Jaden Baker (70 page)

The name sparked a physical response from Dalton—his face flushed.

“Finally we agree on something,” Dalton muttered.

“Libby said you were friends,” Jaden said. She’d also mentioned they’d had a falling out around the same time she left home.

“Were. You killed a man the night you got out. He was related to one of the Archcroft council. The council ordered your termination as a result.”

Jaden blinked. “Kill me?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the Archcroft council?” Jaden asked.

“A group of seven men and women who determine how, where, when, and why our funds should be spent and distributed. They decided after your stunt that you were not under control—and a psychokinetic out of control was dangerous. Your termination order came swiftly, and Joseph Madrid, one of the seven, was sent to administer the lethal injection.”

They had planned on killing him. Jaden had never considered that. He assumed his value to Archcroft, the efforts they had gone to his capture, made him invincible to all considerations of “termination.” Apparently he was wrong.

“But I’m still here,” Jaden said.

Dalton took a deep breath. “I begged for them to spare you. It had been my fault; I hadn’t paid enough attention to your needs. In the effort, I asked that Joseph be the one to resume the project. He was a member of the council, and I thought if the project was his...”

So there it was, the reason for the transition. Jaden had been sent to a different lab under a different handler all for the sake of taking control. Sickeningly, Jaden knew everything had gone as planned. Madrid had gotten what he wanted. If it hadn’t been for a technical glitch, he might still be there.

“I didn’t know what he was going to do,” Dalton said, pleading. “I had no idea he was so cruel. All I wanted was for you to live, and that was the only way.”

Jaden shook his head, smirking. “You’re a fool,” he said. “That’s always what Madrid wanted. He played you.”

Dalton sat up, affronted. “No, there was an order to kill you.”

“Yeah? You talked to the other members of this so-called council?”

“I didn’t need to.”

Jaden laughed under his breath. “Right. Look, Madrid enjoyed what he did to me. Only someone who took pleasure in it would go to the lengths he did. He never wanted me terminated. When I tried killing myself they made sure I couldn’t do it again. Archcroft has never wanted me dead, probably not even to this day. I’m worth too much.”

He finished what was left of his food then got up to throw away the trash.

“I’m sorry,” Dalton said once Jaden had his back turned.

Jaden stopped. Dalton was sorry he’d lost control of the “project.” Dalton was sorry he’d been played by his friend. Jaden continued to the trash can and dumped the wrappers and bottles into it, then came back to the booth.

“I’m sorry for what he did,” Dalton said.

“Then why didn’t you stop him?” Jaden asked. “He was your friend, and you couldn’t ask what was going on? What did you think he was going to do?”

“I didn’t know he would be so...” he didn’t finish, and Jaden didn’t fill in the blank.

A clock on the wall told Jaden how late it was, and now that he’d eaten a decent meal, Jaden wanted to sleep. He would go back to Libby’s room and sleep in the chair next to her.

Dalton was powerless. Twelve years ago Archcroft pulled Dalton off Jaden’s case. Based on their conversation, it was clear Dalton had been in the dark ever since. Dalton wasn’t a threat. Despite Libby’s attitude toward her father, Jaden knew she loved him on some level.

Without a goodbye or a more appropriate fuck-off, Jaden stepped out of the booth and walked away.

“Molly wants children,” Dalton called.

Jaden paused mid-step and turned.

Dalton continued: “I know that much about her. She wants her own family. She’ll give you up before she gives up her dream.”

Images of Libby with young children, toddlers with chubby cheeks and bright eyes, munchkin voices, standing around her kitchen counter and frosting cupcakes, came to mind. Libby grinning, her children laughing. Small children, waddling to see the horses with Libby, running to greet her when she came in the house...the visions were natural.

Dalton thought the idea of parenthood scared Jaden, that somehow what Madrid had done was too severe for any kind of recovery, or would ill equip him for intimacy and family life. Had this conversation happened four days ago, before he met Libby, Jaden would have agreed. But not today.

“I’ll give her whatever she wants,” Jaden said.

“You think you can be a father?” Dalton asked, a laugh in his voice.

