The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (18 page)

After a whispered conference with Ty, we decide to tie up the two of them in my parents' room while we figure out what to do next. We can't leave them in the living room or they'll be in view of anyone who comes to the front door. Brenner manages to stagger to his feet and then shuffles down the hall. Elizabeth is quieter—quiet enough that I watch her closely.

“Take my gun while I tie her up,” Ty says, handing it over. I tuck it in my waistband and never take my eyes off Elizabeth—or my finger off the trigger of the gun I retrieved from my backpack.

“Why did they say there were human remains in my family's cabin?” I ask Elizabeth as Ty ties her wrists tight with one of my mom's scarves.

She doesn't answer, so I kick a nerve bundle on her outer thigh. She sees the look on my face and decides it's not worth not talking.

“Kirk threw the chimp in the trunk when he and Michael took you out to the cabin to look for your family. He figured it would raise too many questions if it were found at your house. After you assaulted Michael, they decided to burn down the cabin … with the chimp's body inside. They figured it would make the authorities more eager to find you.”

“And who shot Officer Dillow?”

“That security guy?” She shrugs. “Kirk. Kirk said that guy asked way too many questions—especially for a rent-a-cop.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, but only for a second. Someday I'll have time to think about Officer Dillow, who died because he tried to help me.

“Do you have anything else you want to ask her?” Ty says. I can tell he's tired of listening to her. When I shake my head, he gags her with one of my dad's ties. “This will keep her from planning anything with Brenner.”

“Good idea.”

Even though Brenner, who's leaning against the wall with his arm cradled against his chest, doesn't look like he would be capable of planning a walk down the hall, I don't want Elizabeth to know how much she gets to me. She said my parents didn't come to the cabin because they didn't care. That can't be true, can it? But what if the real reason they didn't come is even worse?

With more ties, Ty lashes Elizabeth's hands to the bedpost. He doesn't leave her any slack and she doesn't look very comfortable.

Which bothers me not one little bit.

Next, we deal with Brenner, who is panting and pale. When he opens his eyes and sees us regarding him, both of us holding guns, he mumbles again, “I didn't want to do any of this. I'm a computer scientist, not a killer.”

I'm not feeling too sympathetic.

“We can't just leave his arm like that,” Ty says, as we look at him. “If we don't splint it, he could end up with nerve damage. Plus I think he's going into shock.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” I whisper. “He wanted to kill me.”

“We're better than the bad guys are, remember?”

I stop arguing with Ty and go look for the supplies he needs. From our camping stuff, I get a sleeping pad he can use to splint the arm. From the linen closet, dishtowels to tie the splint in place. And from the floor in front of the dresser, my dad's socks, to cushion Brenner's arm. I wonder what my parents will say when they find out their things were used to give aid and comfort to the enemy.

I just hope they're still alive to learn it.

Brenner lets out a muffled scream when Ty splints his arm. My would-be killer is sweaty and pale. With his scratches, bruises, and bandages, he looks like the real victim.

Eyes dull with pain, Brenner says, “They told me we would be rich. And that no one would die.”

“Uh-huh.” I let my sarcasm show. He obviously abandoned that idea by the time he started dragging me out to the woods.

Ty has Brenner lie on the floor with his feet on the bed, on the opposite side from Elizabeth. He ties one ankle and the unbroken arm to the bed frame, making sure that there isn't any way for Elizabeth to reach Brenner or vice versa.

Watching Ty work gives me time to think. Even though it seems that I have all the missing pieces of my memory—before and after the fugue state—I still feel like there's something I'm missing. Some clue that I'm completely overlooking.

I run through it again in my head. My parents are on the run from Z-Biotech with my little brother. They have proof that Z-Biotech—in particular, the two people in this room, plus Kirk Nowell—had plans to exploit the virus and the vaccine. Had plans to sell it to someone to potentially kill thousands of people.

Ty finishes and comes over to me. Brenner's eyes are closed, his breathing shallow and fast. Elizabeth is watching us. I want to get away from those bright blue eyes. “Do you think it's safe to leave them alone?”

