Wynter's Horizon (17 page)

The heels of his shoes clicked on the tile floor. Placing his hand on the sensors outside another set of doors, he waited. In two seconds, it beeped and the lock clicked. The silver doors slid apart, and he walked through. His heart pounded in his ears. He always felt on the defensive
here. He glanced right and left as he maneuvered past desks. Ledford stood in front of a large screen, phone pressed to his ear. On the screen were pictures of two of Baxter’s group, recently killed. Baxter took a deep breath, searching for courage he knew he didn’t have, and approached his boss, who glanced casually his way but didn’t stop his phone conversation. His own phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t dare answer it. Finally, Ledford placed his phone down on the desk and turned to him.

“So, you’ve lost some members.” He motioned to the pictures on the screen. Baxter felt a zing of remorse. He had known the two of them a long time. Unlike most of the others employed here, he had worked closely with his charges, grooming them from childhood, noting their abilities, shepherding them through undergraduate training and then through Special Forces training. True, he hadn’t actually trained them nor went with them on assignments, but he felt like he knew each personally, aware of their singular talents and flaws. The fact that Michael and Audra’s deaths were listed as suicides rankled deep within him, but he was powerless to do anything. He pushed what remained of his brown hair back.

“Who did it?” Baxter asked, well aware he might not be told. Ledford shook his head and pressed a button. Her face filled the screen. Devastatingly beautiful, even after all these years. His stomach dropped, his throat closed.

“How did she get out?”

His boss shrugged. “Budget cuts. This government cannot continue to house mental patients that aren’t really sick.”

“Not sick? She tried to kill a residence hall full of students nine years ago.”

“Her chart just lists depression and schizophrenia. And those conditions are fully treatable with medicine.”

“But sir, you were not here then. She’s crazy. Everyone there knew it. We have no idea what she will do. And she’s super strong.” Another picture flashed on the screen—her sitting next to a nondescript guy eating. He peered closer.

“Is that one of ours?”

“I believe it is. Watson. Didn’t he serve with Beckett in that fiasco down in Col
ombia?”

“That wasn’t their fault. They were given faulty information.”

“Yes, that’s what you always say. But we’ll never know, will we?”

“Sir, don’t you think if she’s out we should warn Beckett and the others?”

His boss shrugged again, eyes pinned to the screen. “Baxter, this division of yours, all those super-powered thugs, is a problem. It always was. That’s why I ordered it closed. Control issues, inability to follow commands, anger management. If they are so tough, so able to take care of themselves, then they should be fine.”

Anger stirred in Baxter. He hated the way this new minister talked about the Forum, clearly not understanding what they could do. “Sir,” he protested, “she threatened to kill them all when we locked her up.”

“What tempers they all have, especially the early ones.” Disdain was evident in his voice. He picked up a device and pointed it at the screen. A moment later, Michael and Audra’s picture was back, as well as Sara with Quinn and Beck, taken years ago when they were still cadets. He turned and looked at Baxter.

“Wallace was here. Asking to see me. Asking questions about those suicides. You are to meet with her and tell her nothing. Confirm that all evidence points to suicides and let it be.”

Baxter’s heart started racing. He couldn’t do it. Lie to these people that he had helped create. He had been their contact for years. They trusted him. “Are you trying to kill them?” This new minister seemed oblivious to the power they held.

“Of course not. But if they can’t take care of themselves, that’s not my problem. I heard Beckett and Quinn are in town. Make sure you see them and give them the same information as Wallace. Then send them away.” He turned
his back to Baxter. “Actually, no, bring them in and have them review a bunch of old files we want closed. Then send them away. I’ve had enough with all of them. The quicker they’re gone, the better. That division was a bloody mistake.” He called crisply to a young worker by the door, who brought a file over to him. After glancing at it briefly and signing a few papers, he disappeared out the double doors.

Baxter
looked around. Nobody seemed to notice him. He pulled his phone out. Two missed calls. One from Frannie, his wife. The other from Sara Wallace. He wiped the sweat beading on his upper lip away. In the last two years, he’d grown to hate his job. Turning from the screen, he walked back through the doors, down the hall, and out into the brief sunshine.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Beck—Fruitless Search

I had hoped to be back within a week, but our trip stretched to ten days. When we went to see Baxter, he denied all rumors of murder, mumbling vague answers to our questions and jumping a foot whenever one of us
got near him. Ignoring our pleas for information, instead he heaped stacks of files on us to review before dismissing us entirely.

When we weren’t tied up with government bullshit, we searched from Bournemouth to Newcastle, through the cities and vacant factories, all through the midlands, and up and down the coast, for anyone we knew. Despite our efforts, our questions went unanswered.

“Pull over here.” I pointed to the side of the road. Fiona jerked the wheel to the left and slowed Nathaniel’s Range Rover. I climbed out, searching the wind for any familiar scents. We were just outside Surrey. There were sheep in the field behind a stone wall, softly mewing. I stared out at the moonlit landscape, remembering the house that once stood there. Years had changed the landscape, but the telltale landmarks remained the same. I heard the car door open then Fiona stood beside me.

“What’s here?” I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered the rough edges of the coin.

“I lived here a long time ago,” I offered. Despite our deep friendship, there were some things I rarely discussed. Even Quinn lacked the details of my childhood before the Forum.

“Under that tree?” Her hand motioned to a big oak older than both of us. I smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood.

“No. Beyond that hill was our house.”

She nodded.

“It burned to the ground when I was twelve. Did you know that?” I pulled the coin out and flicked it through my fingers. Fiona was quick and had it before I could blink.

