The Legacy Series Boxed Set (Legacy, Prophecy, Revelation, and AWOL)

by Ellery Kane

  “Well, you were certainly quick to point out his supposed expertise,” Mr. Van Sant countered.

  Judge Blacksher admonished Edison’s father with a scolding glance. “I will allow the question, but wrap this up quickly.” He turned to the witness. “Go ahead, Officer, you may answer.”

  “Umm…” Officer Aceves looked to Dream Killer for rescue.

  “Is that a question or an answer?” Mr. Van Sant was within reach of a small victory, when the door swung open. Belinda traipsed through it, a toothy, vacant smile on her face. Almost immediately, she started giggling.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “Don’t stop on my account. I’m just…” Her sentence dissolved into hysterical laughter. “I’m feeling so much…” She tried to compose herself. “Better! So much better!” Even Judge Blacksher was stunned into silence.

  My eyes connected with Max’s. “Eupho,” we both whispered at the same time. “Did I look that ridiculous?” he asked. Reluctantly, I nodded.

  “Ma’am, I need you to take your seat and be quiet. If you can’t do that, you’ll have to leave the courtroom.” Judge Blacksher had found his voice. “Can you do that?”

  “I—” She pointed at the judge, holding her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to contain herself. “I can’t—” A forceful guffaw broke through. “I can’t stop laughing!”

  Judge Blacksher sighed. “Bailiff, please escort this woman outside.” Doubled over, emitting a sound both pitiful and disturbing, Belinda didn’t stop, even as the officer ushered her from the room. Without seeing her face, it was impossible to distinguish her laughter from her tears.

  The moment Belinda was muted behind the door, Judge Blacksher admonished the room. “The next person who decides to enter my courtroom under the influence of any banned substance will be arrested immediately—no questions asked—and you all will be subject to wearing EAM trackers in my courtroom. Got it?” He didn’t wait for a reply. Our compliance was understood. Still perturbed, he gestured to Mr. Van Sant.

  “Officer, do you consider yourself an expert in assessing homicide scenes?”

  “No, I don’t,” Officer Aceves conceded.

  With a satisfied nod, Mr. Van Sant continued. “You said you spoke with and searched Mr. McAllister that evening. During those activities, did you notice any marks, bruises, or scratches on his body, anything that might indicate a struggle?”

  “I didn’t, but—”

  Mr. Van Sant allowed no room for an explanation. “At any point, did Mr. McAllister tell you that he had harmed his wife?”

  “No.”

  “I have no further questions.” Returning to his seat, Mr. Van Sant appeared somber, but under the table, he gave Edison a small, celebratory fist bump. Still, round one—bizarre as it was—seemed too close to call.

  CHAPTER SIXTY - SIX

  THE REAL NITTY-GRITTY

  BY THE TIME MAX AND I ARRIVED back at the safe house—dropped off a few blocks away by Van Sant’s men—it was completely dark. The street lamps flickered on one by one, illuminating our path. Inside, String and my father were hunched over a laptop, chatting like old friends. They fell silent at the sight of us.

  “Are we interrupting something?” Max teased.

  “Don’t mind us,” I added, flopping down on the sofa, exhausted in every way. I turned on the television, anxious to see SFTV’s reporting of the trial.

  “Do you really want to watch that?” my father asked, taking a seat next to me. “Wasn’t it enough to see it live and in color?”

  I shrugged. “What have they been saying?”

  My father sighed. “Nothing good. They interviewed Shelly’s mother earlier. She’s certainly a character.”

  “What did she say?”

  My father hesitated. I imagined he was editing his story according to what he thought I could handle. “Just tell me, Dad.” It couldn’t be any more theatrical than her performance during the afternoon recess, when she stormed into the courtroom—post-Eupho—and headed straight for Quin. “I feel sorry for you,” she scoffed at him, as the entire gallery looked on. “He’s got you fooled just like my daughter.”

  My father patted my leg. “Why don’t you eat something first? Max, what about you—can I get you a sandwich?”

  “Definitely.” Max rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving.”

