Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Gabe tipped his head to the side, staring at the man who must have gone to a lot of trouble to capture him and Olivia.
Smith charged across the floor. “What happened a few minutes ago?”
So he’d been right—he was under observation. Now he did his best to look confused. “I dunno. A nightmare?” He tried to lift an arm. “Um, who are you? Why am I trussed up like a Christmas goose?”
“I’m asking the questions.”
“Tell me who you are,” Gabe pressed.
“As far as you’re concerned, I’m Mr. Smith. And I want some answers from you—now.”
Well, that was fortunate, since Gabe had been worried about saying the name by accident.
“What if I don’t want to give them?” he asked.
Smith answered by drawing back a fist and socking him in the face. It felt like a bone might have crunched. He wasn’t sure.
“This is what happens.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
Another blow, another blast of pain. Smith leaned over and hauled him up by the shirt collar. “I want to know how you found out Langston was connected to Carson.”
So Travis had been right. Smith must want to know why Olivia had shown up when he dragged Pete into Travis’s house. Yeah, right, why would she, if she didn’t know Travis? “Detective work,” Gabe spat out. The words were accompanied by flecks of blood. But not any teeth.
“I don’t want your smart answers. I want the real ones. How did Langston and Carson know each other? How did you know her?”
Was Travis still here, watching? Gabe looked around and thought maybe he saw a vague shape just beyond Smith.
He was going to have to answer, and in fact it had better be the right answer. Travis wanted him to convince Smith that this wasn’t a ghost story—that Travis and Olivia had gotten together while he was still alive. He licked his bruised lip.
“You want to know how I found the connection?”
“Yes, dammit.”
“Uh,” He struggled to get it right. “The Howell Institute.”
“And how the hell would you know anything about it?”
Now what? Or what the hell? Smith probably knew about Decorah Security.
“My agency,” he said, “we have access to all kinds of information.”
“That’s classified Top Secret. More than Top Secret. How the hell would you get access to the list?”
“Top Secret,” Gabe replied. “For some people, maybe.”
That earned him another blow to the face. At this rate, he was going to look like he’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.
He spoke carefully through his bruised lips. “People hire us because we have resources others don’t.”
“But Carson’s name wasn’t on the list of children who were brought back for testing.”
Gabe thought fast. “But his mother was on the other list, right? The list of women who were treated there.”
Smith swore as he stared down at Gabe. “You’d better not be lying.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get together with her?”
“Her mother was on the list,” he said.
“If you’re lying, you’ll be sorry,” Smith answered.
I’m already sorry, Gabe thought. Aloud, he said, “What would be the point of lying?”
“Misdirection,” his captor snarled.
Gabe said nothing. This guy was already wound up tighter than the mainspring of a mousetrap.
As Smith exited the room, Gabe breathed a little prayer, then reached for Travis. But the ghost was gone, probably back with Olivia.
When Travis had first come to his cell, Gabe hadn’t understood the urgency of the discussion he was going to have with Smith. Now he thought he did. If the killer knew that Travis was still around, no telling what he’d do to Olivia to find out exactly what was going on.
He hadn’t given that away. One problem solved, but he had another one. Maybe now that he’d given up what Smith considered vital information, Gabe Bowman was expendable.
Too bad. Probably he was heading rapidly toward the end of his career, because he couldn’t think of a way this was going to end happily for either him or Olivia.
Thinking of her sent a pang through him.
She probably didn’t know he was attracted to her.
To her strength. To her artistic ability.
To her Renaissance beauty, although her other qualities would have drawn him without that amazing exterior.
If she hadn’t already been bonded to Travis, Gabe would have tried to get something going with her.
Not that it would have done him any good.
According to her, the children born as a result of the treatments at the Solomon Clinic could only have fulfilling relationships with each other.
And he wasn’t one of them. Daydreaming about getting in bed with her wasn’t going to do him any good.
It would be more productive to figure out how to get out of this mess.
Or maybe there was no way out. He made his hands as small as possible, trying to slip them through the loops of the handcuffs. It was wasted effort.
* * *
Harold Goddard, alias Mr. Smith, stood in the hallway, clenching and unclenching his fists.
He’d gotten himself into a cluster fuck.
Capturing and sending Carson to the afterlife had been no problem.
Nobody was going to miss him—well, except unfortunately, the aunt Harold hadn’t known about.
Too bad she’d called up a detective agency that could somehow tap into classified information. Should he dispose of her, too?
He answered his own question with a tight shake of his head. Too many bodies piling up were going to be noticed. And cops might start tying the cases together, although they probably didn’t have the Howell Institute’s lists. And wouldn’t know what they meant if they stumbled on them.
But Harold was still about as exposed as a roach lying in a bag of rice.
He was going to have to give up this very nice estate and get the hell out of St. Stephens.
At the end of his quasi-government career, he’d vanished into thin air.
He could do it again and start over with another identity.
That left a major question. Should he keep probing the powers of the children from the Solomon Clinic?
If he did, he was going to have to be a lot more careful.
But one thing he knew for certain—he had to get rid of both Gabe Bowman and Olivia Langston in a way no one could tie to him or this estate.
Right now, both of them were a problem. It looked like Bowman worked for a very effective security agency.
They’d want to know what happened to their operative.
And Olivia was a well-known local artist who had gained a national reputation.
If her body were found somewhere with a bullet in its head, the cops were going to start digging for answers.
Both she and Gabe Bowman would have to die in an accident.
Together would be best. Maybe when they’d started working together, they’d gotten involved and decided to take off somewhere romantic together.
What if they burned up in a car crash? On the face of it, that sounded like a good solution. But another idea was seeping into his mind, gaining a firmer place in his imagination. The notion was being put there by the invisible man standing behind him, projecting vivid pictures into his head.
* * *
Somehow, Travis had developed a new talent. Somehow, he was able to sense Smith’s thoughts and maybe influence them.
Knowing what the man was thinking was almost unbearable. It brought a sick feeling bubbling up inside him. If he’d had a body, he was sure stomach acid would be rising in a burning tide up his throat.
Smith was still in the hall, looking a lot less confident than he’d been a few hours earlier. Good.
Before he could open the door of the torture chamber, Travis walked through the wall.
Olivia’s eyes instantly sought his.
What happened? Were you able to communicate with Gabe?
Travis described the method he’d used.
Clever.
It was a desperate move.
And she knew he was still feeling desperate.
What aren’t you telling me? It’s something bad, right?
The last part wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. When she pulled the information from his mind, she made a small choking sound. Although she’d been pretty sure of Smith’s ultimate plans for her and Gabe, confirmation was like suddenly having her breath choked off.
He’s planning to kill us. He thinks that will put an end to his problems.
Travis wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t choke out the words. All he could promise was:
We have a big advantage.
What?
He doesn’t know I’m here.
But we’re weak.
Yeah. He paused for a moment before continuing. I, uh, sense something.
Like what?
Someone is trying to contact me.
What do you mean?
Someone is trying to talk to me. I mean in my head, like we’re talking.
Who?
Do you remember when Smith first captured me, and he kept telling me about other couples who were children from the clinic?
Yes.
It’s one of them, I think.
Why can you hear them and I can’t?
He shook his head. Maybe because I’m dead and you’re not?
Yeah.
She might have said more, but Smith strode into the room. “Good news,” he said. “I’m going to let you go.”
For a moment, hope rose in her chest, until she realized it had to be a lie. She knew too much.
Glancing at Travis, she saw the devastated look on his face. She wanted to whisper, “It’s not your fault.” But no way could she give away to Smith that he was in the room with them.