End of the Road

by LS Hawker

  “It won’t be the last time,” Jade said.

  “I took them out to the Compound. It’s deserted,” Berko said. “It was creepy. The fountain in the front of the house is still running. I showed them where we broke through the wall, and it was like walking through a museum exhibit—it was like something that happened to someone else. We went in the server room, and everything was still running.”

  “But the AIP should have gotten into every corner of the program,” Jade said. “So it should be useless to them.”

  Elias shifted in his chair and groaned, his wound obviously bothering him.

  “Should I call the nurse?” Berko said.

  “I’m okay,” Elias said, then turned to Berko. “When are you going back to Palo Alto?”

  “As soon as they’re done asking me questions, I assume,” Berko said. “But I’m going to Atlanta first and see my mom.”

  “I’m going to my folks’ in Reno too,” Elias said.

  “And then what?” Jade said.

  “I need to report to Fort Severn for my commissioning, and then it’s five years of service.”

  “So we’re not going to see you for a while, then,” Jade said. It had just occurred to her she was going to be separated from these men she’d spent three of the most intense months of her life with. She felt bereft at this thought.

  Elias looked surprised. “Well, no,” he said. “But I’ll get leave, you know. We could meet somewhere, if you can travel—maybe San Diego. Or Tokyo. Or New Jersey. But it’ll depend where I’m stationed.”

  She liked the sound of that—meeting in some exotic locale. She’d even be happy to meet Berko and Elias in New Jersey if need be.

  “What about you, Jade?” Berko said. “Are you going back to Lawrence?”

  “Not now,” she said. “I’m going to take a break, hang around Ephesus for a while, hang out with my family. Help out on the farm, and with Clem.”

  Until Mom leaves us.

  She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t need to. They sat in silence a moment.

  “Dan’s going to be tried for treason,” Jade said.

  “Yes, he is,” Elias said.

  “The Rosenbergs were the last people executed for treason, right?” Berko said.

  Elias shot him a warning look.

  Jade stared at the ground, her feelings at war with each other. She had loved Dan almost like a father. But he had tried to shoot her little sister. He’d completely fooled her, and used her. She feared the anger and betrayal she felt would never go away.

  Jade read the papers online every day, The New York Times, The Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, scoured them for news about the coup plot, of worldwide arrests by Interpol and federal agencies. But there was nothing. She assumed the feds didn’t want to incite panic—or to give foreign enemies any bright ideas. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

  Jade obsessively trolled the Internet, looking for any conspiracy rumblings. She set up a Google alert if anything came up about suspicious power outages, but nothing unusual cropped up. As she searched one afternoon, a news item about Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg popped up in Jade’s newsfeed about her latest controversial remark, and Jade clicked on it.

  A stock photo of the Justice ran atop the item and Jade stared at it. Her skin tingled. She ran to get the one photo of Olivia she had—the framed image of her with RBG. She set it next to her monitor. RBG wore the same black jacket in both images. The same green button earrings. The same pose, shaking someone’s hand.

  It was the identical photo.

  Identical except for Olivia.

  Jade took the back off the frame and removed Olivia’s photo and held it close to her face. The edges were pixelated. The shadows were wrong. Even the proportions were slightly off.

  Olivia had Photoshopped herself into the picture.

  But why?

  Jade got goose bumps, which caused her healing gunshot wound to sting. She turned back to her computer and brought up the White Pages in her browser and searched David and Allison Harman in Manhattan, NY.

  No listing.

  Looked on the NYU website at the faculty listings. No Harmans.

  She found five Olivia Harmans on Facebook, but none was her. Next she ran a Google search of Olivia Harman in Baltimore. At Johns Hopkins. In Maryland.

  Olivia Harman, apparently, did not exist, and never had.

  One of the FBI interrogators, Theresa Espinoza, left Jade with her business card, so Jade dialed her number. When she got on the line, Jade said, “I know this is going to sound weird, but I want to talk to you about Olivia.”

