“Why you specifically? No offense mate but you don’t look that old. Wasn’t someone else at NOAA more qualified for this?”
“I asked the same thing. Cummings said he wanted me because I knew about red tides and…” remembering Cummings admonition about secrecy he says no more.
Looking back out his window, Chase absently comments, “And Croatoan maybe?”
How does he know about…?
Not trusting himself to say anything in reply he simply offers a nervous smile. The two men stare at each other for a moment, each taking the other’s measure before Chase returns the smile with a warm one of his own.
They ride the rest of the way in silence.
Atlanta, Georgia
“You wanted to see me Charles?” Wendy asks from the doorway of his office.
“Yes,” he avidly waves his hand at her, “Come in, come in. Shut the door.” Gesturing to the chair across from him he adds, “Please sit down.”
Doing as asked, Wendy lowers herself into the thick plush chair in front of his desk where she waits for him to elaborate on the reason for this summons.
As she does she can’t help but notice again his tired appearance. Dark circles rim his sunken eyes set into an emaciated face. A face that she once would’ve described as happy but these days has become nothing more than a pale reflection of what it once was.
How long has it been since I’ve seen that gap-toothed smile of his?
With a weak nod Charles begins, “I’ve been going over the schedules that everyone submitted—you seem to have quite a lot on your plate these days.”
Nodding slightly she agrees, “I’ve been kept busy.”
As he shuffles a few loose papers around the surface of his desk she notices the tremor in his thinning hands and recognizes the gesture for what it really is. He has something to say to me but he knows I’m not going to like it. He’s stalling.
“All right Charles,” she breathes, “Out with it.”
“You do know me well don’t you?” he says with a wry grin. “But before we get to the reason you’re here; how are you holding up?”
Seeing the concern in his face she offers, “I’m…fine.”
After a thoughtful pause he says, “You know after everything that’s happened with Roger and Miriam and…Lynne…it would be all right if you weren’t, you know, fine.”
“I appreciate the concern Charles and I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days that have been difficult but, I’m coping with it the best I can. I’m all right. I should be asking you how you’re holding up though. You look,” she toils to find the right word before settling on “Weary.”
“Oh and I am,” he admits with a sigh. “Lynne’s disappearance and Roger’s departure and on top of it all Josh’s betrayal—these are trying times for the agency.”
“None of it’s your fault though Charles.”
Wistfully shaking his head he replies, “It’s kind of you to say so, but we both know I’m at least partially to blame. I trusted Josh.”
With this admission she can see just how frail he’s become; his pain is etched in the lines of his gaunt face creating a mask of torment.
“And I can’t help but wonder,” he carries on, “How things might’ve turned out differently if Lynne had still been here. In truth, sometimes I think this place has become cursed because of how I handled the aftermath of Stillness.”
She wants to offer him solace—to reach out and tell him that’s not true. In truth it’s on the tip of her tongue but…did I not condemn him in the days after Stillness for how Lynne was treated?
After a moment Charles shrugs his bony shoulders and seems to shake himself out of his funk. “But you didn’t come here to listen to this. Let’s get down to the reason I wanted to see you shall we?”
She’s in the middle of nodding when he drops the bombshell that leaves her stunned. “I want you to go to Hope.”
“Wh-what?” she stammers, “You-you just said how busy my schedule is Charles.”
“I know,” he agrees, “I know but, I want you to go. I think it would do you good to get away.”
“What does that mean?” Her tone betrays the suspicion and anger rising in her.
“It means,” Charles offers with a real smile—pained though it is, “Despite what you say I’m worried about you. You and Lynne were very close and since she disappeared you’ve been…different. You work to excess and I think it’s to avoid your feelings. It’s not healthy Wendy.”
“Well thank you doctor,” she replies contemptuously, “But I’ll thank you to stay out of my personal life. I told you I’m fine and I don’t have time to chase windmills just to keep the administration happy.”
“Please don’t be like that Wendy,” his voice lowers as he states, “I hope you realize my concern for you is genuine. I think of you as more than just an employee here; I think of you as a friend. And with everything that’s happened lately, friends are in short supply.
“If you don’t want to accept that I think you need a break from your work, then know that I value and trust your opinion. I know you’ll always give it to me straight and that’s what I need in Hope.”
Still angry at being selected to go, but beginning to calm down she pleads, “I’m not an epidemiologist Charles—I don’t go into the field. Why don’t you send Larry?”
“Larry?” he arches an eyebrow at her shrewdly, “With the NIH watching this as they are?”
“Yeah, all right,” she admits with a grin, “Bad idea.”
“This is more of a political assignment then a disease outbreak anyway. It’s highly dubious that you’ll find anything of relevance medically in Hope but Reinhold wants my best on the job and I think that’s you.
“Just to cover our bases though, take Clay with you for the epidemiology.”
“When do I leave?” she relents.
“Nine days,” he says while handing her an EPI1, “That should give you enough time to wind up the projects you’re currently working on and still get you on the island ahead of the approaching weather. You’ll have enough time to rule in or out any disease as the cause of the disappearances and then get out of there before the storm makes landfall.”
