Haunted (State v. Sefore) (21 page)

“Why didn’t you talk with me about this before you acted? We could’ve found another way to handle everything.” Agreeing to Daniel’s scheme added Callista’s blood to his hands. So much blood.

Daniel’s eyebrows lowered. “There was no other way. I’ve run through every potential scenario in the last three days. This was the only option.”

“Wait, what do you mean every scenario?”

“Come on, I knew we were in trouble after you gave her a lecture about not hurting her competition.” He pointed a finger at the screen, spearing Noah with his glare. “For the record—not your smartest idea. Crazy woman thought you leaving her alive meant you cared more about her than Maddison.”

Noah stared back. “You should’ve told me.”

“So you could do what? Threaten her again? I took care of it. Be grateful and move on.” His face disappeared, and the com chimed a disconnect tone.

It began to sink in—the danger had passed. Callista couldn’t hurt Maddison or anyone else he cared about ever again. Daniel had guaranteed them safety. But at what cost?

You chose this. Just like Daniel
.

The image of Callista’s body flashed in front of his eyes, and his stomach lurched. He raced for the bathroom, heaving into the toilet not a moment later.

He slumped against the floor when the tremors stopped. He’d fallen so far.

Religious or not, two truths had become strikingly evident in the last five years. One, God existed—Nonna’s stalwart obedience and the beauty in the world hinted at the reality. The nightmares, blood, and guilt proved it. And two, God would judge him … and Daniel. No excuses, no rescue, no counter-balancing of wrongs. It didn’t matter how much good he tried to do, it never outweighed the bad. He would never regain God’s favor, no matter how hard he tried.

*

He opened the bathroom door. Was there water running in the kitchen? Walking into the room, he found Maddison loading the dishwasher. She had changed into a high-neck, pink sweater.

“It’s a good thing the weather is cold this time of year. I can bundle up in turtlenecks and scarves for the next few days.” She gave a cookie sheet a final vicious scrub before dropping it in the bottom rack.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure the kitchen is clean, so Taylor and Jakob don’t ask questions. Would you carry the table remnants to the curb, please?”

He came over and placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her movement. “Are you suggesting we keep this from them?”

“I don’t want them to freak out. If everything, myself included, looks normal when they get home, the fact that Daniel stood between a rogue liquidator and me won’t scare Taylor to death. I can’t fix it all, but I don’t want them to know how close Callista came to …” Her eyes drifted back toward the living room, and she shuddered. “All they need to know is that she showed up and Daniel stopped her.” Her stony face didn’t shift, but her next words came out in a pleading tone. “Please go along with it? I’ll be fine. And she’s not coming back. Jakob’s been so worried. Can’t we act like everything’s fine?”

“What about your voice?”

“I’m going to make some hot tea with honey. It’ll help the raspiness. If they ask, I’ll say I don’t feel great, which is true, but the medicine’s already helping. I’ll be good as new in a couple days.”

“Okay.” Pile it on. One more lie to add to the growing stack. “But you have ten minutes to make your tea while I survey the living room.”

“I’ll do it in eight.” She reached up to kiss his cheek before heading for the cabinets across the kitchen.

He squared his shoulders and stepped back into the living room. The coffee table lay in large splinters. Shards of a vase and some picture frames littered the floor. A chunk of drywall and plaster dust lay like snow on the dark carpet.

He tried not to piece together the fight as he cleaned, not wanting to contemplate what would’ve happened had Daniel been less paranoid. He carried the larger pieces of table out to his car and dropped them in the trunk before filling a trash bag with the other debris. He vacuumed the room, pulled the couch back into its normal spot, and straightened the remaining pictures on the mantel, then headed back to the kitchen. Maddison leaned against the island, drizzling honey into a tall blue mug.

“Okay, time’s up. You need to rest.” He held out a hand to her.

She slid the honey back into the center of the island, grabbed her mug, and took his hand with a small smile. “I promise.”

He led her back up the stairs so she could avoid the living room until tomorrow. She smiled and squeezed his hand. He watched in wonder as she settled in the middle of her bed, surrounded by pillows, and covered herself with a down blanket while balancing her cup of tea in the other hand. Not a drop spilled. He sat at the foot of her bed, one leg pulled up in front of him, the other dangled to the floor.

She took a sip of the steaming beverage. “Do you think Daniel saved me so you would cut him some slack?”

