Peril (36 page)

She motioned to the wing chairs that faced one another. Each of them took a seat. “How long do you think I should hold on to the bitterness?”

He sipped slowly, mulling over her words. “The same length of time that the inflictor of such pain merits.”

“But for you, that would be a lifetime.”

He set the cup on his knee. “I think I deserve that. Every word. I wasn't a father to you.”

“But it poisons me more than it ever hurt you. That's the problem.”

He shook his head. “I don't get what you mean.”

Lilly sighed. “My anger with you stops me from having joy in my life. It affects me every day, but honestly, it's probably not something you think much about. I dwell on anger. It just creates overwhelming sadness.”

“And how did you come to this realization?”

“Nathan, for one. We've been talking a lot about forgiveness. I want him to forgive himself for what happened all those years ago when John Samuals killed his own family members. It just taints everything he does—the constant ruminating about how he failed. That's what he thinks, despite what the facts in evidence show. Why he carries his misdeeds in his pocket everywhere he goes. Neither one of us knew where to turn, so we started to read a lot about it.”

“And this led to some epiphany? You're reading the Bible?” His question was sincere.

“Epiphany—maybe not. There aren't hallelujah choruses of angels singing. It's easy and hard and compelling. So many layers.”

“I'm glad it's working for you.”

“It didn't play out very well yesterday, I'm afraid.” Lilly looked at him and placed her hand over his. “Nathan would talk a lot to me about forgiving you. He never suggested I'd get over it—more like I'd come to a place where I could feel lightness in my soul.”

“Nathan's a good man.” A man Reeves wished he'd been for her. “I'm glad you two are together.”

Lilly smiled at his words. Even at her age and with the distance between them, she still craved his approval. She pulled her hand away. “Morgan is who changed my mind.”

“She spoke to you about forgiveness?”

“Not at all.” Lilly turned her eyes out the window. “She's in that dark place. That well of bitterness that's so comforting, yet a prison all the same. She blames herself for her daughter's death. Can't get past it.”

His heart stalled, just briefly, a sudden realization that Lilly was speaking about his deceased granddaughter.

He cleared his throat. “And that changed your mind? Her grief?”

“In a way. I saw the effect it was having on her. On her marriage.” Lilly
smoothed her palms over her legs. “Something happened to me to change the way I think about a lot of things. About how I want my family to be. About what kind of relationships I want to have.”

“I know—your rape. I still grieve what happened to you.”

“No, not that. Something different.”

“What?”

“I'm going to have to delay getting tested myself—to see if I'm a match for Morgan.”

“Why? Lilly—”

“Because I'm pregnant.”

Reeves's mouth drifted open. “Does Nathan—”

“Know?” Lilly softly smiled. “We have a date night set for this weekend. I'm going to tell him then.”

“I'm the first.”

“You're the first.”

She'd trusted him with this incredible news. Felt safe enough with him to disclose it. A sharp pang pierced deep inside of him as though a raw, ragged wound had begun to heal.

“I want a healthy family for this baby.” She folded her hands as if to pray . . . almost pleading. She searched his eyes. “I want the baby to know you. You're the only one who really knows about my mother and can share her in a way I can't.”

Here it was. A chance for him to change everything. Instead of destroying life, he could invest his time in other children. And Lilly trusted him with his grandchild.

His throat was tight as he spoke. “I will. I promise. I will respect her memory in that way. I'll tell the baby all about her.”

Lilly smiled. “Good.”

There was so much that he'd missed while pursuing work, pursuing destruction over his family. There was no going back to that life. Not after today.

“I know it's not easy. I know this is just a start. I'll do whatever you want. Counseling—”

Lilly put her hands up. Full stop. “I appreciate the thought. But let's get you through the next half hour first. It's almost time. Are you ready?”

“No.”

Chapter 41

1530, Saturday, August 11

T
YLER WATCHED
M
ORGAN
disconnect the unit of blood while Drew checked his blood counts on the small I-stat machine.

“I think one pint did it,” Drew announced.

Morgan turned off the pump. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as bad as you might think.”

She smiled faintly and then walked over to Seth's bed, getting another set of vital signs.

Tyler's whole left chest ached but he was relieved to have sensation and strength into his left arm. He'd been spared from nerve damage. Worse than the pain of the injury was the mask of agony Morgan wore on her face over her decision of choosing him instead of Seth. It echoed his remembrance of her in the moment when they were told Teagan was brain dead.

Drew put a firm hand over his. “You hangin' in there?”

Tyler pulled the blanket up, watching Scott and Dylan hover like vultures. “How can I make her understand that it's okay?”

“Man, I don't know.” He exhaled slowly. “Seems like the two of you have . . . how do I say this in a nice way . . . issues.”

Heaviness settled over Tyler. “We lost a baby. It's been hard.”

“I bet that's one of the toughest things a couple can live through. Do you have faith?”

Tyler adjusted in the bed. “I did once. It's been hard to find that peace again.”

“Maybe you're just holding on when you should be letting go.”

Funny, I said those same words to Morgan. Am I holding on to her too tight? Suffocating her from working through her grief in a healthy way?

“I'm afraid that if I let go . . . she'll die.”

