The Epidemic (24 page)

The table quiets, and I look around at the faces, none of them giving anything away. Deacon’s eyes are lowered, and Aaron is watching Marie in silence. But when Shep leans forward to talk, my body tenses.

“What the hell’s a handler?” he asks. I sigh out my relief, and both Reed and Tabitha jump in to question the term. Marie nods to me, comforted by their ignorance. I have to admit that I’m eased by it too. We’ve found closers to trust.

*  *  *

Deacon and I stay quiet while Marie tells the others about the grief department and their plan to transition all closers. I watch as their faces reveal shock, horror, terror. Marie tells them that the alternative is memory manipulation, and thankfully, she doesn’t mention that they’ve already tested it on me. It’s not my fault, of course, but it still humiliates me—as if it makes me different.

And after she’s scared the shit out of them, she gives them another option: running.

Aaron sits quietly, his arms crossed over his chest, looking lost in thought. When Marie is done talking, Reed is the first to speak up.

“So we can still run from this?” he asks. “What about our money? I’ve worked years to fulfill this contract. I’m only a few weeks away.”

“Gross, Reed,” Tabitha says. “Who cares about the money?”

“Says the person who’s already retired,” he snaps at her. Marie holds up her hand to stop their argument.

“I can gather some of the funds,” Marie says. “Enough to help you all get out of town and set up. It won’t be as much as your contract, Reed.” She presses her lips together apologetically. “But if you choose to run, it’s the best I can do.”

“Where are you getting the money?” Reed asks. “If it’s not coming from the grief department.”

“Her name is Dr. Evelyn Valentine,” Marie says. “She’s a friend of mine, and she’s concerned about the outbreak. She’s offering to pay. . . .” Marie hesitates. “But—”

“There’s a catch,” Deacon says, narrowing his eyes as he watches her. Marie glances over at him.

“Isn’t there always, Deacon?” she asks. “Always a side deal to be made.” Deacon flinches, and I think we both wonder if Marie knows about him and Arthur.

“So yes,” Marie continues, looking back to Reed, “Evelyn wants something in return. She believes in closers; she sees the merit in what you do.”

“What does she want?” I ask, unsure of where Marie is going with this.

“She wants you all to close one last time. Undercover and off the record. She wants you to try to stop this epidemic. She thinks you can. She wants you to be the alternative to Arthur’s memory manipulation.”

“You lied to us,” Deacon says. “You told us this meeting was to warn the closers about the grief department, but instead you’re recruiting them.”

Marie turns to him, her eyes flashing. “I’d be careful of who
you’re calling a liar, Deacon. Throwing stones and all . . .”

They watch each other for a long moment, and it’s clear that Marie does know about his past, which in itself is troubling. How long has she known? She turns away from him.

“Now,” she tells the rest of us. “Whatever your decision, I ask for your complete secrecy. You’ll risk our lives otherwise. Can you give me that?” Slowly, everyone nods or murmurs yes.

“But what about my current assignment?” Reed asks.

“It’s void,” Marie tells him, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup, even though she doesn’t take a sip. Reed scrunches up his face to argue. “Finish if you want,” she says. “But they’re not going to pay. They never planned to. They’re going to offer you a new contract as a handler.” She pauses and looks around at all of us. “So you have a choice,” she says. “Stay and be transitioned, leave with almost nothing for your past work, or close this out and help people.”

“But without the grief department,” Tabitha begins, “how do we know our assignment? Who will we be role-playing?”

“You will be yourselves,” Marie answers. “Your names. Your identities. No role-playing. You know how to do this; you don’t need to hide behind another identity.”

I can’t help but feel a little slighted by her choice of words.

“Do you agree?” she asks, and stills as if waiting patiently. One by one they all say yes. She doesn’t ask me or Deacon. She doesn’t even make eye contact with Aaron.

“Now,” Marie continues, her voice taking on a parental tone, “Tabitha and Shep, you’ll go to the high school. Talk to
the students and see who’s in need of advice. You’re trained counselors; use that to help them.”

Tabitha smiles, seemingly excited at the prospect of regular school, but Shep rolls his eyes like it’s the last thing he wants to do.

