Blind Run (15 page)

He looked her over again, but this time she suspected his examination had very little to do with the disguise. A flush of heat brushed her cheeks, and she backed up a step. Then he did the most unexpected thing, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. Just one, quick, hard kiss that rattled her thoughts and returned her to when easy displays of affection had been commonplace between them. And she wondered how she’d ever taken them, or him, for granted.

He released her too soon, two words fluttering against her lips. “Be careful.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ON THE WAY
to Champaign, Sydney replayed Ethan’s kiss in her mind a dozen times. Though it really hadn’t been much of one, not romantic in the least. More like a good luck send-off or an affectionate peck for a sister, friend, or the woman you’d been married to for six years. But they weren’t married any longer and she wasn’t going to start thinking like they were.

So why had he kissed her?

Everything he’d done in the last twenty-four hours had been calculated, like a finely planned mission. Yet for an instant she’d sensed his surprise at the kiss as well. He’d recovered quickly, but for a few brief seconds she’d felt something more from him. After all, she’d lived with and loved this man for years, she should know when a kiss meant something.

Sure.

Just like she should have known what her husband did for a living, or when he was lying to her.

In the end she decided he’d kissed her for one reason only: to distract her and keep her mind off the upcoming meeting with Timothy Mulligan. Ethan knew she’d obsess about the kiss for the entire fifty-mile drive and forget to worry about a particular physics professor and his relationship to two runaways.

And in that, Ethan had succeeded.

THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
was large and sprawling, with an attractive mix of old and new buildings and generous stretches of green space in between. The sights took her back to her own college days, when life had been so much simpler. She’d had one goal back then, one vision: getting her medical degree. Who would have guessed she’d end up being stalked by an assassin while trying to locate the parents of a couple of runaways?

As she made her way across campus, she reviewed the cover story she and Ethan had devised. She would approach Dr. Mulligan as a doctoral candidate in sociology, doing her dissertation on missing children and the effects on their families. She’d tell him that her faculty adviser—a name she’d looked up in the university catalog—had suggested Mulligan might be willing to give her an interview.

It was a plausible story, especially at such a large university. The chances were slim that Dr. Mulligan, a senior faculty member of the physics department, would know any of the sociology faculty, and an even slimmer possibility that he’d know their Ph.D. candidates.

She located his office without too much trouble, a surprisingly tidy cubbyhole in the Loomis Laboratory of Physics. It was empty. Finding someone who could tell her anything about his whereabouts was a little more difficult. After several inquiries, she found a secretary who pulled up his schedule and sent Sydney to a first-floor classroom.

It ended up being an auditorium, seating at least two hundred students in tiered rows. In front, on a low stage, a man in pressed jeans and a crisp white shirt lectured in a monotone. His voice implied he was teaching elementary material, while one glance around the room told a different story. At least half the students were completely lost.

The wardrobe might be different, but the man and his classroom brought back unpleasant memories of her own years as an undergraduate. For her the class had been organic chemistry, junior year. With two hundred primarily premed students, the course had been used to weed out the potential medical-school applicants. Day one, the professor, who’d seemed older than God at the time, had informed his class that only one-third would pass.

“Look to the student on your right, then to the student on your left,” he’d said. “Only one of you will finish this course.”

Unfortunately for most of the students, finishing wasn’t their only concern. While the object of the department seemed to be to thin out the ranks of the curriculum, each of the premed students needed an A to get into medical school.

She wondered what major Dr. Mulligan’s physics class was meant to thin. There couldn’t be that many physics majors, could there? Engineering maybe?

Turning her thoughts away from her automatic dislike of the man, she considered him as Danny’s father. He was tall, probably six four, and somewhat awkward with his height, even gangly. He wasn’t heavy, but soft-looking, as though he’d never done a day’s worth of physical labor in his life, or even participated in a sport. His coloring was unremarkable: brown hair, medium complexion. She couldn’t see his eye color from a distance, but it probably didn’t matter. Nothing about the man told her one way or the other whether he was Danny and Callie’s father.

