Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (36 page)

The Fed

Jen screamed all night in her cell. Maybe she didn’t realize that they weren’t soundproofed. Or that she was right next to Caroline. The guards had unquestionably concocted that living arrangement on purpose, since they’d gotten so much traction out of doing the same thing with Ellen.

But they’d had time together. Precious little time, but time nonetheless. And Caroline would whisper in her ear, and Jen would whisper back. All the things they never said to each other. Soft, meaningful words. Words of determination, of cheap attempts at strength without any hope behind them. Maybe that was how people made peace with the universe. Caroline didn’t know.

Her two favorite guards came in the next morning with Murdock trailing behind. Powell put two metal chairs in the center of her cell about ten feet apart, facing each other. Such a furniture arrangement could mean nothing good. Fischer dragged Jen in from her own cell and shoved her into it. She looked rougher than she had the day before. The guards hadn’t gone easy on her. She had fresh blood on her shirt, and they’d split her lip and broken her nose.

Powell shoved Caroline into the other chair, cuffing her hands behind her through the slats in the chair. No way to escape, no ability to fight back.

This was not a good situation.

Murdock turned to Jen. “You’ve been stubborn,” he said. “Just like your old boss.” He marched over to Caroline. “She didn’t tell us a damn thing, as I’m sure you intended.”

Caroline swelled with pride. Her night had been ugly, but Jen had held out.

Murdock swung back around toward Jen. “Gerard here hasn’t been cooperative with us at all. Weeks of questioning and…other methods of interrogation have proven to be ineffective.” His lips twitched. “So I’ve decided there’s really only one option left.”

Fischer drew his pistol, pressing it to the side of Jen’s skull.

“One of my more brilliant ideas, I have to admit.” Murdock broke into a full smile. “I do enjoy when I’m struck with genius.”

Jen didn’t react. Maybe she didn’t realize what was happening. Or maybe she didn’t care. But Caroline did. Her mouth gaped open as she stared at Fischer. His hand was steady, his expression bland. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t torn or confused or even all that focused. He was just
there
, indifferently pointing a gun at a woman’s head.

Murdock’s smile didn’t fade. “Last chance to talk. Perhaps the possibility of a bullet to Ms. Whitcomb’s brain may loosen your tongue.”

Jen leaned forward in the chair, her attention galvanized. “Don’t tell them anything, Caroline! I mean it.”

Caroline couldn’t give in now. She’d come so far, given up so much, and one of the few true things she had left was sitting in front of her, a deadly weapon practically glued to her temple.

No lady. No tiger. Only the barrel of a gun.

She gave Jen a desperate look, unable to verbalize her fears.

Help me, Jenny. I don’t know what to do.

Jen gave her head a quick jerk to the left, her eyes wide. And Caroline could see it in her expression, as plainly as if Jen had said it out loud.
No
.

She was telling Caroline no. Telling her to keep her mouth shut, just as Bob had. Fischer grabbed Jen around the throat, keeping the gun in place.

“Don’t do it!” Jen screamed. “Don’t give in to these fuckers.”

Caroline should have been comforted by Jen’s bravery. But it made her feel sick. Overwhelmed. And guilty as hell.

May God forgive me.

Caroline closed her eyes. “I don’t know anything,” she whispered.

There was no way this was happening. Her entire prison experience had been bizarre and demented but there was no possible way that her life had come to this.

Powell yanked her up by her hair. “Open your eyes.”

Caroline bit her lip as a tear trickled down her cheek. This had to be a nightmare. A dream. Anything. Anything to get her out of this. Anything to spare Jen. Powell pulled out his own sidearm and hit her as hard as he could in between her shoulder blades. She let out a moan and another tear slipped out.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He put the gun to her temple, yanking her up by her hair again.

“Kill me,” Caroline said. “Do it. Release her.”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Murdock was pacing. She could hear his footsteps. He was getting closer to her. “But first you get to watch a little show.” His breath blew on her face. It was not a particularly enjoyable feeling. He grabbed her shirt. “Open your eyes.”

“It’s okay, Caroline.” Jen’s voice rang out with remarkable clarity. “I’m ready.”

She blinked and saw Jen’s petrified face. Caroline knew the guards had purposely kept Jen in the clothing she’d been wearing when she was arrested, because it was covered in blood. Her blood, Eric’s blood, Katie’s blood – who knew?