  She explained about the photo and her search for Olivia.

  Theresa sighed. “It’s true,” she said. “We have no federal record of a woman named Olivia Harman. We went through her room and found no identification.”

  “But—”

  “No Harman family with an adopted Chinese daughter in New York. No student enrolled at Johns Hopkins.”

  “But she was there,” Jade said, her head buzzing, her eyes blurring.

  Suddenly she remembered it was Olivia who’d suggested they search for personnel files on themselves on the Compound server.

  Jade had told Olivia about the AIP.

  And Olivia had told Dan about it.

  “Did SiPraTech really have that kind of power, where they could just erase someone like that? Because Elias said the gunshot that killed her came from inside the fence.”

  “I assume that’s true.”

  Jade didn’t know what was real anymore, whether she could trust herself or her senses or her intellect. Jade saw Olivia being shot, clinging to the fence on an endless loop in her dreams and in her memory.

  “And because she didn’t exist,” Theresa said, “she was expendable.”

  Special Agent Espinoza reasoned that Olivia had been a plant by SiPraTech. She’d been embedded with Jade, Elias, and Berko to guide things, to keep watch over them, to listen in on their conversations, to spy on them. And then when she was no longer useful, they shot her to scare the others into staying in the Compound.

  Jade then remembered the night they’d attempted their escape. That Martin had given them the night off. As if he’d been the one to set up the escape attempt. To set up the shooting.

  “But she went along with the escape attempt,” Jade said. “And they shot her. They sacrificed her.”

  Even though Olivia had been part of the plot, Jade believed with her whole heart that Olivia had been her friend. Nobody was that good of an actor.

  Except Dan.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  November 1

  Tomorrow the family would leave on what would surely be their last trip together, to Washington, D.C., where Jade was invited to testify before a Congressional subcommittee on domestic cyber terrorism. But this morning, Jade sat in a lawn chair behind the house, its newly painted and repaired facade betraying little of the trauma it had suffered. The oaks and maples in the yard were at their autumnal peak, brilliant red and orange, and a hint of the coming winter’s chill tinged the air. That chill made her gunshot wound ache, and she expected it always would. Through the open window in Clementine’s rebuilt studio, Jade heard her sister’s latest composition. It had a frantic tempo, full of minor chords and sharp percussion. Her musical representation of what she’d been through. That was how Clementine processed events and information.

  In her hands, Jade held the three-terabyte external hard drive that stored the original code that eventually became the Clementine Program, thinking about its journey from humble beginnings to near apocalypse.

  She could re-create it. It would take time, yes, but she’d put safeguards in place, and she’d figure out how to use it properly.

  In her mind’s eye, she watched Olivia die. Watched Elias get shot. Watched her house go up in flames.

  She stared at the hard drive. This was power. It was control. It could mean great things.

  Or horrible things
.

  She now grasped she was too selfish, too self-interested to be entrusted with this much power. But even more troubling—there was no telling in whose hands Clementine could wind up.

  She remembered the expression on her sister’s face when Jade had first decoded the tones for chocolate. The look of understanding, of being understood, for the first time in her life.

  Jade carried the drive into her father’s workshop. She turned it over in her hands, then put it on the floor and gazed at it.

  She grabbed her father’s sledgehammer, swung it over her head, and slammed it into the drive with all her strength.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  November 3, Washington, D.C.

  Jade hadn’t been to Washington since spring break her senior year of college, so she was excited to be back, and nervous about testifying before Congress. Pauline, now in a wheelchair, Robert, and Clementine all accompanied her so Pauline could see the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian one more time. She’d talked of nothing else since the trip was planned. Actually she didn’t say it—Jade had designed an app for her cell phone that said it for her. Her mother had always wished she was British royalty as a child, so Jade programmed the voice to have an English accent. The one remaining body part Pauline had control of was her right thumb, so she was still able to type in what she wanted to say.

