Bone Deep (20 page)

They were just about out of directions to go. Without evidence calling in the state police or the Bureau was off the table. All they had right now was speculation and the Paul Phillips sixth sense, for what that was worth. Neither of which was admissible as evidence. If whoever was behind this nasty business was as thorough as they seemed so far, he doubted the follow up on that whistleblower call would garner any results either.

Finding the truth was up to the two of them.

Paul narrowed his attention to the task at hand. A formal living room and dining room flanked the entry hall at the front of the house. The furnishings were expensive and thoughtfully arranged. It smacked of professional decorating. Too many fine details woven too tightly together for a novice. A powder room and spacious family room. All large, elaborately appointed, and without the first hint of anything untoward. Karl Manning had chosen only the best for his family. A huge television, all the latest in electronic gadgets, expensive overstuffed sofas and elegant tables.

Mentally bracing himself he entered the final room on the first floor. The kitchen with its airy breakfast room and commercial grade everything. A chill settled deep in his bones. The kind he always experienced when he entered a crime scene where murder was involved. The blood had discolored the natural stone tile, seeped deep into each tiny crevice.

Whispers, shadows of sound, echoed all around him. His pulse reacted. He moved toward the island, stood at the very end of it and stared down at the place where Karl Manning had fallen... taken his last breath.

Blinding light shattered all thought, pain arced inside his skull. He leaned against the smooth granite counter, the feel of the powdery residue used for gathering prints gritty beneath his palms. He closed his eyes and looked inward, surrendering to the pull... to the voices and images.

Her hand shook, then closed around the handle of the knife.
Tell me
.
No
! Another hand, this one larger…male…withdrew a hypodermic needle from a jacket pocket.
Tell me or I’ll use this
.

Pain sliced through his chest. The knife slid deep, clipping the atrium wall. He crumpled to the floor. Shock and disbelief rendered him speechless for those final moments as blood filled the thoracic cavity around his quivering heart. She peered down at him, then collapsed to her knees. Sobbing hysterically, she tried to pull the knife out, but her efforts only made matters worse. He could feel the life force draining away, bathing his heart and lungs, seeping around the sharp, stainless steel blade of the knife, soaking into his shirt.

Who would carry on with his work?
No one else understood... his grandfather had warned him. Had told him that the world would never comprehend such beautiful, perfect work.

Paul jerked back from the darkness. He gulped in massive amounts of air, fighting the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Calm the hell down.
Let it go
.

That was always the hardest part... turning loose. It grabbed him, sucked him into a vortex of sensory perceptions, lights, sounds, images. His mind and body absorbed the energy that hung in the air long after the event. Bits and pieces of positively charged ions floating about, waiting to be noticed. All one needed was the heightened senses to pick up on them. The constant hum of elevated perception was always there with Paul. Most of the time he refused to see or hear any of it. Pushed it away. But it was there just the same. Waiting.

He exhaled a heavy breath and mopped his brow with the back of his hand. He never got used to this. No matter how often it happened. It was like a waking nightmare. A blip in neuron transmission that went a-freaking-wry.

He dusted his powder-coated palms together and forced his attention back to the search. He avoided looking at the blood stained tile as he moved through the kitchen. Eventually he returned to the hall. If there was a basement, then where the hell was the door leading to it? He opened the one beneath the staircase and discovered a coat closet. He swore and started to close the door. Something in his peripheral vision snagged his attention. He opened the door wide and stepped inside, parting the mass of coats and jackets.

“Well, hello,” he muttered. A pocket door, designed to slide into the wall, and painted to match, lay beyond the array of outerwear. Paul flipped the light switch next to the door and peered down the stairs. A perfect place for a storm shelter.

The narrow stairs descended for six steps, there was a landing and a left angle where six more steps led to the basement floor. Bright fluorescent lights shone from overhead. A large L-shaped metal desk occupied a corner. Along one wall was a long table with open files spread atop it. Metal filing cabinets lined the rest of the wall space. Karl Manning’s private work files. The ones he dared not keep at the office.

“So this is where you kept your secrets.” Maybe Manning had kept his secrets too well. Otherwise Paul felt confident the chief and his pals would have cleared out this place already. This could be what they needed.

