“Stay down!” Rudd yelled.
“What’s happening?” Neve asked, yanking open the bathroom door.
Rudd had his hand on his forehead, breathing loudly as he leaned against the wall.
“The cop. They shot the cop.”
“Who shot the cop?” Neve demanded.
“They’re outside. They must have heard the cop on the scanner. How’d they get here so fast? They’re gonna make it look like we shot through the door at the cop and he fired back. Shit … Kevin…”
“What about Kevin?”
“Stay in there, Neve—”
She pushed her way past him and then gasped. “Kevin!”
“Neve, don’t—” Rudd rushed after her.
“Now,” Quincy said, pointing to the window. “We’ve got to get out now.”
William nodded, reaching for Lily. “Come on.”
She immediately came to him. He began to lift her up when the sound of more bullets riddled the front room, along with the crashing of glass, followed by a scream.
“Lift her out!” William said, sliding to peer around the doorframe.
The front door was splintered with holes, the window nearly shot out. Kevin lay in the sunlight streaming through, covered in blood. Neve slumped, unmoving, on the floor in front of the bed, where she clearly had run into the line of fire.
“My God,” William whispered. Bodies on the floor. Bodies at the airport, in the field.
Rudd kneeled in the back corner with a AK-47, sweat pouring down his shaved head.
“They’ve got to have snipers out there,” Rudd gasped. “We can’t get out. Where’s the damn SUV?”
Neve’s hair was a matted dark red. Kevin’s clothes were stained the same color, his neck tilted unnaturally to the side.
William thought of Lois and her unblinking eyes in the headlights. The agents’ faces as they died, their skin turning yellow, their cheeks sinking, their bodies convulsing in pain.
He turned to Quincy. “Get Lily out that window and run.”
“William—!”
“I’m in here!” William yelled, coming to stand before the window. “I’m not hurt! Don’t shoot! I’m coming out!”
“William!” Rudd was standing now, running for him.
But William got to the door quicker, ripping it open and immediately shutting it. Fighting back the bile that rose to his throat at seeing the dead officer–-more bodies—he stepped over it and lifted his hands into the air.
The heat from the deserted Memphis street was immediately oppressive, rising like smoke as if the pavement were on fire. The blight was everywhere, from the outdated apartment complex across the street to the abandoned gas station next to it. On the roof of the complex, William could see dark figures, their guns pointed at him.
He slowly walked out and then took a sharp right, heading down the street.
“Stop!” came a command from a dark vehicle parked at the gas station. Another man, dressed in all black, was kneeling beside the driver’s-side door, his pistol aimed at him.
William continued to walk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a white flash. An SUV passed on the intersecting street, turning behind a rundown tire store and down the alley stretching behind the motel.
“Stop! Right now!”
William kept on walking. Get out that window, Quincy. Get her out.
“Do not shoot!” William yelled. “Do you hear me? I am William Chance! There are innocent people in there! Do not shoot!”
He then calmly laid down on the street. She had to be out now. Quincy could fit through. Go. Go. Get in and don’t stop.
He knew no one anticipated this. The agents or police, whoever they were, were frantically talking about what to do. But the gunfire had stopped.
“Do not shoot!” William cried out.
A few moments later they were on him, all wearing dark sunglasses, their weapons drawn. He heard the squeal of tires and the car from the gas station was beside them.
One of the men reached out and patted him all over. Feeling nothing, they rushed him up and into the car.
Once inside, they forced off his shoes, inspecting them thoroughly, patting him down once again.
The car took off with such force that William had to steady himself. “I’m OK—”
The entire car then violently shuddered as it pulled around the corner. William whipped his head around to look out the back window.
Smoke poured through the windows of the hotel room, the door flying off its hinges as the room exploded in a rain of fire.
* * *
The mass of beetles swirled above the treetops. Lynn had come out to observe them as they hovered, dipped and soared, thinking of Don’s last words as the signal dropped out.
“Something is controlling us.”
It continued to send shivers through her like a fever, an ailment finally diagnosed.
It had been so long since she’d experienced it that she’d forgotten. She liked to pretend that she had imagined it, like a barely recalled moment of a nightmare that seemed so real that only the morning light through the curtains could prove it was false. That she’d been wrong to even think it ever existed.
She’d realized its absence not long after she’d returned from Colorado with William. Even in the chaos and uncertainty of that time, she’d felt different: lighter, warmer, like a burden had been lifted.
She could have easily dismissed the vacancy, believing it had been replaced by relief that her grandson was alive. That his return, at last, relieved her of the dark lining she’d carried with her all her days. Something she never even recognized was there until it was gone.
Lynn often tried to explain it to Tom, but struggled with the words. How does one describe that throughout your entire life, a shadow existed within you, on the periphery of your vision, on the verge of everything; something as familiar as blinking and breathing? And then, with her grandson returned, it was gone.
In the many years that followed, she’d forgotten it. After all, there was a new life to build. Trust to rebuild. Protection to give. Wounds to heal. Work to continue.
But now she knew it had never left her. It had been asleep and suddenly woke.
