Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Matt
Staring down Dr. Richardson, his flustered demeanor only makes me angrier.
“You’re telling me that you… and your board have rallied to get Belmont and the film executives to continue the study and documentary?
I’m stunned. Not long ago, I sat across from you as you listed all the ways having the FBI here, Belmont students, and the film crew were safety hazards for your patients.
Do you remember that?” I keep my voice steady, even if it’s dripping in sarcasm and disdain.
He straightens his tie and gulps. “I assure you that we’ve carefully considered…
the uh, the… issues we’ve been faced with and eventually this will benefit the patients.
The optics aren’t the best right now, but once the documentary airs, all the work we do here will get the highlight that is deserved. ”
This pompous fucking fool. Let’s just forget the unknown danger lurking around the next corner.
“One of your employees lost his life.” My tone is flat. “He was the guy that cut the lawn, so you don’t care as much?” I could have left the accusation off, but it’s clear that the board doesn’t consider the loss of a menial employee that shocking or worthy of better safety measures.
“Now… how dare you,” he blusters, sitting up straighter as he points a stubby finger at me. “Your agency failed to do your job and that’s not on the Center or the board. In fact, things became dangerous as soon as you were here.”
“The last I’d heard Dr. Hart wanted to pack up and leave. He thought enough had been done with the study and they had their footage. Why is Belmont continuing with this farce?” My face heats, jaw ticks. Hart’s ego may be monstrous, but even he saw that things were getting out of control.
Dr. Richardson glares at me. His fists grind into the desk as if he’s keeping them there.
He should hate me.
I’ll destroy him. Everything about this man if Eden loses her life because he insists this study and documentary continue to the end.
“I owe you no answers. This Center is run on donations and federal funding. Both are in jeopardy if we make public the events of this summer. It’s so easy to sit there looking so smug when you aren’t in the hot seat.
I not only answer to the board, but I also have the lives of these patients on me, too.
For the record, I never wanted X… or whatever you call him, here at the Center.
It was the worst possible idea from the very beginning. This all comes back to him being here.”
I can’t refute that.
Whatever is happening may be linked to him in some way.
“I’m not the least bit smug. Disgusted, maybe.
Not smug. You may be rid of X soon, but the FBI, myself in particular, aren’t going anywhere yet.
There is an ongoing investigation and if you think I’ve been intrusive up to this point, it will only get worse.
Ms. Davis was attacked not once, but twice by someone here. ” His eyes widen at that.
“What are… what?” He leans forward in his chair, and his ample belly pushes his chair back when it hits his desk. “I don’t know what kind of story you’re cooking up…”
I cut him off before he can finish his accusation, “Twice. You don’t know everything that’s happening within these walls. Clearly.”
“When you say intrusive… what does that look like?” His voice drops to a growl. “You’re going to scare away our patients.”
“Anyone here a month prior to our presence won’t need to talk with me. That leaves four of your residents and I’ll do another interview with your staff. Whether you want to admit it or not, someone here isn’t who you think they are.” My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I check. Blaine.
“I have to get going. Just so that we’re clear. The FBI isn’t going to sidestep the study, the film crew, or your board. We get full access to anyone and anything we ask for.” I don’t give him time to start arguing with me again before I’m striding from his office.
I pause just outside the Center to call Blaine back. “Is Eden alright?” I ask him when he picks up.
“Did you tell her that you would work on getting her released early?” He sounds pissed. Like usual.
“Just to pacify her.” I almost laugh. She’s been restless, wanting justice, and downright fidgety being bound to the hospital room. “She isn’t going anywhere until her leg heals a bit more.”
“I can’t fucking take this.” He blows out a breath. “I hate this fucking hospital.”
“Are you staying sober?” I have to ask. I know how he’ll react, but damnit, I care, and I know I shouldn’t.
“Fuck off.”
Yeah, figured I’d get a variation of that. “Like you give a shit.” I’ve tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to betray Eden and him. At this point, I may never get him to believe me.
“I’ll swing by the hospital after I meet with Rick. Are you hungry? I’ll pick up some food for everyone.” By everyone I mean Eden, Caleb, Blaine, and me. Caleb has been opening up a little to me and scratching below the surface with him has been fascinating. He’s a genuinely sweet guy.
“Fuck me. You’re like the human version of a migraine.
Trying to act like a fucking parent or something.
No. I have no appetite. Eden could use something other than the slop offered here.
Caleb likes French fries more than most people like their lives.
He just might start praying to them.” I chuckle. Maybe I’m getting through to him.
“Got it.” I’ll still get food for him. Whether he wants to admit it or not he’s not taking care of himself.
Rick wipes his hand over his mouth and groans, “At what point would he have been able to get state of the art cameras, multiple cell phones, two... not one but two goddamn firearms, three army grade knives, one he gave to someone who stabbed you with it, and two laptops? How the hell…?”
Rick leans back in his chair, staring at the tiled ceiling of Hutton’s room. The one that Rick, Todd, and two other agents combed through.
Hutton is currently in a meeting with Dr. Xiong and for the first time Rick seems to be realizing just how dangerous he is.