“All right,” Wendy stands up saying, “But you owe me for this Charles.”
“That I do,” he agrees with a fading look, “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
With a furtive grin Wendy winks in reply, “I’m sure I’ll be fine Charles. I mean the place is deserted; what could possibly go wrong?”
Through the Lucite glass Roger Whittaker watches as Josh Fisher enters the visitor’s room at Fulton County Jail. Decked out in a bright orange jumpsuit with tangled and greasy hair and a sallow expression on his face, he’s seen better days.
Good.
This is the man who caused it all. He betrayed me and sold my schedule to the monsters who took Miriam. If it wasn’t for him none of it would’ve been possible.
His fists on the scarred table imperceptibly tighten as he watches Josh take a seat on the other side of the soundproof glass. Simultaneously they both lift the bright red receivers attached to the booth wall so that they may speak.
Smirking the old familiar way Josh begins, “When they told me I had a visitor I never thought it’d be you. What are you doing here Roger?”
Hatred flows off him in waves as Roger grips the receiver so tightly that his hand starts to shake. Clenching his jaw he says, “We need to talk.”
“Really?” The word drips with sarcasm as Josh leans back slightly before continuing, “What do you want to talk about Roger? The nice weather we’ve been having? Maybe how the Braves are doing this season huh?”
When Roger says nothing Josh clears his throat asking, “Why are you really here?”
His nostrils flare as Roger takes a deep breath before asking in a near whisper, “How could you do it Josh?”
For the barest of moments the façade of bravado that he’s displayed since sitting down slips and R
oger can see the regret in his former friend’s eyes. Then it’s gone and with a snort and a turn of the head the mask is back in place.
“How could you sell me out? How could you destroy your career? Embarrass the agency like that?” Roger fixes him in a pointed gaze as he adds, “How could you let Miriam go through that?”
“Oh bullshit Roger!” he barks drawing a glance from the guard on duty.
Lowering his voice he says, “I did everything I could to keep Miriam from being hurt. You’re the one who wouldn’t goddamn listen. How many times did I tell you to just do what they wanted?
“But oh no, the great and perfect Roger Whittaker couldn’t just play along—even for his own fucking wife. You’re not going to lay what happened to her at my feet Roger so forget it.”
They just stare at each other for a long moment; the tension between them making it clear that if there wasn’t a glass partition separating them they’d be at each other’s throat.
“You know what?” Josh sniffs, “I don’t really need this. If you came here looking for an apology you wasted your time. Don’t bother wasting mine again.”
“Wait!” Roger blurts out as he sees Josh move to hang up the phone.
Slowly Josh brings it back to his ear, listening as Roger beseeches him, “I came here because I need your help.”
“You need my help,” Josh repeats dubiously. Watching Roger nod, he adds, “Yeah well, I don’t get out much anymore; how could I possibly help you?”
“Tait’s evidentiary hearing is tomorrow,” Roger explains, “If we don’t find more on him he’s going to walk.”
“And let me guess,” Josh derides, “I’m the last resort of the desperate man huh? I’m curious; just what is it you think I can do?”
“Testify against him.”
Josh winces outwardly as he snaps, “Don’t ever say that in here. You have any idea what would happen to me if word got around that I was snitching? Besides,” he winds the cord around one of his fingers saying, “He was just a voice on the phone to me; I got nothing on him.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you want.”
“You’re a smarter man than that Josh,” he presses, “You wouldn’t have risked everything like you did unless you had something to fall back on.”
Still playing with the phone cord, Josh looks down before saying, “And if I did…have something. How does that help me now? I’m facing charges of conspiracy to commit an abduction and I have no hope of coming up with the requisite bail money.
“As a result I’m confined to this lovely place where I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but the clientele isn’t exactly of the highest humanity has to offer.”
Shaking his head Josh finishes, “No, if I turn on him I’m as good as dead.”
“You,” he stammers, “You can make a deal. Help me bring him to justice and you can get out of here.”
“And you think that matters? Jesus Roger, do you even know who you’re dealing with? Tait can silence me outside just as easily as he can in here. Whatever I may or may not have I promise you it isn’t worth my life.”
“He’s going to go free!” Roger insists.
“Yeah probably,” Josh replies, “But he was always going to go free.”
Two beeps sound over the line signaling that their time is almost up.
Sighing heavily Josh says, “You hate me now Roger and I can’t change that but take my advice—let him go. And that’s me saving your life. You keep hounding Tait and you’re either going to end up in here with me or in the ground and there ain’t no justice worth that.”
He hangs up the phone and walks back toward the low-key yellow steel door leaving Roger still clutching the phone as if it were a life preserver and he were a drowning man.
Chapter 15
In the absence of information, imagination runs wild.
Pushing her way through a crowd of students and onlookers outside the cordon around Benjamin Franklin Academy, Li Ling Tran is seeing this first hand. The police presence locking down the school has put their teenage brains into overdrive.