One conclusion she did come to was that she needed to change her strategy for getting information from him. He wasn’t the type to care one whit about helping a graduate student from another department. So if she took that approach with him, she’d be lucky if he’d give her the time of day. Timothy Mulligan appeared rather impressed with himself. It would take someone with equally impressive credentials to get his attention.

She probably should have kept the leather jacket and designer top and considered returning to the car and making the switch. But if she did, she might lose her chance to talk to Mulligan.

Finally, he completed his lecture.

Sydney waited for the class to clear before making her way toward the front. A few students clustered around Mulligan, asking questions. He answered in a blunt, no-nonsense way, paying little attention to whether they followed his explanation or not. She had to wonder if he delighted in being obtuse, or whether he really didn’t fathom his audience’s lack of understanding.

Then, obviously, he decided he’d dispensed enough wisdom for one day. “That’s it for now,” he said, gathering his books.

“But, Dr. Mulligan—”

He started toward the edge of the dais, brushing past his students as if they were annoying insects. “You know my office hours. Make an appointment with my secretary if you have more questions.”

Sydney waited for him at the bottom of the steps. “Excuse me, Dr. Mulligan, do you have a minute?”

He barely glanced at her, much less slowed his pace. “My office hours are posted on my door.”

She made no move to follow him. “I’m not a student,” she said, adding a trace of annoyance to her voice. “I’m Dr. Sydney Branning.” She used her maiden name, just in case he’d been following the news. Though he looked like a man who never much lifted his head out of the sand—or maybe that would be the laboratory. “I’m on staff at Covenant Medical Center.”

He paused, not stopping exactly, but turned and gave her a second look. “Well, come on, then.” He gestured for her to join him, as if he hadn’t just been incredibly rude. “I only have a few minutes.”

She fell into step beside him but waited for him to speak.

“You look too young to be a doctor. What’s your specialty?”

She supposed that was a compliment, in a backhanded sort of way. Particularly since she
had
dressed to look like a student. “Pediatrics.”

“Are you new?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing you on campus before.”

Ethan had told her to keep as much to the truth as possible. “I just came up from Texas.”

“That explains the drawl.” He threw her another glance, only this one took in more than a potential colleague, and she expected he was taking in the jeans and oversized jacket. “You’re pretty far from the medical center, Doctor.”

Since she wasn’t at all sure where the medical center was located, she ignored his comment. “I would have called first, but I suddenly had a few hours free and decided to take the chance you’d have time for me.”

He shrugged. “Well, you’re here now. What do you need?”

“I’m doing research on missing children and the effects of their disappearance on their families. I was told you might be willing to add your insight.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I apologize if this brings up bad memories, but I need to ask you about your son’s disappearance.”

He came to an abrupt stop. “My son?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Mulligan. I know this must be a painful subject, but—”

“Painful? Hardly.” He frowned. “In fact, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Confused, Sydney stumbled forward. “I know it’s been a long time, but—”

“I don’t know where you got your information, Dr. Branning, but you’ve made a mistake.” He took a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

This time she hurried after him. The children’s future was at stake, and suddenly she knew she had the right man. “Please, Dr. Mulligan, hear me out. You did your undergraduate work at MIT, then went on to Caltech, where you received your Ph.D. in 1991.” When she looked up at him, she saw he was angry.

“Obviously you know a great deal about me, except for the most pertinent fact.” His earlier frown turned to distaste. “My son didn’t disappear, Doctor, because I don’t have a son. And never have.”

Sydney just stared at him, stunned.

“I don’t even like children,” he said in an offhand manner. “They’re a nuisance.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I suggest the next time, you do your research a little more carefully.” Dismissing her without another word, he walked away.

Sydney stood frozen in place. Then an idea struck and she went after him. “Dr. Mulligan, please . . .”

“Dr. Branning—” He shook his head and kept walking.

“One more question.” She grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt, and braced herself for his reaction—which no matter what, wouldn’t be good.

“Have you ever donated to a sperm bank?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DANNY DREAMED
of hands.

Large, groping hands, reaching for him in the darkness. He scrambled backward across his bed, crablike, falling as he reached the edge and . . .