One person might understand, but she wasn’t about to call the man who began her descent down this frightening path. She hadn’t talked to Dr. Steven Richards in more than a decade. She had to close that door firmly, to salvage her marriage.
She’d convinced herself that fear and secrets no longer ruled her life. It was no wonder that the shadow she’d never even realized hung on her like a heavy coat was gone as well.
It now returned with a wicked oppression. The chains on all of them had returned—
“Lynn!”
At the sound of Roxy’s voice, she rushed back through the screen door to see her emerge from the study, pointing. “Come right now.”
Lynn practically ran inside and down the hall, seeing billowing smoke smearing across the Memphis skyline on the TV screen.
“What’s happening?”
“They just broke in with this. They say William is in Memphis. They say he was in some motel room and some witnesses said they saw police rush him out. There’s been some kind of explosion…”
“Explosion?” Lynn walked up to stand directly in front of the screen. “But you heard he’s got out?”
“That’s just what these people said. They live in an apartment nearby and they say they saw him lay down on the street and the police got him. My God, Lynn. I can take a lot, but this … I just want him home.”
“Where’s my phone? I think my purse is in the kitchen. We can be in Memphis in three hours. I’m not sitting around anymore.”
Roxy clapped her hands. “That’s my girl. There’s your phone. Looks like it’s blowing up.”
Lynn picked up cell on the desk, seeing multiple texts from Anne and Brian.
We’re heading to Memphis, Mom. We heard what happened. Please keep watching the news.
Don’t co
me, Nanna. It’s a circus. You can’t be here. Don’t let Roxy convince you otherwise.
“Why am I always made out to be the bad influence?” Roxy asked, reading over her shoulder.
Please be careful. Please keep me posted, Lynn texted back.
“Lynn, what in the world is going on?” Roxy said, following Lynn out of the study. “Is this maybe the time to call the Illuminati, see what they know?”
“The Corcillium, Roxy. This is exactly why I can’t tell you anything.”
“Sorry. Old habits. Could they know something? Or would you even tell me?”
“I can’t reach them. I’ve tried. Where is my purse? My keys are in there.”
“You probably left it upstairs. So you do still speak with them, then? I’m just trying to come up with anything that could help. Remember that I know nothing.”
“You know that I trust you implicitly. But what’s happening with William right now is exactly why I can’t drag you in even further. You have to stay here.”
“You can’t tell by my face, but I’m laughing inside. So I sit in front of the TV and call you every five minutes? He may not be my blood kin, but I feel like he’s my own grandson. Chris’s parents are dead. I’m the other de facto grandmother he never asked for.”
“I think I left my purse in the pantry.”
“I was just in there looking for the Oreos, it’s not in there. I’m telling you it’s in your bedroom. I don’t want to stress you out any more, but I guess we’ve crossed that threshold. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Kate? Surely her connections in Washington could get you some answers.”
As they clambered up the stairs to the bedroom, Lynn’s chest tightened. It hurt every single time when she thought of her oldest daughter. Her strong, stubborn, brilliant girl. The last she’d spoken with Kate was Tom’s funeral, and even at that, she’d come to the mass at the cathedral, sat with the family but did not speak, and left with just a kiss on Lynn’s cheek, saying, “I’ll always love you, Mama.” Then, she was gone. She was so much like Tom that with his passing, it felt like two of the great loves of her life were dead to her.
“I’ve tried to call her. She doesn’t pick up.”
“Stella?”
“She’s trying her law enforcement sources. But no one, even in the FBI, seems to have any answers.”
“Well, not to make this day even more of a mess, but I think the reporters have found you,” Roxy said, stopping at the window on the stairs. “Did you take down that no trespassing sign?”
“No,” Lynn said, squinting. “I didn’t.”
“Then call the cops—”
“That’s a town car. Now there are two.”
“Could it be Kate…?”
A third dark town car pulled up. Then, all the doors opened at the exact same moment, and men in black suits began to step out.
“Oh crap.”
“Go upstairs and lock the door,” Lynn ordered.
“Hell if I’m hiding up there.”
“Forget the bedroom. Where do you park the truck—?”
“I traded it in for the Honda, remember? Couldn’t climb it in anymore. It doesn’t matter, Lynn. I’m not going anywhere.”
As they hustled down the stairs, Lynn pointed down the hall. “Go out through the back door. Right now!”
“Good luck with that—”
They heard the kitchen screen door open and a deep voice call out. “Mrs. Roseworth?”
Lynn waved Roxy down the hall, but instead, Roxy practically tripped on Lynn’s heels.
“Mrs. Roseworth—”
“You are not able to enter this house without a warrant!”
“You aren’t under arrest, ma’am. May we enter?”
“You may not,” Lynn said, stopping at the end of the hall to stand at the door of the kitchen.
The screen door swung open. Three men entered, all taking off their dark sunglasses. Outside the door, more men stood waiting.
She rose her arm before Roxy, who was holding out her phone like a weapon.
“Don’t take one more step, sucker. I’ll stream all this on Facebook and you can kiss your pension goodbye,” Roxy said.