A scared stiff appearance coupled with a defiant voice. Her dear, fearless Jen. Caroline started crying. “I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Murdock gave Caroline one final sneer. “Any other parting thoughts? Make them count. I want to hear all the pretty words.”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He wasn’t getting anything more than he’d already taken. “You’ll rot in hell for this,” she said.

Caroline fixed her eyes on Jen, trying to tell her what she didn’t have the courage to say. To apologize without words. And she didn’t want Murdock and the others to be privy to such a private exchange. But she knew she had to say something, even if it was babbling nonsense. “I’m so sorry, Jenny,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”

Jen glared at Murdock. “You’re not the one who’ll need forgiveness.” She brought her gaze back to Caroline and tried to smile, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I could never hate you. Ever.” Her voice broke. “I’ll hug Katie for you.”

Murdock nodded at Fischer and he pulled the trigger. And Caroline found herself screaming again.

The Fed

Caroline sat shackled to the chair. She’d been there all night. She assumed it was night. Time didn’t really have any meaning to her anymore. But they’d left the lights on. Not that she had any question as to why.

She stared at the large puddle of red on the floor. Blood. Jenny’s blood. The guards dragged Jen’s body out of Caroline’s cell as she sat there shrieking at them to kill her. Murdock looked back, smiled, and shut the door behind him. None of them had returned.

She didn’t know how long it had been since then. Probably hours. She screamed for Jenny at first. Not that it mattered. But it was the only thing she could do. She wanted her friend back. She wanted to rewind the clock. She wanted to redo any number of errors she made that culminated in a fate she no longer controlled. Her eyes were itchy. Her throat was dry. Her tangled hair hung down into her eyes and tickled her face, which she’d normally find bothersome, but it at least provided her with a mild distraction.

Red.

Blood.

Jenny’s blood.

They knew what they were doing. She’d had hours, days perhaps, to focus on what they had done to Ellen. To think about what that meant for her. To dwell on anything she could have done differently. Then they brought Jenny to her with similar results.

Murdock looked almost surprised in the immediate aftermath, studying her reaction as Fischer and Powell did their dirty work. She was certain that he was going to focus like a laser on any future efforts at making her suffer. Thinking up new and different ways to torture her soul before killing her body.

They had their answer. They knew she wasn’t going to talk. But she yelled it out again anyway despite her fading voice. They had never listened to her before but they would have to listen now. She changed it up a little in case they hadn’t gotten the message. Sometimes referred to them by name. Tried to make it personal. Because they already had.

Fuck you, motherfuckers. I’m not telling you shit. Fucking cowards. You’re all cowards and I fucking know it.

She had to stop when she became too weak to continue. Her bones hurt. Her joints. Her cartilage. How was that even possible? Her stomach had stopped gnawing on itself a long time ago. How many days had passed since she had something real and substantial to eat? Dinner, the night they’d been run out of their home? How long ago had that been?

Caroline shuffled somewhere between animal and human, wholly unaware of her existence. Caught between the primal urge to kill those who dared harm her friends and the childish desire to curl up in a ball and weep. She wasn’t lucky enough to be the mouse who got gnawed up right away. No, she had to stumble upon a destructive force that would toy with her, make her suffer, until it finally gobbled her up in mangled little pieces. The Fed had her by the tail, batting her around, baring one claw in a reminder that soon, very soon, she’d be lunch. And Murdock was the biggest predator of them all.

Jack will find me.

Ah, hope springing eternal. That thought, still tucked away in the back of her mind, rising to the surface at the most desperate times. The tiny glimmer of faith floating in a churning sea of doubt. Perhaps there was a feather left after all.

He’s not coming, you idiot. He’s dead.

Common sense was telling faith and hope to go jump off a cliff. She blew her hair out of her face again. Positivity. She needed positivity.

Jenny will come back. Yes. With Katie, and Ellie, and Bob, and we’ll all sit around and have the loveliest conversations. Such wonderful company.

Was that possible? Maybe it was all a mirage. Maybe she was just having an incredibly vivid dream.

Think logically. They’re dead. Everyone is dead, thanks to you.

Her inner monologue had become a dialogue, a reminder that her mind was oh so slowly descending into madness.

Caroline closed her eyes but she could still see her cell inside her mind. Every inch of it. Every crevice, every corner. She’d spent enough time in there to have every single aspect of it memorized, even in total darkness. She tried to think of anything other than the stain on the floor.

