by Jill Cooper
The knock came again, only louder.
Alistar pushed back his big leather chair and stood. Dressed in his best tuxedo and white shirt, his black tie was loose around his neck. For a moment he took a step toward the full-length glass-paneled windows lining the back wall of his office. Outside, rain spattered the streets. Between the skyscrapers he called home and work were small lights of traffic. Cars with families, children and loved ones. How could he expect these good, moral people to cohabitate with monsters?
Monsters that needed human organs to live and stay beautiful and forever young? He didn’t care if glistenings could breed with humans. It meant nothing, and he would be damned if he would repeat the same mistake he made nearly fifty years ago.
A woman’s heels clicked against the marble floors behind him. “Alistar, didn’t you hear me knocking?”
“I heard.” He drank the rest of his whiskey, turning the crystal glass in his hand.
“Well, everyone is waiting for you, dear. It is your birthday party.”
“Feels more like my funeral.” He admitted and turned to his wife. Mary. A simple name for a simple woman, but he loved her. Her figure wasn’t as perfect as it was when they first met, but the fancy dress did her justice. Her face sagged and needed far more than the light makeup and the lip gloss she wore to hide the signs of age, but this was life after the fall of the beauty industry. They were still getting a handle on what was safe and what wasn’t.
Her smile still took his breath away. “Getting old isn’t a crime. Oh, you haven’t even done your tie yet.”
Alistar stood patiently as he had hundreds of times. “It must be a crime. Getting old. Otherwise we wouldn’t have turned ourselves into monsters to avoid it.”
She gave him an unkind glance. “When do you think you can stop talking about work? Anytime soon?”
“Maybe when I’m dead.”
Mary laughed through closed lips and it whistled around them. “Maybe we’ll all get lucky and you’ll get Alzheimer's.”
“Even if I did, I’d never forget how beautiful you are.” He placed a playful kiss on her lips.
Mary rolled her eyes at him with a smile. “Oh, please. I know you didn’t marry me for my looks.”
Alistar took her hand. “I married you because I love you. Now help this old man down the stairs.”
She led him out of the office. His walk was hobbled and his back hunched over, but Mary’s eyes were filled with love, and it did not go unnoticed by him. Or by the guests that he met one floor down. The room was lined with windows, overlooking the New York skyscrapers. It was filled with balloons, flowing confetti, and a towering cake of butter cream frosting layered with white cake.
Alistar smiled and clapped his hands together as he stepped off the stairs to address his friends and colleagues amid the shouts of happy birthday. It was all drowned away by the popping of champagne bottles and the clinking of glasses.
He had only one birthday wish.
****
Middle of the night and his phone was ringing.
It took Alistar a moment to grab his cell phone and put it to his ear. Beside him Mary moved slightly, but still slumbered. Alistar wanted to keep it that way so he spoke low, in a soft gruff voice. “Better be important.”
As fast as his old knees would take him, he hurried to the adjourning bathroom and wedged the door shut. He listened awhile, coughing into his fist. “You found a way in. Find a damn one out. I’m not paying you to sit there in your van and damn complain. Uh-huh. Hasn’t been lifted yet, has it? Shut up. I’ll take care of it, but be ready to move. Too many people already know about this and I’ll be damned if it turns into a PR nightmare!”
Alistar ended the call before quickly bringing up his contact list. His eyes squinted. He could barely see and left his damn bifocals back on the nightstand. “Laurel, what the hell am I paying you for? Lift the damn quarantine already.” More listening, which just wore out his patience. He was tired of listening to everyone all the time. “I don’t care how you do it, just get it over with. We’re not done. We still need to get our hands on that girl.”
Alistar ended the call and longed for the days cell phones were flip phones. Slamming your flip phone closed was a lot more satisfying then gliding your hand across a screen. That and his damn hands were starting to shake. One of these days he was going to try to end a contact and end up ordering a damn pizza.
