Dawn

by Aleatha Romig

  “No, and Araneae Sparrow doesn’t shop anywhere very often.”

  That was true. We all had personal shoppers who knew our likes and dislikes, our sizes, and our styles. Walking aimlessly around a store or shopping center was one of the freedoms we’d relinquished as wives of top men in the Sparrow outfit.

  I’d had more freedom in the past. That ended about the same time Araneae came to the tower. Now the idea of walking through an open-air market gives me the chills. I think the men’s warnings along with the recent attempts on our safety have helped to ensure our willingness to stay put in the tower and let others do some of those activities for us.

  “Okay,” I said with a wave. “Enjoy your numbers and let me know if you hear from Ruby. I’ll be around.”

  As I turned to go, Araneae stood. “Lorna, I remember more.”

  I wrapped my arms around my midsection, recalling the man named Jet. “Do you remember a woman?”

  Araneae nodded. “And a man she called Jet.”

  I nodded. “I remember him, but I can only recall hearing her. Did she ever say her name?”

  “No, but I remember she was very stark and seemed in charge.”

  I tried to recall. “I explained it to Reid like my memories are a recorded television show and I am watching it from the end to the beginning. I remember the time before I was found, and slowly I’m recalling ones further back but not being taken or even being at the ranch.”

  “The security video from the ranch shows we were unconscious when we were taken.” Araneae reached out and put her hand on my arm. “Lorna, I remember almost all of it.” Her soft brown eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. “I can never thank you enough for the way you took care of me. I don’t know if I would have survived if you hadn’t been there.”

  Swallowing, I laid my other hand on hers and grinned. “I don’t remember that. I’m sure I did what anyone else would have done.”

  Araneae shook her head. “No. I remember the woman questioning me, and she asked me about you and Laurel.” A tear slid down her cheek. “She was a bitch.”

  “The woman? Did she hurt you?”

  “Yes, her.” Araneae took a step away and paced between the two desks. “No, not like that. She said things about both of you, trying to make me choose one.”

  Something clicked. “Choose one of us.” My eyes opened wide. “I think she asked me to do the same. I remember now. It was you or Laurel.”

  “Yes, for me it was you or Laurel too.”

  “She had blonde hair.”

  Araneae nodded. “I couldn’t do it. I wanted to tell you because you were so good, and God, Lorna, I love you. You were here in this tower when I got here, and from the very beginning, you made me feel welcome.” She shook her head. “Even so, I couldn’t choose one. I wouldn’t.”

  I reached for her shoulders and smiled. “I didn’t either. I wouldn’t. I remember that now, too. She was upset, but I couldn’t.” I let go and hummed. “One of her hands seemed different.”

  “I remember she wore gloves.”

  “I’m still not remembering it all.”

  “The things she said.” Araneae took a deep breath. “They made me think about what you do around here, and I’m sorry I’m not more appreciative or helpful.”

  “I’m not.” I inhaled. “We all have our roles and that’s what makes this family of misfits work. I love Sinful Threads products, but I don’t want to run a company. I couldn’t begin to do what Laurel does, and even Madeline is finding her way here and at the institute. Without one of us, it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Lorna, you are so fucking important to this” —she gestured around— “all of it. The men have their roles too, but I realized in that room with a table and chairs that you are our glue.”

  It was my turn to tear up. “I love you too, by the way.”

  “Please know that everything you do is appreciated.” Araneae grinned. “I guess you’re the female Patrick.”

  “I am?”

  “You’re the one who notices everything, who asks questions, and who takes the time to care.” She wrung her hands. “The woman made it sound like you didn’t matter. She was wrong.”

  I had a vision of standing in this same office nearly a decade earlier having a similar heartfelt conversation with Araneae’s husband. I looked my friend in the eye. “We are all somebodies.”

  “Yes.”

  As I began to leave, both of our phones buzzed. I pulled mine from my back pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Ruby.”

  Araneae looked up from her screen the same time I looked up from the message.

  “They have Madeline settled,” she said. “And she’s five centimeters dilated.”

  “Sounds like we’re going to have a baby today.”

  We both hugged before I made my way to the kitchen.

  Our conversation played in my mind, sprinkled with memories of Sparrow’s and my conversation years ago.

  We are all individually a somebody.

  And we were all as a family having a baby.

  Whether I ever gave birth or not, I was content in knowing I’d have my role in Madeline’s son’s life as well as in Araneae’s child’s.

  The kitchen was exactly as we’d left it. The food and dishes were on the table. Even the oven was still on. And as I busied myself, I couldn’t have been more content to stay working.

  About an hour later, the food was all put away, dishes were in the dishwasher, and the surfaces sparkled with the sunshine streaming through the large windows. As I was climbing the stairs to the second floor of the penthouse with a million small tasks on my mind, my phone buzzed again. This time it was a call.

  My screen read Reid.

  “Have you heard from Ruby?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

  “Araneae and I received a text from her about an hour ago. Madeline is dilated—”

  “Get Araneae and Laurel, I’m on my way up.”

  I heard the concern in his voice. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’d rather—”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Ruby is missing.”

