Travis tried to raise some kind of power to stop what was happening. But he was too deadened to have any effect. The drug Smith had given Olivia had done its work.
With a leaden feeling of defeat, he watched while she was secured to a stretcher, then followed along as the men wheeled her into the house like a patient from an ambulance being rushed into the hospital. Only this was no hospital. He had been here before, and he knew it was a torture chamber—with only one exit.
He shuddered, then forced himself to take in details he’d had no chance to see before. Because he’d been covered like a special delivery package the last time he was here, he hadn’t seen the outside of the house or any of the interior besides that room where he’d spent his last hours as a living man. Now, if he had had blood in his veins, it would have frozen as he watched them bring her to the same place. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking. And it took everything he had to prevent himself from turning around and fleeing. But he stayed because there was no way he was going to just leave Olivia to Smith’s tender mercies.
She was the only thing that kept him here. He hovered close to her as the men transferred her to the same table where Smith had tortured him. Horror clutched his chest as he watched them secure her arms and legs.
God, no. Don’t let him hurt her, he prayed over and over before switching his focus to the man who had complete control over her now.
You don’t want to hurt her. There’s no reason to hurt her. She can’t give you any helpful information, he projected.
He tried to grab Smith’s arm as the torture master leaned possessively over his new specimen like a butterfly collector inspecting a recent acquisition.
At Travis’s touch, the man flinched and looked quickly over his shoulder, right into Travis’s enraged gaze.
“What?” he mouthed.
Do you see me?
Smith only stared, then shook his head. “There’s nobody here but me and the woman,” he said aloud.
Wrong, Travis answered, but the monster didn’t hear him. He’d need more power to get through to Smith, and right now there was no source of power. Not from Olivia and not from himself. How long would it take to get it back? He didn’t know. He didn’t know if Smith would drug her again. He didn’t know any damn thing except that he had to somehow save her. It couldn’t all end like this, in this house with this man. Not after what he and Olivia had created together.
After a charged moment, the kidnapper shrugged and went back to his captive.
He raised first one and then the other of Olivia’s eyelids and inspected her pupils. They were dark and dilated, and Travis watched Smith stroke his chin with thumb and forefinger as he leaned over her.
“How safe is it to bring you to consciousness?” he whispered.
Very safe, Travis answered. Go ahead and wake her up; that’s the most efficient way to question her. You want her to be coherent.
And I want to be able to connect with her again, he silently added.
But the bastard didn’t seem to pay any attention to him. Or maybe Travis had had some effect, and he couldn’t tell.
“I need to have you partly conscious,” Smith said. “Let’s wait a little while for you to start coming around. I’ll be right outside, but I’ll be watching for any signs of life.” He chuckled. “Not like your friend Carson. He’s beyond that.”
You’d be surprised, Travis silently answered.
Had Smith decided on his own to wait to question Olivia, or had Travis influenced him? He wished he knew.
Olivia was dreaming. She was snuggled in bed with Travis, and he wasn’t a ghost. He was alive. They were like any normal couple. Only they had more than anyone else. They had a special bond that gave them powers.
That’s what she wanted to be true, but in the back of her mind she knew she was lying to herself. Something was wrong—badly wrong. And the only way she could find out what was to wake up.
She didn’t want to. The dream was better. But she heard a voice calling her, telling her she had to be prepared.
Following it, she struggled toward consciousness. Where was she? Not in her bed with Travis. The surface under her body felt hard. Not a bed. But where?
Somewhere far in the distance she thought she heard Travis calling her. Or did she? It was hard to be sure. Why couldn’t she reach out to him the way she was used to doing?
Still, she thought he was speaking in her head. Don’t move. That will give you a little more time, let him think you’re totally unconscious. She heard his words, but not with the clarity she expected. It was as though he was close by but at the same far away.
Desperately she struggled to knit the connection together.
Travis?
Whatever you do, don’t say my name. Don’t let him know that you ever met me.
Why?
Smith has you.
Fear leaped inside her. Smith…had…how?
Travis was speaking urgently, and now his words were a little clearer although they didn’t make total sense.
He’s dangerous. God knows what he’ll do if he knows you have anything to do with me. Don’t let him catch on. You have to play dumb.
She struggled with confusion. But I do know you.
You can’t let him find out.
She was about to answer when the door slammed open, and a man came charging into the room. He was holding something in his hand, but she couldn’t see what it was.
“Are you awake?” he demanded.
She licked her dry lips. “A little.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“I…I need a drink,” she said. It was true, but she was also stalling for time. Her thoughts were too muddled for her to figure out what she should do.
“Maybe after you answer some questions,” he said.
“Who are you?” she asked, when she knew the answer perfectly well. There was only one person he could be. And Travis had told her who he was. He was the monster who had killed Travis. And now he had her.
“I want to ask you some questions. How do you know Travis Carson?”