He laughed at his little joke, quietly opened the door and stared into his wife’s menacing frown. Her arms were crossed and that was exactly how she appeared; cross. “Mary,” Alistar cleared his throat and wiped sweat from his forehead. What had she heard exactly?
“Don’t Mary me,” she huffed. “Look at you conducting business in the bathroom at three in the morning. I swear, Alistar, we are going on vacation and I am taking that phone of yours away. Now let’s go back to bed.”
Alistar took his wife’s offered hand and followed her back to their sprawling king-sized bed. He dodged a bullet and for that he would go quietly to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen Susan
The water in the tub ran a constant stream of white noise, filling the basin with the sweet smell of lavender bubbles collecting around the tap. They danced back and forth, growing and multiplying in size as the prism of colors shined under the soft glow of the overhead lights. Susan sat curled up on the plush purple area rug around the toilet, her legs tucked underneath her. On top of the seat was a brown briefcase, the one she was sent to retrieve, but she was afraid to open it. She didn’t want to see what was inside.
But she needed to. Needed to save her son. Needed to see Jake again.
Susan remembered when he was little, remembered the quiet times where he gathered his arms around her waist and gave her a hug. On his first day of school, when other kids cried, Jake went with great courage into his kindergarten class. Susan saw him glance back at her, but she never told him. Instead she only told him what a brave boy he had been. So brave, her little boy. If he was in trouble now, if someone had him, Susan could not turn her back.
She couldn’t tell Jeff. Her love for him never wavered, but he was too by-the-book. Jeff would never allow her to do anything but go to the police, but she wanted to, especially when he asked questions. Have you called the police yet, he’d asked. Has Jake called? Susan didn’t want to lie, but God she did. She did like it was second nature to her. Was it really a lie? The police did stop by and they did file a report, Susan assumed. Was it really a lie?
Startled, she snorted as someone banged against the bathroom door. “Honey,” Jeff’s voice called out, “are you okay in there?”
“Just taking a bath to unwind,” Susan’s voice sounded so hollow. She couldn’t believe she was lying to him, again. “I’ll be out in a little while.” Her voice was too high and it chirped.
“Okay, hon. Want me to get you anything?”
She felt so much guilt. Eyes squeezed she answered, “No. I’m all right,” her voice cracked.
“The neighbors are coming over. I think Marie could use some company. We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
“There’s pie.” Susan couldn’t believe she was thinking about pie at a time like this. “In the fridge from last night. You can serve that with coffee.” Was Jeff even thinking? How could he invite people over without refreshments? What would the neighbors think of them if they let them go hungry and thirsty?
“Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”
Susan counted to ten as his steps carried him away. When he was gone and she could no longer hear him, she leaned over and turned the water off. The bubbles were now level with the basin and threatened to spill over onto the mosaic tile floor. Susan sighed, turning her attention back to the briefcase. It was like Pandora’s Box. Once she opened it, there was no turning back. She just had to remember her son, being kept God knew where. Was he restrained? Was he in danger? Maybe he was crying, maybe he was hurt.
Glancing at her watch, Susan saw it was nearly 5
:14. As the minute hand closed the circle and began to make another pass, she slowly depressed the buttons on the briefcase. The latches sprung open with a snap. With a shaking hand, Susan lifted the lid slowly, as if it was fragile and inspected it closely.
Susan squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from crying aloud. With shaking hands, she pushed the gun out of the way with her fingertips, she didn’t even want to touch it. Underneath it, she saw a photograph of a man. A familiar man, Susan mused as she picked it up. It fluttered like an injured bird in her shaky grasp. Lawrence Stark.
Beneath that was a yellow envelope. Thick and long. Across it in neat print was the word instructions. What was it they wanted her to do? My God, they didn’t…Did they really? How could she keep this from everyone? Why would this bring her son home?
“We just have a few questions for you daughter,” Jenna’s tone was relaxed and her body stance matched as she stood inside the Brist home. The father’s name was Clark and his daughter was Marsha. By all accounts, she was Wendy’s best friend. If anyone knew anything, Jenna bet her life that Marsha did.
