Touching Darkness (23 page)

O
nce they were on the road, and Olivia could remove her blindfold, she said, “I need to call my father. This is going to be the hardest call I've ever made. I've lied to him a few times, covered for you. But this is different.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand but quickly let it go. She was amazed he was there, taking care of her. It made it easier, and harder.

See how confused you are.

He pulled into a service station and parked near the pay phone. He got out with her and handed her some change. “Do you want me there?”

“I'll do it alone, thanks.”

She waited through three agonizing rings. He answered with a gruff, “Darkwell.”

“It's me.”

“Olivia, where the hell are you? Have you gone mad?”

She felt herself shrink at his ire. Then she stiffened her shoulders. “I'm thinking more clearly than I ever have.”

“Obviously not. You're with them.”

“Them?”

“Don't play coy with me. The Rogues, dammit. You're with the Rogues.”

“I am not
with
the Rogues.”

“You're with Nicholas, and he's one of them.”

She pressed her hand against the glass. “How did you know?”

“I still have someone who can check on things.”

Her body stiffened. “Sayre? Don't you dare—”

“Fonda saw you in a car with Nicholas.”

“Fonda
saw
me?” Would she ever get used to this? “I thought this pendant was supposed to protect me from remote viewing.”

“Yes, but that's not what Fonda can do. Olivia, you're letting this infatuation get the best of your common sense.”

“This has nothing to do with infatuation.” She glanced at Nicholas, who was leaning against the car watching her. “It's about you not believing me. Have you asked Sayre about last night?”

“He would laugh his head off. He was here, Olivia. It was Lucas, plain and simple.”

She knew Lucas wasn't the type to attack her, but she couldn't tell her father that. Or that she'd talked to them, much less been to their hideaway. “I want to talk to you about all this. Meet me at my condo in an hour.”

He paused for a moment. “I'll see you there.”

She hung up and walked to the car.

Nicholas met her halfway. “How did it go?”

“I think he bought it. He knows I'm with you.”

“How?”

“Fonda saw us in the car.” Her fingers curled around her pendant. “Which means this thing doesn't do a damned bit of good protecting me from spying eyes. Or creeps who can get into dreams.” She twisted the chain and flung it into the trash can. “Take me to a bank, please.”

Nicholas walked her back to the car. “I thought I saw something in the backseat, but when I glanced back, nothing was there.” His eyes widened. “When I was at the estate, I saw Fonda in my room. But…not Fonda. She was like a ghost. Somehow she can project her consciousness to other places. Technically not remote viewing.”

She slouched in her seat. “That's what my father said.”

An hour later, while her father was waiting at the condo for her, she pulled her grandfather's old Cadillac out of the garage near the back of his property. She'd left a note in case he noticed it gone.

“This was my grandmother's car. When she died, he couldn't bear to drive it or sell it. He had his staff drive it periodically.”

Nicholas sat in the passenger seat, ducked down in case anyone saw them driving out. “My mother was so heart-broken when my father was killed that she became a hermit for years.”

She pulled out of the driveway but glanced over at him. “My father was responsible for your father's death, wasn't he?”

He slowly nodded. “But that has nothing to do with you. Did you know your father had our blood taken when we started working for him? Mine, Fonda's, and Jerryl's.”

Alarm shot through her. “He wasn't giving you anything? Like what Amy was asking me about?”

Nicholas sat up and snapped on his seat belt. “No. But now I wonder why he was doing it.”

“You said the substance the original subjects got was passed down to their Offspring. Maybe my father was checking to see if it was in your blood.”

“He could have isolated it and given it to Lucas when he was a prisoner at the asylum.”

Her head spun momentarily. What was her father really capable of? She pulled into the shopping center's parking lot where they'd left the Camry.

She nodded toward the store. “I'm going to buy maps and clothes and toiletries. Then I'm going to Spartan, West Virginia.”

“You're sure—”

“Yes.” She didn't want him to offer again and weaken her. She wanted him with her. “But tell me something: You
said it was better to be angry with you, you've warned me before that you don't get involved, that you're leaving. Why do you want to come with me?”

