by Neely Powell
She groaned and clutched at her shoulder. “Good heavens, when someone as rich as Doug and Camilla Howerton said they wanted a baby, Charles did everything he could to make it happen.”
“But what about my sister?” Lizzie said.
“I don’t know what happened to her.” Mrs. Richards paused, her lips thinning with pain but she continued, “She was much smaller than you but when you left our clinic, you had a baby sister, younger than you by two minutes. That’s all I know.”
Lizzie said nothing for a minute. She looked from Mrs. Richards to the man she’d always thought was her father. She picked up a vase of fresh flowers from a nearby table, turned it over, and dumped the water and flowers onto Howerton’s face.
He revived, sputtering and trying to bat away the blooms and water with his bound hands. Lizzie turned to Hunter and held out her hand. He looked at her dumbly.
“She wants her father’s gun,” I told him.
“I don’t think—” he said slowly.
“Give it to her.” I walked over beside Lizzie.
She put her feet on either side of the man’s fat neck and pointed the gun at his mouth. “Where is my sister?”
“I don’t know what the hell—”
Lizzie fired at the floor above his head and Howerton screamed like a hysterical woman.
“Where is my sister?” She dropped to her knees on his chest.
“You don’t have a sister,” he said weakly.
“Wrong answer,” she said and stuck the gun with its hot barrel under his chin.
“You’ve got one more chance,” she said through gritted teeth. “Where is my sister?”
Chapter 25
Secrets and lies.
They never did a family any good.
As I sat in front of my computer on Sunday afternoon, I reflected on why family members so often hid important truths from one another. Lizzie’s parents lied to her about her sister. Hunter’s grandfather neglected to give Hunter all the facts he needed to assume his position in life. And there was my own family, of course, with my father who seldom mentioned my mother since her brutal murder.
But that was beside the point, of course. This wasn’t about my family. It was about Lizzie’s.
I was hoping for a happy ending. Hunter, Evan, and I were at the office, waiting to Skype with Lizzie. After she coerced the truth out of Howerton, she dealt with the aftermath of his rampage. Now she was in Dublin meeting Elise, the sister taken from her almost 25 years ago.
The truth was vastly different than I expected. Lizzie’s sister was diagnosed as autistic at a time when the disease was almost unknown. Elise didn’t talk. She was prone to outbursts of physical violence toward herself and others, including Lizzie. Camilla had been distraught over the child’s condition. According to Howerton, she took Elise from specialist to specialist, fully expecting her wealth to guarantee a cure. When that didn’t happen, Camilla collapsed.
While she was in the hospital, Howerton suggested they send Elise away. To his credit, he had his attorneys find a good home with a family who adopted a number of children with mental disabilities. But it said everything about Howerton’s character that he persuaded Camilla they should tell everyone Elise was dead.
What did it say about Camilla that she agreed? Or that they’d been able to convince families, friends, business associates it was true? Howerton said Camilla said it was too painful to speak of her deceased daughter. She moved her family to New York and pretended Elise never existed.
Lizzie protested her mother’s complicity when Howerton first presented the story, saying, “Mommy would never do that. Never.”
But I saw the doubt in her face. I watched it grow during the long hours after her discovery.
Howerton was arrested for assault and attempted murder. An investigation was opened into the practices of the former Hayden Clinic. Elaine Richards was in the hospital and her husband and attorneys were doing the talking for her now.
Dr. Blake Taylor, who was probably Lizzie and Elise’s biological father, had also been brought in for questioning. My sources in the D.A.’s office said what Elaine told us was the truth—he had no idea his semen had been used for anything other than a study conducted by Dr. Hayden on sperm motility.
On Saturday morning, when Hunter, Evan, and I returned to Manhattan to help Lizzie begin the search for her sister, she was no longer composed. She confessed she thought everything Howerton said about her mother was true. She believed Camilla sent Elise away.
