CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The drive north took an eternity. Angela squirmed. Her ribs and stomach ached. She winced. Sawyer would change his position, dangerously close to hovering. She’d pull back, not needing anyone to see their personal business. Then the cycle would repeat itself, except in reverse. She’d move toward him, and he’d press away like she had the plague.
But that was far from her most pressing thought. Mylene Hathaway had her full attention. Why did she want to talk to Angela? How did she even know that Angela was nearby?
Roman exited the interstate. Anxiety and anticipation were a heart-rattling combination. Her hands shook in her lap. Angela wished her untrained status wasn’t so apparent when surrounded by bombproof mountains of men. Then again, why did she care? She’d probably never see Cash and Roman again, and Sawyer had already seen her vulnerabilities.
Once again, her mind was back on Sawyer.
Roman made a few quick turns and then pulled the SUV toward a standard-looking office park surrounded by a very non-standard high metal fence topped with razor wire. The vehicle stopped at a security checkpoint.
“This looks very official,” she said under her breath.
Roman rolled down his window and stated who they were. A man with a working dog circled the car. Another man with a mirror on a telescoped poll inspected the vehicle’s undercarriage.
After the group had passed the mirror-and-dog inspection, the barriers in front of them lowered. Roman rolled over what she assumed were security spikes ensuring traffic moved only in one direction.
“Is this some kind of black-ops site?” she asked.
Roman nodded. “Something like that.”
They parked in a space near the front of a building. Angela’s nerves rocketed from her fingers to her toes.
Roman opened her car door, and Angela winced as she crawled out. “Do you think she’s in there?” she asked.
“Yup. I do,” Roman said.
They met Sawyer and Cash on the sidewalk. Cash led the way. Roman took the rear. Sawyer placed himself on the side of the street. They surrounded her like a security detail, not trusting their high-security surroundings. She couldn’t imagine how someone who wanted her dead might penetrate the complex. Then again, she couldn’t have imagined most of what had transpired recently.
“You doing okay, Ange?” Sawyer asked.
“Nervous.” She ached to reach for Sawyer’s hand. Professionalism kept her in check. Their lives would return to normal eventually. There was no need to bring her private life into the workplace. Somewhere in this building was a woman who Angela needed to see, who she wanted to save.
Could she still do that? Nothing had gone according to plan. Certainly, Angela hadn’t imagined Mylene would be looking for her also.
They entered through heavily guarded double doors. The Titan men relinquished their weapons. They walked toward metal detectors while their belongings crept slowly down a conveyor belt and were viewed under an X-ray.
“Guess you guys aren’t messing around,” she said to the man who nodded for her to proceed.
Not messing around meant he didn’t break his scowl even when escorting their group down a long hall that dead-ended with a single elevator. Their guard swiped a badge and stared into a retina scanner, and the elevator’s large doors opened to reveal a compartment like an oversized freight cart.
The guard swiped his badge and scanned his eyes again before selecting their floor. The door shut slowly as though they were too heavy to move fast. Then down everyone went, past the first two underground levels, until they opened on the floor labeled Sub-Level C.
Armed security greeted them. None of the men with Angela balked at their high-caliber-rifle-bearing counterparts who led the way.
After a journey down a long hallway illuminated by fluorescent lights, the party was deposited in a small room that looked like a television police drama’s take on an interrogation room. The metal table was bolted onto the cement floor, and the air smelled like despair.
An armed man gestured to the chair. “Ma’am.”
Angela took a seat. No one else did. The metal chairs were as uncomfortable as they looked.
Cash and Roman posted behind her. Sawyer stood across from her, his back to a painted cinderblock wall.
“This is cozy,” she said.
Sawyer’s lips curved.
The door swung open, and Special Agent John Patterson joined them. “Angela, it’s great to see you again.”
She didn’t fake the same enthusiasm, but she kept her interaction with him professional. They shook hands, and then he introduced himself to Titan’s men. Titan remained where they were as John joined her at the table. His chair scraped on the floor as he made himself as comfortable as possible.
