by Jaime Rush
“I’ll call you back.” She waited the longest minutes of her life. “Any luck?”
“I think so. There was a block, so I couldn’t get close. He’s in an area south of Annapolis. It’s wooded, miles from civilization. I saw a sign that said, BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH AREA, PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING hanging across a gravel road.” He gave her some road signs he’d seen.
“Thanks. And, if you talk to anyone else, don’t tell them what you told me, okay?”
He hesitated. “Why?”
“I lied. We didn’t agree.” She hung up and walked to the end of the hall to Petra’s room. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. In the night-light coming from her bathroom, she could see a form swaddled in blankets. “Petra?” She came close. “It’s me, Amy.”
She came awake fast, her eyes wide. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. Well, sort of. I’m going to see Richard Wallace. He created the Booster. He’s got to have some idea of how to counteract it.” She met Petra’s gaze. “I’m going alone. I know Lucas won’t let me go, and Eric would probably torch the guy. Honestly, I’m afraid Lucas might hurt him, too.”
Petra said, “I’ll go with you…if you want.”
Amy shook her head. “I’m not endangering anyone else. I have to go without anyone knowing. You can tell them after I’m gone.”
“You’d do that for Lucas? Risk your life?”
Amy nodded without hesitation.
“He’s going to be really mad.”
She nodded again. “It’s the chance I’ve got to take.”
CHAPTER 31
The sleeping pill left Olivia groggy. Because of her low-quality sleep, she woke at ten, far later than normal. She remembered no strange dreams, no dreams at all. She’d woke twice, her thoughts on Nicholas, on their good-bye. He wanted her away from him and close to him. He’d been doing that since the beginning, when she’d dared to propose an affair, and he’d, rightly, decided she would be hurt when he left. The thought of not seeing him again tore her up.
She picked at the breakfast in front of her, at the diner, hearing Nicholas’s voice urging her to eat. Her emotions and nerves were wreaking havoc. She focused on what was ahead. What would she find?
That her father was a liar? That he was hiding much more than the depths of his darkness in regard to his program? Maybe she wanted to shatter the last remnants of love and respect she held for him.
“Nice and optimistic, there, Livvie.” Livvie. Like Nicholas called her. “Maybe I’ll find out Father was right about these people, and that he had nothing to do with my mother’s disappearance.”
Her grandmother’s old car didn’t have a GPS in it, and Spartan’s detail wasn’t on the Virginia map, so once she reached town, she resorted to asking for directions at a gas station.
“Oh, that there’s Goofy Ridge.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Goofy Ridge?”
“That’s what it’s been called for ’bout forty years,” the old guy said. “You’re gonna take that road up thataway for about ten minutes, and turn right at the old shoe factory. It’s not open anymore, but you’ll see the shoe sign. Go down that road for ten more minutes, and you’ll see an old fridge sittin’ on the corner, and that there’s Goofy Ridge. The road goes in a loop, and all the houses are right on the road, so you can’t miss the one you’re looking for.”
“Uh, thanks.” The accent reminded her of Sayre’s, even though his wasn’t as strong as this man’s. A cold chill left a trail of goose bumps across her skin.
She paid for the gas and, with a dry throat, continued down the road. She saw why the man had used landmarks; street signs were either missing or knocked down. The whole town had a sad, vaguely abandoned air to it, like the shoe factory itself.
She drove past the refrigerator, its doors removed, thank goodness, and down a gravel road. Most of the houses were mobile homes in various states of decay. Yards were filled with toys and lawn equipment, partially hidden by weeds. The vehicles she saw were in similar states, up on blocks. A few children played around one truck, pretending to shoot at each other. They stopped and stared at her as she passed, and she realized she was doing the same. She smiled at them, hoping her pity and unease didn’t show.
She had never seen such poverty, and the despair seemed to seep into the sunshine, tinting it with an odd yellow cast. She saw the numbers on the mailbox that matched the ones on her paper and turned into the dirt driveway. A putty-covered Buick that looked drivable indicated someone was home.
