“Yet Jake obviously shared it with you,” Daniel grumbled.
“You kept a broken bat in your closet that your dad gave you on your seventh birthday. He told you it was used by Sammy Sosa, but your mom told you later that your dad happened to spot it near the batting cages in Warren Park. After he’d misplaced the gift that his secretary got you on his behalf.”
Daniel’s eyes flashed with anger. “Knock it off, dude. Jake is putting you up to this to get my goat. Tell him I said, ‘What’s done is done.’” He tried to shut the door, but Jake had stuck his foot inside the doorframe.
“You owe me, Daniel, and you know it. I need your help.”
“We both do,” Ellie interjected, thinking that he might be less inclined to turn his back on a girl.
Daniel opened the door wide once more. He gave Ellie the hint of an appreciative smile. Then his expression hardened as he shifted his gaze and eyed Jake from head to foot. “Oh, I get it now,” he scoffed. “The joke is: I’m supposed to believe that your brain flash-drive worked. But that it misfired, or some such bull. So now you’ve upgraded bodies and lost a year or two.”
“It’s not a joke, Daniel. That is precisely what happened. Ask me something only I would know.”
“The name of your pet tarantula.”
“I didn’t have one. I had a rat that I called Sir Isaac but you renamed Jim Beam.”
“Yeah.” Daniel smirked. “Congrats. You’ve been well-trained. The trouble is: there isn’t a single question I can ask that Jake couldn’t have prepped you for. Jake would gladly have wasted five months teaching you how to be his imposter, in exchange for five-seconds’ worth of satisfaction from knowing he’d made me look like an idiot.”
“You are an idiot.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow and studied Jake’s features. “I’m slightly impressed. That’s the kind of cutting-your-nose-off-to-spite-your-face remark that only someone with Jake’s ego would say.” He shifted his gaze to Ellie and asked, “Are you this guy’s girlfriend, or did Jake hire you, too?”
“I’m here because he’s telling you the truth. Jake did this to me . . . put my brain patterns into a comatose girl in a hospital, rather than allow his former employers to transfer me into a female patient at their clinic.”
“Which I did only in the wake of my bosses having hired a hit man, who killed her father and shot her.”
Daniel widened his eyes and looked at Ellie in surprise. She also thought she saw an element of sympathy in his gaze; she hoped that wasn’t mere wishful thinking on her part.
“My name is Ellie Montgomery,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Daniel Peterson.” They shook hands. If there was such a thing as a perfect grip for a handshake, Daniel’s was it, although her hand probably felt uncomfortably cold. Daniel eyed Jake once more, then muttered, “You got a quarter on you?”
They held each other’s gazes. “I’ll be rusty,” Jake replied, which Ellie didn’t understand. He fished a quarter out of his back pocket and started weaving the coin between his fingers at a rapid speed.
“You’re not as fast as you used to be.”
“Like I just said: I’m rusty. I’ve lived with these hands for less than two months. I never once tried spinning quarters like this since I’ve been in this body.”
“It truly is hard to adjust to being in someone else’s body,” Ellie said.
Daniel peered at both of them at length. “Ah, what the hell,” he muttered. He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. “I’m wide awake now. May as well listen to your story.”
Chapter 13
Daniel showed them into a living room with functional—if haphazard and mismatched—furniture. “Have a seat,” he said, then left the room. They sat down at opposite ends of the leather sofa, and Daniel returned, having pulled on a Georgetown University T-shirt. “So, Jake,” he said, easing into a once-beige recliner that had seen better years. “Tell me how you went from being a brain-research doc to having body-replacement surgery.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Jake grumbled.
“Sorry to offend.” He gestured with an upturned palm toward the door. “Feel free to storm out.”
After some hesitation and a pair of false starts, Jake launched into a cohesive story, which started at how he’d been a single-minded workaholic for the last three years. His chronology rapidly progressed to the recent past—his accident and then coming-to in this stranger’s body. Daniel listened without interruption.