“I’m sorry about our conversation in Abu Dhabi,” he said.
She glanced over John’s shoulder. Sawyer’s face was unreadable. “I guess you had a job to do,” she said.
“Not all my jobs are fun and games all the time.” John frowned contritely. “But I am sorry. I know I didn’t put you in a great position.”
She didn’t want to rehash their meeting. “Do you really work on Pham? Or just my mother’s projects?”
“All Pham, all the time.”
“Except when dealing with me,” she pointed out.
He took a pen from the interior pocket of his suit jacket. “You are intrinsically connected to Pham.”
Angela wished that weren’t true.
“This is what we know.” John click-clicked his pen. “Mylene Hathaway called your mother’s office and demanded to speak with you. She called from an easily traceable phone number and hadn’t done anything to hide her tracks.”
“She wanted me to come to her?”
John shook his head. “Given her mental clarity, I don’t think that was at the forefront of her mind.”
“What is?”
A hint of frustration on John’s face was quickly hidden behind a controlled, closed-lipped expression. “I haven’t had much time with her. She will only speak to us after speaking to you.”
“Does she have a lawyer?”
John’s gaze shifted around the room before he crossed his arms. “She hasn’t been arrested. This isn’t a law enforcement facility.”
What type was it? Military? DNI? CIA? NSA? Mylene was here as a terrorist. They—whoever ran this facility—weren’t interested in the murder of her husband and sister. They wanted intelligence. “All right. She wants to talk to me about Pham.”
“As she indicated on the phone call to the Senator’s office.” John nodded. “She doesn’t want you to testify.”
Angela recalled the recording of the phone call. The chaotic voice had mentioned testifying against Pham, but the caller hadn’t made much sense.
“We have Mylene in a nearby room. She’s secured at a table. She cannot get up or move around. You’re safe. She’s not a threat.”
Angela hadn’t considered that Mylene would want to hurt her. “Will you be in there?”
“I will escort you in, but I don’t plan to stay.”
“You’ll be watching from another room?” she asked.
Again, he clicked his pen. “Yes. There will be two armed men immediately outside the door. There will be two men posted behind her.”
“I don’t think she wants to hurt me. She might not want me to testify, but I don’t think she’ll physically try to stop me.”
“Maybe not. But that’s protocol.”
“Protocol for a woman who was kept hostage by a terrorist?”
“Are you referring to yourself or Mylene Hathaway? Because we don’t understand her role yet.”
Angela hated John Patterson. “She’s a victim.”
“She’s a woman who wants leniency for Pham, a terrorist.”
“I know who Pham is,” she snapped.
“What you don’t seem to understand is that Mylene has been intimately involved in a foreign-based misinformation campaign,” John replied equally coolly. “Not to mention, she’s part of his network, which understands that if you’re eliminated, you won’t be able to testify—and the case against him crumbles.”
“That’s bullshit. There’s plenty of evidence of exactly what he did to me. What he’s done to everyone.”
“You still don’t understand the threat you’re under.”
Anger flashed down her spine.
“Pham’s a billionaire with a network of killers and a legal firm of A-plus lawyers working around the clock on his defense. To prosecutors, you’re the golden ticket. Angela…” John drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Simply put, the case would be easier to plead down if you were dead. So pardon me if I want you to understand why we have this woman at a black site, chained to the table.”
Angela rubbed her temples. “Can Sawyer come in with me?”
John’s eyebrows arched. “He can watch from where I am. We’ll be less than five feet away.”
“I’d rather he was in the same room.”
John looked over his shoulder and studied Sawyer’s face. Sawyer didn’t offer the behavioral analysist anything to decipher. John pursed his lips. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Mylene isn’t in a good headspace. Adding another person to the mix might not help with our end goal.”
She bet their end goal wasn’t the same as hers.