“To make sure you're all right. I care about you…too much. I don't want you to make the same mistake.”

Too late.

He continued. “If your family is decent people, stay with them. Stay away from your father.”

“And you?”

“Yes, and me. But if you need me—”

She put her finger on his mouth. “You're making me crazy. I'm going to do this by myself. I'll stay a couple of days, then I'll figure out my next step.”

He pressed a piece of paper into her hand. “This is your cousin's address. Go there next.”

“How…?”

“I looked up Audrey Darkwell on the Internet and found her MySpace page. With her picture, I could find her location.”

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. “What are you going to do?”

“I'll be doing some investigating on my own for a few days.” He leaned down and kissed her, softly and quickly, before moving back. “Bye.”

She leaned forward and hugged him.

“Bye,” she whispered, and hurried into the store. She felt his gaze on her the whole time, but she never looked back.

 

Amy woke up, immediately sensing Lucas wasn't in bed. It was four in the morning. She didn't see the bathroom light. She hated worrying, but she didn't like the feeling she'd had lately that something was going on, and that, as usual, he was protecting her by not telling her.

She walked out into the hallway. The light under Eric's door illuminated the floor. She was about to walk into the
living area, hoping she'd find Lucas getting something to drink, when she came face-to-face with him.

He was holding one of the rifles.

“Lucas! What's going on?”

She turned on the light, and her heart plunged. His eyes were vacant. Eric flew out of his room. Petra's door opened, too. Lucas began to lift the gun.

“He's sleepwalking!” Amy held his arm with one hand and tapped his cheek with the other.

Eric grabbed the gun and tugged, but Lucas wasn't letting go or waking up.

“Lucas!” Eric shook him, and only then did he blink and look at them in confusion.

Then he looked down and his face paled in horror. “It's happening again, isn't it?”

Eric pulled away the gun without resistance. “No.”

“Denial is dangerous.” Lucas took them in, his gaze zipping from one to the other and finally settling on her. “It's not Jerryl. I'm going crazy.”

Petra said, “It could be Sayre. Olivia said he can possess people.”

Amy rubbed her arms. “And you looked possessed.”

Lucas looked at Eric. “Either way, I can't take that chance.”

Amy took in the look they exchanged. “You are not killing Lucas.”

Petra waved her hands in anxious little movements. “Kill Lucas? My God, that's crazy.”

Lucas took Amy's hands in his. “I will not let myself hurt you, whether it's Sayre or me.”

Fear bloomed inside Amy. Lucas would do anything, anything, to keep her and the others safe. And Eric, well, she couldn't be sure what he'd do. He looked haggard, as though he hadn't slept in days.

She knew it was no use arguing. “Let's get back to bed. We'll talk more in the morning.”

An hour later, as Lucas breathed evenly, she was wide-awake. She crept out to the living area, glad to find it empty. The light was still on beneath Eric's door, though; she had to be quiet. She took her cell phone and went into the storage area. This was one time she had to risk making a call from the shelter.

Nicholas's sleepy voice answered. “Livvie?”

“No, it's Amy. We agreed to find Richard Wallace. Find him. Please. He holds the key to whatever is tearing Lucas apart.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

“I'll call you back.” She waited the longest minutes of her life. “Any luck?”

“I think so. There was a block, so I couldn't get close. He's in an area south of Annapolis. It's wooded, miles from civilization. I saw a sign that said,
BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH AREA, PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING
hanging across a gravel road.” He gave her some road signs he'd seen.

“Thanks. And, if you talk to anyone else, don't tell them what you told me, okay?”

He hesitated. “Why?”

“I lied. We didn't agree.” She hung up and walked to the end of the hall to Petra's room. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. In the night-light coming from her bathroom, she could see a form swaddled in blankets. “Petra?” She came close. “It's me, Amy.”

She came awake fast, her eyes wide. “Is everything all right?”

