“Can I see identification, please?”
She grabbed her hospital credentials, dangling from a lanyard around her neck and handed it to the guard. He frowned, but reached for a phone handset on his right, anyway. After punching a few numbers into the handset, the guard raised it to his ear and waited for Walton or one of his associates to pick up.
Julia turned her back to the desk and watched the water pour over the stones into the large rectangular basin below. Of course, Jack Walton might have had nothing to do with Grace Murphy. But he was the only person Julia knew at Stevenson Industries. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? They’d tell her to leave. That didn’t seem like much of a risk to take.
“Yes, Mr. Walton—sorry to bother you. I have a Dr. Julia Driscoll here who came to give you a consult on a Grace Murphy; would you like to see her now or should I have her come back at another time?”
Julia bit her thumbnail and waited for an answer from Walton’s end. After a brief pause, the guard said, “Yes, sir. I’ll send her down now to you.”
The guard hung up the handset, then handed Julia her ID back plus a visitor badge that he instructed her to wear at all times while in the building. Then he pointed down the corridor next to the waterfall that led to a group of elevators and told her to take the elevator to the basement. As Julia headed there, blue and red flashing lights began shining around the room. She stopped for a moment and looked back toward the glass doors. At least one police car was now parked in front of the building. Perhaps it was John. She considered waiting but decided it was best to get Grace out as quickly as possible.
Julia had the elevator to herself as she descended to the basement that housed Research Division B. She felt guilty for disregarding John’s advice but figured Grace needed her more. Although relieved Grace hadn’t been abducted by a human sex trafficking ring looking to bolster its roster of redheads, she nonetheless felt troubled by the scenario. From her connections to the hospital, Julia was aware Stevenson’s Industries’ conducted sleep research but didn’t know enough of the particulars to trust the study—if in fact that was why Grace had gone with the shady men in the parking lot. Julia also knew of Grace’s dream of Jack Walton. Though she doubted the veracity of the dreams, John put a lot of stock in them, and he would never believe in something unless he had good reason to.
The elevator reached the basement and its doors opened. A young Caucasian man with curly brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard met her.
“Dr. Driscoll—my name is Mark Trulio. I’ll escort you the rest of the way,” he said without a smile.
“Thank you,” Julia said, but Trulio had already turned his back on her and was walking away down the blank, institutional hallway. She noticed a holster on his right hip, a fact that surprised her since he didn’t seem to be part of the generic security detail she had encountered in the lobby. Halfway down, he turned left into an open door, then stood to the side so Julia could pass through the threshold. Once she did, Julia came face to face with Jack Walton, whose thinning hairline and academic appearance matched well with Grace’s sketches.
“Dr. Driscoll, my name is Jack Walton. How can I help you?” He swiveled in his chair slightly as he intertwined his fingers.
“I was concerned for Grace Murphy, so I came to see her,” Julia said, manufacturing the appropriate amount of sternness to overcome her uncertainty.
“Ms. Murphy came here of her own free will, I can assure you of that,” Walton replied, his tone a bit defensive.
“Can I speak to her?” Julia asked.
“Of course.” Jack Walton stood up and ushered her through the metal door behind him. Inside was a bland evaluation room, dimly lit, with an off-white Formica table and two chairs that sat across from one another. Grace Murphy sat in one of the chairs, her head bowed and her hands folded together. When Julia walked into the room, Grace looked up at her.
“Hi, Grace,” Julia said, keeping her tone positive.
Grace blinked at her. “I’m sorry I missed my appointment, Dr. Driscoll. I just thought it would be better for me to come here. I think it’s where I’m supposed to be.” She bowed her head again.
“Why is that Grace?” Julia slid into the chair across from Grace. Jack Walton was still standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. He apparently had no intention of allowing Julia to speak to Grace alone.
“This is my destiny, fate, God’s will for my life. It’s predestined to be. Nothing can change it. I’ve seen it.” Her voice remained in monotone.
Julia cast a sideways glance at Walton. “What have you seen?”
“I’ve seen me, here, with him.” She looked at Walton. “He knows this, too. It can’t be changed.”
Julia turned toward Jack Walton. “Before I came, I spoke to John, er Detective Harrison. He said Josh Williams is on his way here with another man. Williams thinks you have Jessie Walters.”
Walton’s expression turned grave. But before he could utter a word, a crash reverberated through the outside hallway, followed by shouts and a smattering of gunfire. Julia stood up. Walton slammed the door shut. Julia looked into her patient’s eyes. Grace didn’t appear afraid; she simply closed her eyes, seemingly unfazed by the fact that they seemed to be trapped.
58
Upstairs, before the eruption of gunfire in the basement, John Harrison squared off against the guards in the lobby of Stevenson Industries. Standing next to the detective was Tom Glass, one of the regular patrol officers of the Woodside PD, who watched uneasily as Matt Harrison paced back and forth behind his brother.
