Blind Run

by Patricia Lewin

  “Forget it.” Ethan went inside, leaving her standing with the children on the porch.

  It took her a minute to push down her annoyance. She’d had it with Ethan’s heavy-handedness. She wasn’t used to taking orders without question and refused to take a backseat and let him make all the decisions without her input. If they were going to help these children, they were going to do it together.

  To Danny and Callie she said, “Give us a few minutes, will you?”

  Danny frowned but led Callie back over to the tire swing.

  Sydney followed Ethan into the cabin. It was sparsely furnished with a pair of bunk beds, a dresser, and a chair. All the pieces appeared handcrafted from some light wood, making the room warm and appealing. Ethan had stowed his duffel under one of the bunks and stretched out on the unmade mattress.

  “I want to talk about this,” she said.

  He folded his hands under his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t.”

  Again, she had to tamp down a rush of irritation. Giving in to her temper would get her nowhere. “You’re the one who told me every cop in the Midwest is looking for you,” she said.

  “They’re looking for you, too.”

  “But my picture hasn’t been plastered all over the news.” She crossed her arms and stood her ground. She was right about this, but it was like talking to a dead man for all the response she got. In exasperation, she tossed her hands in the air. “Okay, so you go traipsing off to campus and someone spots you. What then?”

  He opened his eyes.

  “I’ll tell you what happens. You’ll be arrested and charged with murder.” He was at least listening to her now, so she pushed her advantage while she could. “And I’ll be left alone to deal with these children.”

  “And what if someone recognizes you?”

  “It’s a long shot, but so what if they do? I’ll tell them what happened and that will be the end of it.” After a moment’s pause she added, “You asked me to trust you, Ethan. Now I’m asking you to trust me. I can do this, and Mulligan is much more likely to talk to me than you.”

  He pushed himself to a sitting position. “You’re forgetting about Ramirez.”

  “You said you lost him.”

  “I did.”

  “Then he’s not a problem. But if you’re wrong, then I’m in more danger here than in Champaign.” She settled her hands on her hips. “In fact, the children and I are sitting ducks here.”

  He studied her, considering, then nodded. “You’re right.”

  Her legs about gave out beneath her. Not only was he listening, he’d actually heard her.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “The only other question is whether someone else is watching Mulligan and waiting for Danny or Callie to show.”

  She slipped into the room’s only chair, because she wasn’t at all sure her legs would continue to support her. “Someone from the Agency?”

  “Or whoever runs the Haven.”

  “You think they know Danny hacked into their computer system and will head here?”

  “I’m not ruling anything out.” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “But if they do, you have a better chance of getting in and out without anyone noticing you.”

  He reached under the bed and pulled out his duffel, and she had to wonder if he’d planned for her to go to Champaign all along. “Let’s see if Anna has anything in here to help you become someone else.” He removed a leather bag and dumped its contents on the bed.

  A few minutes later, Sydney felt like someone else. The changes were minor but effective, turning back the years and making her into a student. The jeans worked, according to Ethan, but she’d replaced her Ellen Tracy top with one of Ethan’s T-shirts, and her leather jacket with his denim one. In Anna’s bag, he’d found a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. From her own overnight case, Sydney applied a bit more makeup than usual, making her eyes appear owlish behind the frames.

  Ethan backed up and surveyed their handiwork. “It won’t fool anyone who looks too closely, but hopefully that won’t happen.”

  Her doubts must have shown on her face.

  “The change doesn’t have to be drastic,” he said. “People see what they expect. Nothing more and nothing less. Now do you know what to do if you get into trouble?”

  She dug out her cell phone, which he’d programmed with Anna’s number. “Press the speed dial, let it ring, then hang up.”

  “And I’ll know to get the kids out of here.”

  “How are you going to do that without a car?”

  “Don’t worry about me, there are plenty of vehicles in this park.”

  She didn’t want to think about that too closely and slipped the phone into Anna’s well-used bag, which she’d carry instead of her own Coach purse.

  “And you won’t use the cell phone for any other reason,” he insisted for about the tenth time.

  “Ethan, I know what to do.”

  “Okay, I just . . .”

  “I know.” His protective instincts were in overdrive. “But I’ll be fine.”

  He looked her over again, but this time she suspected his examination had very little to do with the disguise. A flush of heat brushed her cheeks, and she backed up a step. Then he did the most unexpected thing, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. Just one, quick, hard kiss that rattled her thoughts and returned her to when easy displays of affection had been commonplace between them. And she wondered how she’d ever taken them, or him, for granted.

  He released her too soon, two words fluttering against her lips. “Be careful.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ON THE WAY to Champaign, Sydney replayed Ethan’s kiss in her mind a dozen times. Though it really hadn’t been much of one, not romantic in the least. More like a good luck send-off or an affectionate peck for a sister, friend, or the woman you’d been married to for six years. But they weren’t married any longer and she wasn’t going to start thinking like they were.

  So why had he kissed her?