Someone. Her family. She stared at the door of the house. Giggling brought her attention to the children she’d seen earlier, who were now at the edge of the property, watching her with open curiosity.
A barefoot boy of about ten stepped forward as Olivia opened her car door. “You must be lost, ma’am.”
She sighed. In so many ways. “Do the Thompkins live here?”
“Yes’m.”
“Then I’m not lost.”
“Come on.” He took her hand and led her around planting pots bursting with flowers and the scent of mint from an herb garden. He pushed open the door, and hollered, “Mama, we got company!”
The interior wasn’t as bad as she might have imagined. The carpet was wrinkled but looked clean. She couldn’t say the same about the two well-worn recliners. An étagère was filled with pictures and knickknacks, and the place smelled like bacon and cigarette smoke. The living room was smaller than the second bedroom at her condo.
A woman in her late thirties came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, a questioning expression on her face. She came to a dead stop at the sight of Olivia. “Who are you?” The words came like bullets out of a mouth with the starburst wrinkles of a smoker.
“My name is Olivia Darkwell. My mother’s last name was Thompkins. I think her family lived here.”
She stared for another few seconds, until the boy tugged her shirt. “Mama? You’re being rude.”
She turned toward the hallway. “Mama! Daddy! Get out here!”
Olivia winced at the sharpness of her words. But the woman’s expression softened as she walked closer, still kneading the towel in her rough hands. “Oh, my Lord up in Heaven.” She took in Olivia with eyes now full of amazement. “You look just like her.”
An older man and woman emerged from the hallway, and their expressions seemed to confirm what the woman had said. The older woman’s hand came up to her mouth. “Mary.”
“No, Mama, it’s her daughter, Olivia. She’s finally come home.”
Olivia wasn’t sure how she felt about that assumption, but she had no time to ponder it. The couple rushed forward, taking her in the same way the younger woman had.
The woman took her hands, and either life or cigarettes had made her look older, too. A long, gray braid swung past her derriere. “I’m your grandmamma, Fanny. I jis’ can’t believe it. We never thought we’d see you.” Her expression darkened. “Your daddy, he wouldn’t never let us call or see you. How did you find us?”
“It’s a long story.”
Fanny pulled her into her arms, and Olivia felt every bone in her skinny body. “We got you back! It’s a miracle.”
The younger woman hugged her next, a long, cloying hug. Olivia wasn’t used to a lot of affection, but this felt uncomfortable in a different way.
Finally, the woman let her go though she kept clutching Olivia’s arms. “I’m your aunt Lulu, your mama’s little sister. I was fourteen when she went off to Washington, D.C., all gonna make something of herself. Then she married your daddy. She went on and on about this knight in shining armor who rescued her and a whole bunch’a stuff we later found out was a load of bull.” She waved toward the sagging couch. “Sit, sit! Let me get you some lemonade.” Lulu dashed into the kitchen.
Fanny nodded toward the older man. “This here’s your granddaddy, Tommy.”
He shook her hand, his expression more solemn. “So, why are you here?”
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br /> Fanny nudged him with her elbow. “Tommy, please give the girl some time to breathe. She came to find her family, ain’t that right, honey?”
Olivia nodded. That was true. And it didn’t matter if they were poor, really it didn’t. They were just a little too much all at once.
“My father never told me much about you.”
From the kitchen, Lulu said, “Yeah, I bet he didn’t.” She swept into the living room with a glass of lemonade for Olivia and one for her mother.
“That’s ’cuz he killed our daughter,” Tommy said.
“Daddy, we needn’t go there yet.” Lulu waved to her son. “Bobby Jr., go outside! This is grown-up talk.” He grumbled but trudged outside. She turned back to Olivia. “He came here once, a year after they got married. He was the biggest snob, looking down at us because we don’t have a big ole mansion. He came in one of those fancy cars like yours out there, and the moment he stepped out, you could see his disgust. That look never left his face the whole time he was here, which was, what, twenty minutes?”
