Nine

by Rachelle Dekker

  The girl opened her mouth to speak as the door Seeley had just walked through sounded behind him. It drew his attention as a short bald man stepped inside the office. He wore simple khakis and a white button-down tucked in, paired with a dark brown belt and matching loafers. He had a computer bag draped over his shoulder and a stainless steel coffee thermos in hand.

  He matched his online image. Seeley turned toward him, badge ready. “Dr. Holbert?”

  “Yes, how can I help you?” Holbert asked, eyeing Seeley’s ID.

  “I need to speak to you about a former patient of yours,” Seeley said.

  “I’m afraid that information is protected unless you have a warrant.”

  “I just need some general information regarding an open investigation. A Zoe Johnson. She would have been a minor the last time you saw her.”

  Holbert’s face flinched, and Seeley knew he recognized the name. She’d left an impression, as Seeley knew the doctor hadn’t seen her in over nine years.

  “Just a couple of questions,” Seeley pushed. “It could help us protect another girl that we believe Johnson may intend to harm.”

  Holbert considered Seeley’s words and motioned to his office. “After you.”

  The two men entered the doctor’s office, and Seeley found exactly what he would have pictured: A long, soft couch across from a large plush, worn chair. Stacks of neatly kept books and literature on the brain and emotions. Framed accolades and degrees hanging on the walls.

  Holbert set his coffee and bag on a large dark desk in front of the room’s only window. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be,” he started. “I haven’t seen Zoe Johnson in some time.”

  “But you do remember her?” Seeley asked.

  “Yes, of course. She and I spent many years together.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I’m not comfortable with that, Agent . . . ?”

  “Seeley.”

  “You know the law, Agent Seeley.”

  “Unless she’s a threat to herself and others, which we believe she is.”

  “Do you have proof of this, or again, a warrant?”

  Seeley swallowed his frustration. The bleeding hearts of the psychiatric community grated on his last nerve. “I was hoping to do this without either of us having to do a mountain of paperwork,” he said. He’d made a read on the doctor moments earlier that he was hoping wouldn’t betray him now. “But if I need one then I’ll have it within the hour, and we can do this the hard way. Surely the last thing you want is for a team of agents to comb through your office and home, top to bottom, without regard to your personal space, looking for any evidence that might lead back to Miss Johnson. That is the last thing I want to have to do.”

  “I don’t appreciate the threat, Agent Seeley,” Holbert said.

  “I’m just trying not to waste anyone’s time. So as direct as I can be, if I leave without the information I need, you will see me again, in a much less pleasant way.”

  The doctor considered what Seeley was selling. “She poses a serious threat to herself or others?”

  Seeley nodded.

  Dr. Holbert cleared his throat. “Zoe Johnson and her younger brother endured a tremendous amount of tragedy and abuse. They were filled with fear and had built an elaborate story to protect themselves from their past. I was helping them both come to terms with reality.”

  “There isn’t a record of her having a brother.”

  “She has two, actually—a younger one, Stephen, and a twin. I never met her twin brother. He and their father were long gone when the courts assigned me to the case.” Dr. Holbert started toward the tall filing cabinet across the room. “I really started to make progress with Zoe, but her younger brother was much more difficult.” He reached into the top drawer and drew out a thick manila folder.

  Seeley’s phone vibrated in his back pocket and he yanked it out. The screen lit up and Director flashed across its surface.

  “Excuse me,” Seeley said, stepping to the corner. “Sir?” he said into the phone.

  “I need you back here ASAP. Internal affairs uncovered a possible accomplice in Olivia and Lucy’s escape,” Hammon said.

  “Who?”

  “Zachary Krum.”

  Seeley’s stomach dropped. Had it only been last week when Krum had been showing him pictures of his kids and asking Seeley which team he favored to win the Super Bowl?

  “They’re taking him into custody now.”

  “Sir, I may be onto something here.”

  “We need him to talk, Seeley, and for that I need my best.”