John held up his phone. The screen showed a paused video of Mylene. “This is her.”
That woman was definitely the woman Angela had seen over the years, but the Mylene on the screen and the one in Angela’s past were worlds apart. This Mylene was broken. “That’s her?”
John pressed Play.
The video came to life. Mylene sat on the cement floor of a cell, moaning. Her arms wrapped around her knees. She rocked on the floor, occasionally releasing her knees and pulling fistfuls of her tangled hair. In a hoarse voice, she begged to go home. She cried and cackled and curled like a baby, moaning again.
Angela tore her gaze from the screen. “And now she’s cuffed to a table?”
“Secured,” John agreed.
Her pulse quickened. “She doesn’t need to be here. She needs help.”
“Actually,” he countered, “she wants to be here. Remember? She wants to see you.”
She hated John. He simplified—borderline infantilized—them both. Mylene needed psychiatric help, and just like Angela felt for Pham, she did for Mylene. Angela stood. “Then let’s go.” She moved to Sawyer’s side, not trusting John. “Will you make sure you’re on the other side of the door?”
“I’ll be where you want me.”
Her heart squeezed. Sawyer didn’t give two shits about John Patterson’s preferences. His only goal was hers. “Thank you.”
They entered the hallway and followed John around a corner. Two guards were posted outside of a door. Angela’s stomach dropped. She had so many questions for Mylene and felt that none would be answered.
John nodded to one of the guards. They unlocked the door and held it open.
Angela’s heartbeat galloped, and her purpose for being there suddenly disappeared. All she could remember was when Mylene had watched Angela from the sidelines as Pham pretended Angela was Quy Long. Mylene didn’t help. She couldn’t. She was just there.
Angela forced her clenched jaw to relax and then walked in. There sat the woman she’d seen from afar. The pained face from John’s video had nothing on the pain that radiated from the woman cuffed to the metal table.
The dark hollows of Mylene’s eyes pleaded when she saw Angela.
That desperation punched Angela in the chest. “Mylene.”
Mylene sniffed with her runny nose. “You know my name?”
“I know who you are. Do you know who I am?”
She nodded.
Angela inched toward the table as though her shoes were lead-lined bricks. “Do you want a tissue? Something to drink?”
Mylene’s vacant eyes didn’t register the question. “I need to talk to you.”
Angela glanced at the armed man behind Mylene. “Can she have a bottle of water? A tissue box?”
He didn’t move.
She looked from one security camera to the next. “Can someone get her a bottle of water and some tissues?” Nothing happened. This was ridiculous. “Sawyer? Please?”
Angela turned to Mylene again. She pulled her knees to her chest and rocked in her chair, as she had on the floor. Tears had swollen her cheeks and eyes. Her nose ran. She needed to sleep. Or probably take a sedative.
The heavy cell door unlocked. Sawyer appeared with two bottles of water and a handful of paper towels.
Gratitude squeezed Angela’s chest. “Thank you.”
Sawyer set them on the table, gave Mylene a once-over, and then eyed Angela with a quiet lift of his chin. Unspoken support strengthened her resolve to help Mylene once the headache with Pham ended.
“Anything else?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”
“Just let me know.”
The heavy door closed behind him. Angela offered Mylene the paper towels. She didn’t take any of them. It was as if she hadn’t seen Sawyer or what he had brought in.
Angela took one of Mylene’s cuffed hands.
The guard stepped forward.
“I’m giving her a tissue,” Angela snapped and forced one into Mylene’s grip.
“Don’t touch her again,” he growled.
Angela ignored him and didn’t know what to do. Mylene didn’t wipe her face or even seem to notice the paper towel. Angela uncapped the water bottle. “Are you thirsty?”
The question didn’t register to Mylene.
“If you drink this, I will talk to you.” Angela nudged the uncapped bottle.
Mylene shook her head. “They’re going to poison me.”