  Everything he’d done in the last twenty-four hours had been calculated, like a finely planned mission. Yet for an instant she’d sensed his surprise at the kiss as well. He’d recovered quickly, but for a few brief seconds she’d felt something more from him. After all, she’d lived with and loved this man for years, she should know when a kiss meant something.

  Sure.

  Just like she should have known what her husband did for a living, or when he was lying to her.

  In the end she decided he’d kissed her for one reason only: to distract her and keep her mind off the upcoming meeting with Timothy Mulligan. Ethan knew she’d obsess about the kiss for the entire fifty-mile drive and forget to worry about a particular physics professor and his relationship to two runaways.

  And in that, Ethan had succeeded.

  THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS was large and sprawling, with an attractive mix of old and new buildings and generous stretches of green space in between. The sights took her back to her own college days, when life had been so much simpler. She’d had one goal back then, one vision: getting her medical degree. Who would have guessed she’d end up being stalked by an assassin while trying to locate the parents of a couple of runaways?

  As she made her way across campus, she reviewed the cover story she and Ethan had devised. She would approach Dr. Mulligan as a doctoral candidate in sociology, doing her dissertation on missing children and the effects on their families. She’d tell him that her faculty adviser—a name she’d looked up in the university catalog—had suggested Mulligan might be willing to give her an interview.

  It was a plausible story, especially at such a large university. The chances were slim that Dr. Mulligan, a senior faculty member of the physics department, would know any of the sociology faculty, and an even slimmer possibility that he’d know their Ph.D. candidates.

  She located his office without too much trouble, a surprisingly tidy cubbyhole in the Loomis Laboratory of Physics. It was empty. Finding
someone who could tell her anything about his whereabouts was a little more difficult. After several inquiries, she found a secretary who pulled up his schedule and sent Sydney to a first-floor classroom.

  It ended up being an auditorium, seating at least two hundred students in tiered rows. In front, on a low stage, a man in pressed jeans and a crisp white shirt lectured in a monotone. His voice implied he was teaching elementary material, while one glance around the room told a different story. At least half the students were completely lost.

  The wardrobe might be different, but the man and his classroom brought back unpleasant memories of her own years as an undergraduate. For her the class had been organic chemistry, junior year. With two hundred primarily premed students, the course had been used to weed out the potential medical-school applicants. Day one, the professor, who’d seemed older than God at the time, had informed his class that only one-third would pass.

  “Look to the student on your right, then to the student on your left,” he’d said. “Only one of you will finish this course.”

  Unfortunately for most of the students, finishing wasn’t their only concern. While the object of the department seemed to be to thin out the ranks of the curriculum, each of the premed students needed an A to get into medical school.

  She wondered what major Dr. Mulligan’s physics class was meant to thin. There couldn’t be that many physics majors, could there? Engineering maybe?

  Turning her thoughts away from her automatic dislike of the man, she considered him as Danny’s father. He was tall, probably six four, and somewhat awkward with his height, even gangly. He wasn’t heavy, but soft-looking, as though he’d never done a day’s worth of physical labor in his life, or even participated in a sport. His coloring was unremarkable: brown hair, medium complexion. She couldn’t see his eye color from a distance, but it probably didn’t matter. Nothing about the man told her one way or the other whether he was Danny and Callie’s father.

  One conclusion she did come to was that she needed to change her strategy for getting information from him. He wasn’t the type to care one whit about helping a graduate student from another department. So if she took that approach with him, she’d be lucky if he’d give her the time of day. Timothy Mulligan appeared rather impressed with himself. It would take someone with equally impressive credentials to get his attention.

  She probably should have kept the leather jacket and designer top and considered returning to the car and making the switch. But if she did, she might lose her chance to talk to Mulligan.

  Finally, he completed his lecture.

  Sydney waited for the class to clear before making her way toward the front. A few students clustered around Mulligan, asking questions. He answered in a blunt, no-nonsense way, paying little attention to whether they followed his explanation or not. She had to wonder if he delighted in being obtuse, or whether he really didn’t fathom his audience’s lack of understanding.

  Then, obviously, he decided he’d dispensed enough wisdom for one day. “That’s it for now,” he said, gathering his books.

  “But, Dr. Mulligan—”

  He started toward the edge of the dais, brushing past his students as if they were annoying insects. “You know my office hours. Make an appointment with my secretary if you have more questions.”

  Sydney waited for him at the bottom of the steps. “Excuse me, Dr. Mulligan, do you have a minute?”

  He barely glanced at her, much less slowed his pace. “My office hours are posted on my door.”

  She made no move to follow him. “I’m not a student,” she said, adding a trace of annoyance to her voice. “I’m Dr. Sydney Branning.” She used her maiden name, just in case he’d been following the news. Though he looked like a man who never much lifted his head out of the sand—or maybe that would be the laboratory. “I’m on staff at Covenant Medical Center.”