  Behind his eyes Seeley saw Krum’s goofy face. “He’s one of us.”

  “So was Olivia.”

  Seeley swallowed back his hesitation. “I’m on my way.”

  “Good.” The line went dead, and Seeley pushed the phone into his pocket. He turned back to Dr. Holbert. The man was holding out the folder he’d just retrieved.

  “You weren’t able to find a record of Zoe Johnson’s brothers because Zoe Johnson is an alias,” the doctor said. “She wanted a clean start, and she believed changing her name would help. I’d so hoped she would continue to see me after what happened to her younger brother. I really believe I could have helped her.”

  Seeley took the folder and turned it over to see the name written on the red tab.

  Evelyn Pierce.

  EIGHT

  ZOE AND LUCY sat in the back of a dark blue van as it drove along Dallas roads toward their destination. They’d arrived in Dallas late that afternoon, after catching a bus from Sherman in the early morning hours. Zoe had made a call, been given a time and place to be, and the dark van had been there precisely as instructed. Zoe wouldn’t have expected anything else.

  Their driver, simply referred to as Snow because of his stark white hair, and his companion, Eugene, loaded the girls into the back with very few pleasantries. The back was dingy, gutted out with two long benches on either side. Zoe and Lucy sat on one side while Eugene took the opposite. There were no windows, and the back windshield had been blacked out, so it was impossible to tell where they were going. Zoe had tried to use the front glass, but she could hardly see through the tight wired barricade that had been installed directly behind the driver’s and passenger’s seats. She shook her head as the van jostled over a speed bump.

  The entire setup had Tomac written all over it. He was even more suspicious of the world than she and had a flare for the dramatic.

  It had been years since Zoe had seen the boy who was now a man. They’d been kids together during their years in foster care, then teens together as their home became the streets, and after they’d gone separate ways as adults, their paths had continued to cross. They shared a bond that went deeper than trust, which was good, because she knew better than to trust him. It was odd to have faith in someone and constantly question his motivations, but that was how things were.

  After several more minutes the van made a final turn and rolled to a stop. Snow glanced back and instructed, “Stay here.” He crawled out, and the van shook as he slammed the door.

  Zoe looked at Lucy. Her face was worried, and Zoe placed her hand on the girl’s knee for reassurance. Then she looked at Eugene, who was watching them carefully. She’d have to make sure she mentioned the fine work Tomac’s men were doing at making the situation feel threatening.

  Silence engulfed the van for a long while, until the side handle jiggled and the door slid open. Snow stuck his head in and nodded to Eugene.

  “Let’s go,” Eugene said, motioning for the girls to stand.

  Zoe made her way out with Lucy close behind. Around the corner of the van, she saw that they were standing in an alley, staring at a tall fence that had once been white but was now tarnished with time. On the other side of the fence stood a row of older houses, built within a few feet of one another. She could hear voices from their owners drifting on the wind, a baby crying, a dog barking, a distant school bell. On the other side of the alley was a collection of
tall apartment buildings that looked newer.

  “Through the gate and up the path. He’s expecting you,” Snow said. He pointed to a wooden gate in the fence, then crossed his arms and leaned back against the van.

  Zoe jumped as the van door slammed shut. Guess that was the end of the line for Eugene and Snow.

  She started toward the gate and felt Lucy take her hand. Zoe threw a reassuring smile over her shoulder, though her own heart rate was rising. She yanked the gate open and stepped through with Lucy. They were in a backyard that seemed completely out of place for this neighborhood—meticulously manicured with perfectly kept hedges that lined both sides, a vegetable garden, a rock path, and a freshly painted porch. It looked odd connected to the house where the gray paint on the wood siding was peeling, the gutter was falling off in sections, and the shingles were warped. It was as if everything around them was true to the wear of time, but this yard had been plucked from somewhere else and placed in the center.

  For the first time since climbing into the van, Zoe started to wonder if calling in a favor from her eccentric acquaintance had been a mistake. She and Lucy took the reconstructed porch stairs and rapped on the screen door.