Clark worked at Outpost, but only as a data analyzer. He shifted, left and right, wiping spit away from the corner of his mouth. “She doesn’t know anything about the Chief.”
“She was friends with Wendy. I’ll keep the questions strictly to that, deal?” Jenna gave him a level stare, but Clark shook his head.
“No deal. I don’t want you talking to her. There must be someone else that can talk to her.”
Jenna’s blood boiled. “I’m here to do a job. This isn’t about my past. This is about the Chief’s family and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a squint like you stand in my way.” Jenna stepped forward, her nose in his face and her boots pushed right up against his. “Deal, or we do this at Outpost, Brist. And then I really start to wonder what the hell you’re hiding.”
She couldn’t get into Outpost, but she would bet on her mother’s life that Clark wasn’t going to call her bluff. His eyes blinked afraid, and their focus drifted away. He backed up, his head down with a nod. “She’s in her room. Upstairs and to the left.”
Jenna acknowledged his answer by heading toward the stairs. Dirk followed behind and she heard Jameson offer some words of consolation to Clark. His footsteps charged up the stairs at them and Jenna knocked on Marsha’s door. When she entered, the teen girl jumped off her bed, startled.
Marsha was a normal teen with long hair and a taste for short skirts. Her eyes were distant and afraid as she tugged free her ear buds. She threw them onto the messy bed. “Who are you?”
“We’re with the police,” Jenna said. “We need to ask you a few questions. Please feel free to sit.”
Marsha’s eyes traveled to each of their faces before she perched herself on the edge of her mattress. “About what happened to Wendy’s dad?”
“Yeah. Care to tell me what you know?”
Marsha’s hair fell in front of her eyes as she hunched over like she might be sick. “I don’t know anything.” Her voice trembled and Jenna was egged on by the doubt she heard.
“Sure you do,” Jenna patted Marsha’s hand and sat beside her on the bed. “You were Wendy’s best friend. If anyone knew anything, it’s you. We’re not here to get you in trouble or Wendy, but we need to find her.”
Marsha’s eyes peeked through the blinds of her hair and Jenna saw thick tears and fear. The girl wanted to tell and Jenna just needed to push her a little further.
“She’s missing, and I’m sure you know that. She wasn’t home when the Chief— She wasn’t home, and thank God for that, but we need to find her. I think you know where she went.”
Marsha’s eyes widened and she snapped up to her feet, pacing over to the window. Her hands cradled her crossed arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jenna smiled at her. “Sure you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about because you helped her. Didn’t you? You know how she got out. You know where she was headed. If I’m going to help her, you need to tell me everything you know.”
“I won’t get in trouble?” Marsha asked, her voice shaking.
Jenna shook her head. “I promise. It won’t leave this room.”
“I—” Marsha covered her face and sobbed. “I hid a bag in the park. I got it ready for Wendy. Clothes, supplies. I hid it under the park bench so she could get it before she left.”
“Left for what?”
“The outside,” Marsha’s lip quivered. “She was running away to have that stupid baby. I told her it was stupid. Tell her parents and they could just get rid of it, right? It was one of them.” Marsha’s nose crinkled. “But she loved it and wanted to keep it.”
So Marsha hated the idea of Wendy having a glistening baby, but helped her anyway. She was loyal. “How far along is she?”
Marsha shook her head. “Six months? Seven? All I know is she’s friggin’ sick all the time, puking her guts out and complaining she feels like she’s coming apart. And she was getting really big. I dunno why no one noticed.”
Jenna knew people saw what they wanted. No one wanted to see what Wendy was going through, so they didn’t. “Do you know where she was headed?”
Marsha nodded. “They were going to meet Seers and get smuggled out. She was taking her to the compound, to keep them safe until the baby’s born.”
“They?” Jenna’s senses heightening as fear rippled through her body. Behind her she heard the floor creak as her crew shifted.
“Yeah,” Marsha shrugged. “Wendy and Jake. Probably going to buy a house now or something. Big normal family. Except the baby’s not really a baby, is it? It’s a monster.”
