The tension paralyzed him. He couldn’t even think to speak as he watched her.
Her eyes lifted, hurt and uncertainty shimmering in their blue depths. “Why didn’t you tell me, Isaiah? Why did you let me believe you did it to hurt me?”
He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn’t important,” he answered. “Because no matter what they were my words.”
“But you only said them because he made you, right?” The plea in her eyes killed him. “You didn’t really mean them, did you?”
He groaned. “No! Of course not, but—”
She shifted closer, lancing through his protest with a single caress of her fingers against his face. “Did you want to leave?”
Her fingers were slender digits of ice burning through his palms when he captured her hand between both of his. He peered into her eyes. “Amalie, you shouldn’t worry about this. It’s over and done—”
She ripped her hand free of his and glowered. “Answer me!”
He sighed, hanging his head. “No. I never wanted to leave you.”
Her fingers shook as she slipped them over his. It was tentative, not at all like before when touching was as natural to them as breathing. Isaiah raised his head and searched her face, scarcely breathing in fear of jolting her back to her senses. The spit in his mouth turned to powder, catching in his throat. His own limbs trembled.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered, so low it was no more than the movement of her lips shaping the words.
Isaiah licked his lips. “Disorientated. Confused,” he hesitated before saying the last part. “Scared. No!” He grabbed her hand when her fingers began to slip away. “It’s a good sort of scared.”
Her brows drew together. “How can being scared be a good thing?”
“Because I’m scared this is a dream.” He looked down at her small, pale hand. “I’m scared I’ll wake up. I’m scared this is real and you’ll change your mind.”
“Those don’t sound very good.”
He brought her hand up, pressed each slender finger to his lips, not knowing how to answer, how to tell her he never wanted to wake up if this turned out to be a dream, how the very possibility of this being real was heaven. So he said nothing.
“It’s not a dream,” she continued. “I won’t change my mind.”
He threaded their fingers, meshing their palms together. “I missed you, Ams. I’m sorry about the things—”
The finger on her free hand pressed into his lips, sealing the rest of his words inside. “You didn’t! That wasn’t you!”
“It was—”
“Wasn’t!” She licked her lips, her gaze anxious. “You were made to say those things. You wouldn’t have otherwise. I was made to do a lot of horrible things even though I didn’t want to, are those my fault, too?”
“No!” he growled, fingers tightening around hers. “Nothing that happened was your fault!”
“Then this wasn’t your fault,” she rationalized. “I already spent so much time away from you. I don’t…” She trailed off, looking down at their joined hands. “I don’t want to waste anymore time. Is that okay?”
He couldn’t help it. His body was leaning towards her even before he knew it. The heat and scent of hers called to his until his arms were around her, dragging her forward until he was on his back and she was in his arms. He pushed away the curtain of hair keeping him from her lips and kissed her.
“More than okay.”
Chapter 26
Garrison
There was a clatter in the room that he didn’t like. Clatter meant the sedation had worn off and someone was coming to their senses.
Garrison let the doors quietly sweep closed behind him and entered his private lab. The soft weeping filled the room, as thick and impenetrable as the blackness pressing in all around. He moved by memory to the console. His fingers moved over the buttons with quick precision. Machines whirred to life from behind the veil of darkness. Overhead, lights flickered and gradually rose in brightness until it was a comfortable illumination for the eyes. He sighed when the sobbing escalated to low whines, the sound a dog makes when it’s injured.
“Oh quiet down, Tomas,” he muttered impatiently, stepping over to the second series of knobs and switches. He flicked three in rapid succession. “It won’t help bring your family back.”
The whines melted into moans. He ignored them as he took a seat in front of the computer. The little green cursor blinked, waiting for his command.
Computers. Always willing to do what they were told without question. If he could somehow get that into a human brain, well, the possibilities would be endless. The person would be perfect. But those dreams were still years away. He had to focus first on the broken pieces, the bits in the brain that refused to follow normal order. The deranged were such fascinating creatures. If he could just find the right level of medication to balance the brain, he’d be set.
With this thought still processing, he unlocked one of the doors behind him. Simultaneously, he unlatched the compartment etched into the floor of his lab and raised the stretcher.
“Come on out, Jeffery.” He twisted around in his chair to watch as the small, pale figure peeked out at him from around the partially open door.
Jeffery Christenson. Eight years old. Caucasian male with severe multiple personality disorder. Garrison knew all his children. It was his job. To know the person was to know how to fix them. Jeffery was stubborn. He refused to adjust to his new therapy. Garrison couldn’t have that. Treatment didn’t work if the patient was unwilling to participate.