Lizzie experienced firsthand the long, slow death of her parents’ marriage. She believed Howerton’s charge that Camilla came to regret her decision about Elise and allowed that resentment to grow like a poison inside her.
“Mommy came to hate Daddy,” Lizzie said. “I never knew why. In the end, when she lay dying, I believe she struck out at him in the only effective way she could—by taking away the money. He’d lost everything of his own so she knew what that would do to him.”
“Why didn’t your mother tell you the truth?” I asked Lizzie.
“I believe she was ashamed,” Lizzie said. “I have to believe that.”
As well she should have been I thought, understanding Lizzie’s pain.
The good news was the O’Neills of Dublin had said Elise was well and happy. They loved her dearly, and wanted Lizzie to meet her. They knew Elise had a twin and had spoken to Camilla several times through the years.
Moira O’Neill, who was Elise’s mother in every way that counted, helped Lizzie. “Don’t judge your mother too harshly. Having special needs children isn’t an easy path.”
Lizzie, being who she was, chartered a plane. It was evening there now, and she had undoubtedly met her sister.
“I wish she would call,” Evan complained, looking uncharacteristically impatient.
I couldn’t help but grin. I liked it when he lost some of his robotic perfection.
The computer signaled. I greeted her with a tentative, “How are you?”
“I’m wonderful,” Lizzie said, her usual ebullience tripled. “I’m very happy to introduce you to my twin sister, Elise Brianna O’Neil.”
The young woman beside Lizzie bore a strong resemblance though they weren’t identical. An older woman stood behind them with a hand on their shoulders.
“This is Moira, her mother,” Lizzie said. “She has something very special to show you.”
There were some jerky movements as Lizzie adjusted the monitor. Moira held up a small framed photo of two little girls in white dresses standing on a huge stairway.
“Just as you remembered,” I said. “You were right all along.”
We all spoke with Lizzie. Her sister was quiet and tentative, but after all, we were strangers to her. I was pleased she kept smiling at Lizzie.
“Elise has a wonderful family,” Lizzie said. “I’m going to stay and get to know all of them.” Before we signed off, she said she looked forward to seeing us all when she returned to New York.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Lizzie ended up staying there for good.” I pushed back from the computer. “All she has here is a father in-name-only who is going to prison and a biological father who was a sperm donor.”
Hunter’s cell rang. It was Mandy Morris. He walked away to answer, and I frowned. Now more than ever, I wanted Hunter to stay away from Mandy. He had enough trouble without continuing to flirt with disaster with a mob wife.
“Do you believe Lizzie will want a relationship with Dr. Taylor?” Evan said.
“It’s hard to say. I’m not sure what I would do.”
“If I were him, I’d want to know about her.”
“Seriously?”
“Family’s everything,” he said. “Even an accidental family. It’s your heritage. Your identity. Your fight for family.”
“Hunter’s not really your family. Yet you’ve killed for him.”
Before Evan could reply, Hunter came back around the corner, frowning. “That was Mandy. She wants me to come over.�
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“Where’s hubby?”
“On a business trip.”
“Why don’t you look happy?” I asked. “Hot woman. Husband out of town. That would normally be a perfect Sunday afternoon for you.”
“She just sounded kind of weird,” Hunter said. “Charlie doesn’t travel much on weekends.”
“I’ll take you there.” Evan pulled the keys out of his pocket.
It said something about how far Hunter had come in the past two weeks that he didn’t protest.
“I’ll come, too.”
“Now that would be strange,” Hunter protested. “I don’t need both of you waiting outside for me to meet with my lady friend.”
“Grow up.” I took my coat from the back of my chair. “I think I know what you and Miss Mandy are up to when you meet while her old man is away. Evan and I will make sure there are no unwanted interruptions.”
Hunter continued to protest, but Evan and I hustled him out the door. I pulled on gloves and a hat. Winter had turned fierce again. There’d been snow every day since Friday, and the forecast was for more of the white stuff tonight.
