Chapter Three #3
Polaris had turned out to be a giant failure in every respect. Its director, Dr. Victor Nichols, was now presumed dead. Grayson,
obviously, didn’t put much stock in presumptions of death.
“Maybe not. But I’m going to have some big opinions about where the empaths go.” St. James’s gaze had gone back to the phone,
her fingers flicking over the screen. “It’s not going to be your dungeon.
And it has to be safe from ghouls like Nichols.
” She made another noise of disgust and read from the phone again.
“‘Finding the empaths is our highest priority, Evan. We need to be working together.’ As if. We’re not working with Stone Solutions on this or anything else.
” She passed the phone back to him. “Has Marist said anything about Director Traynor?”
Unbidden, Grayson’s memories once again went back to Reece and the truck, and their last few minutes at that dock north of
Vancouver, before everything had gone up in flames. Grayson had just learned of Alex’s break-in at Polaris and had been planning
to send Reece to safety and then meet up with the team at one of the two rendezvous points he’d been given.
What do you mean, rendezvous with Stone Solutions or the Empath Initiative? Reece had asked.
Because I gotta pick one, Grayson had explained. I got one location from Director Traynor of the Empath Initiative, and a different location from Vivian Marist of Stone Solutions
Canada.
Reece had frowned. They sent you different locations? That’s weird, isn’t it?
Grayson hadn’t thought too much of it. Marist and Traynor were usually on the same page, but there’d been a lot going on.
Go to the location Vivian Marist sent you, Reece had said at the dock only minutes later.
Grayson had trusted him and gone to Marist. Then the empaths must’ve ambushed Director Traynor, and no one had seen him since.
Grayson shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything more,” he said. “You planning a check-in with Dr. Easterby or Mr. Lane?”
She nodded. “I’ll call Aisha as soon as it’s a reasonable hour of morning.”
Back in November, Grayson had bought an isolated house on a stretch of Salt Spring Island shoreline in BC, thinking it could be a safe place for Reece.
Now it was Dr. Aisha Easterby, a medical examiner with Stone Solutions, and Dominique “Diesel” Lane, a bouncer from Seattle’s fake empath club, who were at the safe house recovering from their ordeal at Polaris, where they’d been drugged by Dr. Nichols but unharmed by Alex and Cora.
Why the two empaths had left them alone was as much a mystery as why Reece had left behind the un-thralled head of security,
Wayne Smith.
Grayson got to his feet. “You want another mocha?”
St. James shook her head. “I’m going home to Liam.” She pointed at his phone. “Can I get Stone Solutions emails too?”
I can’t compromise my email. National security.
He paused, the words held on the tip of his tongue. The Dead Man was supposed to work alone. He wasn’t even supposed to take
pictures of himself; he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to share his classified emails from Stone Solutions and the Empath Initiative.
But St. James had been one of the best detectives on the West Coast. And when she said, I guess you’re probably one of the only people on the planet who understands, that went both ways. Maybe their partnership could only be temporary, until the empaths here were caught, but he was lucky
to have her.
“Of course,” he said instead. “I’ll set that up.”
After she’d left, Grayson got a second latte and sat back at their table. Alone, obviously, because he didn’t have a Liam—or
anyone else—to go home to. He never would. That was the difference between a detective and the Dead Man.
He pulled his phone back out of his pocket to set up email forwarding to St. James, his gaze catching Marist’s name and his
last conversation with Reece playing in his head again.
Marist? Surprised to hear you pick Stone Solutions over the Empath Initiative. I was thinking if I had to pick, I’d meet Director
Traynor.
No. Go to Marist.
It’d be easy enough to assume Reece had sent Grayson to Marist because he was already corrupted and planned to ambush Traynor. But more of Reece’s words from the truck echoed in Grayson’s memory, spoken as the two of them had leaned so close into each other that he had felt that empath body heat.
Look me in the eyes and say, “Reece, I promise I’ll come back to you.”
I need to know you’re going to be safe. Promise me, Evan.
Those couldn’t have been the words of a corrupted empath. So, what had happened? When had it happened, and how?
And maybe most puzzling of all—why?
He lit his phone screen, once again illuminating his background picture of Reece in the bear hat Grayson had bought him. Bright
smile and even brighter eyes, the pacifist angel who’d made sure Grayson could get a decent night’s sleep.
Without planning to, Grayson found himself opening his text messages, his fingers beginning to type.
What happened to you, Care Bear—
He hit Delete instead of Send, and the letters vanished from the screen.