Chapter 8 - The Dead WomanEvelyn Cross had spent four years being dead.
So naturally, we did it anyway.
Technically, I agreed to meet the unknown caller alone.
In reality, state police, Alvarez, and a federal agent named Nathan Reeves followed at a distance.
North Harbor’s financial records crossed state lines.
The poisoning potentially involved unlawful human experimentation.
The federal government suddenly cared very much.
Rachel wanted to come.
I refused.
She refused my refusal.
We compromised badly.
She rode with Marcus two miles behind the surveillance team.
The coordinates led to a lakeside campground outside Traverse City.
At 1:05 P.M., I parked.
Rain tapped against the windshield.
The place looked abandoned.
I got out.
At 1:13 exactly, a pay phone near an old visitor cabin rang.
I walked toward it.
Picked up.
“Hello?”
The distorted voice spoke.
“You came.”
“You threatened my daughter.”
“I warned you.”
“Where are you?”
“Walk to the dock.”
I looked around.
No movement.
I walked.
The lake stretched gray under the storm clouds.
Halfway down the dock, something inside me broke open.
Memory.
Not a fragment.
A flood.
I had stood here before.
May 17.
Night.
I was running.
Someone chased me.
I carried a backpack.
A man shouted behind me.
I reached a boat.
Then—
Pain tore through my skull.
I dropped to one knee.
The phone voice said, “Remembering hurts, doesn’t it?”
I looked around.
“You were here.”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?”
“Keep walking.”
At the end of the dock was a locked storage box.
The combination suddenly came to me.
I opened it.
Inside sat a small waterproof case.
The caller said, “You hid that.”
My hands shook.
Inside was a hard drive.
“And you couldn’t remember where.”
I whispered, “What’s on it?”
“The reason everyone wants you dead.”
The line disconnected.
Footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Warren Pike stood ten yards away.
Hands visible.
No weapon.
“Don’t run.”
I nearly laughed.
“You’ve been living inside my house.”
“Yes.”
“You poisoned my family.”
“No.”
I stepped toward him.
“Lie again.”
“I monitored the delivery system.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“I tried to reduce the dosage.”
“You expect gratitude?”
“No.”
His face was tired.
Not the face of the monster I had imagined.
That didn’t make him innocent.
“You threatened Lily.”
“No.”
I stopped.
“Then who sent the photo?”
“The man I’ve been trying to keep away from her.”
“Who?”
Pike looked toward the tree line.
“Victor Sloan.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if Sloan wanted this conversation to happen, I’d already be dead.”
A rifle shot cracked across the lake.
Pike tackled me.
Wood splintered where my head had been.
“MOVE!”
We rolled behind a dock piling.
A second shot hit the storage box.
Police shouted from the woods.
Alvarez’s team moved in.
Pike grabbed my jacket.
“Give me the drive.”
“No.”
“If Sloan gets it—”
“You’re not getting it either.”
Another shot.
Then silence.
Agents swept the area.
No shooter.
Only tracks.
A vehicle had been waiting on an access road.
Gone.
Alvarez handcuffed Pike.
He didn’t resist.
Before she put him in the cruiser, he looked at me.
“Ask your wife about March seventeenth.”
My blood chilled.
The combination.
“What happened March seventeenth?”
Pike shook his head.
“Not what.”
His eyes locked on mine.
“Who.”
Back at the station, technicians began copying the hard drive.
Encrypted.
Reeves estimated hours.
I called Rachel.
“Do you know what happened March seventeenth?”
Silence.
“This year?”
“Yes.”
“That was Lily’s school fundraiser.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Think.”
“I am.”
“Did we meet anyone?”
Another pause.
Then Rachel whispered, “Wait.”
“What?”
“There was a woman.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“She approached you outside the fundraiser.”
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“Do you remember her?”
Rachel went quiet.
“She looked familiar.”
“To who?”
“To me.”
“How?”
Her breathing changed.
“Daniel…”
“What?”
“I think she looked like Evelyn Cross.”
My stomach dropped.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Cross died four years ago.”
“I know.”
The technician across the room raised his hand.
“We’re in.”
I hung up.
The hard drive contained folders.
Clinical reports.
Videos.
Financial transfers.
Names.
Hundreds of names.
Subjects.
Some voluntary.
Some not.
Then we found Subject Seven.
Me.
Subject Eight.
Rachel.
But beside Rachel’s file was a note.
PREVIOUS EXPOSURE CONFIRMED — 2019 TRIAL.
I stared.
Rachel had been part of the experiment years before we knew North Harbor existed.
Then another file appeared.
SUBJECT 1 — CROSS, EVELYN.
Status:
ACTIVE.
May you like
Dr. Evelyn Cross was not dead.
And according to the most recent log, she had accessed North Harbor’s system three days ago.
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