We headed toward the affluent side of Montclair and “the house that dirty clothes built” as Hunter liked to say about Mandy’s elegant residence. Hunter asked Evan to park a block away. “I’m just going to check on her.” He got out of the car.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “We’ll be here.”
“Call if you need me,” Evan added with a sly grin that surprised me.
Hunter stepped into the bushes that rimmed the road. He emerged a minute later as Tiger, the sleek gray Tabby who had visited Kelly. He streaked through the bushes behind the houses to Mandy’s back door.
Evan alerted the MacRae guards who trailed us from the office.
He loves this. He would be comfortable in armor with a sword at his side on a white steed. He was content with the role of the gallant knight.
“Did you ever want to do something else?” I asked him.
“Did you?” he returned.
My laughter was rueful. “Let’s face it. We’ve both been chosen. We have no control.” For the first time since meeting him, I felt comfortable with Evan.
The snow began while we sat in the car, a flurry of tiny flakes blown sideways by the wind. The afternoon became like twilight.
“When did you learn being a protector was your destiny?” I asked.
Evan smiled. “It sounds a bit dramatic, but it was when I was sixteen.”
“Sixteen is a big year in the supernatural world.” I thought of Hunter’s first change. “Did you have to pull Excalibur out of the stone or something?”
“Nothing so dramatic. My brother, Craig, and my father took me to the MacRae ancestral home in the Highlands of Scotland and told me the legend.”
“What if you had chosen your own path? Maybe you’d be a rocket scientist or a CPA in Pittsburg?”
He peered toward Mandy’s home through the snow. “It never occurred to me. I felt all along there was something waiting for me. When my father told me the legend, I thought, there it is.
“I began training in high school. I finished college while in the military and served two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Then I came home to apply my training to protecting The MacRae.”
“So you went to a lot of special warrior schools.”
“I did. I’m skilled in a number of weapons and martial arts. I’ve also had endurance training.” He reached across the seat to gently take my fingers in his hand. “Trust me, little girl, you’re safe with me.”
I found I didn’t want to pull my hand away even after he called me “little girl.”
“You’re happy doing this?” I was skeptical. “You’re satisfied following Hunter around and watching for bad guys?”
“I’m satisfied I’m doing what I should be doing. Not many people can say that.”
Panic danced on the edges of my psyche. I turned to scan the road as an ache began in my temples. “I wish I knew more about my destiny where Hunter is concerned.”
“You got the gift. You’re the right person for the job you’ve been asked to do.”
“Then how come I always know what’s happening too late?”
He took my hand again and ran his thumb across the top of it. “Maybe you need some training, like I did. I have family in Scotland who have the true sight and had to work to develop their gift.”
“Aren’t you psychic? Can’t you teach me?”
“Everyone in my family has some degree of sight, but mainly, I know how to read people. I can help, but not like someone who is truly gifted. There are others who could train you.”
I was intrigued by the concept. Was there a University of ESP or a Psychic Camp somewhere?
“All you need is a little guidance.”
“Right now I need ibuprofen,” I said.
“What is it?”
“Sad,” I mumbled, frowning as the world blurred. “So sad. Hunter’s heart is breaking.”
Evan took both my hands. “Focus, Zoe, concentrate on Hunter. What’s happening?”
“He thinks it’s his fault.” My heart grew heavy with Hunter’s grief.
“Why is Hunter sad? Concentrate!”
I pushed past the pain in my head and struggled to find the vision. I saw Hunter lying helpless on the floor. “He can’t move.”
Evan was yelling and I thought my head would burst.
“Mandy’s dead. They cut her throat. He had to watch her die.” I moaned. “He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t move.”
While barking into his cell for backup, Evan started the car and ripped a U-turn, heading toward Mandy’s house. He screeched to a stop in the driveway. A roaring motor and squealing tires filled the air. Evan leaped out of the car and leaned across the hood to fire at a black SUV with his Sig Sauer. The SUV bounced across the smooth front yard and skidded onto the street. Evan’s shot hit a hubcap, but the vehicle sped away.