Fanny was taking a sip of her lemonade. She nodded as she set it down on a wooden table covered in water rings. She lit a cigarette. “He said Mary lied about where she come from and that he just found out. We could see he’d turned her against us. He called us white trash and made her admit she was, too.” The betrayal still hurt. “He stomped back to that car of his, and she went running after him. They had a fight, in front of God and everybody, then she told him she was pregnant. They got into the car, and we didn’t hear from her until she sent a picture of you.”
Fanny walked over to the collection of pictures on the étagère and pulled a small plastic frame from the back: Olivia’s baby picture. “We wrote saying we wanted to visit, but she called and said it wasn’t a good idea. She had to forget about her past and become what he wanted her to be. We could tell she was afraid of him. She hung up real quick, like he’d walked in, and she didn’t want him catching her talking to her family. Her own family! We heard from her a few months later, and she said she was coming to visit, maybe for a while. She had to get away. Those were her exact words, ‘get away.’”
Tommy waved away the trail of smoke that drifted past him. “And then she was gone. He called and asked if she was here.”
“Where else would she go, except here? And we couldn’t believe she would have left her baby,” Lulu said. “He said she couldn’t handle being a mother.”
Tommy’s mouth tightened into a line. “We drove up there, but he wouldn’t talk to us. Or let us see you.”
“I saw you,” Olivia said, setting down her half glass of lemonade and walking over to the étagère.
Fanny handed her a picture of a woman in her late teens that did, indeed, look like Olivia.
“I’m sure he told you terrible things about us.” Fanny lit her own cigarette. She nodded when Olivia’s expression confirmed that. Her voice stretched tight. “Your daddy did something to your mama.”
Fanny’s eyes watered. “The police said there wasn’t any proof of wrongdoing.”
Tommy waved his hand in anger. “The guy’s a Fed. Of course they won’t find anything!”
The anger and tension was fresh. Olivia returned to the couch, feeling too fatigued to stand. She reached for her lemonade again, drawing in a long gulp of the supersweet drink. Had her father killed her mother? Isn’t that what you came here to learn?
Fanny’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to say this about your daddy, but he’s an awful, awful person.”
Lulu scooted closer, edging into Olivia’s personal space, along with her cigarette smoke. “Tell us about your life, Olivia. It must have been nice, with all that money. You probably went to fancy boarding schools. I read about them in novels.”
Fanny asked, “Did he ship you off? What kind of father was he?”
Tommy said, “What kind of father could he be, the murderin’ son of a bitch?”
Lulu said, “You’re going to stay a few days, of course. We’ll get the couch all ready for you. It’s real comfy. Can’t have you staying at a hotel.”
Olivia’s head began to spin. What was happening? They’d drugged her! Her whole body began to shake as their voices became a hum.
She slumped back on the couch.
Nicholas woke, his body trembling and slick with sweat. It wasn’t even light out yet. He sat up and shook the dream from his head.
The fire nightmare. Something about it, though, nagged at him, beckoning him to go back in. He pulled up the pieces: fire; heat; smoke. The funeral. Crying. His mother with an eye patch, sister, heart-wrenching sobs. He saw some of the other people there, uncles, an aunt he hadn’t seen in ten years…and Olivia.
She was sitting alone, crying, and he realized he’d seen her before. He hadn’t known who she was then. Good thing they’d parted ways. Too bad he didn’t feel good about losing her.
Losing her…
He shook the need away, got up, and looked out the window. Dawn was breaking. He took a shower and ate breakfast in the small town nestled in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania. After driving to the place he remembered, he stepped out of the car and breathed in the cool, fresh air. This was the most relaxed he’d been in months, in his element, in the woods, alone.
Lonely.
Wasn’t this what he wanted? To be alone, on his own?
Lonely.
