.
“Fine,” I say. “You four will make a formidable team.” I look away from her and catch Felix’s eye. He gives me a small nod, almost imperceptible but I recognize it for the reassurance it is. He’ll look after her.
The rest of the teams fill out nicely, each of the team leaders assuring me they can find trustworthy people to join them. With that set, the next decision we need to make is where to search. The biggest advantage we have is our location. The DoubleTree sits on one of Durango’s major intersections, giving us plenty of options in terms of routes to take. After a lot of debate, we come up with a plan of action. Owen will lead his team north, past 32nd street. Frank will lead his team south, past Bodo Park and toward Farmington Hill. Felix and Lylette will split the rest of the town, Felix focusing on the area south of 17th street, and Lylette from there on toward the rec center. As the plan unfolds, I have a flash of inspiration.
“As spread out as we’ll be, it would be nice if we could have some sort of overwatch,” I say. “If we had another team hunker down on Rim Drive, they could have eyes on movement if Barr decides to come out in force.”
Echoes of a Dying World (Book 3): A Dream of Tomorrow Page 20