by JG Faherty
You’re alone, and you should be. It’s not safe for you to get close to anyone. Even if you don’t kill them yourself, there’s always the chance somebody else will find out about you and, and then what? The lives of everyone you know will always be in danger.
So that was it. Leah rolled over, wiped her eyes and stared at the water-stained tiles overhead. She was doomed to be alone. Which, when you really thought about it, wasn’t much different than how her life had been before she met John. Go to work. Cure some animals. Go home. Wake up and start over.
She’d been doing fine for years—maybe not totally happy, maybe not living the life she’d dreamed about as a girl, but not bad, either. She could do it again. Start over. A different state. And this time she’d be more careful. A clinic with no windows, for one thing.
And no Curing people.
I can do this. It’s for the best.
She fell asleep still trying to convince herself it was true.
The long, black limousine glided to a stop just as the sun disappeared behind the buildings on the Jersey side of the Hudson River. Del McCormick waited for Leonard Marsh to get out before he exited his own vehicle, an SUV he’d stolen specifically for this meeting. He’d leave it in the parking garage when he was through.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Del said. At the same time, he looked past the billionaire and caught a glimpse of at least two bodyguards in the limo.
“You said you had a proposition for me.” Marsh’s words were measured, his tone cautious.
Del was pretty sure he knew why. Tal Nova had fucked up the whole DeGarmo thing on so many levels, turned it into a nightmare that showed no sign of ending anytime soon. At any moment a piece of evidence could turn up linking them all to Nova’s idiotic actions.
“Your associate had certain plans for our mutual friend.” Del kept his words purposely neutral, just in case Marsh was wired.
“My associate was a fool. As was I for trusting him. You can see what it got him in the end.” One of Marsh’s bushy, gray eyebrows rose up. “Speaking of which, I was rather surprised at your…continued involvement.”
Del allowed himself a small laugh at Marsh’s euphemism for his being alive. “You and me both.”
How he’d survived the attack on the slaughterhouse he had no idea. Just like he had no idea what happened while he was unconscious. As best he could figure, his own men and Nova’s had pretty much killed each other off. In the confusion, DeGarmo and her boyfriend had either hidden or been rescued by the cops. By the time Del regained consciousness and emerged from his own hiding place, the forensic teams were already hard at work. It had taken some effort, but he’d managed to sneak out without being seen.
The end result was there’d been no one left alive who could rat on Del, and DeGarmo was very much alive and kicking.
“So what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Well, I have to admit that I had some ideas which sort of ran in the same vein as our friend’s. But upon further reflection, I think I’ve found something, er, safer, which could still make us both a lot of money.”
Marsh nodded. “I’m listening. Although I’m no longer sure that dealing with that woman is in my best interests.”
“This might change your mind.” Del was hoping it would. “Tell me, Mr. Marsh. How much do you think certain politicians, and men of business such as yourself, would pay for the chance to dramatically extend their life spans?”
Chapter Thirteen
Leah opened the door to the clinic and nearly passed out from the smell. The police had warned her but she hadn’t expected something so rank. She should have. After all, it’d been close to three weeks since she’d been there. Her absence, and the subsequent discovery of Chastity’s murder, had created quite a stir in town.
The police had investigated the clinic as a potential crime scene and arranged for the transfer of any animals who’d been recuperating or boarded at the clinic. However, no one had thought to do anything with the fish tank in the waiting area. Or Chastity’s two hamsters that she kept in the file room. Or the various plants. And no one had cleaned any of the cages or emptied the food dishes.
The stench of rotten food, old feces, scummy fish water and dead rodents not only turned her stomach it brought back unwanted memories of the slaughterhouse where she’d been held captive. Dozens of flies buzzed through the room. She imagined each one carrying little packages of rot and disease on its feet.
On top of everything, someone had turned the air conditioner off and the office had the hot, stuffy feel of a desert tomb that had just been unsealed after a thousand years.
One hand over her nose and mouth, Leah ran from window to window, opening them all despite the ninety-degree temperatures outside. Then she set the A/C to sixty degrees and turned on the two portable fans she kept in the supply closet in case the A/C ever broke down. Finally, she doused every room with Lysol until the antiseptic fog made it almost impossible to breathe.
After that began step two: packing. She’d made her decision the night before while sitting alone in her living room with all the lights on. She couldn’t stay in Rocky Point. Not only was it a place of bad memories now, but she didn’t feel safe. She’d been attacked in her home. Attacked in her place of work. Being in the dark was impossible; she kept having waking nightmares of Tal Nova entering her bedroom and completing his threat to kill her. Since her release from the hospital, she’d been sleeping on the couch. Even then, it usually took several glasses of wine and an Ambien before she could drift off without jumping back awake several times.