“This man is very dangerous. We believe he was headed here with another man,” John explained, holding up his phone so the guards could see the photo of Josh Williams. Once John identified himself as police and explained how dire the situation could be, one of the suits behind the older guard Jerry—who John had run into on an earlier visit to Stevenson Industries—stepped forward and took control. In that previous encounter, Jerry was the only guard on duty in the lobby. Apparently, times had changed.
The guard, a square-jawed, rugged individual in his late twenties or early thirties, made a face at the photo but simply said, “No one matching that description has come through here.” As he said that, the other young guard typed furiously away at his cell phone.
“Is there any other way to enter besides the front door?” John assumed the answer was ‘yes’ but wanted to hear the potential options.
“The only other entrance is through delivery in the back,” the square-jawed guard said. “All the other doors to the building are locked from the outside and set off alarms when they’re opened.”
“Can you check with your guard in that area?” John asked.
The guard didn’t reply but picked up the handset and dialed the delivery area. But no one answered as the phone continued to ring. He turned to the other young guard. “Send someone back to check on delivery.”
Before the order could be carried out, Matt stared at John and said, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
This time, John heard a series of pops. “Gunfire!” he exclaimed.
The two guards seemed to hear it too, because one of them pulled a walkie-talkie from his hip and shouted, “All teams, converge on Division B! We have an active shooter! Evacuate the rest of the building!” The guards dashed toward the elevator, with Matt, John, and Glass close behind. Though the Stevenson Industries’ guards probably didn’t want the company, they had no choice; once the elevator doors opened, John and his companions pushed their way in, too.
Both guards pulled out handguns as the elevator dropped slowly to the floor below. “Do you know what we’re dealing with, here?” Square Jaw asked.
John pulled his own gun out, an action which Matt and Glass replicated. “Yeah, I do. And I’ve dealt with them before. The question is, do you know what you’re getting into?”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re ready for this,” the other guard assured John, with a smug smile
that seemed to say that John hadn’t really seen anything.
“Just be careful where you shoot. We have plenty of civilians down there,” John warned. He took a quick look at Matt, standing in back of him; the PI stared straight ahead at the elevator doors.
The elevator dinged and the doors started to open. John stood back from the door and instinctively reached his arm back to push Glass and Matt away from the opening, which could quickly enter the line of fire.
John and Square Jaw peeked around the door frame at the same time. Two men dressed in oxford shirts and khakis lay sprawled motionless on the floor, their weapons a few feet away from them. The rest of the corridor was clear and quiet, except for the far end where another two men in business attire lay on the ground. A pool of blood spread from one of their heads.
Another two men in suits, weapons drawn, emerged at the other end of the corridor from the stairwell. Square Jaw held up his hand toward John and his entourage, signaling these two were on their side.
“They have to be down here, still,” he said to John. “We’re going to have to go room by room.”
“Are there any other ways out?” John asked, moving his head back and forth in a vain effort to get any kind of angle that would allow him to see into the rooms.
“Only these two. They’re going to have to get through us first if they want to get out of here.”
John gritted his teeth. Williams was fully capable of cutting through a row of people to get away, though maybe not two separate groups of people located on opposite ends of the hallway. But his unknown companion, the one who flipped not one, but two cars...For the first time, John truly considered what happened to Wilson. Maybe they had been looking at things all wrong. Josh had lifted a gun and aimed it using his mind, thrown open a door, tossed people through the air, but had never propelled a vehicle. Perhaps Josh Williams hadn’t been involved in Thomas Wilson’s death—maybe it was this other man.
“Let’s move,” Square Jaw said, taking a few cautious steps out of the elevator. But as soon as he said the words, an object slid out into the hallway, moving back and forth, angling toward each respective end of the hallway. It was a rectangular piece of glass. “What the hell is that?” the guard asked, training his gun on the glass.
The guns of the two downed men in the hallway rose up into the air and rotated, one in John’s group’s direction, the other aimed at the two men on the opposite side of the hallway.
“Get down!” Matt exclaimed, pushing John to the ground of the elevator and pulling him behind the elevator frame, right before the guns start blazing. Though the gun moved somewhat erratically through the air, Square Jaw was struck immediately, as well as one of the guards on the other side. The guns swiveled back and forth, spraying bullets in whatever direction they turned. Glass, a gangly man and bigger target than Matt and John, took a shot to the chest and slumped down to the ground.
“Glass!” John crawled over to Glass and pulled him to the relative safety of the side of the elevator. He pulled Glass’s shirt open to reveal a Kevlar vest. Glass groaned.
A few more rounds flew over their heads, striking the wall behind them. Finally, the gun went empty.
“He’s using the mirror to manipulate the guns,” Matt said, jumping into the middle of the elevator and getting down on his belly. He aimed his gun at the mirror and took one shot, which was punctuated by the sound of breaking glass. But even with the mirror now shattered into myriad pieces, Square Jaw’s weapon began rising into the air.
“Then how’s he doing that?” John asked, reaching up for the button to close the elevator doors. He feverishly pushed the button until the doors began their deliberate movement together. The gun fired a few rounds into the elevator before the doors shut completely. Even with the doors shut, bullets poured into the elevator, shredding the double steel doors. Finally, they heard the metallic clicking outside that indicated the gun was out of rounds.