  This was Clem’s first trip to D.C. Her therapist was confident she had made enough progress to handle the crowds and the sightseeing, but Jade was still tense. Elias and Berko were both in town to testify alongside Jade. They’d all planned to meet in front of the Smithsonian Castle on the National Mall at eleven to have lunch with Harry Gilby at Au Bon Pain on L’Enfant Plaza before testifying. Robert and Pauline were still back at the hotel, but Clementine insisted on coming to lunch with her new friends Berko and Elias. Jade had persuaded her to wear a patchwork skirt instead of her nightgown, but she would not be deterred from wearing her fox-ear headband. At least her hair was clean and combed.

  Foreign tourists crowded the mall, milling around, taking photos.

  “Where are they?” Clementine said. “I’m hungry.” She stood on tiptoe, trying to find the guys.

  Jade kept turning and thought she caught glimpses of Berko or Elias everywhere she looked.

  “Me too,” Jade said, distracted, looking at her phone. She kept trying to call one or the other, but she couldn’t get a signal.

  Clementine bristled with nervous energy, restless and tense being in a crowd, and she rocked foot to foot and tried to keep her hands from flapping. Jade feared a meltdown was imminent unless Berko and Elias showed up very soon. She hoped she wouldn’t have to restrain a screaming Clementine and watch the crowds stare on in horror, as if Jade were torturing Clem. Some things would never change.

  “Put in your earbuds,” Jade said. “Listen to some music.” Clem was too wound up, so Jade reached in her pocket and removed her phone, navigated to Clem’s favorite Tchaikovsky piece, and hit Play. She handed the earbuds to her sister, who slipped them into her ears and closed her eyes, her head thrown back, her mouth open, as if that would help let more music into her brain. Luckily people cleared a path.

  Jade turned back to a khaki uniform coming toward them, and she couldn’t help herself—she broke into a run and nearly knocked Elias down. His smile lit up his whole face as he held her away by the shoulders to look her up and down. Then he hugged her, and Jade surprised herself when her eyes teared up a little.

  “That’s pretty girly of you,” Elias said, pulling out a handkerchief for her.

  “Shut up,” she said, wiping her eyes. He looked so handsome in his uniform.

  “Have you seen Berko yet?” he asked.

  “No,” Jade said. “He’s late.”

  She turned around to bring Clementine into the circle. She wasn’t there.

  Panic rose up in Jade’s chest as she swiveled in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of her sister.

  “What’s wrong?” Elias asked.

  “Clementine,” Jade said. “She was just right here.” She looked frantically around, then pulled out her phone and dialed Clem’s number, even though her sister never answered her phone.

  “Which way did she go?” Elias asked, going into full search and rescue mode.

  She couldn’t have gotten far. Unless. Someone had taken her.

  But Jade would have heard her scream. Wouldn’t she? Or had she been too wrapped up in her tearful reunion to notice?

  Clementine’s phone rang endlessly in Jade’s ear.

  “She’s wearing her fox-ear headband,” Jade said.

  Then she spotted her, far down Jefferson Drive, running and pointing.

  “There she is,” Jade said, and started running after her. Clem must have spotted Berko.

  Mom and Dad were going to kill her.

  Running in heels was difficult, and Jade’s suit jacket was already wet at the armpits. She kept running into knots of people. Why did groups of six have to walk side by side?

  “Excuse me,” she said, trying to push through and keep her eye on her disappearing sister. “Clementine!” she shouted, but Clem probably still had her earbuds in, so she couldn’t hear anyway. She was headed for 7th Street, and if she was chasing someone, there was no way she would pay any attention to the DON’T WALK sign, even if people were stopped at the crosswalk. Elias shot past Jade.

  “Is that her?” he shouted as he went by.

  “Yes,” Jade said, terrified he would grab her and she’d lose it and the whole day would be ruined. Jade was even more afraid Clementine would get hit by a car. What had she seen? A cardinal? A multicolored scarf? What was it? It must have been completely compelling for her to run off alone like this.

