Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5)

by Airicka Phoenix

“I have to,” he told her one day when she begged him not to go. “If your father suspects that there’s anything out of the ordinary…I have to play along.”

  “I don’t like it,” she said, gripping his hand tight. “I don’t like you having to put your life in danger because of his lunatic ideas.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, sounding so sure. But his reassurance did nothing to ease her mind. She carved a groove into the floor with every anxious pace.

  Derek never bothered her, never asked her to stop. He sat in his chair, making idle conversation, possibly to ease her mind. One afternoon, he arrived with a gift in tow. He removed it from the inside pocket of his jacket and passed it to her.

  “So your head doesn’t explode,” he’d told her, smiling a little.

  Amalie had unwrapped the wrinkled brown paper and blinked at the worn leather in her hand.

  “It used to be my sisters,” he’d told her. “I thought it would help if she wrote her thoughts down instead of bottling it all up inside. She never got the chance to use it.”

  She was unable to stop the tears that cut a path down her cheeks as she hugged the diary to her chest. “Thank you.”

  He’d said nothing as he turned away.

  It was December before Isaiah’s plans took any real shape.

  “Do you think it will work?” she asked once he finished going through his idea.

  Isaiah shrugged. “It’s our only hope.”

  Logically, it seemed sound, but anything sounded fine with just words. It was the action part they needed to work.

  “How are we going to do it?”

  He shifted his weight, going up onto his elbow to peer down into her face. “We’ll do it while everyone is distracted. I’ll cut the main power grid, which will shut down all the lights. That’s when you will—”

  “But what about Derek?”

  “You’ll have to get him out of the room.”

  Amalie frowned. “How?”

  Isaiah shrugged. “Make something up. Get him to leave. Then, you sneak out and make your way out the backdoor. Don’t stop running until you get to the gates.”

  “But there are guards at the gates.”

  “It’ll be dark. They’ll be too busy trying to get the lights back on that they won’t notice you if you’re careful.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  It sounded so perfect. The unstoppable surge of excitement was heady and exhilarating. She could almost taste the freedom. But it was too perfect.

  “It won’t work,” she said, scared now. “We won’t make it far, not without a vehicle and food and clothes.”

  “Let me worry about all that, okay?”

  Tremors shook her body as she tried to contain the ocean of fear and anticipation raging war inside her. Could it be possible? Was there a chance they could actually pull this off? It was just too much to think about, to hope for.

  “When?” she whispered.

  “Soon,” he said. “Be ready.”

  She had never been more ready for anything.

  It was three days after their escape plan when Garrison summoned Amalie down for supper. It was the first time in months. Isaiah was as suspicious as she was about the sudden invitation.

  “Stay close,” he told her as they ventured down to the solarium with Derek only a few steps behind them.

  Garrison sat in a high back chair, a cup of lemon scented tea in hand. He glanced up when they walked in and smiled.

  “You made it!” he said as if they’d had a choice. “Would either of you like a drink?”

  Both shook their heads, wary.

  Garrison set his down on a round, glass table at his elbow. “Amalie.” He was looking at her, really looking at her and not over her shoulder or at something in his hand. His eyes were cutting straight into her. “Would you mind?”

  It took her a moment to get over the shock to follow the gesture of his hand towards the sleek, black piano a few feet away. It wasn’t the sight of it that had her eyes bulging and her body going rigid. It was the fact that he wanted her to play that had a wave of wary suspicion flowing through her.

  The piano had been her mother’s. Julia had done a lot of pleading and coaxing before he’d allowed Amalie to learn. Amalie hadn’t touched the ivory keys in over a year, not since Julia was fired for trying to protect Amalie.

  “Please?” He was smiling again, warm and patient.

  Her knees were wobbling uncontrollably as she crossed the room. They creaked when she sat on the glossy bench. Her fingers shook as she splayed them over the keys. So familiar. So much like home.

  It was probably the wrong decision to make, but the melody wove through the room as it had before her mother died. Every note struck with precision, resounding off every memory associated with the mother she lost. Her mother’s favorite pieces, the one she used to play for Amalie when she was younger built a wave of grief that crashed over her. She played it quickly, afraid she’d be stopped at any moment and taken away. But when minutes passed and no one dragged her back to her room, she slowed, letting herself feel each hum slipping agilely over smooth keys. The sound sliced flawlessly through the arched dome, weaving through the bowls and pots of greenery. The harmony rose into the air, tangling with the sweet, humid scent of exotic blooms clinging to every scrap of oxygen.