  “Come in,” a pretty female voice called.

  With a deep breath Zoe pulled the screen door open and stepped inside. The room was simple but clean and beautifully designed with white lines and warm copper-colored couches with soft touches of creams and light grays. A living room large enough to seat a dozen friends had a large flat screen on the far wall, surrounded by built-in shelving that housed hundreds of DVDs. It opened up into a dining room that touched what appeared to be a kitchen. All clean and well-furnished, homey and filled with delicate touches. Not at all what Zoe expected, judging from the outside. A young woman with bright green eyes and a lovely smile walked in from the kitchen, her light brown hair pulled back off her face in a ponytail that hung past her shoulders.

  “Come in, make yourself at home,” she said. She crossed the room and extended her hand to greet Zoe. “Can I get you anything, something to eat or drink?”

  Zoe wasn’t sure how to answer as she shook the woman’s hand.

  “Mave, sweets, I’ll take it from here,” a familiar voice said. Mave smiled and left as an older version of the boy Zoe had known confidently bounced down the stairs across the large open space. Casually dressed in tan shorts and a black T-shirt, hair long and tied up in a knot, with thin-rimmed glasses and barefoot, he was almost exactly as Zoe remembered.

  “Friend,” he said, crossing the room and extending his arms to Zoe. She wasn’t really a hugger, but Tomac had always been overly affectionate. His own unique defense mechanism. They all had one.

  “Tomac,” Zoe said, enduring the embrace for just a moment before pulling back. “It’s been a while.”

  “Too long, as they say. You look good.”

  “You look the same.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Tomac spun around and lifted bent arms to either side. “What do you think of my place? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Nearly as peculiar as our ride over,” Zoe said.

  “Yes, the drama of it all thrills me. Did you feel the tension? Any suggestions?”

  Zoe chuckled. He was being dead serious. Before she could say anything, Lucy spoke.

  “I was afraid,” she said.

  “Excellent,” Tomac said, slapping his hands together. “And you must be Lucy.”

  Lucy swallowed nervously and looked to Zoe for guidance in this strange situation, then back to Tomac with a nod.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lucy. I hear you are in need of my help.”

  “Yes,” Lucy said.

  “Anything for a friend of Zoe.”

  “There’s fresh lemonade if anyone wants some,” Mave called in her angelic voice from the kitchen.

  Zoe gave Tomac a curious look, and he waved it off. “She is new to us,” he said. “Odd, yes, but I never turn anyone away. You know how I am. Everyone should have a safe place.”

  “Still taking in strays?” Zoe said.

  “We were strays once,” Tomac said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “And someone offered us a place to go. I’m just paying it forward.”

  “As long as they’re useful, right?” Zoe mocked. She knew better than to fall for his self-righteous ploy. Tomac was a giver, but only when taking in equal measures. He’d learned that from Heath. He’d learned everything from Heath.

  Zoe was suddenly struck by images from her past. She’d been just another body in the system of unwanted kids who cycled through foster homes, never really landing anywhere permanent. She’d been too old for adoption, too stained by the very public evil of her mother. An uncomfortable shiver crawled up her spine. Even the thought of her . . .

  She turned her thoughts back to Heath. The boy who had offered her a place. He was another kid similar to her, abandoned, scared, and untrusting of the world. They’d found companionship in one another. Heath, being a couple of years older, had sheltered her and Tomac for a season, shown them how to survive. For a price. For their loyalty.

  It had been only a season for Zoe, who was ready to move on the moment she could. But for Tomac it had become more, and as Heath shared his secrets of survival and brought Tomac into his kingdom, as he called it, Tomac found a place that was his.

  And then he’d taken it all from Heath. The prince who’d overthrown the king.

  Tomac flashed a devilish grin. “Everyone can be useful,” he said.

  “You just have to find them the right task,” Zoe finished.

