He assured her that his little girl was fine. A moment of silence lapsed between them before Jo gathered her courage once more.
“Art, I just wanted you to know that Ellen did the best she could. Something really bad happened to her a long time ago and she just never could get over it.”
Ellen had never discussed what happened with her husband. Having been from Kansas, he’d never even heard about it.
When he asked Jo what she meant, she cut him off, “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that I’m going to make it right. You have my word. I promise I’m going to make it right.”
Before she could get away he asked Jo did she know Ellen’s sister. She said no. If Art now suspected that the girl was Ellen’s, she wasn’t going to give him another reason to think badly of his dead wife.
Apparently the girl had run away from home. Ellen’s parents were worried sick.
Jo said goodbye and ended the call.
More of those damned tears came. She cursed herself and wadded up more toilet paper.
A knock on the door made her jump.
“You okay in there?”
LeDoux. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She rolled her eyes at the raw, emotional sound of her voice.
“Open the door, Joanna, or I’ll make a scene.”
God. She glared at the door. “Go away. Give me just five fucking minutes, please.”
“I’m getting the manager.”
Jo reached across the tiny room and unlocked the door without even having to get up. His tall frame crowded into the room. He shut the door and leaned against it because there was no place else for him to be.
She warned, “Don’t say a word.”
He held up his hands and kept his mouth shut.
Jo threw the wad of paper into the trash can and stood. She squeezed between him and the sink and washed her face with cold water. Did nothing to chase away the redness or the puffy eyes.
She patted her face dry, tossed the paper and turned to him. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”
He nodded. “Good.”
When he started to turn around he stopped and grabbed her, pulled her into his arms and hugged her.
She tried not to... Damn it, but she couldn’t help it.
She cried again and she hugged him back. Relished the warmth and strength of his arms. How long had it been since anyone had held her like this?
Maybe not since that day in the hospital when her folks were finally allowed into her room. Her dad had hugged her just like this.
At that moment she realized how tired she was. So very tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of running from the past. Tired of the secrets and the lies.
Tired of the silence.
23
10:15 a.m.
She stared at the screen of her phone, tension immediately tightening the band already crushing her skull. What now?
Just a few more days and everything would be in place.
With an annoyed sigh she accepted the call but didn’t speak. Until Ima’s voice was confirmed she would not utter a word.
“We have a problem.”
Ima. She suspected the actual issue was that her old friend had a problem.
“I’m certain you’re aware of the deal we made long ago, Dr. Alexander. The home you live in, the car you drive, the college fund your children will enjoy. None of it would have been possible if not for our arrangement. If your activities have been uncovered, you will keep our secret out of the equation. Whatever sort of deal you are offered, however overwhelming the pressure, if you fail to uphold the vow you took, your husband and lovely children will pay the price. Now, do I have a problem or do you have a problem?”
She paid her select few associates well to handle their end of things. Time had not changed the terms of their long-ago contract. Yesterday’s complication had been unfortunate but those potential issues had been resolved. Whoever had taken her asset out of play had done them both a favor. Miles Conway would have had to go shortly, in any event.
Soon this would be finished and she would be free to move on with her life. Until then, there could be no mistakes—no more complications.
“I was visited by a woman today who claimed to be the sister of the Durand girl.”
A frown tugged at her. “The Durand girl doesn’t have a sister.” The backgrounds of both subjects had been thoroughly examined. “Your visitor was lying.”
“I thought as much.” Ima sighed. “After she left, my mind wouldn’t let go of the visit. The more I pictured the woman’s face, the more I realized I had seen her before. Between that and what I discovered about the man who pretended to be her husband, I am very concerned that the police may know something.”
“What man?” The police knew nothing relevant. Her asset in the department would have warned her.
“He claimed his name was Gates, but he was actually Special Agent Anthony LeDoux from the FBI.”
Not surprising. LeDoux was Durand’s uncle. He was actually one of the reasons the girl had been chosen. He would find the trail of prepared evidence she had left for him.
“We have nothing to fear from the police. Every detail has been taken care of.” She exhaled a breath of impatience. “I will ask you again, Dr. Alexander, since I despise having my time wasted. How does this problem involve me?” So far her old friend had told her nothing for which she had not prepared.
“The woman, she was test subject number one.”
The news sent a quake through her. That was highly unlikely. Why would she come back after all these years? Clearly Ima’s paranoia was overriding her reason. “You must be mistaken.”
“No,” Ima argued. “I am not mistaken. I remembered the birthmark on her abdomen. It was her. It was Joanna Guthrie.”
A moment’s hesitation was required. She closed her eyes and calmed herself. “If you recognized her, then she certainly recognized you. Perhaps she came to your clinic because she remembered you.”
“I... I’m not sure,” Ima stuttered.
Being unsure was not good enough. “If you believe she recognized you, then I suggest you stop wasting my time and do whatever is necessary to protect your family.”
She ended the call.
Joanna Guthrie.
If not for the shortness of time she would almost be interested in that development.
But there was no time.
The grand finale was already in place.
24
Day Three
Eighteen years ago...
I can’t guess what time it is or even how long we have been in this dark place. They haven’t given us any food but water is provided every day. A sixteen-ounce plastic bottle of water is there whenever we wake up.
I have to watch the other girl. She tries to grab more than her share. She’s a bitch. All she does is laugh whenever Ellen cries.
It feels weird sitting here in the dark. No clothes. No nothing but the smooth feel of this box or cage or whatever it is. Occasionally we bump into each other if we move around. There are the cylinder bottles of water. Nothing else. No other texture—except the roughness of our skin. We need more water. And there is no sound except the noises we make.
Nothing.
I talk Ellen into walking around the dark place with me. I keep one arm out to make sure we don’t run into anything. The other girl refuses to walk with us.
“Your muscles will atrophy,” I warn.
She ignores me.
Whatever. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
I laugh. I can’t even save myself.
I have felt over every square inch of this place and I am unable to feel a seam or crack that would indicate a door. It has to be overhead. They—whoever they are—are getting water in here to us somehow.
I suddenly feel so sleepy I can hardly hold my eyes open. Ellen is leaning against me. “We need to sit down.”
I barely manage to lower myself onto the floor before my thoughts disappear into the darkness.
*
It is still dark when I wake up but this darkness is different.
It smells different.
I reach out with my hand. Nothing.
I listen.
Wait. I hear someone else breathing.
“Fuck.”
I jerk at the word. I am pretty sure the other person breathing is the no-name girl. Where is Ellen?
My heart starts to pound, I rise up on my hands and knees and move around the room. I bump into No-Name.
“Get the fuck off me.”
“Where’s Ellen?”