The Orphans (Orphans Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

Charlie and Dr. Huang
continued to stare at the vial in stunned silence, their jaws hanging from their hinges. Floating in the solution, the test strip had turned a deep maroon. Not only did Charlie and Dr. Huang share physical reactions, they also shared an enveloping sense of disbelief; however, their mutual feeling was actually very different applications of the same word.

Dr. Huang’s reaction was one of absolute astonishment. It had never occurred to the seasoned medical examiner that he could actually be wrong. He had never been. It was something he didn’t take lightly. “I can’t believe I missed this,” Dr. Huang said as he gently shook his head. He turned to Charlie. “I’ve never seen test results with such concentrated levels of troponin.”

Charlie didn’t respond, mostly because he had barely registered a word that the medical examiner had said. His mind had been too busy reinforcing his own disbelief: his refusal to accept the positive test result as truth, as well as the consequences that came with that result.

Dr. Huang noted Charlie’s blank look. He put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder to make sure the boy heard what he said next. “There’s no doubt your father had a heart attack. And given the symptoms that would typically precede a heart attack of that severity, I’m surprised he was able to drive at all.”

“No!” Charlie screamed as he yanked his shoulder free and covered his ears. “That’s wrong. You’re wrong. That’s a false positive or something. It’s gotta be!” Charlie’s breaths puffed short and fast like a steam engine trying to conquer the highest mountain that had ever seen tracks.

Dr. Huang waited for Charlie to calm down and lower his hands before continuing, carefully, “For you and me both, I wish it were. But if that were a false positive, we’d maybe get a hint of red. That’s it. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing false about those results.”

“But it has to be,” Charlie whimpered, his voice weighted with anguish. He had reached the end of his long rope of excuses. But just when he was about lose his grip, he found a couple more inches of rope. “Run the test on my mom,” Charlie demanded with a sudden burst of confidence. He knew that was his last shot. If his mother didn’t have a heart attack, there was still a chance that Walter was wrong. The evidence wouldn’t be enough to give Charlie the closed case that he had originally sought, but it would be enough to force a mistrial, and that was much better than the alternative. “Run it,” Charlie repeated.

“You realize that the odds of both of your parents having heart attacks simultaneously are slimmer than winning the Powerball five times in a row, right?”

“I’m counting on that.” Charlie said as his eyes stayed fixed on the positive test strip and his thumb began flipping the pages of his pocketed Moleskine.

“They would’ve had to have been drugged. But if they were, it would have shown up in the toxicology.”

Charlie didn’t even bother responding. He just kept staring at the strip, focusing every ounce of energy in his body in an attempt to will the strip back to its original white.

Dr. Huang sighed. He knew this was just another losing battle. Plus, as much as he wanted to get home, there was a part of him that was just as curious as Charlie. “All right, all right,” he said.

Dr. Huang readied a new vial, and then added the test strip and a few drops of Mary’s blood. A couple shakes and it was good to go. They both watched the vial with bated breath.

A minute—which felt more like an hour—passed, and nothing had changed. And then, in a flash, the strip turned from its porcelain white to the same dark maroon as the other strip.

“I’ll. Be. Damned,” Dr. Huang said, not believing his eyes. “You know what this means?”

Charlie knew what it meant for him. It meant that the jury had spoken. It meant that he had to accept that Walter was right. It meant that his parents and Walter had been murdered. And it meant that Terry Heins was responsible for it all.

Even though Dr. Huang didn’t have the same information as Charlie, he had enough to know that foul play was involved. When Charlie didn’t respond, Dr. Huang answered his own question. “It means I need to run more tests and find out how they were drugged. I need to change my report and open their file back up. I also need to notify the lead officer working the case.”

“No!” Charlie blurted out. “You can’t.”

“What?” Dr. Huang said, taken aback by Charlie’s extreme reluctance. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No. It isn’t. None of this is what I wanted. In fact, I wanted the exact opposite. I just wanted to be sure that it was a regular accident. That’s all.”

“Well, it wasn’t. And whoever’s responsible for this needs to be found. They need to be held accountable.”

“I already know who’s responsible for their deaths.”

“You do?” Dr. Huang said, his eyes fluttering from the shock of Charlie’s admission. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Because I didn’t wanna believe it was true.”

“Who killed your parents?”

“It’s better for you if you don’t know. The person behind their deaths is incredibly powerful. All you need to know is that if you change your report, the only thing you’ll accomplish is putting the both of us at risk.”

Everything Charlie had just said sounded completely crazy to the medical examiner, but then again, so was everything that had led up to that moment. “I don’t know,” Dr. Huang said.

“Please,” Charlie begged. “You gotta trust me on this.”

Dr. Huang was still not quite ready to yield to Charlie’s demands. “We need to do something.”

“I know,” Charlie said. He knew they—or more important, he—needed to do something, he just didn’t know what. And then he remembered the
pdf
contract on the thumb drive. “Just let me handle that. At least give me a little time to see what else I can find out. To get more evidence.”