This was why Mylene needed psychiatric help. Paranoia hadn’t even occurred to Angela. She took two long glugs and re-offered the bottle to Mylene. “If you go, I go.”
“They want you to die.”
“They who? This wasn’t from Pham.”
“They want you to die,” she repeated.
“Not everyone does,” Angela forced a half joke. “Do you?”
Mylene shook her head. “No.”
“Drink, Mylene.”
Warily, Mylene released the paper towel as though she didn’t notice it had been in her hand, and with her hands cuffed together, she took the bottle of water and drank. Water dribbled from the side of her mouth. She wiped at the drips and her running nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t want you to die. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Okay…” Angela opened the other water bottle and sipped. “I remember you.”
Mylene rocked in her chair.
“You came to the vacations,” Angela said. “I saw you other times. I can’t remember everything. It blurred together. But I know you were there a lot.”
“Watching.” Mylene’s unfocused eyes skidded around the room. “I was watching.”
Angela nodded. “Why?”
“Because I was supposed to.”
“Why?”
“Punishment.” Her face fell. “But that part’s over now. I have my house. I have my room. No one brings me anywhere anymore.” Her expression twisted then focused with laser-like precision on Angela. “Not until now.”
“Mylene…” She swallowed hard. “I was looking for you.”
Her eyes rounded.
“I think that’s why they moved you. They knew I was coming.”
Mylene rocked again. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m sorry.” It was hard to find the right words. Hell, it was hard to find any words. Who knew how many people were studying them just then? The cell walls seemed to close in on them. The stale air stank like desperation and misery. Angela couldn’t think. “I want to help.”
Mylene shook her head violently. Wild strands of hair stuck to her damp face.
“I saw the place where you’ve been living.”
“My house?” Tears streamed down Mylene’s face. “No. No. You didn’t see it.”
“I did.”
“No one knows about me. That’s my house. I need to go home.”
Why would Mylene ever want to return to the house of horrors? “You can go anywhere now.” Except that wasn’t true. Not with the handcuffs and the secret black-ops prison guards keeping Mylene right where she was. Angela shouldn’t say what she couldn’t promise, but she couldn’t stop. “No one will make you go back there.”
“I have to!” Panic flooded over Mylene. “That’s my house.” More tears fell, and she pleaded, begging, “I need to go home.”
Angela glanced at the guard as Mylene’s words turned into an incomprehensible soup of mutters and cries. She glanced at the security camera, helpless to know the right thing to say. John Patterson would know. He’d click-click his pen and say things to make Mylene spill her guts if he were in Angela’s shoes. “Mylene.”
Mylene tucked her knees to her chest again and rocked. “My house.”
Damn it. They weren’t getting anywhere. Angela wasn’t helping, and Mylene was still losing her mind. She needed Mylene to understand that they were on the same side—at least in some ways. Frustration gripped her chest. Angela didn’t have the skills to help. A growing helplessness squeezed her lungs. “I know you didn’t kill your husband and sister.”
Mylene jerked. The shock had left her slack-jawed, as though Angela had slapped her, and the rocking, muttering woman suddenly became sharp as a tack. “That’s not true.”
Words had broken through Mylene’s fog. Angela leaned into it. “Did you pull the trigger?”
“ No .”
“Did you see them die?”
Once again, tears spilled down Mylene’s cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered. “No, but—” She threaded her hands into her hair. Her fists knotted into the disheveled mess. Mylene pulled until she cried out and slumped. “It’s my fault.”
“You did not kill them, Mylene.”
“I did. Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“I know you didn’t,” Angela pressed.
“You can’t know that.”
“Why can’t I?” All she had was a theory based on toothbrush placements and Pham’s need for revenge. Still, she was certain Mylene hadn’t killed them.
“I’m responsible even if I didn’t pull the trigger.”
Angela ached at the thought of the hell this woman had been through. She ached for the hell she was still living in. If only Ibrahim were in the room. Angela tried to remember how Ibrahim would speak to her. She searched for anything that he’d said to her over the years, but her mind filled up with panicky white noise. “Whatever Pham told you, it’s not true.”
