Bittersweet Darkness (18 page)

“No, so far she’s refused to speak. She has a very high tolerance for pain.”

Her stomach roiled, and she tried not to think what they’d done to discover that piece of information.

“We’re going to try drugs this morning.”

“Drugs. What sort of drugs?”

“We’ve been working on something that’s a combination of a pain inducer and a truth serum. It’s still experimental, but we feel the risks are worth it.”

He sounded proud of what they were doing. He was crazy.

Faith forced herself to look back into the room. It resembled a doctor’s surgery, with an examination table in the center and her stomach stirred again as she realized there were restraints at each corner. Otherwise, the room was empty except for a sink in the opposite corner to where Tara sat.

A door opened and two men walked in. One wore a white lab coat and pushed a small trolley; the second wore the uniform of the security guards. She was unsurprised when she recognized Adams. Had he been here yesterday morning as well?

Faith’s mind worked frantically. How could she stop this? She couldn’t stand by and watch as someone was tortured. Even if Tara had been guilty of hideous crimes, this would still be wrong. There had to be lines you didn’t cross.

“That’s Dr. Trenton. He’s the one who’s been developing the drug. We borrowed him from one of the other departments. He’s the best at his job.”

And what was that—devising more effective ways of torturing people? Faith held the words in but her fists clenched at her side.

Tara had gone still as the men entered the room, but there was fear in her eyes as they darted from the men to the table.

“Stand up,” the doctor said, his tone completely blank.

When Tara made no move, Adams crossed the room, leaned down, and grabbed her by the arm. She whimpered as he pulled her to her feet, and Faith saw she was more damaged than had been obvious. Her left hand was cradled against her chest as though it hurt to move. Her eyes fixed with terror on the table, and she started to fight.

She was over a foot shorter than the guard, but she fought furiously, resisting every step. Faith found herself rooting for her under her breath. But it was foolish. Adams grabbed her other hand, the one held against her chest and crushed it in his fist. Tara let out a high-pitched scream and her body went limp.

Faith moved instinctively, reaching for the gun at the small of her back, then remembered she hadn’t yet replaced the weapon. Besides, what had she been going to do—shoot the colonel and the doctor and Adams and everyone else between here and the outside world?

No, she had to bide her time. She would do something about this. It had to be illegal. She would report it. Go higher up…

But she was kidding herself. This was sanctioned. By whom she didn’t know, but she was guessing she’d be blocked if she tried to follow channels. No, she had to find another way to stop this.

Adams hauled Tara across the room and onto the table, fastening her wrists and ankles at each corner. As he fastened the straps to her wrists, Faith could see the red marks, open sores, where Tara had presumably struggled against the restraints in the previous “session.”

Adams stepped back. Faith had thought her unconscious, but Tara’s head rolled to the side so she was facing the mirror and her lids fluttered open.

The expression of hopelessness in her eyes made Faith want to weep.

The doctor came to stand beside her. “We don’t need to do this.” His voice was soft and Faith had to strain to hear his words. “Tell us everything you know about Roth and we’ll stop this. You’ll be given food, a shower.”

Tara turned her head away and shut her eyes.

The doctor glanced at the mirror and the colonel leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Go ahead.”

Faith forced herself to watch, not to look away as the doctor selected a needle and syringe from the trolley he’d wheeled up close to the examination table. The liquid inside was pale yellow. He tapped it once before injecting it into the blue vein that ran down Tara’s lower arm.

For a minute, nothing happened and Faith breathed easier. Then Tara started to convulse, her muscles jumping and jerking. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip until blood trickled down her chin.

“Tell me, and it will stop,” the doctor murmured.

Faith glanced away; she couldn’t bear to watch. Her gaze caught on the guard, Adams, who stood at the foot of the table a slight smile on his face. A man who obviously enjoyed his work.

Tara strained at her bonds now, her whole body writhing. Her head rolled toward them and her eyes opened. Faith took an involuntary step closer. Tara’s eyes were glowing with a strange crimson light. Was she hemorrhaging?

