by R. D. Brady
“Open fire!” someone yelled—and then all that could be heard was the cacophony of gunfire. The priestess jerked back again and again as blood appeared across her torso. Finally, she collapsed to the ground. “Get restraints on her now!” the agent in charge yelled, his voice shaky.
“She’s not dead,” Jake yelled. “She’ll heal. You need to drug her—now.”
The agent gave an abrupt nod, showing he’d heard. “Medic!” he yelled.
A small man rushed over, his skin unnaturally pale and his hands shaking as he quickly plunged a needle into the priestess’s skin.
Patrick let out a breath, knowing that at least the immediate danger was over.
Overhead, the news choppers circled. Mustafa nudged his chin toward them. “They got all of that.”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Now let’s see what they make of it.”
CHAPTER 11
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Three of Mary Jane McAdams’s four redheaded kids bolted from the car as soon as she had it in park.
“Get back here and take something!” Mary Jane yelled through the open car window before they were out of shouting distance.
Her two teenage sons grumbled to a stop, and her daughter had the decency to look a little sheepish. Joe and Shaun, ages seventeen and sixteen, made their way to the back of the car. Shaun opened the back as Mary Jane walked around.
“What do you want us to take?” Shaun asked.
Mary Jane stared at the sky, searching for patience. The back of the car was filled with two coolers, three chairs, an umbrella, a stroller, and a bag full of soccer gear, and all of it needed to be taken—which after a decade of soccer games on weekends, all three of her children knew well.
She peered in at the gear. “Gee, I don’t know. What do you think?”
Shaun grinned, peering at her from the corner of his blue eyes. “Nothing?”
She ruffled his hair. “Ha ha. Now start grabbing stuff, Muscles.”
Joe, a year older and almost six inches taller than Shaun, reached in. He’d shot up over the summer, and Mary Jane knew Shaun was hoping he’d catch up. “Muscles?” Joe said. “Are we doing that Opposite Day thing again?”
With a grumble, Shaun shoved him. Joe shoved him back.
Mary Jane stepped between the two of them. “Okay, okay. Before this devolves into a boxing match and I have to wipe the floor with both of you, in front of all your friends, just grab as much as you can and head over to the bleachers.”
“Yes, Mom,” Joe said.
As he grabbed a chair, swung it across his shoulders, and picked up one of the coolers, Mary Jane realized how strong he had actually become. A few summers ago he was dragging the cooler along the ground. Now he looked like he could take both coolers at once.
Not to be outdone, Shaun grabbed the same amount, although he moved a little more slowly toward the bleachers. And with a pang, Mary Jane realized it wouldn’t be long before both boys were heading away to college.
Her daughter Molly grabbed the stroller and unfolded it. “I’ll get Susie.”
Mary Jane cast a glance to the youngest member of the McAdams clan, miraculously sleeping through the craziness of her siblings. “Thanks, honey.”
Molly smiled and pushed the stroller around the side of the car. And Mary Jane realized that Molly, at age thirteen, was growing up quickly too.
Mary Jane pulled out the soccer bag and the last chair.
“She’s still sleeping. You still want me to take her out?” Molly asked.
“No, that’s okay. Take the bag, would you? Go warm up.”
Molly leaned in and ran a hand over her little sister’s face before grabbing the bag from her mom. After a quick glance around, Molly leaned up and kissed her mom on the cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
And Mary Jane wanted to hold on to that moment, because she knew it wouldn’t be long before her daughter would be embarrassed to even be seen in public with her. “Love you too, honey. Now go give ’em hell.”
Molly gave her a smile, slung the bag over her shoulder, and jogged over to where her team was practicing.
Mary Jane closed the hatchback and walked around to the passenger door. Two-year-old Susie, known within the McAdams’s larger family as “the surprise,” lay with her head tilted to the side. She had the McAdams red hair and light blue eyes rimmed in a darker blue.
She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily.