  Tears filled her eyes and she was glad to have her eyes closed. She thought silently of her mother and Julia, drawing forth their faces. Both had tried so hard to protect her, only to be taken from her when she needed them most. She knew neither would have allowed that year to happen. This was the only way she could think to thank them, so she played with everything in her.

  “Okay.”

  Amalie jumped, startled by the deafening click. Her eyes popped open and widened to find her father standing next to the piano, hands splayed flat on the glossy top, next to a miniature-sized recorder. His green eyes bore down into hers. She tried not to cringe back.

  “You look like your mother when you play,” he said, then laughed as if he’d said something funny. “But then you always look like your mother.”

  She didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing.

  His mouth opened, but he was interrupted by the march of feet approaching the solarium. The sound seemed to echo from everywhere, rebounding off the walls and ceiling. All eyes turned to the doorway just as four people stormed in.

  Two were guards. Amalie didn’t recognize them, but then she didn’t recognize any of her father’s guards. The two behind them were dressed in long, black coats, black trousers and white dress shirts. Both had fedoras resting on their heads, obscuring most of their faces.

  Amalie rose off the bench just as Isaiah reached her side in three quick strides, angling himself just enough to block her from sight.

  “Gentlemen.” Garrison stepped forward. “I’m afraid this is an inconvenient time. I’m not taking any guests.”

  The two strangers moved out from behind the guards and stalked across the room until there were only a few steps between them and Garrison. They simultaneously dug into their coat pockets and removed something small, square and black. They held the objects out and opened a flap.

  “Detective Marlein. This is my partner, Detective Casey.” They folded and tucked away their badges. Detective Marlein scanned the room as he did it, shrewd, brown eyes settling on Isaiah, then Amalie before moving back to Garrison. “We need a moment of your time.”

  “What is this in regards to?” Garrison challenged, lifting his chin.

  “The murder of Gabriel Tomas and his family.”

  Chapter 29

  Isaiah

  For a long moment, no one moved. The only sound came from the echo of Amalie’s gasp. Isaiah reached behind him and took her hand, squeezing it once to keep her quiet.

  “Why don’t we finish this conversation in my office?” Garrison decided smoothly. “Derek, please take Amalie to the dining room. Isaiah, come with
me.”

  Without waiting for anyone to comment, Garrison stalked out of the room with the two guards who had shown the detectives in. The detectives waited until Amalie, Derek and Isaiah followed suit before falling into step behind them.

  Beneath his hand, Isaiah could feel the tremors that raked down Amalie’s frail spine. He slipped his hand around her waist, drawing her into his side while keeping a close eye on Garrison’s back.

  “It’ll be okay,” he murmured for her ears only.

  “I don’t like this, Isaiah,” she whispered back, her voice hoarse.

  “Just a little longer,” he promised, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before nudging her towards the dining room entrance.

  He met Derek’s gaze as the other man followed her inside.

  “Your girlfriend?” one of the detectives asked as Isaiah continued after Garrison.

  Isaiah ignored the question. He knew from years on the streets, evading men just like the two burning holes between his shoulder blades with their eyes, not to answer anything. Thankfully, they reached Garrison’s office and he was saved from having to speak.

  Garrison sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly on top, waiting for them to approach. He looked right in his element, Isaiah thought, moving to stand out of the way. He was painfully conscious of the gun pressing into his spine. He hated the thing, but since his decision to get Amalie out of there, he’d taken to carrying it around. Not wanting to use it, but not wanting to be caught without it.

  “Now, what can I help you with?” Garrison asked smoothly, staring into each face in turn.

  The detective on the right removed his cap, revealing a head full of chocolate brown curls. He ran a hand through the strands, but didn’t replace the hat.

  “How well did you know Gabriel Tomas?”

  “Very well! I am—was Godfather to their eldest daughter,” he faltered, looking down at his hands. “She was a beautiful girl.”

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Tomas?”

  Garrison cleared his throat, seemingly pulling himself together. “Last month. He told me he needed some time off.”

  “Time off?”

  “What was he doing for you?”

  Both detectives asked simultaneously. They exchanged glances, silently came to some kind of conclusion and spoke again, this time only the dark haired one.

  “What did he need the time off for?”

  Garrison shrugged. “I didn’t ask. A man is entitled to taking time off with his family. I know he’d been talking for some time about taking the girls away for the winter.”

  So smooth, Isaiah thought, awed. There wasn’t a single shred of guilt anywhere, only a glimmering hint of grief that Isaiah knew was false. He felt as much grief for the death of Gabriel Tomas as Isaiah, which was none at all. However, his family? Isaiah couldn’t believe it. His family didn’t deserve to die.

  “We’ve spoken to the people at the university and not one of them ever recalled Tomas mentioning a vacation or a trip.”