Found himself in a maintenance shaft.

It was like those at the Haven. Aluminum all around. Shiny. Cold. Airless.

He shivered.

Then he saw the light where the shaft dumped into a room. Instinctively, he backed away, coming up hard against a wall. Only, it hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

He turned, panic gripping him as he searched for a way out.

Suddenly, the shaft tilted, its walls narrowing and forcing him down toward a light. But he couldn’t go there. Not to that room. He knew the horrors that lay within those walls and wouldn’t look.

But he had no choice. The aluminum walls tightened around him. They were alive, squeezing him forward, pushing him to the edge until . . .

Below him, Sean lay on a stark white bed. Tubes sprouted from his arms, his legs, his chest, and with each labored breath, they pulsed a deep, bloodred. He coughed, the tubes ballooning to the point of bursting before returning to their original size. Another cough, and they expanded again.

Danny tried to back away, but the walls held him. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see. There was nothing he could do, no way to help his friend.

But cracked lips moved, forming syllables that pulled Danny forward, made him strain to hear. Pleading words. Then Sean opened his eyes and looked up. Danny felt a scream struggle to escape as those eyes, all black, searched and found him hiding behind the metal grate. Not Sean . . .

No!

Danny jerked awake, caught in a tangled blanket, heart pounding and a silent scream echoing in his head.

The dream. Again.

He didn’t move, afraid it would reclaim him and drag him back down. It was always like this, gripping him even after he awoke. Then, as his racing heart slowed, the images usually faded. Only, this time they stayed with him, and he remembered every detail, especially those black eyes and the face behind them. A face that hadn’t invaded the dream before.

Adam’s.

Fear for his friend settled in Danny’s stomach. Adam was the oldest of the boys, almost thirteen, and the only one who knew about Danny’s plan to find his family. They’d made a pact. Adam would stay and watch out for the little ones, and Danny would find his father, then bring help. Now he was afraid if he ever did get back, it would be too late.

Adam would already be gone.

Scared to go back to sleep, Danny sat up and looked around the silent cabin. Callie was still asleep in the lower bunk, but Ethan had gone out.

After Sydney left, they’d all lain down to get some rest. Callie hadn’t been feeling well, though she tried to hide it. Danny was worried about her and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake taking her with him when he ran away. Then he remembered his dream, shivered, and his doubts fled. He wasn’t going to let Callie end up like that. No matter what.

He found Ethan on the porch, a park map spread out in front of him. From the position of the sun, Danny figured Sydney had been gone for hours. He sat on the steps. “Isn’t it time she was back?”

Ethan’s idea of a response was to scowl.

In Danny’s opinion, Ethan was worse than the Keepers. They at least pretended to be nice while telling their lies. Ethan didn’t even do that. He didn’t fake anything, least of all that he wanted Danny or his sister anywhere near him.

If it weren’t for Callie, Danny would be long gone.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, more to irritate Ethan than anything else.

“Nothing.”

“So why are you studying the map?”

“I’m not . . .” Ethan sighed and glanced up for the first time. “I’m making sure I understand the area.”

Anna had done the same thing. “Our position and the location of the nearest cities or towns. Roads and where they lead. That sort of thing?”

“Yeah.” Ethan laughed abruptly and went back to his task. “That sort of thing.”

Encouraged, Danny went on. “It’s always a good idea to know where you are, what’s around you, and the best exit points.” He waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he added, “That’s what Anna said.”

“She would know.”

Danny remained quiet, for about five seconds. “What time is it?”

“Give it a rest, Danny.”

“I just want to know what time it is.”

Ethan looked up. “Sydney will be back soon.”

Would she? Danny wasn’t so sure. “I should have gone with her.”

Ethan ignored him.

Danny picked up a stick and poked at the dirt beneath his feet. A smile would probably crack Ethan’s face. The only time he’d come close was right before Sydney left for town. Callie had picked a handful of wildflowers from the woods behind the cabin. He’d almost smiled then. She had that effect on people. Even Anna had softened around her. Not that Callie’s sweetness did her any good. She was still sick all the time.