“What’s this?” She shuffled it smoothly from hand to hand. I shook my head in admiration. Fiona was as smooth as ice. We all had varying talents, and this was one of hers. Her sleight of hand made her excellent at cheating and pick pocketing—useful when obtaining important documents or anything else from oblivious individuals.

“My mother’s. Told me her father had given it to her. She gave it to me before I left for … school that fall.”

Fiona just stared at me, waiting.

“Who knew the house would burn down?”

She held the coin up, examining it even closer. It glinted in the moonlight. “It’s not even English,” she mused.

I shrugged.

“Carrying it after all those years. Love’s a powerful thing, isn’t it?” She turned to look at me, holding the coin flat in her palm.

I took it and pocketed it. An image of Wynter crossed my mind. I had avoided calling her since we left, worried about being overheard but, despite my intentions to stay focused, she was always in my mind. As we trekked around the darkened countryside and through ramshackle buildings questioning sources, I found myself wondering how she was and what she was doing. I thought about emailing her, but I couldn’t figure out what the hell to write. Fiona’s eyes searched my face.

“Are you all right? Is it just Michael and Audra, or is something else going on? You seem awfully distracted.”

I moved toward the Rover, checking my phone one last time. “We should head back. If the others had found something, we would have heard by now. I need to get home.”

I stared back one more time at the open field before slamming the car door shut. My parents were gone and had been for a long time. Wallowing in the past wasn’t going to alter anything.

I called Wynter when we landed in the States, but all I got was her voicemail. After four unreturned messages, I knew it was time to give up.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Wynter—Tied Up

Once again, my voicemail was lit with a message when I got out of class at noon. I pushed the button as I walked back to my dorm, and Beck’s voice filled my ear, wondering how I was and asking me to call. I climbed the steps to my room, deflated. A few weeks earlier, I would have been so psyched to get that message.

I opened my door and plopped on the bed. Life had gotten infinitely more complicated in just a matter of days. I wished I could go back and change things with Beck. If only I’d reacted differently that night, but I’d been so surprised by his force. Worse, I’d been wrong about him brushing me off when he called that next day. But now it felt like it was too late to fix it.

I considered curling under my comforter and escaping into sleep, but I knew that would only make me feel worse. Throwing on my running gear, I grabbed my sneakers and earphones. An hour later, drenched and exhausted, I dragged myself back to my room, but nothing had changed. I showered and dressed then tried to concentrate on homework.

Ignoring texts from Julia and Sophie, I had skipped lunch, opting for soda and pretzels. I’d just finished my history reading when someone knocked. I whipped the door open, expecting Julia on the other side scolding me.

Jason grinned and walked on in.

“You want to go to the mall and get something to eat?” He smiled at me and, in his most persuasive voice, added, “Come on. It’s the mall. I need company picking out my mom’s birthday gift.” He shot me his killer grin. “It could be fun. Like old times. We could go to Pizza Hut.”

I stared at the books open on my desk. Despite blowing the girls off, I really didn’t want to be alone, and I was hungry. Besides, I needed a few things. “Sure.” I grabbed my jacket and followed him out.

***

When we got back, Jason parked outside his dorm. He had a basement room with its own entrance. I moved my feet together, my shopping bags tucked between my legs crinkling when I did. Jason looked at me and smiled as he turned the car off—a nice easy smile like the old days, when we were just friends. Tonight had been like that the entire time.

“Well, that was fun, though we probably didn’t need the pitcher of beer at Pizza Hut.”

“I know. My head’s a little foggy. And I bought way too much stuff.” I motioned to the bags at my feet. We had been at the mall for hours—shopping and eating and drinking.

There was a pregnant silence. “Well…” I began, slipping my hands through the handles and opening the car door.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room. I’m way too buzzed,” I answered.

“Come on. We’re not going to leave it at that. Come inside,” he urged, smiling.

“You know I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Is this because of the English guy?”

I didn’t answer, opening my door and climbing out. As I did so, I knocked my purse, spilling its contents all over the parking lot. I dropped my shopping bags and bent down to retrieve my wallet and keys. I couldn’t find my favorite lip-gloss, and I sat back on my heels contemplating where it could have rolled.

“What’s up?” I felt Jason just behind me.

“I can’t find my lip gloss.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want to have to buy another.” I started to feel around again when I realized Jason had picked up my shopping bags. I stood up, brushing off my hands on my jeans. Jason grinned at me, backing up slowly.

“Give me my bags.” I had bought underwear and bras at Victoria’s Secret when he was off in some sports shop, and the last thing I wanted was Jason pawing through it.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Jason. Come on.”

“Come and get them.” He turned and made a beeline for his dorm room. I left my lipstick for fate and ran after him.

“Jason. Give it.” He hurtled through the door and onto his bed, laughing as he did so.

“What’s wrong? What’s in here that you’re worried I’ll see? Sexy lingerie for the English guy?”

I thought of Beck regretfully, but he didn’t need to know.

“English dude is not here. Just give it to me.” I reached for it, but he was quicker and stronger, and my reflexes were off from the beer.

He stuck his hand into a bag, pulling out a lacy thong and bra. “Nice.”

I gave up and hopped off the bed, disgusted. I could hear him rifling through my other bags now.

“There’s no way this stuff is for English guy.”

I remembered Beck lifting me off my feet and against the wall. There wasn’t anything prudish about that, except maybe my reaction. I sat down on the desk chair and waited for Jason to be done, ignoring his stupid comments and smirks.

Then he opened the box holding the ties for my dad. “What’re these?”