  “So she was listening.” He stepped to her side and threw his arm around her shoulders. “You know, I could always find something for you. You and me, babe, we could rule the world.”

  Zoe brushed off his never-ending flirtation. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at Lucy. “Always so serious, isn’t she?”

  Lucy shrugged with an expression of uncertainty.

  Tomac dropped his arm and turned his full attention to Lucy. “That’s right, you hardly know each other. Strange, Zoe doesn’t make friends very easily. So, what makes you so special, Lucy?”

  Zoe recognized the predatory tone in Tomac’s voice and stepped between him and Lucy. She could see the hunger in his eyes. He was a collector of things—and people. He knew enough to be interested. She’d had to tell him about Lucy’s memory loss and the trouble she was in. Now she’d have to protect Lucy from the one person who could help them.

  She placed her hand on his chest and gave a forceful little push so he knew she was serious. “I came here like you asked, and you said in return you would help me.”

  His eyes lingered on Lucy for another moment, and then he dropped them back to Zoe. “Didn’t you want to see me too?”

  “We could have done this over the phone, and that would have been fine with me.”

  “But then I wouldn’t get to see your lovely face, which I really do miss.”

  “Liar.”

  “So feisty.”

  “Coming here was a mistake,” Zoe said, turning to Lucy. “Let’s go.”

  “Alright, fine, we’ll be all business then,” Tomac said. “A promise is a promise. You came all this way, after all. Who did you need to find?”

  “A Summer Wallace,” Zoe said, turning back to face him. “All we know is that she lives in Corpus.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “More than you’ve had before, sire,” Zoe said, stroking his ego. “Can you help us?”

  “Does a cat meow? A dog, does it bark?” he replied.

  Zoe exhaled. “Couldn’t you just say yes?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” He winked, and the familiar feeling of fear and adoration filled her chest. There really wasn’t anyone else like him.

  “And the fee,” Tomac continued. “Of course you’ll get the friends and family discount.”

  Zoe unzipped her bag, drew out most of the cash
she had, and handed it over. Tomac eyed it for a moment. Zoe knew it wasn’t enough, but she was hoping their history might give her some credit she could use to make up the rest.

  “A very deep discount then,” Tomac said. “I’ll put my best guy on it, but it may take a couple of hours. By then it’ll be dark. You can stay here tonight, of course.”

  Zoe’s stomach turned. She’d hoped to be in and out. Staying in one place, especially this place, felt dangerous. But Tomac kept his operation hidden well, so she couldn’t imagine the FBI finding them here. She nodded.

  “Excellent. Mave, sweets,” he called, and the strange woman walked back from the kitchen. “We’ll have guests for the evening. Make sure they are comfortable, will you?”

  She smiled too brightly and nodded. Two preteen boys descended the stairs behind Tomac, caught up in hushed conversations. One crossed the distance to them and whispered something in Tomac’s ear, yanked a thick white envelope from the back of his pants, handed it to Tomac, and then rejoined his friend. The boys bounded back up the stairs and Zoe watched them, more memories slamming around inside her brain.

  “You ever miss it?” Tomac asked.

  Zoe snapped her eyes back to Tomac’s face. “Never.”

  “Miss what?” Lucy asked.

  “Nothing,” Zoe quickly answered.

  “Let’s just say Zoe here was one of the best runners of our time,” Tomac said.

  “Runner?” Lucy questioned. “I like to run.”

  “And I bet you’d be great at it,” Tomac said.

  “It’s not what you think,” Zoe said to Lucy.

  “What is it?” the girl asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.” Zoe looked back to Tomac. “We’ve been traveling all day.”

  Tomac let the tension stand a moment longer than was comfortable and then said, “I’ll have Mave show you where you two can crash.” He took Zoe’s hand in his. “If you need anything, you find me.”

  “Thank you,” Zoe said, and she was grateful. But she also knew she’d be completely tense until they were out of there.

  Another long, awkward moment lingered, courtesy of Tomac, before he left them.