Jumping back into the car, he yelled, “Get your seatbelt on!” and took off with the tires spinning. We quickly gained traction in the snow and were careening through the neighborhood.
Struggling not to black out, I gasped, “They’ve got Hunter. They’re going to kill him.”
Chapter 26
I struggled to buckle the seatbelt while Evan sped after the SUV. Forcing myself to concentrate, I brought the vision into focus. What I saw chilled me to the bone.
“Mandy bled to death,” I said. “Hunter’s wrapped in ropes and can’t move.”
I held on to the handle above the door. Evan guided the speeding car skillfully, but I was terrified of the horror that filled my mind. Evan brought me back to reality. “Get the iPad out of the backseat, we have service anywhere. I’ve got a program connected to Hunter’s cell phone. All you need to do is click on the icon to activate it. We can locate him with that.” He swerved around the car in front of him.
I undid my seatbelt and got the computer case from the backseat before strapping back in. Evan drove with great precision, kept the speed high and steady as he moved through the residential streets. The wipers fought with pelting snow that was now whitening the landscape. It was dark as night outside.
Evan punched a speed-dial number on his cell and waited, then began to speak in Gaelic. I recognized the language Hunter had often used with his grandmother.
The iPad responded as Evan clicked off his call. “Which is the tracking program?” I asked him.
He pointed to an icon. In seconds, I was watching the progress of Hunter’s cell phone moving through the road ahead of us as a blinking dot. We held back a bit but kept up.
I fought against the pain in my head as I yelled turns to Evan. My headache was agony. How could I possibly help Hunter if I couldn’t function? I had to concentrate on the dot on the computer screen. We were following a circuitous route of side streets.
Evan spoke in English on his cell now, but it sounded like a shorthand code.
The blinking dot veered onto
another side street. Recognizing the landscape around us, I knew where we were going. “They’re headed to Totowa. It’s near Wayne in an area filled with warehouses and manufacturing plants.” I gasped. “The dot has disappeared.”
“They found his cell phone.” Evan slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “I tried to get him to let me put wireless devices in his clothing but he refused. Shit! Now we’ll have to look building by building.”
He grabbed the phone again. “Get to that area as quickly as possible and look for a black Escalade. That’s the best I can tell you. Right. Call me with anything.”
Evan drove slowly, his eyes fierce with determination. He would rescue Hunter. Still, there were a group of men like Evan in the mountains with Fraser MacRae, and he was dead.
Evan turned as if he’d read my thoughts. “Have faith in me, Zoe. I will get to Hunter. I need you to believe that.”
Warmth rushed into my chilled bones as he held my gaze, and I did believe him. He looked unstoppable. “I trust you.” I glanced back at the road. “You’ll need to turn right just ahead. That will take us to the warehouses.”
The snow was thicker and the wipers had ice on them. We moved through the field of manufacturing facilities as Evan’s phone rang.
“Any luck?”
No car yet. I could tell by Evan’s dour face. He took my hand again and held it loosely in his. “Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Close your eyes, relax and listen to what I say. Focus on my voice.”
I leaned against the headrest, closing my eyes.
“Relax.”
I didn’t realize I was clutching the seatbelt like a lifeline. “Bring Hunter’s face to your mind. He trusts you. He believes in you. Slowly back up. We know he’s restrained and unable to move. Where is he?”
As he spoke, my world became Hunter. I almost spoke when I saw him. His face was contorted with pain. There were little tremors throughout his body. His thoughts were a jumble.
“I think they’ve drugged him.” I forced all my energies on describing the scene. “He’s tied to a pole, like a support beam. Lots of rope wrapped around his body and the pole. They’ve got his head duct-taped to the pole.” I jumped. “There’s a young boy taunting him, spitting at him. He’s very young but he looks absolutely vicious.”