Jaden sighed and raised his eyebrows. “It can’t be so hard if you did it. At least I’d be there for my children.” Jaden didn’t finish watching Dalton’s mocking smile transform into something cruel. He wheeled around and left Dalton alone in the cafeteria.

Finding his way back to Libby’s room was a matter of retracing his steps. Jaden took the stairs two at a time, thinking about what he’d said to Dalton, wishing he’d added more to the final insult. Initially, the idea of rearing children with Libby did scare him. No one had taught him how to be a father. He’d never finished school, gone to college, or had a regular job. Yet none of that was enough to dissuade him. A life without Libby was no life at all. He’d had a life with her and one without. He didn’t lie to Dalton. Jaden would give Libby everything she wanted. It would be his life’s mission to make and keep her happy. All he needed, all he wanted was her.

As he came to Libby’s floor, Jaden withdrew Dalton’s cell phone and flipped it open. It took a few button presses to find the recent calls list. There was Libby’s number, received hours ago. There were calls to his wife, Claire, and many other names and numbers, but no calls to or from Joseph Madrid. He hadn’t been lying about that.

Closing in on Libby’s room, Jaden thought about how wise or unwise it was to have left Dalton alone, to let him leave the hospital after seeing him. A few phone calls and a team of men could come down on Jaden. But Libby’s words rang in his ears. It was time to stop running. If they wanted to take him back, they’d have to fight him for it.

He came to the door and put Dalton’s phone in his pocket.

After a surgery it was probably customary to have nurses and doctors checking in, so Jaden wasn’t initially alarmed when Libby’s door opened. When he saw the face of the person opening the door, icy panic stole over him. Before he could react, mental paralysis hit him, and the hospital hallway, Libby’s door, and a familiar face dissolved into whiteness.

The explosion of Jaden Baker’s building was the result of two things: one, the boy was clever. He knew that eventually Archcroft would find him. They had never stopped searching, and the boy was prepared for such an event. Instead of simply fleeing the city, Baker had laid a trap to kill as many people as possible. The second thing was foolishness. They had underestimated him again, to catastrophic results. Dalton had been the first to be seduced by the boy’s endearing nature. Now it was he who had been fooled into thinking Jaden was too frightened, too much of a flight risk, to be an aggressive and ruthless weapon. Jaden Baker was a badger when cornered.

Joseph Madrid lay bleeding on the pavement, watching the building burn and pop with secondary explosions. The cell phone that was in his hands seconds ago was no longer. How long would it take for help to arrive? He didn’t know. There was movement in his toes, but the head injury made him dizzy, and he was sure he’d lose consciousness in seconds. He couldn’t be here when the fire department responded.

Rolling to his stomach, sickened by the pool of blood from where his head lay, Madrid pushed himself off the ground, surprised by his strength, grateful for adrenaline. Though the building was completely engulfed in flames, the parked cars surrounding the building were not. They’d been blown back, some turned over by the resulting shock wave. He approached a Suburban, shielding his face from the oppressive heat of the flames, and used his suit sleeve to open the door.

It took minutes to find a cell phone, and as each minute passed he grew fainter. The keys of the Suburban were still in the ignition. When the engine turned over, he put the car in reverse and drove to a safe distance. He parked, leaned back on the headrest, his vision fading, and fumbled with the phone to dial Sam Hull.

“Hull here,” Sam answered.

“It’s me,” his breathing ragged. “The building exploded. Send an ambulance, and get down here as soon as you can.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“No,” he said faintly, holding a hand to his bleeding head. “I need the ambulance. Everyone in the building is dead. Dillard included.”

Ambulance and fire responded promptly, police cars wheeling in behind them. Thankfully his injury would stall any questions that needed answering, giving him time to fabricate a story. Sam arrived shortly after.

Madrid’s injuries were not life threatening, but he was taken to a hospital anyway. While being sutured and examined, following pens with his eyes, he spoke to Sam about what had to happen next.

“Get me the sketch of the girl,” he said.

“I thought you said it wasn’t important,” Sam said.