Deep confusion swirled in her brain. Hadn’t Travis spoken to her a little while ago? Hadn’t he told her not to say she knew him? It was on the tip of her tongue to answer yes, when Travis’s hand came down over her lips. Be quiet about me. Don’t tell him anything, he implored. The urgency in his voice told her he was terrified—for her.
Still confused, she tried to move her arm and found that it was secured by a strap to the table she was lying on. Not just that arm. The other one, too. And her legs. When she realized she was strapped down, panic rose in her throat.
Where was she? What had happened? The last thing she remembered was going to sleep last night. And now she was somewhere else.
As she was trying to process that, she felt another touch. Not Travis’s gentle fingers.
Suddenly, the situation and Travis’s urgent instructions became clear. Smith had taken her. She had been sure he couldn’t find her, but somehow he had, and he was holding her captive, the way he had held Travis. And she knew Travis had had only a short time to live after he left this room.
Seconds after that horrible moment of realization, Smith’s hand came down hard against her cheek, making her skin sting, and her eyes water. They blinked open, focusing on her captor. He didn’t look imposing. He was old, with thinning, salt-and-pepper hair, and veins that stood out. One in his neck was throbbing now. Maybe he’d have a stroke, and this would all be over.
“How do you know Travis Carson,” he growled.
She blinked again, trying to focus, and saw the hand moving again, getting ready for another strike if she stayed silent. “I don’t,” she cried out. “Who?
“Travis Carson. Don’t lie to me. If you don’t know Carson, why were you with Bowman?”
Why indeed?
Travis had told her not to admit anything. But how could she pull that off? Somehow, this man had seen her with Gabe. That was an immutable fact. Why had she been with Gabe? He’d told her to stay hidden. She had thought she knew better. Answers sprang to her lips, none of them any good. Her mind was too muzzy for her to think straight. But she knew that she couldn’t put it on Gabe—Lord knows what Smith would do to him if he thought Gabe had come looking for her.
And she was the only one who could stop Smith from realizing that Travis was still here. What would happen if he knew that?
She scrambled for an answer that would make sense and satisfy this horrible man. I have to tell him something she finally said to Travis, and she felt him follow her logic and come to the same conclusion.
“I knew him…a long time ago,” she finally said.
“Where?”
“At the clinic.”
“What clinic?” the monster pressed.
“Dr. Solomon’s clinic. I used to go there with the other children.”
Smith kept his gaze locked on her, and she wondered if he believed her answer. “Why were you there?” he demanded.
She raised a shoulder. “I think they were testing us.”
“For what?”
“I was just a little kid. I don’t know.”
Smith was looking thoughtful. “But that doesn’t explain how the two of you got together recently.”
This time, Travis supplied the answer. I recognized you. I asked to have coffee with you so we could talk. I’m dead. He can’t prove otherwise.
Hysteria threatened to bubble up in her throat, but she held it in check. “One day when I was in town delivering furniture, he saw me. He said we had met before.”
Smith’s eyes lit up, then dulled. Probably he was excited to prove his theory that she was connected to Travis but kicking himself that he had already killed the man, so he couldn’t find out what they could do together.
That thought brought a spurt of hope. What could they do?
She reached for Travis in the way they had developed, but it was no good. Her brain was still fogged, and she could barely talk to him, let alone do anything more.
What are we going to do? she asked in desperation.
His answer was no comfort. I don’t know.
She knew Smith couldn’t see Travis, but she could. His face was suffused with horror and regret, as the man who had killed him hovered over her.
He turned away from her and went to his laptop, where he called up a list of names, scrolling rapidly through the entries. She watched him anxiously, wondering what was coming next. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. The next thing she knew, he was shaking her—hard.
His voice was a low, menacing growl as he said, “The Howell Institute doesn’t have Carson as one of the children who were brought back to the clinic for testing.”
She feigned surprise. “Huh?”
Smith shook her again. “The Howell Institute. He’s not listed as a returnee.”
She stared up at the man, trying to order her thoughts.
Stick to your story, Travis told her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you saying I didn’t meet Travis at the clinic? That’s wrong.”
Anger flared on Smith’s face. “It says he didn’t go back.”
“I…can’t help that,” she answered, trying to put some substance behind the words.
“And how did Bowman find you?”
Travis moved to her side. Tell him he said he saw your name on a list of children from the clinic.
“Uh, he said he saw my name on a list of children from the clinic.”
“That list is very private.”
“Well, it’s what he said.”
Travis’s voice was urgent. We have to make sure Gabe gives him the same story. He saw your name on the Howell Institute list.
But how can you speak to him mind-to-mind?
I don’t know. But I have to do it. He went on rapidly. Keep Smith here while I try to reach Gabe. And, if you can, send me power.
I don’t think I can.
Try. Keep trying.
Before she could respond, she knew Travis had left the room.
Olivia clenched her fists. Keep this monster here? That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew that Travis was right. She and Gabe had to have the same story.
“Who are you?” she asked in a weak voice. “Why did you bring me here? Where are we, anyway?”
He turned back to her. “You can call me Mr. Smith.”