“How are you feeling, Jeffery?”
The boy eyed him with hard, cold eyes.
Garrison was too used to such levels of hostilities to pay much mind. He rose out of his chair and walked over to the examination table. He patted the metal sheet.
“Up you get. We won’t be long.”
Jeffery didn’t budge. His brown eyes shot anxiously to the door behind Garrison. His entire body twitched beneath the white hospital gown.
“I wouldn’t,” Garrison warned him. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you tried to run?”
He knew the memory caught the boy when he flinched.
“Now, let’s not make this difficult, hmm? Just climb up and we’ll make this quick. If you listen, I’ll have a cookie brought down for you.”
“He’s just a boy!” Tomas whined from his cell. “He’s just a baby, Terrell! Don’t—”
Garrison groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m afraid you will have to wait your turn like everyone else, Tomas. You certainly didn’t seem to mind ages when you took advantage of my daughter.”
“I’m sorry!” Tomas wailed with a fresh bout of tears. “I said I was sorry! I don’t know what else you want from me. You took my life, my family—”
“Oh I am certain we can find other ways of payment.” Garrison turned his eyes back to Jeffery. “Come on then.”
Jeffery continued to resist. Tomas’ perpetual moaning didn’t help matters when Garrison was trying to keep a non-threatening face.
“Must I sedate you again, Tomas? It would be wise to do what you’re told.”
“I shouldn’t have done what I did, I know that now! Please let me go! People are going to be looking for me—”
“No they won’t,” Garrison said calmly. “Do you think me too stupid to think of that already? You and your lovely family took a much needed vacation to Colorado. It was unfortunate when your plane went down in the Rockies. They will find the bodies of your family amongst the wreckage. Yours, they will assume, disintegrated in the blast. A tragic accident. The university held a memorial service in your honor. I attended of course, as I attended the funeral of your wife and daughters. Closed casket, but the ceremony was beautiful.”
“No! No! No! No!” Tomas wailed. There was a thud and more sobbing.
Garrison ignored him, tur
ning back to the little boy watching him with wary suspicion. “You’re not going to give me a hard time, are you, Jeffery? I promise things will be much simpler if you—”
A beep echoed through the room, muffling Tomas’ irritating sounds. Garrison turned away to check the flashing light on the console. He turned the switch.
“What is it, Marcus?”
There was a moment filled with static before a brisk, masculine voice penetrated through. “I apologize for the interruption, sir. We have a problem that requires your attention.”
Garrison sighed. “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Jeffery. “We will continue later. Please return to your quarters.”
All too happy to comply, Jeffery scampered back to his cell and pulled the door closed behind him. Garrison reengaged the locks, dimmed the lights and left the room.
Marcus was behind his desk, idly scribbling on an open calendar. Garrison noted how feminine the fluid handwriting was, such a contrast to the six foot tall bear of a man. Marcus raised squinty brown eyes, which widened when they spotted Garrison. He quickly rose to his feet.
“Sir!”
Garrison took another peek at the calendar before focusing on the man. “You said there was a problem, Marcus.”
Marcus inclined his head in what was probably supposed to be a nod. “Yes, sir.” He snapped the calendar closed and withdrew a single sheet of paper from underneath. “The university phoned.” He hesitated, then quickly plowed on. “They canceled your seminar Thursday.”
Garrison snatched the page out of his hand. “Why?” he demanded, scanning over the precisely written note.
“They didn’t say, sir.”
Annoyance sharp, he grazed over the other items listed below the university note. “What’s all this?”
Marcus shifted. “The board called, sir. They…”
“They what?” Garrison growled, already seeing the answer sketched flawlessly in Marcus’ handwriting. “What is the meaning of this?”
Despite the beads of sweat glistening above his brow, Marcus kept a blank mask on his face. “They gave no reason, only that they were withdrawing their backing. They recommended that if you had questions, to contact them.”
Infuriated now, Garrison waved the page at Marcus. “They better believe I will contact them! This is unacceptable. I created them and they’re turning me down? Me? Do they have any idea who I am?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Marcus said lamely.
Garrison ignored him as he spun on his heels and marched through the corridors towards his office. He shut himself inside and stormed to his desk.
Hugo Jacobs’ prim and proper secretary picked up after the third ring. Her prudish voice announced Hugo’s office and asked politely what she could do for him.
“This is Terrell Garrison calling to speak with—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Garrison, but Mr. Jacobs does not wish to be disturbed at this time.”
Garrison believed that about as much as he believed cows could fly. “This is a matter of importance. It is urgent that I speak—”
“I understand the nature of your call, Mr. Garrison, and Mr. Jacobs instructed me to tell you his decision is final,” she said curtly.
