As if God was in the small things, there was a free meter right in front of the police station. He chuckled, maybe he and God were going to be on better footing from now on.
The four guys were already waiting outside, most of them, save Apollo, were out of breath and exhausted.
“Is she here?” he asked, as he shut the door and ran toward them.
“We’re waiting for you.” Matisse checked his phone.
As a group they went into the vestibule. Ryan pressed the buzzer and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cai could tell he wasn’t hopeful, but when the doors were opened, he was the first one inside.
“I’m looking for Honora Leslie,” he told the receptionist.
“Didn’t I already see you this morning?” she asked him, her head tilting to the side.
Ryan nodded.
“Hold on.” She held up a finger, dialing her phone. “Detective? Some guys are here looking for that girl.” She hung up. “He’ll be right with you.”
“Is she here?” Apollo asked.
The woman peered at him a little nervously. “Um, no.”
“Fuck.” He pulled his glasses off and stuck his palm against one eye and then the other.
“Valore. Long time, no see.”
The detective joined them, opening the desk divider and walking through. “Follow me.” He went out the front door of the station, Cai and the others trailing behind him. When they reached the parking lot, he turned around to face them. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “She’s gone.”
“Where’d she go?” Ryan’s voice bordered on rude. It was not a state Cai often saw him. He was generally the quietest and the most polite.
“I don’t know. She ran into a friend of yours.” The man waved his hand at them.
“A friend of ours?” Ryan glanced over his shoulders as if to do a head count. Cai could see the wheels spinning in his mind. All his friends were right here.
“Your age, tall, with a hat he kept turning around. I was going to give her a ride to the bus station, but he met us out here and asked her to go with him.”
“Tyler,” Cai realized. “They met last night at the center.”
“Where would he have taken her?” Seok asked him.
The detective stepped into Ryan’s space. “What’s going on here? What the fuck is happening, Valore?”
Cai was close enough to Ryan to see the way his face changed. Whatever guilt he was feeling in the moment was devastating. The guy was shattered, and then livid. “What the hell do you care? You sicced the reporters on her. She lost everything because of you. It was like a goddamned witch hunt.”
“And you were going to protect her. Maybe if you’d let her speak to me earlier we could have figured it all out.”
The detective’s arms dropped to his side and he went toe to toe with Ryan. Uneasy, Cai noted they were getting some worried looks from other officers parking their cruisers. A few of them began to walk over to their group.
“Ryan,” he warned. “Dial it back.”
“Fuck off, Cai! This asshole knew what happened and he still went after her.”
The detective held up his hand to the officers, holding them back. “It’s done,” he said, a bit quieter. “I made a mistake, but so did you. You know where she spent the night?”
Apollo’s head whipped back and forth between Ryan and the detective while also keeping an eye on the other officers, holding his hands palms out.
“Ryan.” Cai put his hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away, scowling at him until he saw Apollo.
Matisse and Seok were in similar positions, but it was Apollo’s air of resignation at his impending arrest which brought him back to Earth.
His shoulders lifted and lowered as he breathed, trying to relax. “Thank you, Detective. I apologize. I was out of line.”
The detective stepped back. “Apology accepted. I assume” —He met Cai's stare over Ryan's shoulder—”since you know this kid, you know where they are?”
Cai nodded his head, finally letting out the breath he’d been holding.
“Ryan,” Seok’s voice was gentle. “Let’s go, please. The longer we wait, the farther away she could get.”
He nodded, and Cai led the way to his car. They were silent as they crowded in and pulled away.
It was Matisse who spoke first. “Who is Tyler, and where would he have taken Nora?”
Cai met Matisse’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Brownington. He’s at the school.”
thirty-one
Tyler
Nora walked silently next to Tyler, unsure of how she’d let herself get off-track. Part of it had to do with Vance, with the turnaround in his attitude when he’d gone from deliberately cruel to considerate, while another part of it had to do with Nora’s sense she had nothing to lose.
It was the argument Tyler used, as well.
What does it matter, he had argued, if you leave town at ten or twelve? Meet with Dr. Murray. See what he can do for you.
Tyler thought it was possible in exchange for her participation in the doctor’s study, she could earn room and board, and college credits.
Nora thought it was highly unlikely she’d be offered such a thing, but she was willing to try.
She was glad Tyler didn’t expect her to talk while they walked, and she was doubly glad he filled the silence with chatter. He talked about why he was at the police station (paying for the doctor’s parking ticket), he talked about what class he had later (Art History), he talked about his dorm (a roommate who spent his time sleeping, Tyler didn’t think he’d make it to winter break), and he talked about the food (he liked to horde bagels). He also talked about the youth center, and how it had helped him survive while he lived at home, and then after, when he’d run away. He talked about his parents and his sister. In fact, it felt he’d exhausted every possible topic of conversation when they finally reached the psych building, Converse Hall.
Converse Hall was one of the older buildings on Brownington’s campus. Built during the nineteenth century, its architect had embraced the Gothic Revival movement. It was made with dull grey stone, had high, arched windows inlaid with leaded glass, and sharp peaks. It was vaguely cathedral-like, with every line drawing Nora’s eye higher and higher.