Mylene’s brows furrowed. “Don’t—”
“I can’t tell you how many hours of therapy it took to be able to say that.”
Mylene’s lips parted, as though she was ready to defend Pham, but the defense didn’t come. Maybe a memory of Angela came to Mylene’s mind. Maybe Mylene simply didn’t have it in her to jump from the responsibility for the deaths to defend the murderer of her loved ones.
No matter what gave Mylene pause, Angela jumped in. “I know what he did to me was wrong. I know he wasn’t this old grandfather who really cared about me. But it still feels that way when I think about what happened.”
Mylene closed her mouth and tried to defend Pham again, but just as before, nothing slipped through her lips. Angela remembered the anger and defensiveness she had after she’d been rescued. No one understood her mindset, and now she couldn’t understand Mylene. “No one in the world understands the pain he put you through.”
Mylene grimaced, and a watery glassiness flooded her eyes.
“But,” Angela whispered, “I have a small idea.”
“No… You don’t.” The other woman’s chin dropped. “You can’t.”
Angela reached across the cold steel table and wrapped her hand over Mylene’s. “Abusive relationships don’t make any sense.” She held on when Mylene yanked. The handcuff chain clanked against its attachment to the table. Angela loosened her grip but didn’t let go. “There’s no logic to them.” Her throat knotted. “And I don’t know what you have gone through, but I know that your brain—at least my brain—tried to make sense of, literally, living in hell.”
Mylene looked away. She pulled her hands from Angela’s and balled them together. After swallowing several times, she rasped, “You can’t testify against him.”
Angela rolled her lips together. Empathy was hard when the situation was so damn frustrating. She would never be able to convince Mylene she understood, just like she had never understood when others had tried their best to relate to what she had gone through. “You told my mother’s office that you and I are the same. That we’re trapped.”
“You can’t testify against him,” Mylene repeated.
“I was trapped. You were trapped. But not anymore.”
Mylene snorted. “Until he says different, we belong to him.”
“I don’t, and you don’t anymore.”
Desperation rolled over Mylene. “You don’t understand. But you have to listen. Don’t testify. Then we will both be free.”
“That’s not how it works.” She reached for Mylene again. Mylene shirked. “We’re both free of him now.”
“No. If you disappear—you don’t even have to die. No one has to kill you. You just have to go away. Not testify. He’ll know that I helped him. Don’t you see? That I took care of his problem”—her voice broke—“and maybe he will see that I’ve suffered enough. That I’ve done my penance. I can go back home. That’s all I want. I want my house. To be alone in my house.”
“That’s not how you separate yourself from him. Whatever forgiveness you’re looking for… it’s not in him to give.” Angela chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I’m going to testify, Mylene. Because I need the same thing you need. Release, and I’m going to be able to find it by saying what needs to be said.”
“No.”
“It’s what I have to do to survive my past.”
Mylene squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head tightly.
A lump knotted her words. “Mylene… it will be better one day.”
Mylene simply shook her head.
The door opened. John Patterson strode in. “Sounds like a good chat.”
Angela ground her molars. The door opened again, and Sawyer entered apologetically. “We should go, Ange.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You two can talk later.”
Reluctantly, Angela followed. Her ribs and muscles ached. More than that, she felt defeated. Not that she had any expectation of how this meeting should have gone. But it didn’t feel like it should have ended this way. “Why the sudden interruption?”
“He took a phone call and said the meeting was over.”
“Who called?”
Sawyer shrugged. “I doubt we’ll ever know.”
“Unless it was my mother,” she muttered. “What are they going to do with Mylene?”
Sawyer shrugged again. They reached the elevator. A uniformed man stood at its side and swiped his keycard to call it. Five minutes later, Roman drove them from the black ops site. No one in the vehicle said a word.