So she’d come to the clinic to clean it and pack up her files, get everything ready so she could sell the practice. After that, she’d put the house on the market but she didn’t intend to stick around until it sold. She’d find herself a new town, set up shop and rent until someone bought the house. They could send her the money; she didn’t even plan on returning for the closing. Why bother? Rocky Point held nothing for her anymore.
Since her release from the hospital three days earlier, the only phone calls she’d had, other than her parents, were from the police—“We’d like to go over your statement once more”—and the press—“Why did those men kidnap you?”
Nothing from John.
She’d stuck to the story she and John had worked out back when they’d been holed up in the motel. The same one he’d apparently given, based on what she’d read in the newspapers.
Unknown people had kidnapped her because they wanted drugs. John had been there at the time and had been taken as well. In the process, they’d killed Chastity and then used Leah and John as hostages. There’d been a gunfight with a rival gang. John and Leah had escaped, but then were captured again before they could get to the police. In a second gun battle, John had gotten Leah to safety.
She’d seen in the paper, and on TV, that John was getting a medal for heroism. He’d also announced he was retiring from the force.
Leah had turned down all requests for interviews.
Her goal was to disappear as fast as possible from the spotlight, and it was working. This morning there’d been no reporters out in front of the house, so she’d gotten dressed and dashed out as fast as possible. A quick trip to an office supply store for file boxes and here she was.
Getting ready to throw away everything she’d worked so hard to attain.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. What’s done is done. Get your ass in gear.
For the next six hours she did just that—cleaning, tossing bags of garbage into the dumpster out back, filling red medical-waste bags for disposal and applying liberal amounts of bleach to every countertop and floor. After a quick break for a late pizza dinner (delivered, there was no way she was taking a chance and going to a fast-food place again), she got to work on packing her files.
As she put together several of the packing cartons she’d purchased
, she realized that for the first time in days she hadn’t thought about the downward spiral her life had taken.
“Maybe it’s true what they say,” she said to the empty room. “Hard work really does clear your head.”
She’d just started stacking files in the first box when the door buzzer rang.
“Damn.” She paused, debating whether to answer it or not. Most likely it was a reporter who’d noticed the lights on in the clinic.
Or it could be John.
Unlikely. But could she take the chance that it wasn’t? A delightful shiver ran through her and she cursed herself for anticipating something that surely wasn’t reality. Odds were, she’d open the door and get barraged with unwanted questions.
Still…
The door buzzed again.
Oh hell. Just open it.
A peek through the blinds covering the glass revealed the face of a man she didn’t recognize. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses, and she immediately crossed reporter off her list. A cop? Possibly. If so, a detective. Or was he FBI? Had something else been uncovered during the investigation? Had they found out about her?
For one brief instant Leah considered turning and running. Then common sense took over. The man knew she was here, had seen her looking at him. And if the government was really there to take her away, they’d have come in force.
She opened the door, just enough to lean out.
“Can I help you?”
The man nodded and flashed a badge, the black leather case flipping open and closed again so quickly she only had time to catch a glimpse of gold.
“Dr. DeGarmo? There’s an urgent matter I need to speak to you about.”
She wished the man would take his glasses off. What was it about detectives and government types that they always wore dark glasses? It made reading their expressions so hard. Maybe that was the reason they did it, even at night.
At night…?
The man was already stepping forward. Leah put more weight against the door, blocking him. Something wasn’t kosher…
“Can I have your name, please? And see your ID again?”
He nodded again, but this time when his hand came out from inside his suit it held a small but deadly-looking pistol.
“Inside, lady. Now.” Like a chameleon, his voice and manner changed, becoming rougher. The formal tone of his words disappeared as well.
Leah stepped back, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Not again!
She turned to run away. There was no thought, no plan of action. Just an instinctive reaction to the sight of the gun.
Six men stood in the hallway leading to the examination rooms. All of them held guns.
Their unexpected presence was enough to freeze Leah in her tracks. Worse was recognizing one of them.
“Hello, Ms. DeGarmo,” said the man she knew as Del.
“We have some unfinished business.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leah tried to make sense of what was happening. Men. Guns. Del. Here. But her brain refused to work correctly. It stuttered and stopped and went nowhere, like a car stuck in the mud. A car with a record player that had a wicked scratch.
You’re not making sense!
Reboot. Reboot. She had no idea where the computer reference came from, but it seemed to help. The flurry of words and ideas settled into a semblance of logical order.
Del didn’t die. Jesus Christ. I killed practically everyone in that building, but Del didn’t die.
And now he’s going to kill me.
That had to be the reason he’d shown up. He’d escaped the slaughterhouse, evaded the police and waited until she was alone. Considering he’d already shown that he had no problem kidnapping her in public, the only reason for secrecy now had to be because he wanted revenge.
She wondered how he’d gotten away. It couldn’t have been easy, judging by the bruises and cuts on his face. He looked like he’d gone through the windshield of a car. His injuries weren’t the only difference about him, either. Before, she’d only ever seen him either with a calm, serious expression or a sardonic smile. Now, however, his face was a mask of barely controlled fury.