Ellie grew annoyed when Jake talked about his personal history with her. Once again, he rationalized that he’d used the only means available to him “to save Ellie’s life.” When she could no longer hold her tongue, she stopped Jake and told Daniel about her father’s—and her own—murders, and about how her mother not only didn’t believe her, but accused her of being an accomplice.
A long silence ensued. Daniel stared at the blank wall between Ellie and Jake. Finally, Daniel turned to Ellie and said gently, “You’re an innocent bystander. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Ellie was too choked up to speak, but managed a grateful smile. Daniel, a complete stranger, might very well be putting his own life at risk by trying to help her.
Then he shot Jake a fiery glare. “As for you, this permanently evens our score.”
Jake rubbed at his eyes, as if willing them to stay open. He seemed to have spent the last of his energy relating his story. “Absolutely. However this turns out, you’ll never see me again.”
“Are you sure about that? You won’t reappear as a pony-tailed Girl Scout in another couple of years, selling me on the notion that you’re Jake Greyland, and that the Evil Doctors are at it again?”
“Rest assured, Daniel. Even if I get zapped into different bodies another fifty times, I’ll never come knocking on your door.” He lifted his right hand in a Boy Scout’s salute. “Scout’s honor.”
Jake yawned and shook his head as if trying to will himself to stay awake.
“Hey, man, you should go crash. The couch in my office is pretty comfy.” Daniel pointed with his chin at the doorway straight ahead of him. “Ellie, you can take the guest bedroom.” He gestured with his thumb at a second door.
“You’ve got a three-bedroom apartment all to yourself?” Ellie asked.
“Not anymore,” Daniel replied with a chuckle. “But, yeah, I get a lot of computer consulting jobs . . . programming and security.”
“Nobody knows how to stop hackers better than a hacker,” Jake grumbled.
“I assumed from your T-shirt that you were an undergrad at Georgetown.”
“I am, but I only take two courses per semester. I maintain a basic pay-as-you-go policy.”
“And a baic don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy with his clients and sleazy associates,” Jake scoffed.
“Go ahead, dude,” Daniel snapped, glaring at Jake. “You’re one more snarky remark from me kicking you out on your ass!”
Jake held up his palms.
Ellie was ready to jab Jake with her elbow. “Thanks so much for helping us, Daniel. You’re a lifesaver.” She’d chosen the word “lifesaver” deliberately, and took delight when Jake flinched visibly.
“She needs to have school records and become Elizabeth Peterson, your half-sister,” Jake said. “We’ll claim her parents were killed in a car wreck and, as a result, you’re her legal guardian. She can transfer into the neighborhood high school.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Daniel replied.
Jake’s head bobbed as if he were about to drop off then and there, but he managed to rouse himself. “It’s probably easiest if she’s sixteen and a sophomore, rather than risk having some gung-ho guidance counselor insist on her registering for the SATs.”
“I’ll be a sophomore again?” Ellie repeated, stifling a shudder.
“Yeah, but whatever backstory we create for you only needs to hold up for a month, tops,” Jake replied. “After that, Alexis Bixby’s parents will start plastering
her photos everywhere, and the gig’s up.”
“We’ll be pushing our luck in a couple of weeks, regardless,” Ellie interjected. “The McGavins probably suspect you made the switch of your flash-drive devices. They’ll systematically locate all female coma patients in the country till they identify Alexis Bixby.”
“No way,” he fired back, his indignation apparently rallying his energy once more. “The particular memory device they used on Jane Doe will appear to have simply malfunctioned and uploaded her brain patterns instead of downloading yours. So they’ll draw the same conclusions you did—that I wanted to save my own ass and got out of ABTC as soon as I possibly could. Not that I manipulated serial numbers and hung around long enough to swap memory devices and save some random girl’s life.”
When Ellie didn’t reply, Jake added, “Remember, Jennifer McGavin was listening to the intercom when I interviewed you. She knows I’d spoken to you for all of five minutes . . . some nine months ago.”
Inwardly, Ellie quibbled that Jennifer might also know that Jake had followed her out of the building to give her his card. However, he’d made an excellent point; it was extremely unlikely that the McGavins had any inkling that Ellie was still alive. Regardless, she was too tired to argue.