It was a relief to hear the name. Now she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t know who he was.
“And why did you bring me here?”
“Because you showed up outside Travis Carson’s house when the detective dragged my man in there.”
She shuddered.
“Why were you there, exactly?” he demanded.
“I wanted to—help out.”
“Why?”
“Travis had approached me in town. I liked him.”
Smith’s gaze turned speculative. “And what kind of reaction did you have to him?”
How much should she say? What would Smith believe? He knew a lot about the clinic and the children. “I was attracted to him.”
“Did you do anything about it?”
“I…didn’t want to get involved.”
Smith leaned over her, his eyes sharp. “But you felt a pull toward him.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again.
“Did you fuck him?”
Oh Lord, what should she say?
His fingers closed painfully over her arm, and he shook her roughly.
“Did you fuck him?” he asked again.
“No.”
“Why not? Weren’t you attracted to him?”
“Yes.” She focused on the pain of his fingers on her arm. It was helping her brain function again. “But there was an intensity between us. It gave me a headache.”
“Ah.” Smith looked excited now.
“That scared me. I’d never felt anything like that before. I ran away from him. Maybe that was why I felt so bad when that detective said he was dead.”
Smith gave her another good shake and pushed away from her. “Well, that’s a new one,” he muttered. “Are you lying?”
“Why would I lie?”
He shook his head. “Maybe I’d better find out what the detective knows about it.” He considered for a moment. “And how did you hook up with the detective anyway?”
“He approached me.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. He said something about a list.”
“So you say.”
Smith turned toward the door, and Olivia felt a spurt of relief—followed immediately by panic. Had Travis been able to contact Gabe?
She remembered then that he had asked her to send him power. Was there any hope she could do it?
With everything she could summon, she reached for Travis and could just barely feel him at the edge of her awareness. Was he too far away for her to send him anything? And did she have any energy to send?
After one last look at Olivia, Travis turned away and slipped through the wall into a hallway. As he got farther away, he could feel the link with Olivia stretching. How far could he get from her? And what would happen if he got too far? His pace slowed, but he realized that would do him no good. If he couldn’t get to Gabe, they were in deep shit.
When he felt like he could hardly move another inch farther from her, he finally reached the room where Gabe was stashed. That was a good sign, he told himself. At least he had enough awareness of the man to find him.
Stepping through the wall, he found himself in a small, dark chamber set up like a cell. Gabe was lying on a hard bunk, his hands and legs bound and his eyes closed.
Okay. Now he was here. But that was only a small part of what he had to accomplish. He had to get through to the man and tell him the story that would save Olivia. Was there any way to do that?
He looked around and spotted a camera up at ceiling level. The prisoner was being watched. That was an unfortunate complication.
Although he’d never talked directly to the other man, he had to do it now. But how? They’d been together for a while—maybe he could reach him. He had to because Olivia’s life or her freedom might depend on it. There was no telling what torture Smith would put her through if he knew she had her own private ghost.
He flexed his fingers, then reached to put a hand on the detective’s shoulder. At first, there was no response. Using what power he could summon, he shook the man. It wasn’t much. Nothing like the effort he’d put out when he’d rocked Pete’s car. But it was something. More of his energy must be coming back. And maybe somehow Olivia was helping him.
Gabe’s eyes flew open. “Waaa?” He looked around, seeing no one.
It’s Travis. You have to focus on what I’m saying. You have to listen.
The plea got no response. Instead, Gabe began testing his bonds. Handcuffs secured his wrists, but his legs were tied with rope. Pulling his legs toward his hands, he began to work at the bonds.
Travis put his hand over the knot Gabe was working on, and he went still, glancing around. He started to speak but then thought better of it. Good man. He must have figured out that anything he said could be overheard. Still, he seemed perplexed as his features took on a strained look, like he was trying to remember a name he couldn’t quite recall. Is that you, Travis?
Yes! Thank God you can hear me.
Gabe shook his head. If it’s you, give me a sign.
Travis pressed his hand against Gabe’s.
Okay, I felt that. Or is it a hallucination?
It’s me.
Maybe I heard something. I’m not sure.
Travis wanted to shout in frustration but calmed himself. He wasn’t exactly getting through, but there had to be a way to do it.
He moved his finger against the back of Gabe’s hand and wrote. “In S’s house. U never heard of him.”
Gabe gave a fraction of a nod.
Travis wrote, “Wants to know why O was with U.”
The next part was harder, but he laboriously spelled out the crux of the message. “U read Howell Institute records.”
Howell Institute?
“Y”
Again, he laboriously spelled out, “O said she met me there as a kid. And you saw her name on the list.”
Gabe shook his head. Not sure I’m getting this.
Travis tried to write fast. “Big danger if S knows O comms with me now.”
Gabe sagged against the bunk. I don’t know…
“Remember her name on the Howell Institute list. U don’t know S.”
Before Travis could write more, the door slammed open, and a man barreled into the room, a look of fury on his face. Who else could it be but Smith?