He’d convinced himself for so long, and Olivia had shattered his illusion. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
He’d used his location ability to go to the same spot where he’d found one of the pieces. Just like the eye, he couldn’t find the bracelets, either. He pulled himself into the memory: rings made of a metal he’d never seen before, as though the government had taken what was available and stepped it up a notch. He turned in circles, seeing it clearly. No eye there.
He looked up through the trees and into the bits of sky he could see. The forest spun around him with his movements. He could spend all day there, listening to the birds calling, inhaling the scent of pine and earth.
He had two other sites to check out, and those were farther from Spartan, West Virginia. Olivia had thrown away the pendant, he’d realized during the restless night. No way could he not check on her. A scene came into focus: living room, people hovering over something on the couch. No, someone: Olivia. She was lying there, as though asleep, and a woman was fanning her with a pillow. Another woman was looking at her ring as she tapped Olivia’s hand.
His heart clenched. Was she sick? Dead?
He pulled out of the vision. He started walking, then running, out of the forest. She was roughly an hour and a half away. He reached the car and jumped in, breathless. “I’m coming, Livvie. Hang in there.”
CHAPTER 32
Voices and people touching her pulled Olivia from her sleep.
Sleep?
She opened her eyes, the pieces coming together. Three faces hovered over her. Fanny was waving a pillow in front of her, Lulu was admiring her emerald ring, and Tommy returned to the room with a blanket.
Olivia tried to sit up, but her head spun. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Get the bucket!” Lulu hollered.
Olivia sat very still and quieted her stomach’s heaving.
Fanny’s hand went to her mouth. “Did you give her some of the lemonade from the yellow pitcher?” She took a sip of her own glass. “Oh, no. That one’s loaded with vodka. I spiked it last night.”
“Mama, you’re supposed to put the liquor in the clear pitcher!”
Olivia could barely swing her eyes toward the woman. “There’s liquor in it?”
“’Fraid so. I didn’t even think about it.” Fanny gave her a sheepish smile. “It blends in with the lemonade, so I didn’t notice. Lulu, get her some crackers.”
“I probably should go back to the motel.” Olivia tried to push up from the couch.
Tommy put his hand on her shoulder. “You can’t drive like this.”
; Panic curled around her throat. He was right; she couldn’t drive. Couldn’t escape. Trapped.
Lulu returned with a box of saltines.
Olivia tried to focus in on them. “But I don’t want to get crumbs on the couch.”
Fanny waved that concern away with a laugh. “God knows what’s living in the cracks of this thing. A few crumbs sure won’t hurt.”
Olivia wanted to pop off the couch, but her body wouldn’t move.
Fanny studied her. “Not much of a drinker, are you?”
Olivia began to shake her head but stopped when the whole room rocked. “I haven’t eaten much today.” She started nibbling on the crackers, watching to see if anything crawled out of the cracks to grab the crumbs.
Lulu tucked a blanket around her. “You’ll be back to your old self in no time. We’ll get out the photo albums, and when you’re feeling better, you can tell us all about yourself.”
“And your daddy,” Tommy added.
Fanny returned a few minutes later and settled in next to Olivia with the album. Lulu pressed up against her on the other side, making Olivia feel like the filling of a sandwich.
For the next hour and a half, she nibbled crackers and listened to story after story about her mother. More than she wanted to know, like how she’d gotten stabbed in the butt by a pitchfork’s tine while fooling around in the hay. Bobby Jr. wandered into the kitchen, taking a few moments to stare at her on the way. They kept asking her if she was ready to eat, but her stomach rebelled at the thought.
Everyone looked up when someone knocked on the door.
“Don’t know who that could be.” Fanny sprang up and opened it.
The sight of Nicholas injected Olivia with relief and longing and such a mix of emotions, her eyes welled up. Concern and determination filled his brown eyes, as though he’d come to rescue her. His hair looked messier than ever, like he’d been worrying it on the way there.
She smiled. “Nicholas.”
He came in without invitation and walked over to her. “Are you all right? You look…not well.”