“Weird thing about God is he wants everything we have. Our time.
Our money. Everything turned over to him. I've seen parents struggle with this about their kids. Thinking about giving their lives over to God—not controlling every aspect of the decisions they make haunts them. A parent's work is to protect their children. So it seems counterintuitive to let go and let God deal with them directly. But, overall, it's a trust issue. Do you trust God to do what's best on Morgan's behalf? I'm not saying be reckless. If you think she's going to harm herself, God would want you to step in. But in the absence of that, he may want you to step back so he can do his work, too.”

Morgan returned to his bedside. “You need to be resting. I didn't take Drew to be such a chatterbox.”

Did she overhear the conversation?

“We need to think of a plan,” Drew said.

“I agree . . .” Tyler coughed briefly.

“No, we wait,” Morgan said.

“If we're not proactive, all that's going to happen is that we get shot in the melee,” Drew said.

“You don't trust SWAT very much,” Morgan said.

“No, I trust them. I don't trust the hostage takers.”

“Do you still have the med in your pocket?” Morgan asked Drew.

“What med?” Tyler asked.

“A paralyzing agent,” Drew said.

Tyler shook his head. “No, you two are crazy. How are you going to get close enough to inject it? Unarmed, I might add.”

Morgan glanced at the two remaining hostage takers. They were turned away from her. She held her hand out. “Give it to me.”

“I don't know.” Drew rubbed his face with his hands. “I don't feel right about that.”

“I'll have a better chance to inject it. Now that Tyler is injured, who do you think they'll grab next?” Tyler moved to sit up. Morgan eased him back. “Hurry.”

He pulled a syringe from his flight suit. “I drew the med up.”

She grabbed it and tucked it into her pocket.

“Morgan, it's not a good idea.” Tyler's voice had grown soft. Weaker.

“Drew.”

“I'll check his blood pressure again.”

“I wish you two would stop poking me.”

Scott grabbed the television and rolled it in their direction.

“My sweet Morgan. Ready to see your long-lost father on television?” Scott smiled maliciously. “If he doesn't confess what's really happening to me and everyone, the next time I shoot, it will be to kill.”

Chapter 42

1600, Saturday, August 11

D
R
. T
HOMAS
R
EEVES SLID HIS
fingers down the metal handle of the podium. He adjusted the microphone toward his mouth and felt his heart thump at the base of his throat.

When he'd built this conference room at NeuroGenics, he'd imagined this moment would be one of pure scientific joy. Something akin to accepting the Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine. Definitely not something like this.

The sea of reporters hazed in front of him. He leaned his chin into his shoulder to compose his thoughts. He turned back to the pages of his prepared statement, but they shook like leaves in a wind tunnel until he laid his palms over them, leaving moist handprints. He heard Lilly's heels against the plank floor behind him, but he waved her back to her seat.

When he glanced again at the faces, they were a melded mass of vampire bats waiting for the night sky to be born—to hunt.

Just as the sun was setting now on so many things.

He cleared his throat and tapped the mike. Shoulders straightened and pens poised.

“My name is Dr. Thomas Reeves. I'm CEO and president of NeuroGenics, as well as the lead researcher.”

“Dr. Reeves!” a voice yelled from the back.

He held his hand up. “Please, I'll take questions at the end, but I would like to get through my statement without interruption.”

His tongue was thick and dry. When he looked back at Lilly, she gave him a reassuring nod. A reminder that he was trading the privileged life he knew for one he didn't understand much. Did Lilly really mean it? Would she allow him to know his grandchild? He both dreaded and welcomed the opportunity. Being responsible for someone other than just himself was terrifying.

Being vulnerable is terrifying.

One of his knees gave as he turned back around. He clutched the podium tighter to steady himself.

“The human mind has always been a fascination for me,” he intoned. “I wanted to help heal those who suffered under the weight of brutal traumatic experiences. My desire was to aid them in leading productive lives again. To lessen the remembering of these experiences and the power it was having over their lives, which is how the drug MemoryEase was born.”

He inhaled deeply.

“The process of how we form memories—a living, breathing record of our lives—became an obsession. What our brains choose to retain still leaves much that is lost.”

He couldn't help but glance back at Lilly. As she wiped her tears away, he felt a physical pain flash through him and his spirit broke. This is what he had caused. All of it. He wasn't a healer . . . more like a sanctioned executioner. He pressed his fingers against his eyes to keep his emotions in check. Saving lives was now paramount.

He rested his hands over his notes. “From this, I learned of a woman who had superior autobiographical memory. She could remember precise details of each of her days from the age of eight. Very explicit details. What was also unique was the emotional attachment she had to her life-changing experiences. Many of us remember these like old movies—rarely are significant emotions attached to them—unless it's been a truly horrifying or life-changing event.”

He cleared his throat to keep it from wavering. “I wanted what she had.”

This time, he couldn't bear to turn around.

“So I began to research how memories were formed and how I could improve on the biological and structural nature of our brains as the scientific community understands them.”

Here it came. Compared to what was next, everything prior to this had been easy to say.

“Fetal grafts have been used in research before. They've been looked at as a mechanism to improve the memory of Alzheimer's patients and used as a way to foster the release of dopamine into the brains of those suffering from Parkinson's disease.