How long had she been there? When were they going to stop this? How much more was she going to have to see? How many more people would suffer because of her? How much longer did she have before she’d be the one in a pool of blood on the floor?

Soon. I hope it’s soon.

She shook her head, trying to jar the disturbing thought loose.

I want to die.

She shook her head harder. It didn’t work.

I want my mommy. My daddy. I want to see Nicky.

Caroline stomped at the floor, telling herself to fight it. She could swear she could still hear Ellen screaming, could feel Bob’s grip on her wrist. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Jen’s face. Jen, who had been as strong as Caroline was weak. Even in her final moments, she’d defied them while her former boss took the easy way out.

Caroline had betrayed one of the best friends she had. That bell could never be unrung. She twisted in the cuffs, knowing that the skin on her wrists was bleeding and raw, as it had been for the entire time she’d been there. A permanent reminder of her captivity, a visible wounding of her spirit. One more conspicuous scar to add to the tally. She wept and prayed for death.

It seemed like hours before the lights finally went off, which made things worse. Sitting in the dark shackled to a chair was not exactly preferable to being bathed in light. She knew that the night had passed when the guards came back into the room and uncuffed her, upending the chair and dumping her on the floor before shuttering her into darkness again.

She was a sack of bones. Aching, shattered, broken bones. Maybe they’d finally accomplished her goal. She was finally beaten down too much to go on. Ruined. Destroyed. Wrecked.

Santos. That fucking bastard. The man had ascended without deserving it, and the entire country was paying the price. Her cell smelled like death. It was not preferable to the old odors of mildew and human filth. She kicked at the wall until her foot hurt too much to continue. Pain allowed her to refocus on her fatigue, and she tumbled into an emotionally exhaustive sleep.

The Past

Caroline Gerard – former state prosecutor, former Assistant United States Attorney, former member of Congress – had a burn phone. And a burn laptop, though that probably wasn’t the proper terminology. And a secret screen name, and a secret language, and a secret underground movement at her fingertips.

She wasn’t sure how secure any of her movements were. But she’d gotten shifty. She’d sneak away from the Governor’s Mansion on a biweekly basis, slipping from open network to open network in an effort to keep her movements from being tracked. She traveled outside the city limits on occasion. It still amazed her that so many people were willing to leave their wireless connections vulnerable to hacking or as she liked to put it,
the temporary borrowing of services
, but she was grateful for their ignorance.

She felt guilty for keeping this information from Jack. But he would have never let her leave the safe confines of their home without a member of their security team. Not anymore.

The political landscape transformed as summer changed into fall. Executive orders of dubious constitutionality, questioned by few. Random resignations from members of Congress. Judicial officials scheduling their retirements long before such announcements were due.

The rumors of what was to come, spread mostly on message boards and largely ignored by the general public, were worse. Tax rates on rich individuals raised to as yet unseen percentages. Burdensome regulations on small businesses and sole proprietors coupled with less oversight for large corporations and financial entities that cooperated with the government. Marriage equality and other civil rights laws wiped away. Militias assembling in each state, mobilizing in support of the Administration’s plans, searching for signs of dissention. Strange coalitions were forming between left and right, no doubt spurred by the chummy, sometimes parasitic relationship between the president and vice president.

But those rumors were nothing compared to the others. That activists were being rounded up, disappearing into thin air. That membership in the militias would be the only way to maintain private gun ownership. That people on public assistance would be prohibited from receiving any benefits unless they were sterilized or baptized into select churches.

The rumors were a blend of political ideologies…the radical parts of conservatism that bordered on fascism coupled with the most disturbing aspects of socialism. It wasn’t a terribly illogical alliance, if people stopped to think about it. If they considered that the political spectrum was not a straight line but a circle. But most Americans didn’t analyze things that deeply.

Some of the rumors seemed a little wild to Caroline, while many seemed consistent with the Santos she had come to know. She learned not to dismiss the knowledge passed on to her through the underground. She trusted the people in the movement. She never identified herself by name but based on multiple online postings, they had an inkling that she was involved somehow, if indirectly. Very few of them knew that the screen name they were communicating with or the person to whom they were sending documents was actually the First Lady of Pennsylvania.

