Relentless (24 page)

But never like this . . .

Her tears came, and she was glad he couldn’t see them or her own injuries.

‘‘Didn’t you hear what the doctor said?’’ She placed her other hand on top of his, smiling sweetly. ‘‘We’re going to take good care of you.’’

Grant felt sick to his stomach.

‘‘My
father
?
He
wanted to find ways of enhancing the human body?’’

It made no sense.

‘‘I don’t know exactly
what
he was after,’’ Evers replied. ‘‘I headed up a tactical analysis unit that had been granted a wide berth by the Pentagon. One of the projects your father worked on led him to these experiments at Inveo Technologies. And in the years after his death, I came to suspect a number of things about him. One was that maybe he had you tested for the
same project
that he contracted Inveo for.’’

‘‘I don’t understand,’’ Grant shook his head, suddenly full of more questions than he’d come here with. If that was possible.

‘‘Let me back up,’’ Evers said, still eying Grant. ‘‘Bet you didn’t know I’m your godfather.’’

Grant’s eyebrows popped up.

‘‘I am. Your parents were remarkable people. Your mother, Cynthia, was just a beautiful, beautiful person. And smart as a tack—I actually thought she was smarter than your dad, and that’s saying something. I assume you know how she died?’’

Grant swallowed. ‘‘There were . . .’’ His throat constricted and he cleared it. ‘‘There were complications when I was born.’’

Evers nodded, examining him. ‘‘Most men would have shut down after losing someone that way. Not Frank. He had
such
a strong sense of purpose. He grieved for your mom in his own way, but he kept going. He refused to take any time off, and I saw the pain in his eyes nearly every day, but he continued to serve. And he loved his children very much. He spoke of you constantly.’’

Evers sighed. Grant said nothing, waiting for the elder man to continue.

‘‘Grant, has it never struck you as
odd
that both of your parents died within a few years of each other?’’

‘‘No . . .’’ Grant replied, disbelieving what he’d just heard. ‘‘It didn’t strike me as
odd
, it struck me as terrifying.’’

‘‘Son,’’ Evers said, a trace of compassion in his voice for the first time, ‘‘we
all
have that moment in life when something terrible happens for the first time. Something so unexpected, so awful, that it . . . it takes the magic out of the world. Life becomes harder, colder. And everything we do in our lives, from that day on, is our way of coping with that one moment. We stop living and we merely exist. We either choose to move on from that, or we let it consume us.’’

‘‘I don’t believe that,’’ Grant replied, but in truth, his mind was racing, trying to piece together what Evers was insinuating.

‘‘My best friend’s death has consumed
me
for much of my life,’’ Evers said. ‘‘I couldn’t ever get past the odd timing of it all.’’

‘‘Timing?’’ Grant said, trying to hold his growing worry inside. ‘‘He got clipped by a drunk driver. People die all the time.’’ Grant stared hard at the man. ‘‘I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.’’

‘‘I was
there
the day your father ordered your mental acuity tested, Grant,’’ Evers replied. ‘‘I thought it strange for a three-year-old, but at the time, I figured maybe he was hoping you would turn out to be as smart as your mom. I remember when the results came back so high— I had hoped he’d be ecstatic. But instead he became distant, somber.

‘‘Two months later he died in that horrific car accident. Body wrecked beyond recognition. And now, you have yourself a whole new life and the ability to
think
things into happening. That’s an ability that—
I
believe—only someone with as high a mental acuity as yours could ever hope to control.’’

The room was dead silent. Grant was having trouble remembering to breathe.

‘‘You’re not suggesting—’’

‘‘I’ve gone over it in my mind so many times, over the years,’’ Evers replied. ‘‘Then when I heard about what happened to you recently . . . it has to be linked. And it can’t be an accident.’’

‘‘You think he was
killed
? Because of me?’’ Grant exhaled.

Evers let out a humorless laugh. ‘‘I’m not nearly as clever as I once was, but I am good at my job. I’ve been trained to take distinct variables and place them into a cohesive explanation. It’s what I do. And when I put the pieces of this puzzle together,
this
is one of the two explanations that I come up with.’’

‘‘But . . . why? Who would want him dead? And what would it accomplish?’’