As for Sydney, he didn’t know what to think of her. She was almost too nice. Some of the Keepers had been like that, and in the end they’d been liars, too. Danny had learned not to trust any of them. At least if Ethan decided to turn them over to the authorities, he’d just do it. He wouldn’t lie about it first. Danny wasn’t so sure about Sydney.

She sure was taking a long time.

He should have hid in the back of the Explorer or something. That would have been the safest thing to do. Instead, he was stuck here waiting.

The sound of an approaching engine brought his head up as the black SUV pulled into the clearing. Danny sprang off the porch, but waited as Sydney shut off the engine and took her time getting out of the car. Behind him, the screen door slammed, and he glanced back and saw Callie on the porch. He smiled at her, then turned back toward Sydney, stopping when he saw the expression on her face.

“Did you see my father?” he asked, suddenly afraid of the answer.

She frowned. “Danny.”

“Well, did you?” He took another step toward her. “Did you talk to him?”

She folded her arms. “I talked to Timothy Mulligan.”

Yes! He knew it. “Did you tell him Callie and I were here? When can we—”

“Danny.” She shook her head. “I didn’t tell him about you.”

“Why not?”

A large hand settled on his shoulder. Ethan had come up behind him. Danny jerked away from the man’s touch, keeping his eyes on Sydney. “Why didn’t you tell him we were here?”

“I’m sorry . . .”

His stomach churned. “You’re lying.”

“Timothy Mulligan doesn’t have any children.”

“No.”
Liar.
He backed away, his heart pounding, his head ready to explode.
Why was she doing this?

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you lying to me?” It came out as a scream.

He continued to back away, looking at Ethan and Callie, then turned back to Sydney. She was a liar, just like all the rest, just like the Keepers. And Anna. He hated Sydney. He hated them all. His eyes stung, and he felt sick. Turning, he fled toward the woods, one word repeating in his head.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

ETHAN STEPPED FORWARD,
stopping Sydney from following the boy. “Let him go. You can’t help him now.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she looked ready to bolt. Instead, she went to Callie and took her hands. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“It’s not your fault,” Callie said, with a sadness that twisted Ethan’s heart.

“I know.” Sydney glanced toward the tree where Danny had retreated. “But I wish I could make it right.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s not a very nice man.”

Callie bit her lip, but her eyes remained dry. “Don’t worry about Danny, I’ll take care of him.”

Sydney touched the girl’s cheek, a gesture Ethan had seen a million times when their son was alive. He closed his eyes briefly at the sudden ache the memory produced. He and Sydney had lost so much. Not only their son, but all the small things that had defined them as a family.

“It’s okay,” Callie said, the child comforting the adult. “You tried.” Then she walked over to her brother.

“Are you all right?” Ethan asked, taking his jacket from Sydney and tossing it over the porch railing.

“I don’t know.” Her eyes remained on the two children. “I’d hoped . . .” She brought her gaze back to him. “It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Mulligan’s a jerk. I’m almost glad he didn’t claim them.”

He reached for her, but she stepped back. Who could blame her, considering he’d kissed her the last time she’d let him near? It had been the craziest thing, and if he’d thought about it for half a second beforehand, he never would have done it. But it had just happened.

“Let’s go inside,” she said. “I have something to tell you.”

Once in the cabin, she dropped into the rough-hewn wooden chair. Ethan stayed near the door, giving her the space she needed. Though it was hard, when what he wanted to do was fold her into his arms. He hadn’t thought about much else since she’d left. One brief kiss, and his mind had ventured down roads where it didn’t belong. It wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made, especially now when he needed all his concentration to keep them alive.

“How was Callie? Any more coughing?”

“Yeah, I gave her more of the cough syrup and a couple more aspirin.”

“I’m worried about her.”

“Kids get sick.”

“I guess.” Though she didn’t look convinced, sitting with her elbows propped on the chair arm, her head resting on her hand. “This will sound strange, but I don’t think Danny is entirely wrong about Timothy Mulligan.”

“You think Mulligan was lying?”