  Reid

  An hour earlier

  For the first time in quite a while, as I entered 2, I was alone. Earlier this morning, all four of us had been present, not unusual in the middle of the night-slash-early morning. Now, the entire floor was still except for the hum of the computers. My steps echoed in the vastness and the scent of coffee lingered in the air. As the steel door closed behind me and I traveled deeper into our command center, a peace settled over me. This floor was my sanctuary. That wasn’t meant to diminish the apartment I shared with Lorna. The two were separate. Upon entering each one, my expectations differed. These desks, keyboards, and monitors were who I was and what I did. The weight bench, the coffee pot, and the other amenities were all familiar extensions.

  I supposed in many ways this floor of the tower was cathartic for me. Within its realm, I lose all track of time as I delve deeper into my work. While it all focused in some way on some aspect of the Sparrow outfit, it was where I could contribute the greatest.

  As I hit the button for another cup of coffee, I had a realization.

  I was back.

  That wasn’t a statement that referenced my physical presence. Instead, it was a statement that implied my mental focus. Since Lorna was taken, I had been scattered on too many fronts. The need to seek revenge fueled an inability to see what I usually saw, to do what I usually did.

  Maybe it was the deaths of Maples and Zella that gave me a taste of retaliation. Perhaps it was being shot that brought a new appreciation for each day. Or more likely, it was the one woman in the world who could look at me and know my inner thoughts. It was the strength and resolve she’d proclaimed and demonstrated that made me stronger.

  Carrying my fresh cup of coffee, I made a quick stop at Patrick’s workstation. He’d begun his search of Nancy Pierce’s financial transactions prior to her disappearance. I cou
ld have started the work on it, but when it came to following the money, Patrick was our resident expert. Of course, his focus changed as soon as Madeline’s water broke, as it should.

  I brought his screen to life. It was filled with the compiling data. Along with Nancy’s name, we knew her Social Security number. Of course, that would only work if these transactions were done in a legal manner. If they weren’t legal, our answers wouldn’t be as straightforward.

  Taking the coffee, I made my way to my workstation and brought my screens to life, including the one overhead that had continuous feeds from around the city. I pulled up our new feed from Dino’s Liquor store. The last interesting piece from there was a late-night visitor the owner had in the back alley. It wasn’t Jettison and the only exchange appeared to be a liquor deal. The man appeared to buy two kegs of beer. It was Patrick who noticed that the kegs didn’t have taps. That meant either the purchaser had taps of his own, which would be the case with a tavern or bar, or there was something besides beer in those containers.

  Mason had Sparrows following up on the license plate. Once the purchaser was found, he’d receive a visit from a few of our men—a follow-up of sorts.

  There was nothing unusual I could see as I scanned the different locations throughout the city. Traffic was normal for a Wednesday and the time of day. Businesses were opening. Pedestrians were walking the sidewalks. Even with the autumn chill, the parks were filling with people. Basically, it was a typical day in Chicago and the surrounding neighborhoods.

  A few hits of my keyboard and I found myself rotating the cameras and views of the parking lots and parking garage at the Women’s Hospital. It didn’t take long to find the car Garrett drove. All of our cars had trackers. It would be a bad day if some punk ever tried to steal one—bad day for the punk.

  The inside of the hospital was under constant surveillance. The system was closed-circuit, meaning it didn’t broadcast and was used in-house. Knowing that Madeline and Araneae would both give birth and that the Women’s Hospital was the best labor-and-delivery hospital in the greater Chicago area and also had a great NICU, we’d made the effort to infiltrate their system in advance.

  Because Ruby needed care upon birth, Madeline was adamant about the NICU unit.

  With everything happening, it had been a few weeks since I’d run a scan. It would assure me that we were able to still see and hear. It would also confirm what Sparrow had suggested in the elevator—determine that no one else was infiltrating the system, that we were alone in our methods.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket with a text message from Patrick. It was brief—a room number and a note that they were settled in the room. I could assume that Mason was given the same information to station the Sparrows as needed.

  The Sparrows wouldn’t gain access to the private wing; however, they could monitor the exits and entrances from the outside. There were three such entries. One went to the access hallway, the main entrance to the wing on the fourth floor. The elevators to reach the correct floor were scattered throughout the hospital. A second went straight into the neonatal wing, and a third was the stairwell facilitating the emergency exit.

  There weren’t cameras in the hospital rooms, for obvious reasons. I could only see the hallway outside of their room as men and women in scrubs went in and out of the door, letting the door close in their wake. While I couldn’t see within, I did tap into the nurses’ station and gained access to the vitals and other monitors coming from each room. There were only five rooms in this exclusive wing. Two were currently in use.

  Subdividing one of my screens, I kept watch right outside their room door as well as the three entrances, including the waiting room and elevator bay near the main entrance. There were two men in that waiting room, not near one another. One was older, much older, the second was a Sparrow. I was ninety-five percent certain.

  I sent Mason a text message:

  * * *

  “SEND ME PROFILES ON ALL THE SPARROWS IN THE HOSPITAL.”