“She’s dying,” Faith said to the colonel. “You have to tell them to stop—give her something.”

The colonel must have reached the same conclusion; he reached for the button as Tara’s right hand broke free. Her fist slammed into the doctor’s face. The
crunch
of bone sounded loud and blood sprayed across the room. The doctor backed away as Tara kicked free of the ankle restraints. A noise was coming from her throat, more growl than scream.

“How the hell…?” The colonel pressed the comm unit. “Get out of there!”

The doctor and Adams were both backing away from the table. They’d reached the door when Tara broke free of her last restraint. She rolled onto the floor and leaped toward them, almost flying through the air. She slammed into the door as it shut behind them, then crashed to the floor. For a second, Faith thought she’d knocked herself out. But she was up on her feet. She turned to face the mirror and Faith drew in her breath. As she stalked toward them, her eyes glowed red, something stirring behind them. Had the drug broken her mind?

But there was definite intelligence there as she surveyed the two-way mirror. She glanced around, picked up the doctor’s trolley, and hurled it at the glass. It bounced off, leaving no damage, and she growled her frustration.

“Release the gas,” the colonel said into the intercom.

A white mist oozed from the corners of the room, curling up from the ground to coil around Tara’s figure. She peered down, and despair filled her eyes. She mouthed something; Faith was sure it was “Christian.” Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees, and toppled to the floor.

“Interesting,” the colonel murmured as though this were some sterile scientific experiment, not a young woman’s life.

Faith loathed him in that moment.

Chapter Fourteen

“Will she be all right?” Faith asked, fighting to keep the disgust and hatred out of her voice.

“From the gas—she should be. It will knock her out for an hour, but she should have no aftereffects.”

Through the glass, Faith could see the room was already clearing, revealing Tara’s unconscious form curled in a fetal position in front of the mirror.

“From the drugs…” The colonel shrugged. “Who knows? That didn’t go as expected. I think we’ll have to add enhanced strength as one of the side effects.”

He turned from the mirror to face Faith. She quickly schooled her features to blankness.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t get to hear anything interesting,” he said. “And I’m guessing the good doctor will suggest leaving the next session until morning. He’s probably getting his nose fixed.” He sounded amused.

How could someone be so untouched by this? Is that what happened if you saw enough evil? You became immune?

Faith
never, never
wanted to feel like that.

The adrenaline drained from her system, leaving her shaky and sick. She had to get out of there.

“I’d like to come back for the next session,” she said, pretending to be unaffected.

“Good. I was worried you’d be too squeamish to accept what has to be done. But I think you’re going to be an excellent addition to the team.”

She kept her walk steady as she made her way back to the upper level. Only when she locked herself in the ladies’ room did she give in. There was nothing in her stomach, but she retched anyway, bile flooding her mouth.

Afterward, she stared at her reflection and realized she was crying. Tears dropped in a trickle down her cheek. That wouldn’t do. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, then splashed cold water over her face. Sniffing one last time, she blew her nose and patted her cheeks dry with a paper towel.

Squeamish didn’t cover it.

Despair. That’s what she felt. A deep, bone-numbing despair as though her whole world was been ripped down around her. All her life, all she’d ever wanted was to work for the good guys, to make the world a better place.

This world wasn’t better.

The hopeless expression in Tara’s eyes haunted her. And a new emotion rose up to drown out the despair.

Rage.

No one had the right to do that to anyone. To treat any human that way.

She had to do what she could to save Tara. It would be the end of her career, but her future no longer mattered. The doctor had told her she needed to inform her employers. She was a risk. But this might also mean she ended up in prison. Did she want to spend her last weeks—or months or however long she had left—in a cell?

A cell like Tara’s.

If she did nothing, she didn’t think she could live with herself. It would be irrelevant where she was.

But the thing that was really tearing her apart was Ash.