He frowned. “Daniel has his own reasons for everything he does, and I’m very bad at guessing what those are. But most of them are selfish, so I wouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt at this point.”

She stared down at her tea. “Do you want to talk about him now?”

About Daniel condemning him to this life of blood and guilt? “No.”

She sighed his name.

“I can’t.” He fought to form the words. “It’s done. Talking about it won’t help me. It won’t change anything. All I can do is move forward.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T
he perfect solution
had finally presented itself. Noah frowned. Well, not perfect, but he could use the situation. He pulled out of the exit lane and back onto the interstate. Callista’s hotel was ten miles away. Her ARL wouldn’t know she was missing until she didn’t show up for the med appointment in the Center, which gave him a little over nine hours.

He needed thirty minutes. Assuming she’d left her compad behind, and he’d bet just about anything she had. She didn’t carry a purse or bag and often bragged about her ring, vidcom, and a tube of lipstick providing her with the tools to do anything she needed.

He glanced at the clock on the dash. 10:30 p.m. The front desk clerk would likely be bored and distracted, but anyone coming in at this time of night would get undue attention. The exit marker loomed ahead. He signaled and pulled over into the exit lane. Who could he be? Maintenance? Transit worker? The hotel owner’s son? Playing a spoiled rich kid had perks the other two personas couldn’t provide, but he’d used that strategy last year. This plan would have be to completely different. Nothing about tonight could point back to him.

The five-star hotel came into view, and Noah parked in the only shadowed space in the lot. Of course, Callista would stay in the most expensive hotel in CSE. A person would have to be Class One or Class Two to even contemplate such accommodations. Perfect. Thanks to Daniel and Ryan, Noah knew all about those people. He reached into the back seat, grabbed the set of extra clothes he kept on hand, and changed. He didn’t have a suit jacket, but he could work with what he had. He got out of the car and slipped on his leather jacket. Time to go to work.

He pulled a bored expression and took his time walking towards the entrance, twirling the distinctive Mustang key around his finger. The valet rushed forward to meet him. “Sir, we would be more than happy to park your car for you in the future.”

Noah looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do I look like the kind of person who wants just anybody in my car?”

The valet paled. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He didn’t acknowledge the man’s reply or break stride toward the entrance. The doorman opened the door with a bow. At the front desk, a tall wiry man straightened in his seat. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

He put his arm on the counter and leaned against the side. “I have an appointment with Callista State. She left a key for me.”

The clerk didn’t move. “And you are?”

“Mark Abbott.”

“Abbott, like the ministers?”

Ah, there’s the reaction he wanted. Both John and Barbara Abbott held positions on the Council, as the minister of education and minister of classification respectively. They also happened to be from this part of the country.

“One of their grandsons. Are you going to give me the key or not?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Ms. State didn’t leave a key. I can call up to her room if you’d like.”

He waved his hand. “If you must.”

The clerk dialed the room extension, number 214. The phone rang four times. No one picked up. Good, the room was still clear. “Ms. State doesn’t answer. Perhaps your,” he gulped, “appointment was for a different time?”

Noah straightened. “Do I look like the kind of person who misremembers appointments? Especially ones that take place after curfew?”

“Mr. Abbott, I do apologize. It’s just, Ms. State isn’t answering, and she didn’t leave a key. It does put me in an awkward position, you understand. If you could verify your identity, I would feel more comfortable.”

“I can do better than that. Although I think you’ll wish I hadn’t.” Noah pulled his vidcom out of his pocket and pushed the code for Ryan.

“Calling Ryan Lutz. Personal or classification office?”

“Personal.”

“Connecting now.”

The clerk waved a card at him, his face white as a sheet. “That won’t be necessary. I apologize Mr. Abbott. Here’s the key you requested.”

“Good call.” Noah took the keycard and walked over to the elevators, silencing the phone with a swipe.

Phase one, complete. Now on to phase two. The elevators doors opened, and he stepped out on the deserted second floor.
Please don’t be a waste
. He spotted 214. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside.

What a mess. Clothes and shoes littered every surface, but on the bed, a corner of her compad peeked out. Great. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his jacket pocket, slipped them on, and picked up the compad. It sprang to life, requesting Callista’s passcode.