Jake rose, muttered something about his intention to get the stuff out of his car in a couple of hours, then staggered into Daniel’s office and shut the door behind him.
Ellie studied Daniel’s handsome face. He gave her a small smile. She wanted to ask him why he was helping them. Also, she wondered what had caused his and Jake’s rift. Deciding her questions could wait for a future conversation, she rose. “Again, Daniel, I can’t thank you enough for helping us.”
“No problem. I guess this situation is kind of like the old joke . . . my karma ran over my dogma. Except in this case, it bit me in the ass.”
She chuckled a little. She made her way to the guest room, which, like Daniel’s living room, was devoid of personal touches—simply a double bed with a gray comforter, a chest of drawers, and a desk and chair. There was a black, digital alarm clock and radio on the desk, along with a black metal lamp. A rectangular mirror was propped against the wall on the dresser. She caught sight of her reflection and was startled by the attractive teenager with the big, dark eyes who met her gaze. She looked away.
Trying to battle back a rising wave of panic at the overwhelming task ahead of her, she reassured herself in silence that things were a little better, now that there were three of them against the world.
Although the three of them were hardly a united front. Daniel must have done something really horrible to Jake. Or maybe not; after all, a nothing of an incident had touched off the hurricane of events that put her here—a bogus job interview that got cut short, followed by a lingering handshake. If she’d chosen not to bother to interview at ABTC, her father and Alexis would still be alive, and she wouldn’t have met—nor hated—Jake Greyland.
#
During the course of the next few days, Daniel got rid of Jake’s car and proceeded to supply her and Jake with fake documents and driver’s licenses. Jake was now “Jacob Baker,” and she was Elizabeth Peterson. Ellie decided she was best off not to ask any questions about the undoubtedly ill-gotten sources for his documents. She and Daniel had to make sure not to get their wires crossed regarding her invented backstory, however, so they grilled each other on that.
Daniel explained that he’d deliberately selected an especially overcrowded high school as “Elizabeth’s” previous old one, which was currently embroiled in a conflict between the outgoing principal and incoming school board. It would be easy to believe that even an exceptional student like Elizabeth Peterson could be forgotten there. He’d hacked into that Chicago school’s computers and planted phony records, and both Daniel and Jake agreed that, even if their deception was detected, Ellie could stall for a few weeks by insisting this was a computer error.
#
The following Monday morning, as planned, Daniel registered Ellie as a transfer student at Mason High School, providing the school with the faked documents. A vice principal gave them Ellie’s new schedule. Ellie was less than thrilled to see that she was required to go to a physical-fitness class.
It bugged her that she was going backward. She was now studying geometry, biology, second-year French, English, and social studies. What was worse, the office secretary informed Ellie that she had to start the day with an appointment with her new guidance counselor to talk about her loss. Ellie grimaced, and the secretary said to Daniel, “You’re welcome to stay, too, Mr. Peterson.”
“That’s okay, Daniel,” Ellie quickly said. To the secretary, she said, “He had to take ‘personal time’ to register me. He has got to get back to his office.”
The thirtyish woman gave her a cursory nod, then shifted her attention back to Daniel. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Peterson. Not everyone would take on the task of caring for his sister like this.”
“Elizabeth’s pretty independent, and she’s gota good head on her shoulders. It’s not much of a sacrifice.” He gave the secretary a hesitant smile. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”
She beamed at him, and Ellie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Jake had been right when he’d told her during their drive that Daniel’s appearance garnered him a lot of leeway.
Daniel left, and within five minutes, Ellie found herself in a deep conversation with Ms. Robbins, a remarkably pale-skinned, white-haired woman who nodded at everything Ellie said. Although Ellie was lying through her teeth about the particulars, she was glad that she could at least be honest about her underlying emotions.
“This has been really, really difficult for me. I barely know my half-brother. Suddenly he’s my guardian. My parents are dead. I’m in a whole new city. I feel so . . . disconnected.”