“I’m not worried about Facebook at the moment, ma’am. I’m sorry for the intrusion, but this is a matter of national security.”
“Dammit,” Roxy swore, repeatedly thumping her phone. Lynn watched as the Facebook app failed to open. Roxy tried to swipe the screen to the phone icon to dial 9-1-1, to no avail.
“You need to leave my house immediately,” Lynn said.
“We intend to leave, ma’am, as soon as you are packed and ready to go.”
“I won’t be going anywhere. This is my house. You have no right to come in here—”
“Ma’am, this is an order from the director of the FBI.” The man held out a sealed envelope. “Please read it in its entirety. We have a plane ready to take you to Washington.”
“So is that who you claim to be with these days? The FBI?” Roxy asked. “I still have the aches and pains from my last tango with you assholes.”
Lynn strode across the kitchen, with Roxy pumping her arms to keep up. Lynn seized the letter, breaking the government seal.
“What is this crap?” Roxy said, peering over her shoulder. “For the greater good of the nation, it is imperative that you come under the protection of the federal government. She’s eighty years old, you jerk offs. What do you think she’s going to do? Let loose the bombs she’s got stashed in the pantry?”
Lynn could barely hear Roxy’s continued berating of the agents, as all of the words began to blur together. Beneath the name of the director of the FBI was penmanship so familiar that she ached to read it.
The order was co-signed by U.S. Senator Kate Roseworth.
SEVEN
William didn’t have to strain to see the smoke. Even though they were halfway across the city at this point, it gushed across the sky.
“It’s a very good thing we got you away from those people when we did, Mr. Chance,” said the man in the front passenger seat.
“There was a child in there!” William exploded.
“Hostage situations can sometimes end very badly.”
William couldn’t take his eyes off the smoke. Had that been the SUV that the woman, Neve, had talked about? Could Quincy and Lily had gotten out safely in time?
“Give yourself a moment, Mr. Chance. You’ve been through a lot. You cannot blame yourself for this. We feared this would happen. They were not going to let you go. Obviously they had explosives in there. There’s strong reason to believe the park employee, who brought that girl to you, was linked to your captors. We believe it was all just an elaborate trap by some fanatical people. The girl and Mr. Martin were just unfortunate casualties.”
“You can save that bullshit.”
“But you are safe now, and you need some time to process all this. We’re going to take you to a place where you can rest and speak with a counselor—”
“Enough.” William held up his hand. The gesture caused the agent beside him to pull back his coat, displaying the gun holstered on his side.
“It’s not unusual for captives—even if they’ve been with their captors for a brief amount of time—to believe their lies. Maybe even sympathize with them. You just need time now to recover. But at least the world knows you’re safe. The family who witnessed your rescue was kind enough to tell the media that they saw you walk out and were rescued by our team. That will calm a lot of people after the explosion.”
“Why,” William’s teeth were clenched. “Why—”
“You were in danger, Mr. Chance. You were being held by clearly unstable people. When you surfaced, we feared they would find you. And we were right. That poor girl was simply dragged into all this.”
All this time, everything he did to try and keep his family safe, to keep himself from hurting innocent people … Look what had happened instead.
“I’ll make this clear right now: You can feed all that c
rap to the reporters at your press conference. But the one thing you can’t do is keep me from telling what really happened. And I will.”
“We’re going to give you all the time you need to recover. Process what happened. Really analyze what you think happened.”
“No amount of brainwashing will change what I saw, I promise you that.”
“OK, OK,” said the agent sitting on William’s right side. “Listen, kid. We just want to keep you safe and alive. Until we can figure out what’s happening.”
William turned to him. “And that’s why you blew up that motel?”
The anger in the agent’s face was obvious. “We all have bosses that make decisions we don’t agree with. All I’m telling you is this: If you’re with me, you’re safe.”
He gave William a reassuring nod. “Take the west garage, Stan.”
Through the windshield William saw they were approaching a tall building, the flags of the world waving outside, the gray sign reading “Clifford Davis/Odell Horton Federal Building.” They turned and began to head down a ramp.
“Safest place in the world for you right now,” the agent beside him said. “We have agents awaiting—Jesus Christ!”
The driver swerved. William braced himself, seeing a white shape pull up dangerously close.
The SUV was only inches away, close enough for William to see the back seat window lower and a tiny face look out.
William’s heart leapt to his throat.
Even though the windows of the agents’ car were deeply tinted, he could see Lily looking straight at him. Through the dark windows, her black skin made her face almost disappear, with only the whites of her eyes truly visible.
The man driving the car began to lurch suddenly and convulse. The agent in the passenger side reached for the wheel and then began to shudder himself, his skin turning a putrid shade of yellow.
The car veered wildly, sliding with a painful crunching against a stone wall, over a curb and directly into the corner of the front of the garage.
William was thrown forward with such force that he landed between the two front seats, his head crashing into the dashboard.
His vision spun, squinting to see the driver’s face rest on its side, his eyes open, bloodshot. His cheeks were sunken in, his hair drifting from his head in clumps.
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