“How are we supposed to take this guy out?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know. But right here we’re sitting ducks. I think we need to make a move now. You ready?” John looked at the other guard, scrunched up against the opposite side of the elevator. He nodded and stood up. John hit the button to open the doors but nothing happened. He pressed the button again.
“Is it broken?” the second guard asked.
“Maybe.” John hit the button in vain a few more times. “Or maybe someone is holding it shut.”
59
“Hold the doors shut!” Parker said to Josh, who was just emerging from their hiding spot—a room now filled with three men and two women lying in puddles of blood. Parker was standing out in the open as if the worst part of the danger had passed.
“How did you do that?” Josh asked.
“Do what?”
“Fire the gun without looking. I get the mirror part, but how did you shoot the gun when you couldn’t see?”
“I saw it up here,” Parker said, pointing at his temple. “If I can still see it in my mind, I can move it. And it just so happens I have an eidetic memory.” He turned to Josh. “You got the doors?”
Josh focused on keeping the door shut. But as soon as Parker “let go”, the doors started to open. Josh reached deeper and the doors closed again.
“Stay there for a second. I need to check out this room.” Parker disappeared into the next room. Josh heard him open another door.
“What do we have here? Hello, Mr. Walton. I thought you’d be around here, somewhere. And who’s this, with you?” Parker’s voice seemed to grow uneasy, then there was a brief pause. “Wait—I’ve seen you before.”
“Is it Jessie? Did you find her?” Josh asked, glancing back toward the room. He tried keeping his focus on the elevator door, but his mental grip slipped, distracted by thoughts of Jessie. At the same time, someone was fighting back against him, trying to pry the elevator doors open. “I can’t hold on much longer!”
Two hands squeezed through on either side of the elevator doors. Once the opening became large enough, John Harrison and one of the suited guards pushed their entire body weight against the doors. Though he had thrown entire human beings across the room before, working against two different people at once overwhelmed him.
“Parker, I can’t hold it anymore!” Josh surrendered and ducked back into the room where Parker was standing off with Jack Walton and two women, neither of whom Josh recognized. He closed the door behind him, even though he needed to find Jessie and she wasn’t there. But Walton had to know where she was.
Parker seemed obsessed with the young redhead and was uneasy in a way Josh had never witnessed.
“Do you know who I am?” Parker asked, bending down close to her. The young girl, enfolded in the arms of the other woman, a dirty blonde with wavy hair and blue eyes, shook her head. “Have you seen me before?”
“She doesn’t know you,” the blonde said, further inserting herself between the redhead and Parker.
“But I’ve seen you. In my dreams,” he said, ignoring the blonde. “You’ve been haunting me, in fact. For the last two weeks. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Now, why is that?” Parker asked as if the redhead was engaged in some grand conspiracy against him.
Jack Walton surreptitiously reached his hand into his lab coat pocket, a movement not quite imperceptible enough to escape the notice of Parker.
“What’d you got in there, Jack? I think I have an idea.” Parker smirked and Walton was slammed back into the wall, pinned by another invisible force. He stared at the contents of Walton’s pocket until a shiny, metallic object levitated out of it. “Yeah, I figured as much. I think it’s time we closed down Research Division B.”
The gun cocked and aimed at Walton’s forehead. Walton trembled, knowing what would come next. But he didn’t protest. He took the bullet without offering any plea for mercy.
Julia cradled Grace’s head in her arms, shielding the young woman from the carnage as much as she could. Walton’s body tipped to the side un
til it rested lifelessly against the concrete wall.
A hard knock rattled the door. The police and guards—whatever was left of them—were forcing their way into the room. Parker held up his hand, directing the desk across the floor against the door. For the moment, he had slowed the advance of the police.
Josh swallowed hard, fighting against the growing pit in his stomach. He looked at Walton, dead in the corner. Did Jack Walton deserve such a violent end? Whatever the case, he couldn’t tell Josh where Jessie was now and out of any of the people in that basement, she was the most innocent and deserving of life. Except for maybe these two women in front of him. But Parker didn’t agree because his next action was to point the gun at the redhead.
“And you. I don’t want you in my head anymore.”
The young woman bowed her head, resigned to her fate. Josh held his breath, waiting for the trigger to pull. Perhaps Parker was hesitating. His usual swagger seemed usurped by this woman.
“No!” the blonde screamed throwing herself in front of Grace completely. But Parker shoved her away, exposing the redhead again. And then Josh did it. Standing across the room, he wrestled for control of the gun.
Parker glanced at him, surprised but intrigued. “I’ve never fought a fellow telekinetic before.”
The gun slowly turned away from Grace. But even as he gained a few degrees of supremacy, Josh felt Parker’s resistance. He wouldn’t be able to keep this struggle up much longer. Josh fell to the floor.
The weapon turned toward Grace, again. The blonde threw herself back into the fray, pushing Grace away just as the gun zeroed in on the redhead’s center mass. A single shot rang out, piercing the blonde’s back and causing her to crumple to the floor.
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