  I watched Max scarf down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, barely breathing in between bites, while I picked at mine. “So…” I said. “Shelly’s mom?”

  “Alright, if you really want to know.” I nodded. “She spent most of the interview crying. She said she used Eupho a few times just to get through the last few weeks.” Max and I exchanged a look.

  “Fake tears, if you ask me,” String chimed in.

  “She claimed Shelly was completely in the dark about George’s past, that he told her he was in prison for a robbery. According to Belinda, when Shelly found out, she confronted George, and he hit her. She apparently told her mom she was afraid of him.”

  “It’s bogus,” String added. “Look, I know a con artist when I see one, and I could see that lady coming a mile away.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just pulled the crust from my sandwich and took a nibble. But inside, I was completely certain Belinda was lying. I knew because Shelly told me. It was the closest we had to a meaningful conversation, which was the last time I saw her at Dellencourt, just before Quin’s father was paroled. That day, she visited first, emerging from the room with black mascara tracks trailing down her pale cheeks. After Quin went inside to see his father, I sat still as a stone, uncertain what to say.

  “Aren’t you gonna ask me what’s wrong?” Shelly said, dabbing her face with the hem of her shirt.

  “I didn’t want to intrude. It’s none of my business.”

  “Of course it is. Who else do I have to do girl talk with?” She smiled, opening up her purse and pulling out a small mirror. She licked her finger and rubbed it beneath her eyes, only smearing her mascara further. “Oh well,” she sighed, returning the mirror to her bag.

  “Only if you want to tell me.” I hid my curiosity.

  “George finally told me everything,” she said. “Everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Shelly scooted toward me and leaned in close, as if she was about to reveal the secrets of her universe. “Of course, I knew he was in here for murdering his wife, but he never really told me the whole story, the real nitty-gritty. He said it was important for me to know all that so I could decide, you know, if I could handle it.”

  “Can you?” I asked.

  Shelly laughed. “Have you ever looked back at something you did a long time ago, like when you were a little girl, and thought, I was a totally different person then, like how was that even me?”

  She continued, as I nodded. “Well, that’s how I think about what George did. That’s not even him. It’s some other person I never knew.”

  “But, it is him, Shelly.” My voice was an almost whisper, anticipating her protest. When she said nothing, I added, “Aren’t you ever afraid?” Before she could reply, Quin opened the door to the visiting room, ending our conversation. I never got the answer.

  “Are you gonna eat that?” Max asked, eyeing my sandwich.

  “Go ahead,” I answered, pushing the plate toward him. My father shot me a concerned look. “I’m not really hungry,” I said, preempting his questions. “I think I’ll just go to my room, if that’s okay.”

  String cleared his throat with intention, his eyes on my father. “Aren’t you going to tell her?”

  My father patted my shoulder. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but…”

  Cutting my father off with enthusiasm, String grinned ear to ear. “We got something on Augustus!”

  CHAPTER SIXTY - SEVEN

  CALL TERMINATED

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?” I chastised my father. “That should’ve been the first thing you told us.”

  My father hung his head. “I know.
I just thought it could wait till the morning.”

  “Definitely not.” I felt a sudden surge of energy. “Let’s hear it.”

  Together, we walked down the hallway and into the surveillance room. Scooter was lying on the sofa, snoring softly, while Barry sat glassy-eyed in front of the computer.

  “Can you print the transcript from this morning?” my father asked. “Lex would like to see it.”

  With a few keystrokes on the computer, the printer roared to life. “Here you go.” He handed me the paper. “Augustus made some interesting phone calls this morning. You can see the time stamps at the top. Now keep in mind, we can only hear one side of the conversation.”

  “Got it.” I was already skimming the page with Max reading over my shoulder.

  Call initiated 9:30 a.m. It’s me. Don’t hang up.

  I know, I know. I’m sorry. I can still get it. I just need a little more time.

  That’s not possible.

  Okay, okay. I’ll try. But I’ve got to be careful.

  You don’t have to threaten me. I know what’s at stake. Call terminated 9:33 a.m.