Dr. Huang considered Charlie’s proposal. It went against every code that he had sworn to uphold, but Charlie was both determined and persuasive. “Fine,” Dr. Huang said, relenting once more. “I’ll give you two weeks. But after that, I’m reopening the file and you’re giving me the name of who you think was behind this.”

“That works for me,” Charlie said.

“Two weeks,” Dr. Huang repeated to make sure that it was 100 percent clear. “Not three. Not four.”

“Two weeks. I got it. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning on doing, be careful. And good luck.”

Charlie nodded appreciatively.

They both said their goodbyes and then headed their separate ways: Dr. Huang to his home-cooked dinner, and Charlie to retrieve the flash drive and decipher the cryptic contract. While Charlie had not intended to confirm the who and the what in his parents’ and Walter’s deaths, he had. And now he could only pray that translating the file would give him the why that he desperately needed.

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As soon as Charlie returned to his house, he went straight to his computer and opened the contract file. He tried a couple web-based translation programs, but just like Walter, he had no luck whatsoever. All reported errors.

Recalling that Walter had said it looked like it was written in Hebrew, Charlie did a quick search for any synagogues in the area and found one that was only a couple miles away. With everything that had been brought to light, Charlie knew it was even more essential that he made sure that the temple’s rabbi, or anyone else he would confide in, wasn’t on the contact list.

Even after he had confirmed that the rabbi was in the clear, Charlie decided that it was best to print a copy of the contract. That way, he could maintain possession of the drive at all times. It stored too much indispensable material to risk any chance of an accidental deletion or file corruption. Charlie hit print on the file, and then made for his parents’ home office to retrieve the copy.

Charlie had yet to reach the office when he first caught sight of the black fumes that had filled the room and were pouring into the hall. Without thinking, he sprinted for the office doorway.

Upon entering the smoky room, Charlie feverishly scanned for any sign of flames. He found none. While there was plenty of smoke, there was no fire.

Charlie wafted away the dark gray clouds in attempt to improve his view. Slowly but surely, the room began to clear, and Charlie discovered the source: the printer, a few plumes of smoke still billowing out of every orifice of the machine.

Charlie performed a cursory inspection of the printer. Everything appeared to be in order. Chalking it up to a fluke electrical issue, Charlie simply unplugged the printer’s power cord to prevent any further problems and retrieved his printout from the tray. He pocketed the piece of paper and then headed for the foyer.

Charlie opened the front door but didn’t even get one foot outside before he was stopped in his tracks. Just ahead of him, beginning to make their way up the front porch steps, were Terry and his two bodyguards.

CHAPTER TEN

If Terry had
stopped by only a couple hours earlier, Charlie’s reaction would have been drastically different. As it was, Charlie felt his heart jump up from his chest and into the back of his throat, and his mind raced faster than the entire field on the final lap at the Indy 500. Had Terry been following him? Did Terry know that he knew? Was Terry there to kill him? Did he stand any chance if he ran? Those were just a few of the questions that shot through Charlie’s head in rapid succession.

Not only did Charlie determine that his window for running had closed just as soon as he had opened the front door, but his fear had turned his feet to cinder blocks. His mind could tell his legs to move all it wanted to, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He was forced to accept whatever was coming his way, good or bad. However, he knew better than to think that good was really an option, and braced himself for the worst.

Terry stopped; the corners of his mouth sagged. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly melancholy.

Charlie was completely caught off-guard. It wasn’t the “Get him,” or “Take him out,” that he had expected, and there was no sudden bum-rush attack like he had anticipated, either.

Terry calmly continued up the porch steps. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said, in the same affected tone, “and figured I’d stop by to make sure you’re holding up all right after Walter’s passing.” He laid his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie had to fight to keep himself from cringing. He wanted to scream, “Murderer!” so the whole world could hear, but he knew that would only seal his fate. Just because Terry had not acted as swiftly as Charlie had predicted did not mean his men couldn’t strike in a moment’s notice. Charlie doubted whether he could even get the first syllable out before Terry’s sunglassed gorillas dispatched him in some fashion. No. His safest bet was to act normal, to play along, to pray that Terry and his men didn’t know that he knew anything, and to do his best not to let them know that he did.

“Thanks,” Charlie said, solemnly. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Terry sighed. “Walter was a good man. No. He was a great man.”

“He was. He was a great mind, and an even better person.”

“Just like your parents.”

“Just like you,” Charlie said with a faint smile to help sell words that couldn’t have been further from his heart.

“I don’t know if many people would consider me a great person,” Terry said with a chuckle. “I mean, I try. But your parents and Walter didn’t have to. It was just who they were.” Terry nodded somberly before withdrawing his hand and changing gears. “Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you were holding up all right. I’ll let you get back to your grieving.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, with more enthusiasm than intended. He instantly regretted it as Terry honed his expecting eyes on him. Charlie quickly realized what Terry was waiting for. “Normal Charlie” would have never let him leave so easily, even given the circumstances. He clumsily added, “I mean, you don’t gotta go. We can hang out or something.”

Terry took a second before responding, “Unfortunately, I do. As I’m sure you already know: Money never sleeps, it only takes power naps. And even those are rare.” He gestured to his men. “Cain, Max, let’s go.”