“Come on.” Tyler waited for her on the narrow granite steps and held open the heavy wooden door. “This thing weighs a ton.”
She hurried after him. The inside of the building couldn’t have been more different from the outside. This building hadn’t been one of her responsibilities when she still worked for housekeeping, so it was her first time inside. She’d expected dimly lit corridors and stone floors, but the 1970s had clearly been the last decade the building was renovated. Acoustic tiles lined the ceiling along with fluorescent lighting, making her blink at the brightness. The floor was laminate, alternating burnt orange and eggshell squares. The floor peeled in places, curling along the edges.
“Gross, huh?” Tyler observed. “They’re renovating next summer. Dr. Murray has been after the board since he was tenured. Psych has the most majors, and we can’t put the building on the freshman tour because it’s so embarrassing. What parent is going to spend $40,000 a year on a school that looks like this?”
“$40,000?” She couldn’t fathom. After some mental math, she almost choked when she calculated the debt the students would leave Brownington with. There was no way being part of a study would merit that sort of payout. Her time wasn’t worth $160,000.
“It’s for out-of-state.” He chuckled. “I can see you doing the math over there.”
“Holy crap.”
“Right?”
Tyler opened the door to a stairway. “Dr. Murray’s floor isn’t so bad. It still needs work, but it’s not this 70s hell.”
She found herself thinking of Seok as she climbed the stairs. His house was built at approximately the same time as this building. She could see him going to salvage warehouses, searching for windows, doorknobs, and light fixtur
es.
She missed the guys, and being here with Tyler, at their school, only made their loss more acute. She hazarded a glance at Tyler, thinking about when Cai gave him a one-armed man-hug. Staring out the window onto the campus, she imagined Ryan walking to meet Professor Bismarck. She saw Apollo sprinting to the medical building, and Matisse idly tapping away at his phone while he audited a class.
She gripped the banister, not to keep her balance, but to keep from turning around and running home. A pain shot through her. When had she started to think of the guys’ house as home?
“You okay?” Tyler seemed worried. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting about your injuries. I’ll slow down.”
Rather than correct him, she smiled. “Thanks.”
They reached the fifth floor, and he opened the stairwell door. She was creeped out immediately, and before she could stop, she asked, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get murdered?”
This floor was the perfect place to see a ghost, particularly a hatchet wielding one in a bloody white dress.
He laughed. The sound ricocheted weirdly over the stone floors and was then absorbed by the wood walls and very low ceiling. She wondered if Matisse and Cai, the tallest of the group, would have to duck to go into the offices.
The light was dim, since on this floor, the windows were small and placed far apart.
“This was the servants’ quarters.” His face was in shadows while he spoke, lending itself to the aura of campfire story his voice had. “The building was originally for medical students. They stayed on the floors below us. The servants stayed here. The first floor and second floor were for classes. But if you think this floor is creepy, try the basement. It has viewing surgeries and a morgue. Both of which have been converted into classrooms.” He smiled at her. It was a lot more sinister in this light than it was outside.
Swallowing her unease, she followed Tyler to the end of the hall where he knocked on a door with the brass nameplate: “Daniel Murray.”
“Come in,” a deep voice called.
He gave her another reassuring smile before opening the door.
A man stood as soon as they entered. “Hey, Tyler.” His easygoing demeanor stuttered for a second when he saw Nora, but he stuck out his hand. “Hello.”
This man was not what she expected. She’d thought Dr. Murray would be older, white-haired, and possibly German. He’d wear a suit, have a beard, and bear a passing resemblance to Freud.
Dr. Daniel Murray was youngish, in his late thirties or early forties at most. He wore jeans, and a dress shirt rolled to the elbows to reveal full-sleeve tattoos on both arms. His shirt strained at the shoulders, reminding her of Apollo. He did wear glasses, but he took them off as he strode forward.
“Hello,” she greeted, glancing at Tyler as she took Dr. Murray’s hand.
“Dr. Murray, this is Nora Leslie,” he introduced.
The flash in Dr. Murray’s eyes made it clear he recognized her name.
“Please, call me Daniel,” he said, shaking her hand gently. “I’m sorry about your foster brother. He was a student of mine. We were all shocked when we learned what he’d done.”
Her arm froze mid-shake. She had not expected to meet anyone who knew Reid. “I…” she stuttered. “I didn’t realize.”
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to shock you.” He put his hand over hers before gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.
She sat, but Tyler remained standing. Dr. Murray went behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, and raising an eyebrow.
“I thought Nora could take part in your study,” Tyler explained.
The doctor smiled, but seemed noncommittal. “Is it something you’d be interested in doing, Nora?”
She suddenly felt like she was in a job interview, but for a job she knew nothing about. “I’m sorry, Dr. Murray,” she answered. “I only know what Tyler told me of his participation. I don’t know if I would be a match for the experiment, or what it would entail, so while I’m interested, I don’t know if it is something that can happen.”