“Hey there, sweetheart.”
A smile spread across Susie’s face, and Mary Jane’s heart melted a little bit. When she’d found out she was pregnant again at forty, she hadn’t exactly been excited. She had been looking forward to her and Billy actually getting to spend some time together and reclaiming a little of her life. Then Billy had died in a car accident, four months before Susie was born, and Mary Jane’s plan for her life had lurched right off the tracks. She’d struggled to pull herself and the kids together. Her extended family all lent a hand, but there was no denying that a giant hole had formed at the family’s center.
And then Susie was born. She was a lifeline for all of them, a reminder of why life was good.
Now the grief was still there—it would always be there—but all Mary Jane could think about when she looked into this little face was that Susie, and the rest of her children, meant that Billy was still here. And all she felt was love.
She also realized that her family hadn’t been complete until Susie came along.
Mary Jane extracted Susie from her car seat. After a quick snuggle, she put her in her stroller, along with Mr. Binxsy the monkey and her sippy cup.
After locking the car, she slipped the keys in her pocket and headed for Molly’s field. Molly’s game was scheduled to start in about fifteen minutes. Other families were already set up.
Mary Jane watched Molly practice on the field with her team and felt a burst of pride; the girl was a natural. Molly was quieter than her brothers, but on the soccer field she was ferocious. Mary Jane grinned as Molly dribbled around one of her teammates and took a shot. The ball sailed into the top right-hand corner of the goal. That’s my girl.
Molly grinned and turned to jog back toward the sideline as the coach called them over. Then Molly’s head whipped back toward her mother, her eyes large. “Mom!”
Mary Jane frowned. “What’s—”
A blow landed across the back of Mary Jane’s head, and her whole world went black.
“WAKE UP, Mom. Please wake up.”
Mary Jane’s head throbbed as Molly’s words made their way through. She felt cold. Why was her bed cold? Slowly, she became aware of more sounds around her, then a cool wind. Did Billy leave the window open? No, Billy’s gone.
She opened her eyes and blinked in confusion at the sky above her. What? She turned to Molly, who sat clasping her hands, tears in her eyes. “What happened?”
“Oh, Mom.” Molly fell on her, hugging her, her shoulders shaking.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m all right. Just—God, my head hurts.”
“Mom!” Shaun and Joe sprinted up to her. Molly sat back, and Mary Jane sat up slowly, the world swimming for a minute before it righted itself. A crowd had collected around her.
“Take it easy, Mary Jane. We’ve called an ambulance and the police,” said Helen Aciccio, one of the moms from the team.
As if on cue, Mary Jane heard a police siren drawing closer. “The police? What happened?”
“Someone hit you on the back of the head,” Joe said, looking close to tears as well.
“What? Who?”
“We don’t know,” Shaun said.
“Oh my God. Susie? Is she okay?”
Shaun exchanged a glance with Joe, and Molly burst into tears.
Mary Jane’s chest squeezed tight as she looked around. “Where’s Susie?”
Shaun knelt down. This boy, who just a few minutes ago she had thought looked so grown up, now looked like a scared child. “She’s gone, Mom. Somebody took her. We gave chase when Molly yelled,
but we couldn’t catch them. Honestly, we didn’t even see them. It was a blur.”
Mary Jane struggled to her feet, looking wildly around. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“Mom.” Shaun took her arms and looked into her eyes. “Somebody hit you and took her. We’ve looked. Half the people on the field are still looking. But we can’t find her. She’s gone.”
Mary Jane stared at him. “No. That can’t be—” She looked around at the faces of the people surrounding her. She looked down at Molly, who was still on the ground sobbing, and at Joe, who was knelt next to her, his arm around her shoulders, wiping at his own eyes.
Mary Jane stumbled, her knees refusing to work. Shaun grabbed her before she could drop. Her gaze fastened on Susie’s stroller, which lay tipped over. Susie’s sippy cup had rolled a few feet away, and Mr. Binxsy lay face down on the grass.
