Chapter Ten #2
Giles moved away from the window. “Perhaps we should focus on what Templeton’s letters tell us, while keeping the Thanacrine case separate. They appear to be unrelated matters.”
“Oh, now you want my input?” Bryn stood up, swaying as his headache intensified with the movement. “Sorry, I’m apparently too unstable to be trusted with information about my own life.”
Gunnar stood as well, his expression pained. “Bryn…”
“Don’t.” Bryn held up a hand. “Just…don’t.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain control. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier. “Templeton is fixated on me. His references to the Walmart case and Russo are him showing off. He’s letting me know he can keep tabs on my work.”
“I agree,” Warden said, surprising everyone. “Templeton’s obsession has always been with you, not our cases. He’s using the information to establish a connection. To unsettle you.”
Bryn paced to the window, needing distance from the table, from Gunnar, from the letters. “He’s playing a game. Letting me know he’s watching. That wherever I go, whatever I do, he’s aware of it.” He pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to alleviate the pressure there.
“His mention of lupine gene expression and Russo is likely incidental. Information he’s gathered to demonstrate his reach,” Giles observed. “I doubt he has any actual interest in the Thanacrine case.”
Bryn turned back to face the room. “Which means, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, that Giles is right. We need to handle these as separate situations. The Thanacrine case is our priority as a team. Templeton…is my problem.”
“No,” Warden said. “Templeton is GCR’s problem. He’s targeting one of our own.”
“And I can handle it,” Bryn insisted.
“Not alone,” Gunnar countered, crossing his arms. “Not a fucking chance.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Bryn could feel Gunnar’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. The betrayal was too fresh.
“I want access to everything we have on Templeton,” Bryn said, addressing Warden. “Everything. No more filtered information. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
Warden studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Agreed. Emmett, make sure Bryn has full access to the Templeton files.”
“Yes, sir,” Emmett replied.
“Fine. Now, what about the Thanacrine case? Where are we with Agent Mercer?”
“Not much progress,” Emmett admitted. “She’s not in any of the standard federal databases. I’ve got facial recognition running, but so far, nothing.”
“Keep digging,” Warden instructed. “And I want a complete analysis of the Thanacrine samples we were able to secure. We need to understand exactly how it works.”
“I’ll coordinate with the lab,” Giles offered. “They’ve already started preliminary tests.”
Bryn nodded, his mind working on two tracks despite the pain in his head. “And we need to track Templeton’s movements. The letters came from Dallas and Tulsa. He’s heading north, possibly toward us. The first one wasn’t mailed, so that doesn’t help us.”
“I’ll check transportation records, surveillance footage from both cities,” Emmett said. “But it could be that he has other people mailing the letters for him. He could be anywhere.”
“He has to have accomplices to know so much about what Bryn is working on,” Gunnar said. “We need to think about who that might be.”
“That’s enough to be getting on with.” Warden stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Bryn, get some rest. You look like hell.”
“Thanks for the concern,” Bryn replied, but the bite in his words was undermined by the way he swayed on his feet.
“I mean it,” Warden said, his tone softening. “We need you at full strength. Especially now.”
As the others filed out of the room, Gunnar lingered. Bryn busied himself gathering the letters, avoiding eye contact.
“Bryn,” Gunnar began, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Or are you just sorry I found out?”
The hurt that flashed across Gunnar’s face was almost enough to make Bryn regret his words. Almost.
“I thought we were protecting you,” Gunnar said.
“That wasn’t Warden’s call to make no matter what he says.
It wasn’t yours either.” Bryn folded the letters then slipped them back into their envelopes.
“You know better than anyone what it was like to have Templeton in my head, to see the things he’s done.
To feel his…hunger.” His voice wavered. “You should have told me.”
“I know.” Gunnar ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. “It was wrong. I made a mistake.”
Bryn stood silent for a long moment, torn between his anger and the obvious regret in Gunnar’s expression. “I need some time,” he said. “And some space.”
Gunnar nodded, his face composed now. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks,” Bryn said, hating the formal distance that had sprung up between them. As Gunnar turned to leave, Bryn called after him. “Gunnar?” Gunnar paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll get over it. Let me be angry for a while, okay?”
A faint smile crossed Gunnar’s face. “Okay.”
Left alone in the conference room, Bryn sank back into his chair. He stared at the envelopes, at Templeton’s elegant handwriting. He was certain Templeton never did anything without purpose, never wrote a word that wasn’t calculated for maximum effect.
What do you really want? Bryn wondered. He was as certain as he could be that the casual mentions of the Thanacrine case and Russo were window dressing. His real target was Bryn himself. Always had been, since that first encounter.
See you soon, the first letter had promised.
Bryn shivered. He had no doubt Templeton would keep that promise. The only question was when and how.
Meanwhile, the Thanacrine case needed his attention too.
Agent Mercer, the enhanced sanguines and lupines, the pharmaceutical connection…
it was all building toward something big.
Something dangerous. Bryn wasn’t sure he was ready for either challenge.
He gathered up the letters and stood, steadying himself against the table.
One problem at a time. First rest, then Templeton’s files.
Then he’d figure out how to cope with the dual threats of a psychopath’s obsession and a mob-funded, possibly government sanctioned, genetics conspiracy.
Just another day at GCR. He rolled his neck, which cracked like an old man’s. There aren’t enough Twinkies in the world to deal with this level of suckage.