  Garrison sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. Gabriel and I spent a great deal of time together. He is—was my best friend. I don’t think it’s strange at all that I was the only one he told. We shared many private details.”

  “Did you know his family?”

  Garrison blinked as if coming out of some fond memory. “Yes, of course. Like I said, I was Jodie’s…” His voice faltered. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefingers. “I’m sorry.”

  If they were affected by the brilliant performance, neither detective showed it. “Your daughters were the same age.”

  A cold fist tightened around Isaiah’s gut.

  “Hannah?” the detective on the left said after confirming the name on the notebook that he fished out of his coat pocket.

  Garrison cleared his throat. “Yes. Hannah was Amalie’s age. Jodie was a couple of years older.”

  “Do you have the one child?”

  Garrison shook his head. “My son Isaiah.” He motioned to where Isaiah stood.

  Both detectives turned to him, their features carefully wiped clean of their thoughts, but the one on the right, his eyes narrowed judgingly. Isaiah met their gaze unflinching. Let them think what they want. He didn’t care.

  “Mr. Tomas worked for you,” the one on the left said, turning back to Garrison first. “What did he do?”

  Garrison leaned back in his chair. “He was tutoring Amalie.”

  “Mr. Tomas was a genetic engineer, was he not?”

  “He was,” Garrison confirmed.

  “One of the best from what I hear.”

  A ghost of a smile turned Garrison’s mouth. “I would hope so since I trained him.”

  “Did you and Mr. Tomas have an argument the night he disappeared?”

  Any other person would have spotted the undertone question.

  “The last I saw him, he was getting ready to go home. I walked him to the door, told him to kiss Cecilia and the girls for me and have a safe trip.”

  The one on the left tapped the end of his pen on his notebook, seemingly contemplating his next question before asking, “Why is it he didn’t tell anyone else about his trip but you? We’ve talked to every single person at the university, everyone he’d ever come into contact with and they had no knowledge of this spontaneous trip, except you.”

  “That is something you would have to ask him,” Garrison said evenly. “Maybe he didn’t want everyone to know.”

  “Not even his place of employment?” the one on the right said. “When I go on vacation, the first people I phone are my work and book the time off. Since Mr. Tomas still worked for the university, I would assume that he would have to do the same.”

  Garrison spread his long fingers open, holding his palms up. “Again, these are things you would have to ask Gabriel. I know he only worked with Amalie for five hours every day, except weekends. The rest of the time, he was at the university or at home.”

  “You seem to know his schedule fairly well, Mr. Garrison.”

  “Well, we were friends and we ran in the same circles at the university.”

  “Mr. Tomas’ body was never recovered, are you aware?”

  The look of surprise on Garrison’s face was brilliant. Isaiah almost believed he had no idea.

  “Wasn’t it?” He seemed to deliberate on this. “I suppose, depending on where he was sitting, the heat could have…” he trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing. “You mentioned murder. I didn’t think a plane crash would constitute as murder.”

  “There were signs of abuse on the bodies we did uncover that were irregular for a simple plane crash.”

  All humor vanished from Garrison’s face. It hardened. “What are you insinuating? That Gabriel was an abusive husband and father? That man loved his family. He would have died for them before ever laying a finger on them.” He shot out of his seat. “I will not sit here and listen to you smear the memories of a man I respected greatly. Gabriel Tomas was an incredible man and he will be missed!”

  He waited a heartbeat to gauge the faces of the detectives before rounding the desk.

  “Now if we are finished this meeting, I have supper waiting and a family of my own to get back to. I will have someone escort you to the door.”

  To prove it, he stalked to the doors, threw them open and stuck his head out.

  “Joseph? Please show these officers to the door.”

  The guard there inclined his head and took several steps away from the door to stand in the middle of the foyer, waiting. The detectives never spared him a glance. They kept their eyes on Garrison.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Garrison,” the one on the right said. “If you think of anything else…” He offered Garrison a card that he withdrew from the lapel of his coat. “Please don’t hesitate to phone.”

  Garrison took the card and stored it away in his pocket without glancing at it. “I will.”

  Inclining their heads, the detectives followed Joseph down th
e corridor towards the front of the house. Garrison reached into his pocket, removed the card and pressed it into a small ball. He tossed it angrily into the wastebasket.

  “Idiots,” he muttered.

  “Did you kill his family?” The words left his lips before Isaiah could stop them.

  Garrison looked him square in the eyes. “No.” Then left the room.

  He was lying. There was no tell on his face, but Isaiah just couldn’t bring himself to believe anything the man said. Every word that left his lips, even the truth, felt like a lie and Isaiah couldn’t stand it.