“Not exactly.” She massaged her temples and told him about her conversation with Mulligan. When she mentioned asking him about donating to a sperm bank, Ethan realized she was on to something.

“The most damning thing,” she said, “is that he acted like he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.”

“It would explain a lot. Or at least why his name is in Danny’s files at the Haven.”

“There’s more, although the rest of this is even more speculative.” Again she rubbed at her temples. “Have you ever heard of James Cooley?”

“Didn’t he start one of the first Internet companies, then sold it for a mint? A real eccentric.”

“That’s him.” Sydney dug an aspirin bottle from her purse. “He’s worth millions, maybe billions.” She stood and crossed to the dresser, then rummaged through the cooler Ethan had brought in from the Explorer and pulled out a bottle of water. “No one really knows how much money he made, and I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” She swallowed the aspirin, then returned to the chair.

Ethan moved up behind her and slipped his hands beneath her hair. She stiffened, then relaxed as he began to work the tension from her neck. No wonder she had a headache. She felt tight enough to snap. As he kneaded first one and then another muscle, she let her head drop forward with a sigh.

“God,” she said. “You always did have the best hands.”

Ethan smiled to himself. How often had they performed this ritual after one of her grueling days? It had started while she was in med school and continued through her pregnancy to the days when she’d had her own practice. She would come home exhausted, and he’d start on her neck, working his way to her extremities until she was putty in his hands. Then they’d make love for hours, until neither of them could move.

“I miss it,” he said softly. “I miss you.”

She tensed immediately, her barriers slamming back into place as she pulled away from him. “Yes, well, leaving was your choice.” Her voice was hard.

As if he needed reminding of how much he’d hurt her. “Sydney . . .”

“Let’s get back to James Cooley.” She left the chair and moved to stand with her back against the dresser. “Shall we?”

It wasn’t what he wanted, but he had little choice but to accept whatever parameters she set for their relationship. From now on, he’d keep his hands to himself. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is.” She met his gaze for a moment, a spark of defiance in her eyes, but something else as well. Loneliness? Longing? He couldn’t be sure which. Then she went on, as if he hadn’t just put his hands on her, reminding them both of things better left in the past. “In the early eighties, Cooley started a sperm bank which only accepted donations from highly intelligent men. They were also very selective about whom they impregnated. The women had to be stable and married, with an IQ of over 140.”

“Kind of narrows it down a bit, don’t you think?”

“The idea was to create a more intelligent gene pool.”

“And you think Timothy Mulligan made a donation?”

“Cooley’s people searched for the right kind of donors, and Mulligan would have been a good candidate. High IQ.”

There was a certain logic to the idea. “Nice theory, but that’s all it is.”

“I know, but it makes sense and explains how Mulligan’s name got into Danny’s file. Plus, both the timing and location are right. Mulligan did his doctoral work at Caltech in the mid-eighties. Also, he’s so arrogant he might like the idea of creating more minds like his own. Especially if he doesn’t have to raise them himself.”

Ethan thought about it and walked to the window to check on the kids. They were no longer on the swing, but Danny’s backpack rested against the porch support. They couldn’t have gone far. Making a quick visual sweep of the area, he breathed easier when he saw them sitting on a boulder near the woods.

He’d told Sydney the truth earlier. No one had followed them from Texas. Not many people could track him when he wanted to get lost, and he’d been particularly vigilant on the drive north. He’d used cash for everything, switched license plates three times, and picked the less-traveled roads where a tail would be easy to spot. He’d even doubled back once, just to make sure. So he wasn’t expecting Ramirez, or whoever was after these children, to show up anytime soon. But he wasn’t taking any chances.

Callie spotted him and waved.

Absently, he raised a hand in response. If Sydney was right, where did that leave these kids?

“Okay, let’s assume you’re onto something,” he said, watching as Callie led her brother back to the tire swing and got him to push her. “And Timothy Mulligan was a sperm donor. It doesn’t explain how Danny and Callie landed in a facility off the coast of Washington State.”
Or why.
“And it doesn’t shed any light on Danny’s story about kids disappearing.”