He would hate her. If she’d told them straightaway that she’d recognized Adams, maybe they could have found Tara before they’d harmed her. Christian Roth had a lot of contacts. He might have at least been able to kick up enough fuss to ensure that Tara wasn’t tortured.

But she hadn’t told them, because she believed the system.

She’d been a naive idiot.

Ryan once told her that there were no such things as bad guys and good guys, only shades of in-between. She hadn’t believed him then. And she still didn’t. Not really. She still believed there was good and bad, she was just no longer sure of who was what, and the uncertainty left her floundering.

Ash would hate her for this. But again, did it really matter? In some ways, it would be better that way. He was starting to care for her, the fact that he’d come to her last night when he was in need of respite from his worries, told her that.

She didn’t know how long she had left, but she certainly wasn’t in a position to offer any man “forever.” Better their growing relationship get cut off now, before Ash got in any deeper and lost her anyway. And at least he wouldn’t have long to hate her.

Who would have thought that dying could be considered a positive?

Freeing Tara was the next order of business. Maybe the first thing was to check how good her new security clearance was. As she came out of the restroom, she glanced across at the colonel’s door. It was closed—a sure sign he was in residence.

She headed back the way they had gone earlier. Last time, the colonel had opened the doors; this time she used her own card and bent her face to the panel for the retinal scan. Each time the doors slid open.

By the time she hit the lower corridor where Tara’s cell was located, she was a juddering wreck of nerves. Maybe she shouldn’t have risked this—it might only draw attention to her. But she wanted to check she could make it through on her own.

A guard stood at the door. Faith didn’t recognize him.

“I wanted to check—is she conscious?”

“Yes, ma’am”

She peered through the glass at the front. Tara was huddled in her corner, but she raised her head as though she could sense someone watching her. Did she know who had her imprisoned?

Faith backed away. “Do you know where her personal effects are?”

“Down the corridor. In the office on the left.”

She found the office staffed by another young priest. He seemed unfazed when Faith flashed her ID and asked to see Tara’s things. He handed her a clear plastic bag. It contained Tara’s clothes, a small handbag, a watch, and the pendant Tara had been wearing that night. Faith went through the bag. Was she still trying to find some justification for this, some evidence that Tara was not the innocent, young woman she appeared? But there was nothing. Finally, she picked up the pendant and dangled it from the silver chain. And she realized that was why she had come here. To get this one thing.

Tara had told her the necklace was a gift from her father. From Ash. Faith glanced up, the priest was immersed in a game of spider solitaire, and she slipped the pendant in her pocket.

There was nothing here to help her or change her mind about what she had to do and she made her way back upstairs. She headed to the main entrance instead of back to her desk. Guy, her babysitter for the day, sat in the coffee shop across the street. He didn’t acknowledge her as she appeared, but she made her way to where he sat.

She didn’t want to use her cell phone; she wasn’t sure that it was private anymore. There was a queue in the coffee shop. As she took her place at the back, she sensed Guy come up behind her. She turned and spoke quietly, “Can I borrow your phone?”

He looked at her for a few seconds, then pulled it out of his pocket and slipped it to her discreetly.

She took it to the ladies’ room and stood thinking for a moment.

Who to call? She had three choices. She pulled out her own phone for the numbers and dialed Ash first. Feeling distinctly queasy as she waited for him to answer, she forced herself count the rings. She wasn’t allowed to end the call until it reached twenty and she was sure he wouldn’t answer. But in fact, voice mail kicked in at ten.

“It’s Faith, call me. It’s urgent. About Tara,” she added the last as she suspected that if it wasn’t about Tara right now, it wouldn’t be urgent to Ash. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to lose a child. She’d never thought about children of her own. She’d always been too involved in her career.

No point worrying about what could have been.

She tried Ryan next. This time praying he would pick up. Because next on her list was Christian Roth, and she so didn’t want to make that call.

But Ryan picked up almost straightaway. “Guy? Is there a problem?”