‘‘Think about it. With your mother dead from childbirth and your father subsequently removed from the equation, what was the result? You. Isolated. Alone. No one to teach you about your future, no one to groom you for your destiny.’’

‘‘But that would mean my father . . .’’ Grant slowly realized as he said it, ‘‘He knew. He knew what I was going to become.’’

Evers avoided Grant’s eyes. ‘‘At the very least, I think he suspected.’’

Grant sat stunned. ‘‘And what was the other explanation?’’ He could hardly imagine.

Evers’ face look concerned. ‘‘I don’t put much stock in that one.’’

Grant waited.

‘‘Well, given the timing and the terrible circumstances of the accident. There’s the slim chance . . . that the whole thing may have been arranged. To just make it
look
like. . . .’’

29

‘‘What aren’t you telling me?’’ Grant said.

‘‘I’ve already told you too much,’’ Evers replied. It struck Grant that suddenly Evers looked very old. ‘‘It won’t be long now,’’ he said quietly.

Grant’s mind was racing too fast to catch the remark, but once he did, he came crashing to a stop.

‘‘Not long until what?’’

‘‘There’s more,’’ Evers said, urgency rising into his voice, ‘‘
much
more you need to know; I’m sorry I won’t get a chance to tell you. But you don’t last as long as I have in this business without planning for every possible contingency, and trust me, I have. So did your father.’’

‘‘I don’t understand,’’ said Grant.

‘‘How long has it been, son?’’ Evers asked, wistful. ‘‘How long since you were there? Your parents’ old house?’’

Grant blinked. ‘‘I don’t know. More than twenty-five years, I guess.’’

‘‘Go back.’’

‘‘What? Why?’’ The first home he’d ever known—where his father and sister lived with him, before the orphanage—was military housing on an old Army base north of Monterey. Only vague images remained as his memory of the place. ‘‘Would the house even still be there?’’

‘‘The base is closed, of course,’’ Evers said, undeterred. ‘‘It’s a museum now. But the houses stand. Empty and rotting, but they stand.’’

‘‘But why should I go back there?’’ That old house was the last place Grant wanted to be.

‘‘You’re looking for a safe. Your
father’s
safe. He kept one, hidden somewhere in the attic. I don’t think he ever knew I knew about it. It contained all of his old records and personal files. There’s information in those files that—well, it’s not exactly what you’re searching for, but you need to see it.’’

A siren began to wail loudly, throughout the entire base. Grant saw flashing lights outside the building and all of the base’s floodlights came on.

It hit Grant like a truck. ‘‘The sirens are for
you
! This is why you didn’t want to talk to me!’’

He was on his feet in an instant, but Evers grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around.

‘‘If you go and find your father’s files,’’ Evers said sternly, as if the sirens weren’t sounding, ‘‘you’re going to learn things that will be hard to accept. Things about your parents
and
about yourself. Take it from an old man—sometimes ignorance truly
is
bliss, son. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Think long and hard about whether or not you want to do this. Because once you turn this corner, once you know this truth, there will be no going back. Not ever.’’

Too much was happening too fast . . .

Evers squared his shoulders and sat back down at his desk. ‘‘You should go now,’’ he said quietly. ‘‘Looks like the base is closing down a bit earlier than expected . . .’’

In a daze, Grant made for the door.

His father could be alive.

His heart surged at the thought, yet all he could feel was sad and lost at the very idea. How could this possibly be true?

Evers shouted, rousing Grant. ‘‘Not that way!’’ He pointed toward the window. ‘‘Use the slide. Quickly, now.’’

Grant had no idea what was happening, but he went to the window as instructed. A large metal box marked ‘‘Fire Slide’’ rested beneath the windowsill. He opened it and found a large bundle of fabric wrapped around dozens of wide metallic rings.

Grant slid the window up and threw the bundle in his arms outward as far as he could. It stretched into a fabric tube that glided to the ground, extending over thirty feet away from the building.

‘‘Good luck, son,’’ Evers said as Grant climbed into the tube, feet first.

Grant merely nodded, unable to form words. He heard footsteps approaching in the hallway outside Evers’ office.

Go. Move!

Just as he let go and began his rapid descent through the slide, he heard the door to the office burst open.

Evers’ voice matter-of-factly said, ‘‘End of the line, eh, boys?’’

As Grant’s feet landed on terra firma, he heard a gunshot.