  * * *

  My phone vibrated almost immediately.

  * * *

  “WILL DO. GIVE ME FIVE.”

  * * *

  The dark hair caught my attention, probably because most of the medical staff wore coverings over their hair. It was Ruby, stepping out of the room and walking down the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” I asked aloud despite the fact she was miles away at the hospital.

  Soon she was out of range of the camera I’d been using. I switched to another in time to see her enter a doorway. My mind scrambled with possibilities. I was certain there was a bathroom attached to the delivery-and-care room, so it had to be something else. I continued watching, certain there wasn’t another exit to the room she’d entered. I opened another screen and pulled up the trackers we had in all of the ladies’ shoes and purses.

  Most of the signals came from this tower, which wasn’t surprising. Three came from the hospital room, which would be Madeline’s shoes and purse and Ruby’s purse. I could also track their phones. Before I did, the other tracker came from this mysterious room, coming from Ruby’s shoes.

  It took roughly three minutes—it was two minutes and forty-seven seconds—before she reemerged with two large cups with covers in her hands. I let out the breath I’d been holding as she walked the beverages back down to the room with her parents.

  As I went back to Patrick’s desk, I thought of something we hadn’t discussed. The people who kidnapped Araneae and Lorna took their shoes and used them as bait to lure us to the bunkers. In other words, the kidnappers knew about the trackers. Either they had knowledge of our plans or were able to pick up on the transmitting signal.

  It made me think of an alternative. Despite the perceived value in each of our wives’ wedding rings, neither lady had them removed. I made a note to talk to Mason about incorporating a transmitter in the bands as a backup plan. It would be best if the signals were also less detectable.

  “Fuck,” I muttered as I began to scan Patrick’s screen.

  We were coming up empty on any recent bank accounts in Nancy’s real name with her real Social Security number. There was record of one account at a popular bank not far from where her parents lived. I clicked a few keys looking to go farther back in the history of the account. Since it had been closed for so long, I had to jump through a series of hoops and microfiche. Whoever thought it was a good means of information storage should be ashamed.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention at the deposits. They weren’t large and occurred monthly. Around the time of Missy’s disappearance, the amount was reduced by a third.

  “She was getting payments for her children,” I said. “How much of that money went to the kids, Nancy?” I knew she couldn’t hear or answer me, but damn, I wished she could.

  I double-checked the dates Mason and Lorna had given me. It appeared as though Nancy was getting money even when her mother was caring for her children. The payments ended altogether after Lorna’s seventeenth birthday.

  This wasn’t what we’d been looking for. It didn’t have a mystery connection or raise eyebrows. This was simply welfare.

  The other program still running was looking for another connection when my phone rang. It was Mason.

  “Did you send me the profiles?”

  “Can you see Ruby?”

  “What?” I jumped up from Patrick’s chair and hurried to my own. The hallway outside the room was clear. “No, I can’t see into the room.”

  “She isn’t in the room. Patrick just called. She stepped away and hasn’t returned.”

  “Shit.” I pulled up her trackers. “Fuck, Mason. She’s not in the hospital.”

  Lorna

  “Ruby is missing.”

  “What do you mean by missing?” I asked, trying to comprehend. “She’s at the hospital with Patrick and Madeline.”

  Images of the beautiful teenager came to mind. I wasn’t simply imagining her outward beauty. There was so much more to R
uby than that. There was her wisdom and grace beyond her years, the things in life that she’d witnessed, and the still sweet and even innocent nature of her heart. My head began shaking. “No, you’re wrong.”

  “Lorna.” His tone was neither jovial nor questioning. It was direct and not open to debate. “Get Araneae and Laurel, and I’ll fill you all in on what I know.”

  “Tell me Ruby’s going to be okay.”

  “I fucking hope so.”

  Taking a deep breath, I gripped my phone tighter as I hurried down the penthouse steps and turned down the hallway to the Sparrows’ home office. Pushing the door inward, I didn’t slow. The door bounced off the wall behind, its bang announcing my entrance.

  Araneae turned away from her computer, her eyes wide. “What?” she asked.

  My head shook.

  “I need to go,” she said into her phone seconds before she disconnected the call.

  “I’m with Araneae,” I spoke to Reid. “I haven’t seen Laurel since breakfast.”

  “What’s happening?” Araneae asked.

  “Meet me on the apartment level,” my husband said through the phone. “Laurel isn’t here in her new space on 2, so she’s probably in her apartment.”

  I nodded my response as the call disconnected. Looking up, I met Araneae’s intense light-brown stare.

  “Is it Madeline? The baby? Oh, please not the baby.”

  My head shook. “It’s Ruby. We’ll know more when we get downstairs.”

  “Ruby? What happened to Ruby?”

  Together we hurriedly made our way to the elevator. Araneae opened the pocket door as I scanned my palm on the sensor. In no time, the doors opened.

  “Lorna, tell me what you know.”

  My head shook as my pulse raced and my stomach twisted. “I only know that Reid said she’s missing.” I felt tears threatening the backs of my eyes. “He says she’s not at the hospital.”

  “No, that doesn’t make sense.”