Ty shrugs slightly. “For a while anyway.”

“Let's go to my room and figure out what to do next. I don't like her watching us.”

My bed's not made, but at least this room isn't as trashed as the rest of the house. I kick some discarded clothes under the bed as I pull up the orchid-colored silk comforter. Ty does a good job of pretending not to notice. Instead he looks at the walls, which feature posters for plays I've been in, as well as black and yellow covers of Playbills from the two times I've been to New York.

“So you're an actress?” he says.

“I think it kind of came in handy the last few days.” I sigh as I sit down at my desk. My phone is still plugged into the charger. The last time I was here, I was doing chemistry homework. The thought seems surreal. I rub my temple. “I feel like I'm missing something. I think one of the things somebody told me when I couldn't remember wasn't right. Only I didn't know enough to know that it wasn't.”

“That's going to be hard to sort out,” Ty says as he sits down on the edge of my bed. “Everyone's been lying to you or about you.”

I run through the last two days in my mind. And then I finally realize what it is.

“Remember when we were at the library and read that article about me?”

“Well, that whole thing was wrong, wasn't it? I mean, you didn't shoot Dillow and you didn't hurt your family,” Ty says.

“That's not what I'm thinking about. It's that message it said my parents left at the school. They said I sold their car.”

“They just said that to warn you to stay away from the house.”

“But why make up a story about me selling a Datsun? Now that I've got my memory back, I know we don't own a Datsun. My dad's first car was a Datsun, and he used to talk about it, but they haven't made that brand for years and years. So why would my parents make up such a weirdly specific detail? Did the reporter get it wrong?” I straighten up. “Or was it a code?” As I talk, I go to Craigslist for Portland. I click on the “cars and trucks” section. There are thousands of listings. But when I type “Datsun” in the search box, there are only twenty-two listed.

I scan down. The third entry from the bottom is for a '97 Datsun. It sticks out because it's a decade newer than any of the other listings. I click. And there it is. The last desperate message from my parents.

In its entirety, the listing reads, “'97 Datsun with 15,550 miles. Only 2 owners. Please call between 2 and 7 pm.”

“How can a car that old have so few miles?” Ty asks.

I don't answer because I'm busy writing down each of the numbers mentioned in the ad: 97 15,550 2 2 7.

He looks closer. “And how is anyone supposed to call if there's no phone number?”

“Because the whole ad is basically a phone number!” I tell him as I snatch up my cell phone and start pushing the numbers 971-555-0227. “My parents were trying to tell me how to contact them.” My heart is beating fast as I push the final seven. The phone rings only once, and then it switches to a recorded message. It's a man's voice repeating the phone number I just dialed, followed by a beep.

But I recognize that voice.

I start to say something, but the words get caught in my throat.

“Dad? Daddy? It's me, Cady. I'm okay. I hope you guys are, too. It's, um, six p.m. Call me at our house. Okay, so, um, call back soon. And I love you.”

I press the button to end the call. I resist the urge to dial the number again just to hear my dad's voice.

Will I ever hear it again?

 

CHAPTER 37

DAY 2, 7:41 P.M.

 

When the phone rings, I jump. Ty and I look at each other and then lean over to check the caller ID. The display shows only “Cell Phone,” but the number listed is not the number I dialed. My heart is beating in my throat. What if it's Kirk Nowell? With a shaking hand, I pick up the phone.

“Hello?” I make my voice lower and gruffer.

“Cady?” My mom sounds suspicious. “Is that you?”

Hearing her, I melt. “Mom!”

She's still cautious. “What did Grandma give you for Christmas last year?” I can hear the tension in her voice.

I'm sure Mom already knows it's me. So why is she asking? No one but me and my parents would know the real answer to her question. Grandma herself probably wouldn't even remember. If I tell Mom the wrong answer, she'll know I'm under duress.

“Queen-size pantyhose.” Mom's mom is known for her crazy presents, usually purchased at garage sales. I take a deep breath. “Are Dad and Max okay?”