Run!

He spotted Hannah hiding behind some bushes not far away. He grabbed her and ran.

It was late afternoon when Lisa exited a cab to step onto the sidewalk in front of the building that housed Daniel’s lab. Her next-door neighbor had been kind enough to sit with Daniel at the hospital (he was asleep, or she never would have left his side), while she made a quick trip back to the lab to pick up some of his personal items.

She was still so dazed by the previous day’s events that she didn’t notice the big black van parked in front of the building. She only snapped out of her reverie when she saw that the front door to the lab was cracked open.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She pushed the door open carefully and looked up the stairs. She could hear loud voices talking and a variety of clanging sounds, like in the kitchen of a big restaurant.

Desperate now at the terrible possibilities of that noise, she ran up the stairs, down the hall, and into the lab. A cacophony of activity met her there, as white-clad men and women were everywhere, examining the lab’s equipment, taking the machines apart, putting pieces into plastic bags and cardboard boxes, and carrying them out the door behind her.

There were over a dozen of them there, all in white jumpsuits with the word ‘‘FORENSICS’’ emblazoned across their shoulders.

Lisa ran to the nearest one and grabbed his arm. ‘‘What do you people think you’re doing? This is delicate equipment! You can’t just come in here and do this!’’

The short man with a detached expression pushed his blackrimmed glasses up on his nose and tried his best to look down on her. ‘‘Are you Mr. Cossick’s assistant?’’

There was a loud crash in the middle of the room, and she looked up to see two men bickering over who’d dropped a computer server that now lay shattered at their feet.

‘‘
Doctor
Cossick, and yes, I am,’’ she replied, turning back to him with a furious gaze. ‘‘Who are
you
supposed to be?’’

He lifted his chin slightly. ‘‘We’re with the LAPD. Your employer was attacked on these premises, ma’am, and we’re here with a court order to find out what the attackers were looking for.’’

She knew exactly whose orders this had come from. She felt as though steam was rushing out of her ears. ‘‘That
vile
, no-good, wretched,
spiteful
, corrupt, bottom-dwelling
crook
!!’’ she screamed in outrage.

Two patrolmen rushed up and grabbed her by each arm, dragging her out of the building. ‘‘If Drexel thinks he can get away with this—!’’ she yelled.

The short man she’d shouted at was unperturbed. ‘‘Wait, before you remove her . . .’’ He turned back to the countertop he had been working at, and held up a small metallic device for her to see.

‘‘Could you tell me what this is for?’’ he asked.

‘‘
You
. . . sleazy. . . !’’ Lisa started between clenched teeth. But she was out of the lab before she could finish. The men in blue escorted her down the stairs and back to her car, then stationed themselves on either side of the building’s door to ensure she wouldn’t come back.

Ten minutes later, she continued to pace on the opposite side of the street. It had taken several minutes of breathing exercises to cool off.

The lab was a total loss.

Daniel would be
so
devastated.

She sat up straight as another thought struck her. She pulled out her phone and hit one of the speed-dial numbers.

‘‘Gordon,’’ she said when Daniel’s lawyer answered. ‘‘It’s Lisa Hazel-ton. Have you heard what’s happened?’’

He hadn’t. She told him. Then she told him about the lab.

‘‘If they have a court order,’’ he told her, ‘‘then there’s nothing you can do but stay out of their way.’’

Lisa sighed, frustrated.

‘‘Do you believe they’re genuinely looking for evidence about Daniel’s attack?’’ the lawyer asked.

She glanced back at the building and the two officers standing outside, watching her.

‘‘Not for one minute,’’ she replied.

Half an hour later, Grant and Hannah were speeding back toward downtown. Grant was too lost in thought, rubbing his thumb against his ring, so Hannah was driving, listening to him tell of his encounter with Harlan Evers, while keeping both eyes on the dark road ahead.

After his story had ended and she had allowed him some time to think, she spoke.

‘‘So you’re thinkin’ the same thing I am, right?’’

‘‘Morgan.’’

‘‘Oh yeah,’’ she nodded. ‘‘You
gotta
go to Morgan with this.’’

‘‘Agreed,’’ he looked away. ‘‘But it’s late . . . Let’s make it tomorrow.’’

Hannah tossed her hair. ‘‘Meet ya there for lunch.’’