She can hear snippets of conversations speculating on what has happened as she weaves her way through the mob—each one more wild and outlandish than the one before it. If anyone suspects the Toymaker’s involvement their voice has been drowned out by the din of irrational gossip.
Probably a good thing, she thinks.
Spying the police tape and the cop guarding the line she raises her hand and calls out to him. “Detective Lester!”
Hearing her voice, Bo Lester squints through his horn-rimmed glasses at the crush of people until he can make her out. As he does, the creases across his forehead deepen while the lines around his blue eyes lengthen.
They met roughly a month ago over a dead body when Bo forced his way back through the woods of Piedmont Park and stumbled upon one of the Toymaker’s crime scenes.
They didn’t really get to know each other though until a few days after that when she helped him track down the inside source at the CDC that sold Roger Whittaker out and allowed his wife to be abducted.
He proceeds to bark at the crowd, “Part the sea y’all! Let her through!”
As the students oblige Ling Tran reaches the front and ducks beneath the yellow tape. With a smile she nods to Lester, “Thanks, I was just starting to have high school flashbacks.”
Smiling himself he gives her hand a hearty shake. “What are y’all doing on that side of the line?”
“Late to the party I suppose,” she replies, “What are you doing manning the ropes?”
“Call went out for local support in crowd control.” His grin becomes lopsided as he adds, “Thought even a gimp like me could handle that.”
“How’s the knee coming along?”
An old injury suffered in the course of a drug raid, it was aggravated again in the take down of Josh Fisher last month and has largely kept Bo on the shelf since.
“Still paining ah’m ‘fraid.”
A moment of silence develops between them before they walk a few feet away from the throng and she asks in a lower voice, “So what’s the story here?”
“Like I’d know,” he jests, “Y’all Feds ain’t big on sharing.”
“And you locals are always resourceful,” she counters, “Don’t tell me you know nothing.”
Giving her a sheepish look he says, “Ah might know this or that. Bomb squad was called in to sweep the place. Think the Toymaker was here.”
“Bomb squad?” Ling Tran turns her attention to the armored van parked across the street. “Explosives have never been the Toymaker’s M.O.”
“People change,” Bo simply states with a shrug.
“Thanks,” she mumbles as she moves a step away before he catches her by the elbow.
“Y’all learn anything…” he leads with an impish grin.
“We’ll see,” she smiles warmly, “Take care of yourself Bo.”
As she turns away she hears him yelling at the crowd to get back, spicing up his banter with homespun sayings that are lost on her.
Approaching the armored van she nods at Brett Flannigan before swinging the back door open and climbing inside. The interior is packed with equipment and people. She notices an unfamiliar face seated at the controls for the remote operated vehicle, Hal Jerome behind him, Tommy Drayton to his one flank, and at the front of the van her eyes settle on…Caleb?
She can’t keep her jaw from dropping open as he briefly glances in her direction before returning his attention to the vid-screen.
“What…You’re…” she stammers before saying to Hal, “He’s under suspension.”
“Thanks to you,” Caleb grumbles under his breath.
Composing herself she begins to see red. He always does this. He always finds a way to say just the one thing to get under my skin. Well not this time.
Forcing herself to ignore the jab she repeats to Hal, “Are you aware he’s been suspended?”
&
nbsp; “Nice of you to join us Agent Li,” Hal taps his finger against his chin as he answers her, “I do remember hearing something about that, yes.”
His cavalier attitude surprises her. Looking around the cramped interior she suddenly feels alone. Everyone on the task force knows Caleb has been suspended and yet no one is upset he’s here. No one but me.
“If the DD finds out he’s here—”
“Are gonna run and tell him again?” Caleb glares at her as he pronounces, “Partner.”
That’s it.
“Look Caleb,” she hisses, “I didn’t run to him the last time. He asked me for my opinion and I gave it to him. You’re too close to all of this. You’re obsessed with a madman and don’t ask me why,” she exhales, “But I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah,” he scoffs, “Isn’t everyone.”
She groans in frustration before turning her growing fury towards Hal. “Why is he here Agent Jerome?”
“Say,” the technician at the controls speaks up in a pronounced southern drawl, “Could y’all move this drama elsewheres? Kinda delicate work here.”
After a tense moment between them, Ling Tran, Hal, and Caleb pile out of the van to talk outside.
“I’ve hired Cal as a consultant for this case.” Hal explains.
“Are you joking?” Ling Tran demands, “Do you really think the DD is going to go for this?”
“I don’t see why not,” Hal casually replies.
Shaking her head Ling Tran continues, “How about because this is obviously a rouse to circumvent his authority? He was explicit about keeping Caleb away from this case. He’s supposed to be serving a suspension.”
“And he is serving that suspension,” Hal counters, “We hire outside consultants for expert opinions all the time. Honestly Ling, I’d have thought you’d be happy about this. You are partners after all.”
“I told you,” Caleb jabs a finger in the air toward her, “She wants me off this case so bad she betrayed me to Hofstra.”
“Oh kiss it Caleb!” she fumes, “You’ve changed so much and you can’t even see it. You used to be a good guy until this case came along and…”
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