He sat forward, resting his arms on the desk. His smile became a bit warmer, and she broke eye contact, studying his office. She saw a number of degrees on the wall, but also noticed a number of stars and medals.
“You were in the Army?” She read one of the commendations.
“Yes,” he said. “I liaise with the Department of Defense. They help fund my research.”
Cracking her knuckles, she turned back to the doctor. She noticed he was watching her carefully and she clasped her hands in her lap.
“So, Nora. I’m not sure what Tyler has told you, but this is a longitudinal study, which means for us, it takes place over a number of years. I require quite a commitment on your part, which is why my subjects are so well compensated.”
She nodded, waiting for more.
Dr. Murray stood, walking to the other side of his desk and perching on it. “I’m interested in the correlation between a person’s attitude about the world and their success.”
“What do you mean attitude?” Nora asked. “And how do you define success?”
His smile widened. “I think you’ll be a really great match, Nora. I can tell already.”
She smiled in return, but continued to wait.
He chuckled. “Attitude, as in, how do you see the world? Do you see it as a hopeful place? A fair place? What do you see as your impact on the world? Do you think things happen to you, Nora? Like fate or destiny? Or do you believe you can change paths, if you’re headed in one direction, you can switch at any moment?”
She considered what he said, silently answering each question as he spoke.
“And success is defined as many things, but in our study, we are defining it in terms of education, professional satisfaction, personal satisfaction, and wealth.”
She smiled, but it felt a little bitter.
“What do you think, Nora?” he asked. He left his desk and sat in the chair next to Nora. He leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm.
“It sounds very interesting.”
He laughed out loud. “You make me feel like a used car salesman! There’s something in it for you, in exchange for your personal philosophy, and occasional interviews with me and my staff, I will provide you with a stipend, either in cash, or in college credits, room and board.”
It felt too easy, and she had enough experience to know if something looked too good, and sounded too good, then blah blah blah, it was definitely too good.
“What’s the catch?” It came out a bit snarkier than she meant it to and she winced. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.”
Dr. Murray’s smile didn’t dim at all. “The catch is you’re signing a contract to take part in this study from start to finish. There is no two-week notice. I need every participant who begins this experiment to stay until the end. If you choose to leave, you will be expected to pay back, with interest, what we’ve paid you to date.”
It sounded fair to Nora. “How long do you have to pay back the study?”
“Thirty days.” Yikes. If she did this, she definitely couldn't quit.
Dr. Murray reached over his desk and grabbed a file folder, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Here,” he said, handing her a stapled report. “This is from the IRB, the Institutional Review Board. It lists every side effect that could potentially happen as a result of your participation.”
She opened it, locating the section he used a blunt finger to point to. It went on.
“We have to list every potential side effect. We will be questioning you closely about your beliefs. For some people it can be distressing, for others, it can make them angry to be challenged. We may ask you why you believe a certain thing, in which case you might contemplate traumatic events in your past, which could lead to nightmares…”
Nora swallowed, skimming the report without really seeing it.
“Please take your time. Read it. If you’re able to sign today, I can immediately get you room and b
oard.”
Her eyes must have bugged out of her head in shock.
“I know, I know,” he replied, waving away her surprise. “It is unusual. It helps I’m so popular here.” He said it self-deprecatingly, but she caught the edge of truth in his statement.
“How do you know I’m right for this?” she asked, laying the papers on her lap. She didn’t believe she could walk in here and within moments of meeting her, the man was offering her everything she needed.
Dr. Murray nodded at the report, and she followed his gaze. Listed on the first page was the heading, “Subjects.”
She read through the descriptions. He needed specific ages, of both genders, and a variety of education and economic levels. “Who is your control group?” she asked.
“Please. Sign on.” Dr. Murray steepled his hands together. “Each question out of your mouth makes me want you more and more.”
Tyler burst out laughing, and his face reddened. “Tyler,” he chastised.
“Sorry.” He flipped his hat into the air and caught it. She realized he’d taken it off when they’d entered the doctor’s office.
Nora put her hand to her cheek, feeling the heat coming off her skin.
“Before Tyler made me feel like a creeper”— he threw a glare at him— “I was trying to say, I’m enjoying my interview with you, Nora, and I would like the opportunity to continue it. If you agree, then I will get that opportunity.”
He leaned forward, his eyes shining with excitement. “There is no control. I can’t, as much as I may like, shape people from birth to have the exact same experience and then conduct my experiment. So I’m working with what I have.”
“Come on, Nora,” Tyler joked. “Peer pressure. You know you wanna. Do it. Do it.”
She wished she could ask someone what they thought. More specifically, she wished she could ask Ryan, Apollo, Matisse, Cai, or hell, even Seok, what they thought. Except there was no one present, but her. She had to count on herself, and if she wanted to make changes in her life, then this was the time to do it. She examined the report, reading through it carefully. Some of it she didn’t understand, things about t-scores and standard error of measure, but the rest seemed pretty straightforward. Still, the timeline was intense, especially in the beginning. There was the potential of a daily interview, some of them lasting as long as three hours.
Finding Honor (The Searchers Book 1) Page 20