Okay, Seforé, think. What would it be? Nothing too obvious, like her birthday or birthplace or mother’s maiden name. Not his birthday. Shudder. What was important to Callista? What would she want the reminder of? Then he knew, but how to say that in less than eight characters? Wait.

Spencer. He typed it in, and the screen unlocked. He rolled his eyes. She really had bought into the propaganda hook, line, and sinker. He used the same password to get into her account on the Ministry of Justice server. At the bottom of the screen sat a file that didn’t show up on his account: Confirmed CSE Resistance Members. He double-clicked on the file.

Fifty names filled the page. Fifty. How did they have confirmation on that many people? He scanned the list, looking for familiar names. Yancey and Henderson were of course on it. Two thirds of the way down he found the name he’d dreaded. Maddison’s name sat underneath Ritchie Callum’s.

He scanned the names again. No, he hadn’t overlooked it. Brandon Ross, attender of Ritchie’s covert meeting, was not on the list. Maybe he needed to pay the kid a visit after all. But first, finish here. A couple clicks allowed him to delete the entire file. A minute more and he’d destroyed all related files and their back-up copies on the server. He signed out of Callista’s account and laid the computer back down where he’d found it. It might not be a permanent solution, but for tonight? It felt good to set McCray back several steps.

*

Brandon Ross closed the door to his house and sauntered toward the garage. Halfway there, his posture changed. He stuck his hands in his pockets and slumped his shoulders. Like a kid undercover for the first time realizing someone might be watching even this. Noah opened his car door without taking his eyes off Brandon. The street was quiet, but from twenty yards away, the noise would be undetectable. Unless someone happened to be a liquidator. Sure enough, Brandon tensed.

Noah swung out of the car and headed straight for the fresh out of the Academy liquidator. “I think it’s about time you and I had a talk, don’t you?”

Brandon turned, waiting in the middle of the front yard. “Do I know you?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know who I am, and now I know who you are, Brandon State.”

“Could you keep your voice down?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Use your senses. There isn’t anything living in earshot, let alone anyone.”

Brandon’s arms came out of his pockets and crossed behind him. “I take my job seriously. That means I’m always careful.”

Earnest Academy graduates were the worst. “Well, then, maybe you should’ve set your posture before you exited the house.”

“I’m not the one who might be dead in a month. What’s it like to be watched like a common criminal?”

“Such a transparent shift, rookie.” Noah stuck his hands in his pockets. Man, it was cold this morning. “And don’t think for a second they aren’t watching you too.”

“Well, that kinda comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

“The smart ones always keep that in mind. I assume the couple watching from the front window are liquidators as well and not your real parents?”

“Yep.”

“And I hear you managed to ingratiate yourself right into the resistance.” Which stung. Here he had to take a public beating to get an invitation, and this blond poster boy waltzed right into one.

Brandon smiled. “All I had to do was play the poor little outcast who didn’t want his Class Two placement, and they came to me. Evidently the usefulness of having someone inside the Elite was too good to pass up.”

Ah, yes, that did make sense. Especially to an ambition-driven young adult like Ritchie Callum.

“Must’ve been pretty good ’cause your girlfriend bought it.”

Noah laughed. “Oh, she might not’ve known you were a liquidator, but she knew something was off. There’s also the fact that my friend Liv doesn’t trust you. She’s an excellent judge of character, that girl.”

Anger flashed in Brandon’s eyes.

Noah took a step forward. “Don’t be stupid and punish either one of them because you aren’t as good at your job as you ought to be.”

“Fair point.” Brandon’s jaw relaxed. “I have to ask. How did you manage to flirt with a resistance member on the first day? I mean, are you that lucky? She must be a gold mine of information.”

Don’t let the kid get to you.
“I can’t claim that one. But you’re right, she has been very helpful.” In ways you’d never guess.

“If only we all were that lucky. My first month here I subsisted on the intel from McCray’s office. If they hadn’t brought in fifty of us to actively survey CSE, I wouldn’t have had a clue who to approach.”

Wait. What now? McCray had extra staff running feeds?

“There can’t be room for that many people at the RL office. It normally holds what, twenty people?”

“Oh yeah, they’re crammed in there. It’s ridiculous. I don’t know how they do it.”

Noah clenched his fists in his jacket. Fifty extra people surveilling Coastal South East. Six days a week. Ten hours a day. Deleting that list wasn’t going to help as much as he’d hoped.