Mary Jane’s whole life once again lurched off the tracks. She’s gone. She’s gone. Susie’s gone.
CHAPTER 12
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND
The lock stuck, and Patrick struggled to turn the key. Exhaustion washed over him along with a feeling of powerlessness. Please. Finally it released, and he all but stumbled into his cottage.
The ETF had held them for eight hours. Jake and Henry had been charged with obstruction. They were still being held. Because apparently saving the lives of ETF agents is a crime now, Patrick thought bitterly.
He looked at the stairs. The idea of climbing them to reach his bedroom seemed a Herculean task at the moment. Instead, he headed to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea. He went through the motions, his mind running through all that had happened today. Cain was gone—the rest of the inmates as well. He’d been detained. Henry and Jake were locked up. It was too much.
He took his mug of tea and some slices of cheese to the living room. Placing the drink and food on the side table, he sat on the couch and pulled a blanket over his lap. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, hoping there was something on that would allow him to forget the misery of today, even if just for a little while.
He skimmed the channels; nothing caught his interest. A few of the news channels were talking about the SIA facility, but Patrick quickly moved on, not wanting to hear their opinions. But then his hand stilled. A picture in a box next to the anchor’s face made his heart lurch. Laney.
The brunette anchor sat facing the camera, her demeanor serious. “There has been a stunning development in the Delaney McPhearson case. As you no doubt remember, Delaney McPhearson caused an uproar six months ago when video surfaced of her saving a busload of children on the Francis Scott Key Bridge. McPhearson, who works for the Chandler Group, saved the children with what can only be called psychic abilities.
“But the public love affair with McPhearson was short-lived, as other videos surfaced showing what was dubbed a callous disregard for human life. McPhearson, once hailed as a hero, was quickly vilified. Soon it was alleged that McPhearson had staged the incident on the bridge and had been the mastermind behind the attack on the Temple Mount in Israel. Video even surfaced of McPhearson brutally ending the life of the cult leader known as the priestess. Through her legal representatives, McPhearson denied all wrongdoing but refused to answer any additional questions.
“But soon rumors started to swirl that there was a larger mystery at play. That McPhearson was not the only individual out there with special abilities. People stepped forward to argue that McPhearson was a hero and to recount stories of how she had saved them.
“But there were still those tapes. The recording of the death of the priestess was particularly damaging, as Delaney McPhearson snapping the woman’s neck was clear for all to see. The case was cut and dried.
“Or is it? Video has now surfaced that once again forces us to look at the case of Delaney McPhearson. By now, everyone has seen the video from the government facility in West Virginia. The woman on the tape has been identified as the priestess—the woman Delaney McPhearson allegedly killed. And yet the priestess, who has been portrayed as an innocent victim, is seen in the tape killing federal agents with incredible speed and strength. If I did not know the camera operator personally, I might even think it was faked. But it’s not. There is more to the priestess than we have been told. In the video, the priestess is shot multiple times, but a short time later, she leaps up, apparently healed, and manages to kill yet another agent before she’s taken down in a hail of bullets. Even then, she is not dead. She is cuffed and drugged before being taken away.
“Even before this incredible footage, over a dozen individuals were removed from the same facility, drugged and bound. Which begs the question: Do they have the same abilities as the priestess? And what exactly is the United States government doing with them?”
The anchor turned to a different camera angle. “But I find myself asking a different question. What is Delaney McPhearson’s role in all of this? Is she the evildoer the governments of the world have made her out to be? Or is she as she first appeared, a hero trying to save as many people as she can?
“With some digging, I’ve learned that McPhearson has made some powerful enemies. And powerful enemies can warp and influence the public’s perception. So who is Delaney McPhearson, really? We know now she did not kill the priestess. We know that her actions at the capital months ago saved hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. The same can be said for her actions at the Temple Mount. According to those who label her a murderer, she did all of that for the attention.