She grouped and tracked every bit of information she obtained, careful to transfer each damning bit to multiple drives. Paper copies were a risk. Anything done on a state computer or other easily monitored device was unwise. She and a handful of trusted friends developed a code when speaking on their personal phones and were careful never to say too much.

Most of her life continued on as normal. She had a position of some importance, as did her husband. They were still safely ensconced in a little cocoon of political invulnerability, given Jack’s relatively stable approval ratings. She never spoke out of turn in public, nor did he. But those days had to end, no matter the consequences.

She’d spent too much time hiding and skirting the truth with Jack. She had to come clean. Not only to clear her conscience but because she knew she finally had enough to spur him into action. He was confused when she dragged him down to the basement. No one, not even the staff, used that part of the mansion. It was the best place to store her no frills laptop. To edit and organize without being discovered.

She brought him into her makeshift office, switching on the dim light. The room smelled faintly of mildew. It kept Caroline focused as she was working. The laptop was already on, the screen glowing in the corner of the room. She’d put all of her most incriminating discoveries in one master document, saved separately to the laptop and three small flash drives. She had hundreds and hundreds if not thousands of pages of documentation, but she knew Jack would want her to cut to the chase.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“This is where I work sometimes.” Caroline turned the laptop around. “I need to show you something.”

Jack skimmed through the documents. Caroline stood behind him, nervously tapping her thumbs together. When he was done he turned to her with a troubled expression on his face. “Where did you get these?”

She knew better than to give specifics. Telling him her sources would make him vulnerable. “I don’t want to say. It’s better that you not know.”

He grabbed her upper arms. “Where?”

She flinched. His grip was tight, unexpected, angry. “Jack-”

“Who knows you have this?”

“No one,” she whispered. “Jack, you’re hurting me. Let go.”

He grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Are you sure no one knows you have this?”

An impossible question to answer truthfully. “I’ve been keeping a low profile. No one knows it’s me.”

“You can’t show this to anyone else. Understand?”

“I know.”

Jack clutched Caroline to him, as if afraid she’d be snatched away at any moment. “There’s no way they don’t know you have this, sweetheart. You know that, don’t you?”

She had never seen him sound so panicked. She’d really fucked up, compromised their careers and their safety in an unalterable way. How had she not realized it until now? “I’m sorry.”

He held her closer, pressing his nose into her hair. “They’re watching you, Caroline. Watching us.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered. “And keep your voice low. They’re probably already watching us because of who we are. I should have listened to you. All these months, you kept trying to tell me what was going on and I didn’t want to believe it.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We very subtly start making our voices heard. But you cannot show this to anyone, for any reason. Not even Christine or Katie.”

Hopefully divulging the truth to Jack would be enough. “I know.”

“I’ve heard rumors of my own. Not as bad as what you have, but concerning enough. I should have told you about them.”

“Like what?”

“States considering secession. Possible changes in the tax code that would affect almost every single American, but especially those of us with concentrated wealth. Bringing back long dormant morality laws and loyalty oaths. Government monitoring of political opponents. I wasn’t sure whether to believe any of it.”

“But you do now.”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t in a place to judge his behavior. They’d both kept secrets. “I have resources. Connections. It’s a growing network.”

“I don’t know how much I want you to use them. We need to choose wisely now. Make the feds go down trails that don’t lead anywhere, so they can’t make the connection between what we’re about to do and what you’ve already done.” Jack pulled back to look at her. “You know how to do that, right?”

She’d learned a lot in the past few months. More than she ever thought she’d need to know. “Yes.”

He wiped his thumb across her cheek. Caroline had unknowingly shed a few tears. “We can do this,” he said. “We
will
do this. Let’s formulate a plan of action.”

Jack was taking this so much better than she’d hoped. “I didn’t mean to force your hand.” She sniffled. “I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore. I figured the less you knew, the better.”

He gave her a small smile. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

“I didn’t want to put you at risk.”

“Caroline, we’re in this together. This marriage, this life. Everything we do, we do side by side. You aren’t going to do this alone.”

“I didn’t really think I’d find what I did.”

He pulled her into another embrace. “I know. Our lives will have to change. We’ll have to be careful, but we can’t stand on the sidelines any longer.”

He didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, but he didn’t sound like he hated the idea either. “How good are you at lying?” she asked.

“I can practice. So can you.” He let go of her and sat down at the chair behind the desk. “Well,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Looks like the revolution may indeed be televised. We best get started.”