Madrid waited for privacy before answering. “He’s two steps ahead of us. He knew we were coming for him. That nurse said that girl recognized the symbol. What if she knew who we
really
are and helped him?” It was so obvious. He regretted his oversight instantly. Always check the evidence, even if it seems mundane.

Madrid gave the police a detailed lie about the reason he and the team were there. Being a first class citizen, and well connected, no one questioned his story.

Pronounced safe to leave, urged to take it easy, Madrid left with Sam Hull. In the car, Sam handed Madrid the sketch of the young woman.

She was in her mid twenties, and the description of her, given by a few nurses at Virginia Mason, rang bells in his throbbing head. Auburn hair, bright blue eyes, recognized the Archcroft logo. The sketch was a generalization of the face, but Madrid thought he knew exactly who she was. Margaret Dalton.

“She’s helping him,” Madrid said, sure it was true.

“Who is she?” Sam asked.

“Chad and Claire Dalton’s daughter. I want confirmation. We have to make sure that’s who it is. We need to tell the press that I’m dead. Everyone needs to think I’m dead.”

Baker wouldn’t come out of hiding until he felt it was safe to do so. When they arrived at their temporary headquarters, Joseph called Sophia Burgen, his number two in charge of finding Jaden Baker. It was her job to contact the press, make sure the hospital staff didn’t contradict the news that Joseph Madrid of Archcroft had been killed in Seattle.

During the fabrication of the story, Sam Hull placed calls to find Margaret Dalton’s electronic paper trail. What he reported was interesting and fitting. Margaret Dalton formally changed her name years ago to Elizabeth Ann James. Her most recent address was on the Kitsap Peninsulajust across Puget Sound. Her social media accounts put her in Seattle the morning of Jaden’s hospital visit.

Fourteen people dead, and Baker had never left the state. Madrid knew Margaret. She was a believer, and when she set her mind to something, nothing could change it. Margaret, now Elizabeth, was single, lived alone, worked independently, and was in a perfect position to help a stray.

Baker would hear about the explosion through Margaret, and hopefully fall for the trap of Madrid’s reported death. But Joseph would not be mislead or fooled again. Getting close enough to Baker to trip the array in his mind was risky.

The only way to capture Baker was to send someone stronger. When he placed a second call to Sophia, it was not to ask about the press or what the police knew, or if the FBI was following the case. He needed her to tell Christine a story.

Christine, Dalton’s pet project. Unstable and irrational, she was dynamite with a burning fuse, and never held back her power. She was a wild card. With the right story, Christine would hunt Jaden down and bring him back. She’d been looking for him for years on her own time anyway, trying to find her long lost big brother, the one person she had something in common with. If she was told Margaret Dalton was with him, and it was imperative that Jaden come back to Archcroft for help, and Christine could finally meet and bond with her brother... Yes, that was how he would come back.

But fate dealt a better hand. Christine found Baker in Seattle with Margaret. The boy had shielded and protected her from Christine’s attacks. Christine was enraged that Jaden would protect Margaret, the girl who had everything. Jaden should have been excited to see Christine, yet he fought back.

Margaret was injured, and Christine took a hit, knocking her unconscious. Jaden’s self-preservation intensified to protect a woman. It was something Madrid had never foreseen or considered. For once he was glad to be wrong.

Madrid had to wait for Jaden at the hospital. The boy was so desperate to get help for Margaret that he’d called Dalton. He cared for the girl, and wouldn’t leave her side.

When Madrid walked into Margaret’s room that night, she was alone, sound asleep. Baker was gone. He knew he would be back, so he waited in a chair, his hand clasped around the radio transmitter that would render the boy harmless with a push of a button.

Finally, after waiting for a short eternity, Madrid saw through the small, rectangular window of the recovery room door, a young man with dark hair. He wore a blue long sleeved t-shirt and was examining a cell phone. His boy had come home.

Madrid, his hands shaking with anticipation and nervousness, and an honest trace of fear, went for the door, planning on surprise. He rehearsed the Greek commands under his breath, anxious to say them aloud.

Madrid pushed the door open.