“Basically.” Before I can ask Mom what that means, she says quickly, “You need to know that someone is pretending to be your aunt. She's calling herself Elizabeth Quinn, but her real name is Elizabeth Tanzir.”

“Mom, we already know about that. She's tied up here at our house, along with Michael Brenner.”

“Wait! What? And who's we?”

Ty leans in closer to hear. I pull the phone a half inch from my ear. “There's this guy named Tyler I met in Bend. He's helping me.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Maybe you should start over again from the beginning. Tell me everything that's happened.”

I give her an even shorter version than the one I gave Elizabeth, only this one includes my not-so-fatal attack on Brenner, Officer Dillow, “Aunt Liz's” double-cross, and Brenner's broken elbow. I leave in the fugue state but skip over my missing fingernails, knowing they'll just freak Mom out. And I end with, “And right now, they're both tied up in your bedroom.”

“You'd better check on them frequently,” Mom says. “Especially Elizabeth. And don't trust anything she says.”

“Don't worry. She already taught me that.” I take a deep breath. “What did you mean when you said Max and Dad were basically all right? Is something wrong?”

Mom sighs and then falls silent. Finally she says, “Yesterday morning, your dad found the proof we needed. Z-Biotech has converted some old storage rooms in the basement. They're raising thousands of infected field mice, but we only need a couple of dozen for legitimate research. They also have a desiccator to dry out the droppings, which basically turns them into a bioweapon. Your dad took photos of the mice and the desiccator, and then he took a sample of the desiccated droppings. He called me and told me we had to leave in a hurry. I grabbed up Max from day care and met your father in the back parking lot. But Kirk tried to stop us. Your dad ended up getting shot.” Over my gasp, she hurries to tell me the rest. “It went through his shoulder without hitting anything vital. But he's lost a lot of blood.”

“Why didn't you take him to the hospital? Or go to the police?”

“First, we wanted to make sure you were safe. We called your phone, but you didn't pick up. We called the school, but they told us you weren't in class. That's when we knew things had gone wrong, and we left you that message to give you a way to contact us if you could. We bought a couple of disposable phones a few months ago in case we needed them. We didn't realize until later that Kirk had left us messages on our old phones telling us he had you. And that he would kill you if we went to the authorities.”

“You talked to him?” I think of his voice, so calm as he punched me in the jaw. So reasonable even when he put the gun between my eyes.

“Just called in later to listen to the messages. He left us several and in one”—her voice breaks—“and in one … oh, Cady … it was just you screaming. He told us if we wanted to see you alive again, we had to meet you at the cabin. But by the time we heard the message, the deadline he had given us had already passed. I left your father with Max, and I took the gun and went to the cabin to try to rescue you. But instead, it was on fire. And when we heard on the radio that there were human remains…” Mom's voice breaks.

“It was actually a chimp, I guess, one from the lab. The same one they tried to make me think was Max.” I take a deep breath. “So we can go to the police now, right? I think the main station is downtown. Let's meet there.”

“Cady,” she says, and then stops. “That's the other thing. We were in a hurry when we left. Your dad was in the back seat with Max, trying to stop the bleeding while I drove. I tossed him the first-aid kit from the glove compartment, and he was ripping open packages of bandages. He also had the sample in a vial in a bag, and we think Max must have been trying to help by opening things up. Maybe he thought it was some kind of medicine.” Her voice shakes. “Max has been exposed to the hantavirus.”

My heart stops beating. I know what she's going to say next.

“We only realized it today when we found the vial uncapped in the back seat. That means we have just about a day to give Max the vaccine. Once he starts showing symptoms, there will be nothing anyone can do.”

I try to imagine Max pale and listless, coughing up blood between violet lips. But instead I just remember him in his tub, lining up his shampoo bottles shaped like Tigger and Eeyore and Pooh, offering them drinks of bathwater from a blue plastic cup.

And then I run through what Mom just said one more time. “What about you guys? If Max is exposed, doesn't that mean you are, too?”