  “Sounds like someone is not too happy with Augustus,” Max surmised.

  I looked to my father for an explanation. “Keep reading,” he said.

  Call initiated 9:34 a.m. It’s Gus. We need to talk.

  How else was I supposed to reach you? You’re not exactly an easy man to track down. Would you rather I show up there? Or maybe I should start talking about our arrangement? How would you like that?

  I want to discuss Onyx.

  I know what you said, but—

  I’m the right man for it. Trust me. Just like with the others.

  I’m prepared to offer you more this time. Name your price. Whatever you want, but I need it. I’ve made promises. I’m really … Call terminated 9:35 a.m.

  “Is there more?” I asked.

  “Not exactly.” My father gestured toward Barry.

  “Augustus left his office right after that call,” Barry explained.

  “Oh.”

  “But…” My face brightened. “Our guys followed him to San Francisco.”

  “Guess where he went?” my father asked, practically giddy. Before I could muster a word, he and String answered together. “Zenigenic headquarters.”

  That night, after I gave up on sleep, I padded into the kitchen, finally feeling hungry. I rifled through the fridge, settling on a cold slice of pizza.

  “Hey, I was gonna eat that,” Max groaned from the doorway. “I was dreaming about it.”

  I laughed, popping the last bite into my mouth. “At least you were sleeping.”

  Max scooted a chair next to mine. “I think I’m still catching up. Sleep isn’t really a priority on Eupho.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” I never told Max about my seeing him steal his bus fare. “Are you … have you?” I wasn’t sure how to ask the question, but seeing Belinda reminded me just how dismal—but apparently tempting—forced happiness could be.

  “Still Eupho-free,” he confirmed. “Barely.” I raised my eyebrows. “I finally get it—why my mom can’t stop. For a long time I thought she just didn’t care about me, you know? Me or anybody really. Now I think she probably cared too much. She needed an escape from all that caring. That’s the euphoria, just letting it all go.”

  I thought of Emovere, the way it quieted everything. “I know what you mean.”

  “Sebastian says I’m like that too. I care too much.” He sighed. “He told me that I should stop hoping my family will change—just be my own man.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay to care about people and need them, even if they disappoint you. Don’t let String tell you who you are.”

  Max smiled a little. “He can be pretty persuasive.”

  “I gathered that,” I teased. “Just remember he comes from a long line of con artists.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Well, your dad sure seems to like him.” He was right about that. Despite his initial misgivings, my father embraced String, outlandish stories and all.

  “So you and Quin…” Max waited for me to fill in the blank. I couldn’t.

  “I don’t know, Max. How can he just trust his dad like the past never happened?”

  “You trust your dad, right? Even though he left you and your mom?”

  “I guess, but that’s totally different,” I argued.

  “Is it?” We were both quiet. I watched the clock on the microwave flash 2:30 a.m.

  “I should probably try to get some sleep.” I set my plate in the sink and turned to go.

  “Maybe he needs to trust his dad more than he needs to not trust him.” Max’s words—the simple trueness of them—gripped my stomach with a cold and heavy hand. “The same way I need my mom, even though she always lets me down.”

  “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY - EIGHT

  EMPTY SEAT

  ELANA NUDGED ME. “Lex, are you okay? You seem a little out of it.” Right after I took the seat next to her, the courtroom immediately filled. Edison and his father were head to head at their table, looking over their notes. And Quin had arrived. I hadn’t even noticed. I couldn’t stop thinking about Augustus, Zenigenic, and George McAllister. As odd a trio as I could possibly imagine, I knew they were connected somehow. And where did Ryker, Baudin, and the black roses fit in? My father and I spent most of that morning’s breakfast trying to assemble the pieces.

  “Just thinking.” I was still unable to put my suspicions into words.

  “That sounds dangerous,” Max teased, nudging me with his elbow. In front of us, Quin sat alone, those empty seats tugging at me. “Go sit by him,” Max mouthed. I shook my head. Still, I had to do something.