“But if that’s the case, where is she now? The woman has a PhD. She had to know the publicity could easily turn against her. So why direct it at herself? When we look back at her life, there’s nothing to indicate a person who seeks the spotlight. Quite the opposite, in fact. So—was there a rush to judgment in this case? Was the need to find an enemy so great, that we chose the first one offered up?
“I for one believe there is much more to this story than we have been led to believe. And I for one look forward to hearing Delaney McPhearson’s side of the story.”
Patrick shut off the TV, his mouth hanging open. Rationally, he knew it was only one news report. There had been hundreds that vilified Delaney.
But now there’s one that doesn’t. And as much as he tried to quell it, he couldn’t help but embrace the small burst of hope that flared inside him.
CHAPTER 13
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND
Noriko was getting worried. Cleo’s bouts of depression came and went, but for the last few months, they’d been happening more often. The last one had lasted days.
Noriko had rarely left the preserve. She had been wracking her brain to figure out a way to help her. She’d scoured the internet, but psychoanalyzing a genetically altered leopard was not one of her skill sets. Yet even she knew that Cleo needed something to focus on, to distract her from worrying about Laney.
With the restrictions Henry had put in place, the cats rarely left the grounds. Even Cleo’s trips to the school had been curtailed. To make up for that, Noriko, Rolly, Lou, Danny, and Zach had been visiting here as much as possible. Henry had even constructed a house on the grounds that would allow people to stay overnight—and for the last three months, at least one human had stayed every night to reassure all the cats, but mainly Cleo. Noriko had all but moved into the enclosure.
When she wasn’t here, she was either at the school or the estate. But here was where she felt the most at home, where she felt like she could do the most good. Besides, with her sheltered upbringing, the lack of electronics and modernity at the preserve actually made her feel more at home.
Today, Noriko had been sitting with Cleo for an hour, just keeping her company. Tiger stayed with them as well. Tiger had grown closer to Cleo than any of the other cats, although all the cats were concerned about Cleo’s fragile state. They all spent time keeping her company. It was pretty amazing. Like the humans in Cleo’s life, they, too, seemed to have worked out a schedule to make sure Cleo was rarely alone.
Noriko met Tiger’s gaze over Cleo’s back.
Better.
Yes. I think she’s a little better too. Noriko’s stomach growled.
Food? Tiger’s eyes lit up.
Noriko laughed, and even Cleo seemed to perk up. “Yes. I think it’s time to eat. Cleo?”
Cleo stretched and stood. Tiger nudged her affectionately as Noriko also got to her feet.
“Okay. Let’s go see what’s on the—”
Tiger’s head snapped toward her a second before he raced to her side.
Noriko reached out a hand as the edges of her vision went dark. Oh no. Her legs trembled, and she felt Tiger slip under one arm, Cleo under the other, catching her as she started to fall. Cleo let out a roar.
The vision began before she’d even touched the ground.
A child cried somewhere in the distance. Noriko turned around and around trying to find the source, but all she could see were gray clouds. And then one cry was joined by dozens more. Noriko put her hands over her ears as the cries joined together, drowning out everything. It became painful. Only focus on one, she warned herself.
Then all went silent. Slowly Noriko lowered her hands, and she heard the one cry.
“Where are you?” Noriko called out as she walked forward, following the sound.
She pushed past the clouds, which somehow had substance to them. The child cried louder. Noriko had a sense of the child somewhere ahead of her, but she also sensed there were more children around her.
She pushed through the clouds and into a clearing. There, sitting in the middle of the space, was a gray stroller, its back to her. Noriko walked slowly toward it. As she came around the side, two little feet in pink sneakers kicked into view. Noriko knelt down in front of the child. Blue eyes filled with tears stared back at her from a pale face framed by red curls. The child’s breaths came out in hiccupped cries.
Noriko took the girl’s hand. I’m here. I’m here.