“The theory was he was an innocent victim. Someone needing protection and someone that had been sheltered from the world. Bad working theory to start with and then once we all realized that he was a genius we never readjusted anything.”
Rick pulls one of the laptops over trying to hack into it. He'll never get in. Hutton probably has firewalls for his firewalls.
“Well, he didn’t slaughter the others at Camp Carroll, so what are you trying to get at?” Rick murmurs to himself, absorbed in what he’s trying to accomplish before Hutton returns.
“All the signs were there from the beginning that he knew things he wasn’t supposed to know. He was being trained to withstand some kind of coming apocalypse. He’s dangerous, but…” I don’t think he’s the bad guy.
“Yeah? Spit it out…,” Rick urges me on. He hates me being critical of the Agency.
But this rests on us. We never took the proper precautions when it came to him.
There were times we didn’t think he was physically able to do anything but lie in a bed at Quantico after the massacre.
Obviously, he was busy planning something.
“We...” I circle my finger. “The FBI fucked this one up. More intel on Camp Carroll and even the test results uncovered in that lab would have indicated how careful we needed to be. But I think the threats aren’t coming from him. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“What are you talking about? He’s a complete head case. Dead behind the eyes. Of course, he’ll hurt or kill someone. Even one of us if we get in his way,” Todd speaks up from the doorway where he’s keeping a watch out for Hutton. “I’m beginning to think he killed the grounds person.”
I can’t refute that. He may have, but there isn’t any reason why he would have.
“Is the detail being disbanded? Is he getting his way about that?” I ask Rick. Hutton wants to get rid of his protective detail or as he calls them ‘his babysitters.’ If he leaves the Center, I’ll feel better.
“Ha.” Rick laughs snidely. “Oh, he’s fighting it tooth and nail, but he doesn’t understand that his aunt and uncle… well, and grandmother are too powerful to fight on this.”
That may be for the best.
Hutton has a superiority complex that might get him killed. Though my feelings about him are complicated, I feel a sense of duty to make sure he survives, because I failed everyone else at Camp Carroll. Hours earlier our raid could have stopped their deaths.
If we hadn’t held back until the sun was setting, there might have been a chance. In addition to that Eden has a history with him, even if he won’t say what that is, and she has no memory of it.
“I’m interviewing a couple of residents before I go. Don’t even bother to question Hutton, he let us find all of his contraband. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has more. Just get a move on with the safe house. The sooner he’s relocated the better. For everyone involved.”
Rick is barely listening as his fingers fly over the laptop keys. He’s getting more agitated at being bested by his cousin.
My stomach growls as I wait for Tempest. Nothing feels like it’s amiss, but I have careful notes on the residents that came here after the FBI scoured their backgrounds.
I’ve been forewarned that she can’t speak to me and uses an electronic notepad to communicate with. When she rounds the corner in her light purple linen jumpsuit, she gives me a warm smile as she dips her head towards me in greeting.
“Ms. Michaels, have a seat.” I get up and pull the chair on the other side of the table out. The Center paperwork says she is in her mid-forties, but she could be older or younger. Her dark hair has a few streaks of silver. “I have a couple of questions for you that your paperwork didn’t cover.”
She taps at the screen of her device and slides it my way. “I understand,” it reads.
“Good.” I take a deep breath before diving in, “Your inability to talk… that’s due to injuries that you sustained?” I don’t like prying into people’s traumas, but I do it regularly.
She nods with the smile still in place.
“How did you hear about Horizon Wellness Center? Your paperwork states you were part of a commune in Oregon. That’s quite a distance from here.”
I take the time she’s using to type up her answer to look her over more. No visible scars or tattoos. Athletic. No jewelry. Two fingers lighter where rings once were. She finally turns the notepad my way.
“I was forced out of the commune for protecting a younger member. I walked almost five miles to a summer camp for children. There was someone there that gave me information and money to get here after I wrote down what happened.”
“What’s the name of the camp or that person you met?” Work mode kicks in. I start pulling at her story. It unravels fast.
She diligently types in more. “Camp Chaswalabee and the person that I met with was a camp counselor. His name is Peter Dunn.” I write the names down to verify that both exist, and to make sure that Dunn remembers Tempest.
The rest of our back and forth goes on with some routine history questions and then she throws me off by asking, “Is Eden, okay?”
I didn’t know that the patients even knew she’d been found. I look at her, confused. “The staff was talking about her being at the hospital.”
“She’s going to be fine.”
“I’m relieved. Most of the patients here have been worried about a couple of the nurses. One of them seems to watch Eden a lot. I just wanted you to know that.” My pulse starts to race. Just when I thought Tempest’s interview was a slight waste of time.
“Name? What’s the nurse’s name?”
She types and pushes the tablet back at me, “I don’t remember her name. She has red hair.”
Fuck. She’s the one we’ve all been turning to when we’ve tried to keep things quiet.
Is she part of the problem or is Tempest and the other residents picking up on her knowledge about the secrets we’re keeping. She could have been watching Eden knowing that we were concerned about her safety.