“And watch out for others,” she says. “Those who seem too friendly, those who seem like closers. I have no doubt the grief department has dispatched some people to the area. They’re looking for Quinlan and Deacon,” she adds, side-eyeing me. “But if they know you’re involved, they’ll take you, too. Stay under the radar and buy yourselves some time.”

Tabitha’s smile fades, but this threat seems to bring a bit of life to Shep’s expression. Like he finally just woke up to what’s going on around us.

“Deacon,” Marie says, turning to him. “Are you in or not?”

Deacon looks at me, waiting for a cue either way. She’s changed the plan and he doesn’t like it, but ultimately, if this other doctor is right and we can stop the epidemic by being closers . . . it’s worth a shot. And while I’m at it, I’ll find a way to get Virginia’s memories back to her and find out my real identity. No pressure. I nod to Deacon, and he inhales deeply.

“Yes, Marie,” he says with little enthusiasm. “I’m in.”

“Good,” she responds, not missing a beat. “I need more information on Arthur Pritchard. His ties with the department have been mostly cut with the exception of this new treatment he’s planning. I want to know what he’s doing to his patients. I’m sure it’ll be of interest to you, as well.” Her eyes dart
momentarily to me, and I know she’s really asking what he’s doing to Virginia’s memories—and mine. She glances back at Deacon, a moment of vulnerability there. “And after that,” she adds, “find out his plans for me.”

Deacon tells her that he will, but he lowers his head, looking troubled. He’s broken his contract too, so what threatens Marie threatens him.

“The rest of you,” Marie says, glancing at Reed, me, and Aaron, “I want you to meet with Virginia Pritchard. Track down everyone she’s had contact with in the past few weeks and assess their condition.”

“Why?” Reed asks. “Do you think she has something to do with the outbreak?”

“I think she may be the one infecting people, Reed,” she says. I tense, because I’m one of the people she’s had contact with. “Now, I don’t fully understand this outbreak,” she adds. “But Evelyn is concerned, and Virginia does seem to be at the center of it. We need to figure out why.”

Marie checks her watch. “You should go,” she tells us. “And limit your contact with each other in public. Certainly with your advisors. And again, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone at the department.”

We all agree, and stand up from the table, a little paranoid as we look around the diner. I say good-bye to the others, and Deacon and I are the first ones outside.

The minute we’re out the door, he wraps me in a hug, his lips close to my ear. “I hate leaving you right now,” he whispers,
and then pulls back to look down at me. “She’s just like your father. Always trying to separate us.”

I laugh softly and untangle myself from his arms as I gaze up at him. “Don’t let Arthur find you,” I tell him, voicing my worry. “I don’t want you getting screwed over by the fine print of your contract.” I try not to sound terrified, but I make a poor show of it.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he says casually. I know he’s scared too. He just doesn’t want me to be. “Oh, and hey,” he adds. “Don’t fall in love with Reed Castle while I’m gone.”

“Reed already loves himself,” I say. “There’s no room in their relationship for me.”

Deacon snorts, and then he turns, tucking his hands into his pockets as he heads toward the car.

But there’s a shadow of doubt crawling through my veins, a panic in my chest. I suddenly worry that Marie has set in motion a series of dangerous events, the kind we might not survive. The kind that might be the end of us. One way or another.

I’M STILL STANDING IN THE
middle of the sidewalk when Aaron and Reed walk out. Reed checks the streets, like he’s wary of being watched, but Aaron sees me and his concerned expression slips away. Or is covered up. He stoops down in front of me, offering his hands to slap.

I do, but then laugh and tell him to stop embarrassing himself.

“Aw, come on, now,” he says. “I took the bus to get here. Give us at least a few minutes to be normal. You know it’s already getting weird. It always does.”

“How far did you and Myra get?” I ask.

“Idaho,” he answers with a laugh.

“And where is the love of your life now?” I ask. “She didn’t want to join you on this misadventure of bad ideas?”

“Didn’t really ask her to.” Aaron’s easy expression tightens.
“Myra doesn’t need to get mixed up in this shit. I told her I was coming to bail you and Deacon out of a closer mess and that I’d catch up with her in a few days. I gave her the car, but let’s just say she’s not exactly happy with me right now.”

“I bet,” I say.

“Luckily I’m damn sexy,” he adds, pushing my shoulder to make me laugh.

“You should let Reed know how funny you are,” I say. “In case he can’t tell.”