  “Quin.” I tapped his well-dressed shoulder with my hand. As he shifted in his seat to face me, I felt nervous, as if I just asked the cutest boy in class to loan me a pencil. Somehow, Quin was two people at the same time—my Quin, the one I knew by heart, and a stranger. Maybe this was what it meant to be broken up.

  “Hi.” His voice was tentative. Thinking of yesterday’s urgent but awkward embrace, I wondered if he felt it too, an uncomfortable duality. With his brown eyes focused on me, I couldn’t think of what to say.

  Lucky for me, Max was never at a loss for words. “I didn’t realize you were such a suit-and-tie man.”

  “Me neither.” Quin laughed. “It’s not really my thing.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” Max bantered back. “You look awful.”

  “Well, I’m certainly no match for…” Acting cool, Quin slicked his hair back. “String. He’s like a walking ad for hair gel.” Elana and I giggled. “Who could compete with that?”

  “Actually, he prefers Sebastian now,” Max said with pretend arrogance. “And you’re right.” Grinning at me, he added, “I guess we’re both suckers for reformed bad boys, huh?” I blushed, avoiding Quin’s gaze.

  Rolling her eyes at their ribbing, Elana put a voice to my thoughts. “It’s good to see you two knuckleheads haven’t missed a beat.”

  Mid-smile, Max’s face froze. He was staring at his cell phone, mouth open.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, dreading his answer.

  “You won’t believe it.” Max displayed the screen. Prison Riot Claims Life of Associate Warden. I felt nauseous.

  “Are you sure it’s him?” But I already knew. Max pointed to a photograph underneath the headline, the same one Edison showed us from the Larkhill website.

  “I’m not surprised,” Quin said, the rest of us speechless. “He screwed up that day with Artos. Somebody must’ve figured out we were onto him.” I nodded in agreement, silently echoing Dr. Donnelly’s words. He knew too much.

  Then something, someone caught Quin’s attention. He glanced away from us toward the door.

  “Sorry, I’m late.” I didn’t have to turn my head to recognize Emma’s breathy tone.

  “Honestly, we didn’t even notice,” Elana jabbed, not missing a beat.

  “Wel
l, honestly,” Emma mimicked her voice, “I wasn’t talking to you.” I said nothing, pretending to look away, nonchalant. When I returned my eyes to Quin, he no longer sat alone.

  CHAPTER SIXTY - NINE

  HIRED GUN

  “DR. PEARSON, if you wouldn’t mind, tell us a bit about your training.” Dream Killer lobbed soft questions at her white-haired witness, Rhonda Pearson.

  “Certainly.” Dr. Pearson swiveled slowly in her seat, facing the jury. “I’ve been doing this job, forensic toxicology, for a while, probably before some of you were even born.” The jurors twittered. “I received a bachelor of science degree in forensic chemistry from the University of California in 1998, and I’ve been working for the Oakland Police Department since 2010. As you can imagine, I’ve consulted on a fair number of homicide cases.”

  “And what were you asked to do in this case?”

  “Well, this case was a bit unusual. Typically, in a homicide, I perform a variety of tests on the deceased victim or even the alleged perpetrator to identify any drugs or chemicals present in their bodies. This time, I was asked to test a chemical found at the scene.” Several jurors leaned forward with obvious curiosity.

  “Where was this chemical found?”

  “To my knowledge, it was in a vial in the defendant’s jacket pocket.”

  “Dr. Pearson, were you able to identify this chemical?” I planted my feet to the floor, waiting for the answer.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “And what was it exactly?” Dream Killer’s face was stoic, but it was obvious she relished these moments, a chance to marvel at her own skill.

  Dr. Pearson frowned. “We initially believed the substance was Emovere. The two chemicals share many properties. However, additional testing revealed it to be another banned EAM—emotion-altering medication—called Onyx, a name most of you will not recognize.”

  “Onyx,” the District Attorney repeated, savoring each syllable, as I tried to manage my disbelief. Since the police visited Quin in the aftermath after Shelly’s death, I assumed the vial contained Emovere. “That doesn’t sound familiar. Would you tell us a bit about this substance?”