Together with his wounds, it made him finally look as dangerous as he actually was.
“How did you get in here?” The moment the words came out, Leah cursed them. It wasn’t what she wanted to say; it wasn’t even what she’d been thinking. What the hell was her brain doing?
“I think that’s the last thing you should be worrying about,” Del said. “Grab her.”
At his words, two of his men holstered their guns and stepped forward. Their eagerness, combined with their air of menace, promised pain.
“No!” Leah stepped back, only to have her arms grabbed by the man who’d posed as a cop.
Del shook his head. “Sorry, Ms. DeGarmo. We’ve been watching you for hours. You haven’t worked your magic on any animals, which means you can’t make anyone sick by touching them. And that means…” he stepped forward, his expression growing even uglier, “…I can do this.”
She never saw the fist that struck her in the stomach. All she knew was one instant she was standing there, and the next her whole world exploded in a supernova of pain. Colored lights flashed in her eyes, her lungs refused to work, and her legs buckled. Only the strong hands gripping her arms kept her from falling.
Her first thought was that he’d shot her. Then her lungs turned back on and she recognized the bruising trauma in her midsection.
Del let her take two huge, gasping breaths before he punched her again in the same spot.
Leah saw it coming this time. Not that it mattered. His fist hit her like a battering ram. Her feet slid out from beneath her and her stomach, unable to take the abuse, let loose its contents in a volcanic eruption of half-digested cheese, dough and pepperoni. Some of the puke splattered on Del’s shoes.
He cursed and pulled her out of the other man’s grasp. Shook her so hard her teeth clacked together and pinched her tongue. The metallic taste of blood added to the burning acids of the pizza sauce and stomach juices, and she gagged again.
“Don’t you dare puke on me.”
The hands holding her let go and then she was falling. She tried to cover her face but ended up landing chest and elbows first on the hard tile. The pain stabbed at her like steak knives dipped in vinegar.
As she lay moaning in the warm puddle of her own vomit, she heard one of the men laugh.
“She don’t seem so tough to me, boss.”
A new sensation bloomed in Leah’s stomach, a burning that had nothing to do with the punches she’d taken. The fire spread quickly through her, setting her face to tingling. She recognized the feeling. Shame.
On the heels of the shame came something more than anger. A ferocious rage that swept through her thoughts in a red wave, leaving behind only black hatred for the people who had reduced her to this, degraded her.
And with the black came the cold. And the wind.
Leah smiled as her body rose into the air.
This time there would be no forgetting.
Del’s first thought was that a freak storm must have rolled in. Papers rolled and twisted in the air as gusts of wind blew through the reception area with enough force to ruffle shirt collars and send hats flying.
“Find that window and shut it!” he yelled, glancing around to see where the wind was coming from. An open window was an invitation for nosy neighbors to look in, something he definitely didn’t need.
Then he heard someone gasp.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Del turned back just in time to witness DeGarmo not just rising to her feet, but floating. Fucking levitating like a goddamn magic trick. Her hair was blowing in all directions as if the unexpected storm was centered right over her.
Or came from her, he
thought, as an impossible mass of dark clouds formed around her. Jagged bolts of red lightning, each no larger than one of his fingers, flared in random patterns within the miniature storm.
He was so distracted by the lightning that he never looked at her face until she spoke.
“Del.”
The word sounded in his ears and inside his head at the same time. It was DeGarmo’s voice, yet it wasn’t. It was darker, colder.
Evil.
His eyes moved to her face, which was now directly across from him.
He screamed.
Several of his men cried out as well, but he barely noticed. All he could do was look at the thing hovering in front of him.
Whatever DeGarmo had become, he knew instantly it was something deadly. Her eyes were like the eyes of corpses he’d seen pulled from the river, fish-belly white all the way across. Black tears ran down her cheeks. Blue veins stood out on her face and arms from beneath translucent flesh that was mottled with gray and green blotches.
The storm grew stronger, the winds reaching gale force in the confined space. Office supplies joined the debris sailing through the room. The blinds on the windows and doors snapped up and slammed down so hard they sounded like cymbals crashing at the end of an opera.
“Del.” This time it was only in his head. Her blue, cracked lips never moved. “Del, we have some unfinished business.”
Her arms started to rise and in a flash Del understood the cause of those two mummified corpses he’d stumbled across during his escape from the slaughterhouse. At the time he’d thought Nova’s team had used some kind of chemical weapon.
Now he knew the truth.
Well, she wasn’t going to turn him into a fucking mummy.
“Fuck you, bitch.” He drew his gun and fired. His men, all combat trained, did the same. The roar of the guns in the small room was deafening, louder than the wind or the smashing of objects against the walls. Louder even than the freezing-cold words that continued to speak in his brain, telling him his time was up.