“It's fine. Well, sort of. I'm going to see Richard Wallace. He created the Booster. He's got to have some idea of how to counteract it.” She met Petra's gaze. “I'm going alone. I know Lucas won't let me go, and Eric would probably torch the guy. Honestly, I'm afraid Lucas might hurt him, too.”

Petra said, “I'll go with you…if you want.”

Amy shook her head. “I'm not endangering anyone else. I have to go without anyone knowing. You can tell them after I'm gone.”

“You'd do that for Lucas? Risk your life?”

Amy nodded without hesitation.

“He's going to be really mad.”

She nodded again. “It's the chance I've got to take.”

T
he sleeping pill left Olivia groggy. Because of her low-quality sleep, she woke at ten, far later than normal. She remembered no strange dreams, no dreams at all. She'd woke twice, her thoughts on Nicholas, on their good-bye. He wanted her away from him and close to him. He'd been doing that since the beginning, when she'd dared to propose an affair, and he'd, rightly, decided she would be hurt when he left. The thought of not seeing him again tore her up.

She picked at the breakfast in front of her, at the diner, hearing Nicholas's voice urging her to eat. Her emotions and nerves were wreaking havoc. She focused on what was ahead. What would she find?

That her father was a liar? That he was hiding much more than the depths of his darkness in regard to his program? Maybe she wanted to shatter the last remnants of love and respect she held for him.

“Nice and optimistic, there, Livvie.”
Livvie.
Like Nicholas called her. “Maybe I'll find out Father was right about these people, and that he had nothing to do with my mother's disappearance.”

Her grandmother's old car didn't have a GPS in it, and Spartan's detail wasn't on the Virginia map, so once she reached town, she resorted to asking for directions at a gas station.

“Oh, that there's Goofy Ridge.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Goofy Ridge?”

“That's what it's been called for 'bout forty years,” the old guy said. “You're gonna take that road up thataway for about ten minutes, and turn right at the old shoe factory. It's not open anymore, but you'll see the shoe sign. Go down that road for ten more minutes, and you'll see an old fridge sittin' on the corner, and that there's Goofy Ridge. The road goes in a loop, and all the houses are right on the road, so you can't miss the one you're looking for.”

“Uh, thanks.” The accent reminded her of Sayre's, even though his wasn't as strong as this man's. A cold chill left a trail of goose bumps across her skin.

She paid for the gas and, with a dry throat, continued down the road. She saw why the man had used landmarks; street signs were either missing or knocked down. The whole town had a sad, vaguely abandoned air to it, like the shoe factory itself.

She drove past the refrigerator, its doors removed, thank goodness, and down a gravel road. Most of the houses were mobile homes in various states of decay. Yards were filled with toys and lawn equipment, partially hidden by weeds. The vehicles she saw were in similar states, up on blocks. A few children played around one truck, pretending to shoot at each other. They stopped and stared at her as she passed, and she realized she was doing the same. She smiled at them, hoping her pity and unease didn't show.

She had never seen such poverty, and the despair seemed to seep into the sunshine, tinting it with an odd yellow cast. She saw the numbers on the mailbox that matched the ones on her paper and turned into the dirt driveway. A putty-covered Buick that looked drivable indicated someone was home.

Someone. Her family. She stared at the door of the house. Giggling brought her attention to the children she'd seen earlier, who were now at the edge of the property, watching her with open curiosity.

A barefoot boy of about ten stepped forward as Olivia opened her car door. “You must be lost, ma'am.”

She sighed.
In so many ways.
“Do the Thompkins live here?”

“Yes'm.”

“Then I'm not lost.”

“Come on.” He took her hand and led her around planting pots bursting with flowers and the scent of mint from an herb garden. He pushed open the door, and hollered, “Mama, we got company!”

The interior wasn't as bad as she might have imagined. The carpet was wrinkled but looked clean. She couldn't say the same about the two well-worn recliners. An étagère was filled with pictures and knickknacks, and the place smelled like bacon and cigarette smoke. The living room was smaller than the second bedroom at her condo.