Reed smirks, looking over. “Oh, I’m already laughing on the inside.” He motions toward his red sports car and clicks off the alarm.

“Shotgun,” Aaron calls, and gives me a look like
of course he drives that
, and we follow Reed toward his vehicle.

“I’m really great at reading people,” Reed tells me, opening the door and resting his elbow on the frame as I climb past him into the backseat. “And I’ve got you all figured out.”

I lift one eyebrow, asking him to elaborate, but he just smiles and walks around the car. When I get inside, I’m immediately surrounded by the scent of coconut air freshener. Aaron tosses in his bag and drops into the front passenger seat. He looks back at me.

“I like this guy,” he says. “He’s the perfect blend of arrogance and immaturity. Can’t believe you didn’t pick him over Deacon.”

“He was never really in the running,” I tell him. “Now are we going to talk about this tension with you and Marie? She wasn’t happy to see you.”

Reed opens the door and Aaron turns away.

“Later,” he murmurs. I don’t want to discuss this in front of Reed either; we don’t know him well enough. We don’t totally trust him. Still, I don’t like how Marie treated Aaron. There has to be more to the story.

Reed glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I decide to focus on the mission at hand. “It’s barely eleven,” I tell him. “If we plan to meet with Virginia, school doesn’t get out for a while, so—”

Reed holds up his phone, his screen showing the school’s website. “Don’t you guys do any research?” he asks. “Early release Tuesday. Virginia’s on the roster for the volleyball tournament. The game starts at noon.”

“Research?” Aaron says, incredulous. “We just got our assignment five minutes ago, you overachieving bastard.”

Reed hitches up the side of his mouth in a smile. “What can I say? I’m good.”

I shake my head, amused, while Reed brings the car engine to life. I’m impressed that he checked into Virginia so quickly; then again, it sounds like he wants to run from this. But he wants to get paid first. I don’t blame him. There was a time when the money was important to me, too—although maybe not as much as it is to Reed. He must have plans for his life after. Most closers do.

“All right, let’s go, then,” Aaron says, taking a moment to recline the seat to the perfect angle. “I’m curious about Virginia Pritchard. I like that she’s an athlete: Healthy competition is good for the soul.” He beams at me, reciting a phrase from one
of our training classes. “While we’re there,” he continues, “we’ll get a chance to survey the crowd.”

Reed turns to me for agreement, and I nod my chin. Truth is, I want to help people. My favorite part of being a closer was the difference I made. This is our chance to change things, and it’s literally life or death.

Since Myrtle Creek is only twenty minutes from the high school, Aaron asks if we can swing by the motel so he can check in and drop his bag. I discover that Reed’s a fast driver—the kind that swerves in and out of traffic, irritating all of the other drivers only to end up at the same red light.

When we get to the motel—in record time—Reed and I wait in the idling car as Aaron goes inside the lobby. Reed laughs quietly, and I look up to find him watching me in the rearview mirror.

“What?” I ask.

“So you and Hatcher, huh?” he asks, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. “Thought you broke up.”

“Classic us, right?” I say with a sarcastic eye roll, making Reed chuckle. “But yes,” I tell him, “we’re back together. It’s a long story.”

“I bet,” he responds. “And I bet your father’s thrilled too. I don’t know if I told you, but he tried like hell to get me to ask you out. Even offered me a better contract.”

I flinch, but Reed completely misreads it. “Sorry,” he says, “but you’re just not my type.”

“Too bad,” I say, playing along, although the revelation about my father is sickening. There was no end to his grab for control over me.

“Yeah,” Reed says, taking his eyes off me to stare at the lobby door, where Aaron has just exited, folding a receipt. “I don’t date girls who are in love with someone else,” Reed adds.

I feel a splash of warm affection, and Reed glances in the rearview again and smiles at me. The passenger door opens and Aaron gets in, exhaling heavily before tucking the receipt between the dashboard and the windshield. Reed stares at the paper, probably annoyed at its placement, but then, in an obvious attempt to look casual, he turns on the radio and starts driving us back toward the school.

*  *  *

By the time the volleyball game starts, the gymnasium is loud with shouts from the crowd and the grunts of the players on the court. We overhear that this is a major tournament, one people have been excited about because both teams are good.