  “Clementine!” Jade screamed, and people turned to stare.

  Elias got to her just before she stepped off the curb and spun her in Jade’s direction so she could see her sister. Smart thinking. Clem’s eyes were wide and distracted. “The hair,” she said breathlessly. “The hair.”

  “The hair?” Jade said.

  Clementine pointed across the street. “The hair!”

  Jade’s gaze followed the pointing finger.

  “What is it?” Elias said, bent over and panting.

  Walking away from them across 7th was a girl with bright blue hair, a similar shade to what Olivia’s had been, and Jade’s heart dropped. Clem thought she’d seen Olivia.

  How would Jade explain it to her? An abstract concept like death was hard enough for a neurotypical, but for Clementine . . .

  The blue-haired girl stopped. She turned to the left and reached into her purse, her profile vivid in the sunlight.

  Elias gasped. “Jade,” he whispered.

  “I see her,” she said.

  The girl was Asian, and her face was remarkably familiar.

  Elias hit the Walk button on the pole repeatedly. “Come on,” he said to it. “Come on, come on.”

  “The hair!” Clementine said triumphantly.

  Olivia’s voice in Jade’s mind, what she’d said just before she was shot: It’s going to be okay. Trust me. It’s going to be fine. No matter what happens. You’ll see.

  The street light changed to yellow and Elias grabbed both Veverkas’ hands and pulled them out into the crosswalk. Horns honked.

  They ran, threading through cars, heedless of the danger.

  It couldn’t be.

  No matter what happens.

  They made it to the other side, and Jade looked for the blue head of hair, right, left, straight ahead, but the girl had disappeared into the crowd.

  Olivia was gone.

  Acknowledgments

  More than ever, I’m grateful to the following people:

  My amazing agent, Michelle Johnson of Inklings Literary Agency, who’s a constant encouragement.

  Chloe Moffett, my phenomenal Witness Impulse editor, for her discernment, uncommon sense, and instinct.

  Sherri Brackney, for lending me her horse, Kodak, for this novel
.

  Members of the World’s Greatest Critique Group, Because Magic, for the World’s Greatest Brainstorming Session that resulted in this book: Lynn Bisesi, Deirdre Byerly, Claire Fishback, Marc Graham, Nicole Greene, Mike Haspil, Laura Main, and Chris Scena.

  Henry Bradford, for the original artificial intelligence concept.

  Kim Rasmussen, for allowing me to co-opt her family name for our heroine, Jade.

  Michael Gallup, for the refrigerator repairman.

  Zak Wool, for his peerless nerd reference expertise.

  Rob Stormes, for his idiosyncratic computer science acumen.

  Chloe Hawker, for her editing skills, wit and wisdom as my cohost on The Lively Grind Café, and robust and unapologetic nerdiness.

  Layla Hawker, for allowing me to share her experiences and struggles with autism.

  And as always, my rock, my roll, my knight in tarnished armor, Andy Hawker, my perfect partner in life, crime, and backyard brainstorming.

  An Excerpt from The Drowning Game

  Want more suspense from LS Hawker?

  Keep reading for an excerpt from her debut thriller,

  the story of a young woman on the run for her future . . .

  from the nightmares of her past:

  THE DROWNING GAME

  Available now wherever ebooks are sold!

  Chapter One

  Sirens and the scent of strange men drove Sarx and Tesla into a frenzy of barking and pacing as they tried to keep the intruders off our property without the aid of a fence. Two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance were parked on the other side of the dirt road. The huddled cops and firemen kept looking at the house.

  Dad’s iPhone rang and went on ringing. I couldn’t make myself answer it. I knew it was the cops outside calling to get me to open the front door, but asking me to allow a group of strangers inside seemed like asking a pig to fly a jet. I had no training or experience to guide me. I longed to get the AK-­47 out of the basement gun safe, even though it would be me against a half-­dozen trained law men.