A woman in her late thirties came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, a questioning expression on her face. She came to a dead stop at the sight of Olivia. “Who are you?” The words came like bullets out of a mouth with the starburst wrinkles of a smoker.

“My name is Olivia Darkwell. My mother's last name was Thompkins. I think her family lived here.”

She stared for another few seconds, until the boy tugged her shirt. “Mama? You're being rude.”

She turned toward the hallway. “Mama! Daddy! Get out here!”

Olivia winced at the sharpness of her words. But the woman's expression softened as she walked closer, still kneading the towel in her rough hands. “Oh, my Lord up in Heaven.” She took in Olivia with eyes now full of amazement. “You look just like her.”

An older man and woman emerged from the hallway, and their expressions seemed to confirm what the woman had said. The older woman's hand came up to her mouth. “
Mary.
”

“No, Mama, it's her daughter, Olivia. She's finally come home.”

Olivia wasn't sure how she felt about that assumption, but she had no time to ponder it. The couple rushed forward, taking her in the same way the younger woman had.

The woman took her hands, and either life or cigarettes had made her look older, too. A long, gray braid swung past her derriere. “I'm your grandmamma, Fanny. I jis' can't believe it. We never thought we'd see you.” Her expression darkened. “Your daddy, he wouldn't never let us call or see you. How did you find us?”

“It's a long story.”

Fanny pulled her into her arms, and Olivia felt every bone in her skinny body. “We got you back! It's a miracle.”

The younger woman hugged her next, a long, cloying hug. Olivia wasn't used to a lot of affection, but this felt uncomfortable in a different way.

Finally, the woman let her go though she kept clutching Olivia's arms. “I'm your aunt Lulu, your mama's little sister. I was fourteen when she went off to Washington, D.C., all gonna make something of herself. Then she married your daddy. She went on and on about this knight in shining armor who rescued her and a whole bunch'a stuff we later found out was a load of bull.” She waved toward the sagging couch. “Sit, sit! Let me get you some lemonade.” Lulu dashed into the kitchen.

Fanny nodded toward the older man. “This here's your granddaddy, Tommy.”

He shook her hand, his expression more solemn. “So, why
are
you here?”

Fanny nudged him with her elbow. “Tommy, please give the girl some time to breathe. She came to find her family, ain't that right, honey?”

Olivia nodded. That was true. And it didn't matter if they were poor, really it didn't. They were just a little too much all at once.

“My father never told me much about you.”

From the kitchen, Lulu said, “Yeah, I bet he didn't.” She swept into the living room with a glass of lemonade for Olivia and one for her mother.

“That's 'cuz he killed our daughter,” Tommy said.

“Daddy, we needn't go there yet.” Lulu waved to her son. “Bobby Jr., go outside! This is grown-up talk.” He grumbled but trudged outside. She turned back to Olivia. “He came here once, a year after they got married. He was the biggest snob, looking down at us because we don't have a big ole mansion. He came in one of those fancy cars like yours out there, and the moment he stepped out, you could see his disgust. That look never left his face the whole time he was here, which was, what, twenty minutes?”

Fanny was taking a sip of her lemonade. She nodded as she set it down on a wooden table covered in water rings. She lit a cigarette. “He said Mary lied about where she come from and that he just found out. We could see he'd turned her against us. He called us white trash and made her admit she was, too.” The betrayal still hurt. “He stomped back to that car of his, and she went running after him. They had a fight, in front of God and everybody, then she told him she was pregnant. They got into the car, and we didn't hear from her until she sent a picture of you.”

Fanny walked over to the collection of pictures on the étagère and pulled a small plastic frame from the back: Olivia's baby picture. “We wrote saying we wanted to visit, but she called and said it wasn't a good idea. She had to forget about her past and become what he wanted her to be. We could tell she was afraid of him. She hung up real quick, like he'd walked in, and she didn't want him catching her talking to her family. Her own family! We heard from her a few months later, and she said she was coming to visit, maybe for a while. She had to get away. Those were her exact words, ‘get away.'”