Garrison’s insides roiled. His palms began to sweat. He tried to keep the anxiety, fear and anger from his voice when he answered in what he hoped was a professional manner. “I can respect his decision if I knew why. Do you think you could ask him that for me? We have been partners for years—”
“Please hold.” The line died in his ear.
He snarled at it, resisting the temptation to beat the receiver against the desk.
Seconds faded into minutes. Each minute passed at a snail’s pace. He grounded his teeth until he was sure he would have no more. He pored over the note Marcus had written him, looking for clues that weren’t there. There was no explanation. No reasoning. No logic behind the decision being made. He had been nothing but thorough in all his reports. He had given them exactly what they’d wanted. Yes, the progress had been slow thus far, but it was to be expected. He had warned them. Progress did not happen overnight. The human brain, so brilliant, was still a vast mystery to the scientific community. He had already decoded so much of it. He would have had more, more accurate results if Tomas hadn’t destroyed so much of his work, but he hoped to amend that now that he had Isaiah on his side. With the two of them, they could get so much done! So much accomplished. He just needed a little more time.
“Mr. Garrison?”
Garrison nearly jumped at the unexpected voice. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m still here.”
“Mr. Jacobs requests that you make an appointment to see the board five o’clock this afternoon. Will you be able to attend?” the secretary asked.
“Yes, I will be there.”
“I will make Mr. Jacobs aware. Please do not be late.” With that, the line clicked. It went dead.
He scowled at the tone buzzing in his ear before setting the receiver down. He rose out of his chair, his mind spinning as he stole an anxious glance towards the clock on the wall. Only three hours to pull together a presentation that would hopefully inspire them to change their ignorant minds. But first, he lifted the receiver once more and dialed the number to the university.
Edward Hoffman answered his own phone.
“Edward,” Garrison said in the way of greeting. “It’s Terrell.”
There was a moment of pause, hesitation. “Terrell!” Edward said at last, forced cheerfulness carving through the single word. “I’ve been expecting a call from you.”
“What’s going on, Edward? Why did the university cancel my seminar next week?”
“Uh…” Edward cleared his throat. “Well, I had two men visit me yesterday, detectives. They’re investigating the death of Gabriel Tomas and his family.” He hesitated again, longer this time. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “They were asking about you, Terrell.”
It was a task to speak again when his tongue seemed to have pasted itself to the roof of his mouth. Cold sweat gelled along his spine before he reminded himself that he had nothing to fear. They would never find his lab. They would never be able to prove he had anything to do with Tomas’ death, or faked death.
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth,” Edward said without hesitation. “That Gabriel was doing something for you and they should talk to you.”
Under his breath, Garrison cursed, but then thought about it. Maybe it was better this way. He could handle it personally. Maybe even see what the detectives knew, how far along they were in their investigation.
“It’s terrible what happened to Gabriel,” he said instead, letting sadness seep into his voice.
“Tragic,” Edward agreed solemnly. “The detectives wanted to know what kind of work he was doing for you, but I told them I had no idea. They suggested that you may have been the last person to have seen him alive. They were very insistent on knowing everything I knew about you, which wasn’t very much. They asked me not to contact you until they’d had a chance to speak with you. I’m sorry, Terrell. If there was any other way…”
Garrison let a full heartbeat fill the silence that followed before speaking, “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me. I was under the impression that he’d gone on vacation. What does any of this have to do with my seminar?”
Edward sighed. “I don’t know. I just think it would be best if we waited until this matter has been settled first.”
“But that’s nonsense! We planned this months ago!”
“I understand.” He almost sounded like he meant it. “But there’s something else. Mortimer Hobbs.”
Anger coiled tight inside him. “What about him?”
Edward dropped his voice again. “He’s been talking, Terrell. I don’t believe him, but there are a few who…well, do.”
“Believe what?”
He was going to kill that slick little snake! Then, he was going to kill Lew and Bruce fo
r not taking care of the problem whilst they’d had the chance.
“He’s saying things,” Edward answered cryptically.
“What kind of things?” Garrison growled, feeling a dull ache in his temples as this game quickly became tedious.
“He says you sent men to threaten him into silence.” He lowered his voice. “He says you want to stop him from telling everyone the truth.”
Should have killed him. Should have killed him! Fury boiled up like a fountain inside him.
But when he spoke, his voice was calm, tinted with amusement. “Threaten him into silence, eh? Well, I hope I get my money back, because clearly it didn’t work if that were the case. I think that if I’d done any threatening, he would be smart enough to keep his mouth shut.”
Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5) Page 24