“That’s got to be terribly hard,” Ms. Robbins said, nodding now to her own statement. “You’ve been given a lot to deal with.”
“Yes, I have. But my parents always told me that the best way to get out of the rut of feeling bad about myself was to concentrate on helping other people. I heard about an after-school job in Washington where I could work with Alzheimer’s patients. The job’s at a company called the . . . Brain Trauma and Alzheimer’s Center, I think?”
Ms. Robbins smiled and continued to nod like a bobble-head doll. “Alzheimer’s and Brain Trauma Center. ABTC for short. We have a student who works there. Her mother’s a nurse at ABTC. With your academic record, Elizabeth, I’m sure I can pull some strings and get you a position there. Let me make some calls.”
“Thank you, Ms. Robbins. I really appreciate it.”
The guidance counselor narrowed her eyes as she studied her computer screen. “I am a little concerned, though, about your taking on a part-time job. I hope your schedule isn’t too intense. You’re in some heavy-duty classes, with a lot of homework. An after-school job might make for too big of a load.”
“It’ll help me to stay busy,” Ellie answered with genuine confidence. “That’s going to help me focus on something other than my grief.”
Ms. Robbins nodded, yet she still had a furrowed brow as if skeptical. “Let’s set up a second appointment next week, Elizabeth. To check in and just make sure you’re still on track.”
Ellie could tell that Ms. Robbins was determined to meet with her a second time, so stalling was the best she could hope for. “How about in two or three weeks? So that I’ll have had the chance to get my bearings.”
Ms. Robbins smiled and, of course, nodded. “Two weeks it is. I’m so sorry about the circumstances, but I’m very glad you’re at our school. Just know that my door is always open.”
#
Ellie’s appointment caused her to miss her first class. Her second- and third-period classes were endurable; both teachers introduced her to their classes, and three classmates had made the effort to say hi. Now that she was at her locker, she could see a couple of boys checking her out and elbowing eac
h other. It was hard to believe that these were sophomores—as opposed to eighth-graders.
One of them either lost or won their jostling contest and approached her. “Hey. So. You’re the new kid.”
“Yeah. I’m Elizabeth Peterson.”
“Brad Constantine.” He grinned at her. “If you want to know anything, I’m the guy to ask.”
She observed his pink cheeks and eager-to-please expression and thought how quickly she could drive him away by saying: I’d like to know the identity of the man in the ski mask who shot my father. Instead, she said, “Okay.”
“Don’t hesitate. I’m willing to show you all the hot spots. Around town. Do friends call you ‘Liz? Beth?’”
“No, I go by ‘Elizabeth’.”
“See you later, Elizabeth.”
She turned in order to head toward her French class, and all but bumped into Ms. Robbins. “Oh, Elizabeth. I’m glad I caught you.” The guidance counselor pulled out a business card from the pocket of her jacket. “I’ve got wonderful news.” She handed the card to Ellie. She’d written: Dr. J. McGavin on it and a phone number. “I just spoke to Dr. Jennifer McGavin at the ABT Center. She said she’ll be more than happy to find an after-school position for you. You can set up an interview as early as this afternoon, if you’d like.”
Suddenly fearful and suspicious, Ellie now wondered: Why is Dr. McGavin so eager to hire a random high schooler? “Did you tell her about my parents’ accident?”
Ms. Robbins raised her eyebrows, but nodded. “I assumed that was all right. I also told her that you’re a straight-A student and are new to the area. I hope I didn’t break a confidence.”
“No, not at all.” Ellie tried to sound self-assured, but she realized that she might have turned herself into a perfect target. Here she was—an intelligent, 16-year-old orphan, living with a half-brother she barely knew, alone in a strange city.
She’d dived headfirst into this whole thing, thinking she had nothing to lose, that all that mattered to her was getting justice. Now Ellie’s fear was quickly mutating into sheer terror. What if they do this to me again? What if they shoot me and, in spite of everything Jake did, I wake up as Jane Doe after all? “Thank you so much, Ms. Robbins,” Ellie said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
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