Tommy waved away the trail of smoke that drifted past him. “And then she was gone. He called and asked if she was here.”

“Where else would she go, except here? And we couldn't believe she would have left her baby,” Lulu said. “He said she couldn't handle being a mother.”

Tommy's mouth tightened into a line. “We drove up there, but he wouldn't talk to us. Or let us see you.”

“I saw you,” Olivia said, setting down her half glass of lemonade and walking over to the étagère.

Fanny handed her a picture of a woman in her late teens that did, indeed, look like Olivia.

“I'm sure he told you terrible things about us.” Fanny lit her own cigarette. She nodded when Olivia's expression confirmed that. Her voice stretched tight. “Your daddy did something to your mama.”

Fanny's eyes watered. “The police said there wasn't any proof of wrongdoing.”

Tommy waved his hand in anger. “The guy's a Fed. Of course they won't find anything!”

The anger and tension was fresh. Olivia returned to the couch, feeling too fatigued to stand. She reached for her lemonade again, drawing in a long gulp of the supersweet drink. Had her father killed her mother?
Isn't that what you came here to learn?

Fanny's expression softened. “I'm sorry to say this about your daddy, but he's an awful, awful person.”

Lulu scooted closer, edging into Olivia's personal space, along with her cigarette smoke. “Tell us about your life, Olivia. It must have been nice, with all that money. You probably went to fancy boarding schools. I read about them in novels.”

Fanny asked, “Did he ship you off? What kind of father was he?”

Tommy said, “What kind of father could he be, the murderin' son of a bitch?”

Lulu said, “You're going to stay a few days, of course.
We'll get the couch all ready for you. It's real comfy. Can't have you staying at a hotel.”

Olivia's head began to spin. What was happening? They'd drugged her! Her whole body began to shake as their voices became a hum.

She slumped back on the couch.

 

Nicholas woke, his body trembling and slick with sweat. It wasn't even light out yet. He sat up and shook the dream from his head.

The fire nightmare. Something about it, though, nagged at him, beckoning him to go back in. He pulled up the pieces: fire; heat; smoke. The funeral. Crying. His mother with an eye patch, sister, heart-wrenching sobs. He saw some of the other people there, uncles, an aunt he hadn't seen in ten years…and Olivia.

She was sitting alone, crying, and he realized he'd seen her before. He hadn't known who she was then. Good thing they'd parted ways. Too bad he didn't feel good about losing her.

Losing her…

He shook the need away, got up, and looked out the window. Dawn was breaking. He took a shower and ate breakfast in the small town nestled in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania. After driving to the place he remembered, he stepped out of the car and breathed in the cool, fresh air. This was the most relaxed he'd been in months, in his element, in the woods, alone.

Lonely.

Wasn't this what he wanted? To be alone, on his own?

Lonely.

He'd convinced himself for so long, and Olivia had shattered his illusion. There wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

He'd used his location ability to go to the same spot where he'd found one of the pieces. Just like the eye, he couldn't find the bracelets, either. He pulled himself into
the memory: rings made of a metal he'd never seen before, as though the government had taken what was available and stepped it up a notch. He turned in circles, seeing it clearly. No eye there.

He looked up through the trees and into the bits of sky he could see. The forest spun around him with his movements. He could spend all day there, listening to the birds calling, inhaling the scent of pine and earth.

He had two other sites to check out, and those were farther from Spartan, West Virginia. Olivia had thrown away the pendant, he'd realized during the restless night. No way could he not check on her. A scene came into focus: living room, people hovering over something on the couch. No, someone: Olivia. She was lying there, as though asleep, and a woman was fanning her with a pillow. Another woman was looking at her ring as she tapped Olivia's hand.

His heart clenched. Was she sick? Dead?

He pulled out of the vision. He started walking, then running, out of the forest. She was roughly an hour and a half away. He reached the car and jumped in, breathless. “I'm coming, Livvie. Hang in there.”