  He paused, not stopping exactly, but turned and gave her a second look. “Well, come on, then.” He gestured for her to join him, as if he hadn’t just been incredibly rude. “I only have a few minutes.”

  She fell into step beside him but waited for him to speak.

  “You look too young to be a doctor. What’s your specialty?”

  She supposed that was a compliment, in a backhanded sort of way. Particularly since she had dressed to look like a student. “Pediatrics.”

  “Are you new?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing you on campus before.”

  Ethan had told her to keep as much to the truth as possible. “I just came up from Texas.”

  “That explains the drawl.” He threw her another glance, only this one took in more than a potential colleague, and she expected he was taking in the jeans and oversized jacket. “You’re pretty far from the medical center, Doctor.”

  Since she wasn’t at all sure where the medical center was located, she ignored his comment. “I would have called first, but I suddenly had a few hours free and decided to take the chance you’d have time for me.”

  He shrugged. “Well, you’re here now. What do you need?”

  “I’m doing research on missing children and the effects of their disappearance on their families. I was told you might be willing to add your insight.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “I apologize if this brings up bad memories, but I need to ask you about your son’s disappearance.”

  He came to an abrupt stop. “My son?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Mulligan. I know this must be a painful subject, but—”

  “Painful? Hardly.” He frowned. “In fact, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Confused, Sydney stumbled forward. “I know it’s been a long time, but—”

  “I don’t know where you got your information, Dr. Branning, but you’ve made a mistake.” He took a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  This time she hurried after him. The children’s future was at stake, and suddenly she knew she had the right man. “Please, Dr. Mulligan, hear me out. You did your undergraduate work at MIT, then went on to Caltech, where you received your Ph.D. in 1991.” When she looked up at him, she saw he was angry.

  “Obviously you know a great deal about me, except for the most pertinent fact.” His earlier frown turned to distaste. “My son didn’t disappear, Doctor, because I don’t have a son. And never have.”

  Sydney just stared at him, stunned.

  “I don’t even like children,” he said in an offhand manner. “They’re a nuisance.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

  “I suggest the next time, you do your research a little more carefully.” Dismissing her without another word, he walked away.

  Sydney stood frozen in place. Then an idea struck and she went after him. “Dr. Mulligan, please . . .”

  “Dr. Branning—” He shook his head and kept walking.

  “One more question.” She grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt, and braced herself for his reaction—which no matter what, wouldn’t be good.

  “Have you ever donated to a sperm bank?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DANNY DREAMED of hands.

  Large, groping hands, reaching for him in the darkness. He scrambled backward across his bed, crablike, falling as he reached the edge and . . .

  Found himself in a maintenance shaft.

  It was like those at the Haven. Aluminum all around. Shiny. Cold. Airless.

  He shivered.

  Then he saw the light where the shaft dumped into a room. Instinctively, he backed away, coming up hard against a wall. Only, it hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

  He turned, panic gripping him as he searched for a way out.

  Suddenly, the shaft tilted, its walls narrowing and forcing him down toward a light. But he couldn’t go there. Not to that room. He knew the horrors that lay within those walls and wouldn’t look.

  But he had no choice. The aluminum walls tightened around him. They were a
live, squeezing him forward, pushing him to the edge until . . .

  Below him, Sean lay on a stark white bed. Tubes sprouted from his arms, his legs, his chest, and with each labored breath, they pulsed a deep, bloodred. He coughed, the tubes ballooning to the point of bursting before returning to their original size. Another cough, and they expanded again.

  Danny tried to back away, but the walls held him. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see. There was nothing he could do, no way to help his friend.

  But cracked lips moved, forming syllables that pulled Danny forward, made him strain to hear. Pleading words. Then Sean opened his eyes and looked up. Danny felt a scream struggle to escape as those eyes, all black, searched and found him hiding behind the metal grate. Not Sean . . .

  No!

  Danny jerked awake, caught in a tangled blanket, heart pounding and a silent scream echoing in his head.

  The dream. Again.

  He didn’t move, afraid it would reclaim him and drag him back down. It was always like this, gripping him even after he awoke. Then, as his racing heart slowed, the images usually faded. Only, this time they stayed with him, and he remembered every detail, especially those black eyes and the face behind them. A face that hadn’t invaded the dream before.

  Adam’s.

  Fear for his friend settled in Danny’s stomach. Adam was the oldest of the boys, almost thirteen, and the only one who knew about Danny’s plan to find his family. They’d made a pact. Adam would stay and watch out for the little ones, and Danny would find his father, then bring help. Now he was afraid if he ever did get back, it would be too late.

  Adam would already be gone.

  Scared to go back to sleep, Danny sat up and looked around the silent cabin. Callie was still asleep in the lower bunk, but Ethan had gone out.

  After Sydney left, they’d all lain down to get some rest. Callie hadn’t been feeling well, though she tried to hide it. Danny was worried about her and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake taking her with him when he ran away. Then he remembered his dream, shivered, and his doubts fled. He wasn’t going to let Callie end up like that. No matter what.