Charlie sighed inwardly as Terry and his men turned to leave. But his relief was short-lived, and the anxiety returned tenfold when they made no effort to go. Terry just stood with his back to Charlie and tapped the toe of his Italian wingtip shoe on the porch. Each tap pounded Charlie’s eardrums like a nearby thunderclap.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” Terry said as he turned back around. “Did Walter happen to say anything to you?”

“About what?” Charlie said, choking on his words.

“I don’t know … anything?” A slight grin crossed Terry’s mug, as if to say that “anything” didn’t really mean anything, but actually something in particular.

It was apparent to Charlie that Terry knew he had information but didn’t know how much or what, exactly. That was the real purpose of his visit. It was a fact-finding mission. Only after determining the facts would he respond accordingly.

Charlie went catatonic as his mind replayed all of the things that Walter had said, both the night before and in the video. Charlie knew that he couldn’t tell Terry anything, but at the same time, he needed Terry to believe that he was telling him everything. It was the only way he might save himself.

“No,” Charlie said. “Remember, he wasn’t at the funeral.”

“Of course. But you saw him after the funeral, right?”

The way Terry had said it, Charlie got the sense that he wasn’t asking him if he had seen Walter as much as he was reminding him that he had. Charlie could feel every muscle in his body tightening and his carotid artery beginning to bulge from his neck. He told himself to stay calm, to stay normal, but the fact that he was continuously getting caught in his lies made it nearly impossible. “Oh. Yeah. I did,” Charlie admitted. “He was here when I got home.”

“And … did he say anything?”

“Nope,” Charlie asserted without thinking it through.

“That seems weird, don’t you think?” Terry said, feigning confusion. “He was here, but he didn’t say anything. He just left without saying a word?”

Of course that wasn’t the truth. He was busted again. Charlie had dug himself into such a deep hole that he could barely see the light at the entry. He needed to give Terry something, anything that might help him climb his way out. Or else Terry might push in the excess soil and bury him alive.

“We talked,” Charlie said. “He just didn’t say much. That’s what I meant. I, uh, told him what you said about my dad and he agreed. Then he said he had to get going.”

Terry peered right into Charlie’s pupils. “That’s it?”

Charlie felt Terry’s eyes on him like a spotlight. He swallowed hard, the air getting caught halfway down his throat. “Yep,” he squeaked, desperately hoping Terry would finally buy it. Beads of sweat began to pop from the pores on his forehead while he waited for Terry to shoot down his most recent lie.

After a long moment, Terry calmly replied, “That’s too bad. We’ve been having a lot of trouble with your father’s prototype, and I was hoping he might have said something that would help me fix it. But I just don’t know if that’s gonna be possible now. Which is a shame. The world needs it.”

“Yeah, it does,” Charlie said, still uncertain if Terry was satisfied or if a whole new line of questions was about to come.

“Anyway,” Terry said, finally easing up, “let me give you another one of my cards”—he dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card—“just in case you ever misplace the first one. These things are so small, it happens all the time. It never hurts to have an extra.” He handed the card to Charlie.

“No, it doesn’t,” Charlie said. And lucky for him, he hadn’t intended to say anything more, otherwise he would have definitely stopped short when he noticed that the card wasn’t as crisp and clean as the one Terry that had previously given him. The corners were bent and there was a pronounced crease down the center, as if it had been crumpled.

“After all,” Terry said, “we still need to iron out the details on your internship.”

Charlie said nothing. He just kept gazing, zombie-like, at the folds in the business card. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the same card Walter had taken from him. Charlie determined that had to be how Terry found out that he had spoken to Walter. Terry must have taken the business card from Walter before they did whatever they did to him. That was where he got his information, and his suspicion. It was also an admission of guilt and potentially a thinly veiled threat.

“You want the internship, right?” Terry said. He waited a second for Charlie to respond. After he didn’t, Terry added, “Do you not want the internship?”

Charlie’s head shot up. “No! I mean, yes! I mean, I do want it,” he said as if his life depended on it, because as far as he knew, it might.

“Good. I was getting a little worried I was going to lose you to someone else. Just shoot me an email whenever you get a chance, and we can start the negotiations.”

“Great,” Charlie said, forcing a smile.

Terry smiled back and then headed down the porch steps. The younger bodyguard, Max, followed Terry, but the older guard, Cain, held back. He stood perfectly still, his sunglassed eyes never leaving Charlie.

Charlie did his best to avert his eyes from the imposing stare, opting to watch Terry and Max; but eventually, Charlie caved. He glanced up at Cain, focusing on the N-shaped scar on his cheek.

Cain tilted his head so their eyes were forced to meet.

Charlie saw himself in the reflection of Cain’s sunglass lenses. Then, out of nowhere, Charlie caught three faint blue sparks of light burst across the right lens like shooting stars.

Charlie had no idea what the flashes were, but he didn’t need to know to be completely freaked out. He fought against every muscle in his eyelids to keep them from going wide and showing any sign of the panic that was overtaking his body.