Jenna wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Thanks, Marsha.” She stood up and turned to face her crew. They stood with no movement in the doorway, but their faces were vampire pale. “Anyone else know other than you?”
“No, we were real careful. I was going to,” her voice turned wistful, “going to tell people she spent the night here with me. To give her a head start.”
Marsha’s sobs followed heavy and with grief. Jenna left her to her pain, leaving the room and pulling the door shut.
“Seers smuggled an underage girl, a glistening, and half-breed freak out of New Haven. We have enough against her to bring her ass down.” Jameson said.
Jenna’s mouth was dry. “First we have to piece this information back to the HI. How’d they find out and why did they decide the best way to get rid of Wendy and her baby was to blow up the Chief?”
“Cover their tracks,” Dirk said simply. “Small liability to get rid of such a big threat to our cause.”
Jenna startled when he said that, but knew he was right. It was their cause to keep glistenings locked up, because it was the right thing to do. But killing innocent people like the Chief and his family was not. “We need an outside line so Jameson can hack into the HI, and so I can call Seers and feel her out.”
“Uh, guys,” Jameson called as they excused themselves from the home. “There’s an APB out for our arrest.”
“What?” Jenna spat the words out with hurricane force and spun around. “For what? Asking questions? Doing our jobs?” The words on the screen blurred as tears stung her vision and her pulse raced so fast that her temples throbbed.
“What’s it say?” Dirk asked, touching her shoulder, but she could barely feel it.
Her voice echoed hollowly in her ears. “It says we killed the Chief.”
“They can’t really think we would have anything to do with that.” Dirk grabbed the phone and scrolled through as if he was looking for the punchline.
“We’re about to find out,” Jameson said.
Jenna blinked and heard footsteps approaching them and the sound of sirens. Glancing up, her eyes trained on Laurel’s smug face. Jenna left her crew and stormed up to her, jaw set tight. She swung a right hook at Laurel’s jaw, grabbed her by the shoulders, and threw her onto the grass.
Jenna he
ard voices, but they barely registered. Her eyes were dark with fury as Laurel scampered back to the house. Jenna straddled her with her legs, bent down, and grabbed her by the scruff of her collar. “You think this will keep me sidelined?”
Laurel smile was smug as she wiped a trail of blood from her lips. “You make my job easy, Morgan.” Her eyes danced with laughter and they trained somewhere behind Jenna.
Jenna didn’t have to turn around to know who won, hearing several gun safeties released and she was sure they weren’t aimed at the acting Chief of Police. She dropped Laurel, slowly raising her arms above her head, but her eyes never left the bitch’s face.
“Sergeant Jenna Morgan,” Laurel’s voice dripped with sweetness while her hand massaged her jaw, “you are under arrest.”
Chapter Eighteen Susan
The smell of maple swept through the house while the oven held cinnamon-laced pancakes. On the stove, crispy bacon stayed warm in a covered skillet. Upstairs, Susan sat at her vanity applying her makeup. She swept blush across her cheekbones and mascara to her lashes.
Her reflection looked perfect and serene. The blue of her eyes were steady and her shoulder length hair was pinned back elegantly, but, for the first time—maybe in her life—Susan hated it all. Inside, she was screaming uncontrollably. She wanted to cry, flail her arms, smash something. What was happening wasn’t fair. Her family was a good and honest bunch, so how had this happened to them? How?
She slipped her wedding ring off and left it on the vanity. What she was doing went against everything she and Jeff held dear. To wear it today when she went to Lawrence Stark’s house would be a betrayal. She wouldn’t taint it or her vows.
With a deep breath she and returning to the hallway. She smoothed her skirt and fluffed her hair, not knowing what else to do. Behind one door she heard the shower; behind the other, she heard sobbing. She knocked on her daughter’s room. The door was shut tight despite the fact it was already eight a.m. She needed to get her off to school and Jeff off to work before she ran her…errands.