Anticipation zinged through him, had his heart thundering. First, he surveyed the open files on the tabletop. Several times he noticed the word “Gemini Series.” Each time, the chill already permeating his skin went a little deeper. One heading in particular captured his attention as he thumbed through a stack of manila folders. He flipped back to it.
Cannibalism in the Womb
. The file was filled with what appeared to be detailed studies but it was the page right up front that held his attention the longest.

One of the strangest instances of the vanishing twin

within the womb is twin cannibalism, in which the

surviving twin literally ingests, or absorbs the

remains of a dead twin in the uterus...

What had these bastards been up to?

Jill lingered at the door of her sister’s home office. She wondered vaguely if Paul had found the basement or Karl’s work files. She swiped her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Going through Kate’s room, the one she’d shared with her husband, had been tough. But just looking through the doorway into Cody’s room had torn her apart. His toys and stuffed animals were everywhere. Pictures chronicling his growth and accomplishments decorated the walls. She wept for long minutes. And then she prayed. Prayed with all her heart that somehow Cody was still alive as Paul suspected…that Kate really had taken him some place safe. And if he wasn’t, she prayed that her sister had not done this unthinkable thing.

Okay, suck it up, she told herself. She had to look for clues, anything, that might give some reason for all that had happened. Or some hint as to where Kate would take Cody if she had hidden him away. The moment she entered the only room left on the second floor, she knew it was here, in Kate’s office, hobby room, whatever, that Jill felt the closest to her sister. She looked at all the lovely pictures Kate had taken. As a young girl she’d dreamed of being a photojournalist for National Geographic or Discovery, but college, MedTech and Karl had changed all that. Still, Kate had documented their lives quite beautifully. Each photograph was carefully labeled in her neat handwriting.

Cody’s first trip to the beach
.

Karl at work
.

Catching fireflies
.

Each label was simple and self-explanatory with only one look at the photograph. Jill smiled, admiring the life that had so pleased her sister until just a few days ago. On one wall were photographs of places Kate had found interesting or pleasing to her critical eye. Jill’s breath caught when she recognized several as having been taken at one of the villages nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. As girls they’d heard the lore about the people who lived there and who refused to change their primitive ways of life and blend in with the rest of society. Kate had always sworn she would learn about them one day. It looked as if she had and that made Jill happy. The final photograph of the village caused her heart to stumble. The simple label at the bottom read:
A Safe Place
.

I took him to a safe place
.

The doorbell chimed.

Jill jumped, her breath catching.

She snatched the matted photograph from the wall and hurried to a window on the front side of the house to see who had rung the bell. She fully expected to see the chief’s cruiser. But the only car out front was Paul’s SUV.

A neighbor, she decided. Someone who wanted to be sure that nothing was amiss. Jill took a deep breath and forced herself to walk, not run, down the stairs. She would be calm and cool. No one knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, except the chief, of course.

Paul stood at the entrance to the formal living room, just clear of the front door looking into the entry hall. Though the glass in the door was textured for privacy, anyone outside would see movement beyond the glass.

“Female,” he whispered.

He must have checked from a front window. Jill nodded and moved toward the door. Paul eased out of sight.

Still clutching the photograph, Jill swiped her sweating right palm on her slacks and reached for the door. She twisted the knob and pulled it open, plastering a smile into place. The nanny from the Radcliff home stared back at her.

The young woman’s eyes widened. “Kate, is that you?”

Jill almost corrected her... but then nodded.

“I was afraid someone was snooping around over here.” Suspicion slipped into her expression. “When did you get out of the hospital?”

“This morning,” Jill lied. “I’m so glad to be home.” The expression of grief at all her sister had lost didn’t require any faking.

The other woman sighed. “I know you must be.” She looked down for a moment. “It’s just awful about Cody. Roman asks for him every day. He misses their playtime. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The woman looked sincere, but all Jill could think about was the fact that she had lied to her. She’d said the children never played together. And here she was acting like Kate’s best friend. Checking up on who came and went into the Manning home.

“No,” Jill said softly. Kate always spoke softly, never raised her voice for any reason, not even when she was angry like Jill was right now. “I’m managing. I appreciate your concern.”

“Well.” The nanny nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.” She started to turn away but hesitated. “I met your sister the other day. She asked a lot of questions. Has something else happened?”

Jill shook her head. “She’s just worried about me. That’s all.” She lowered her gaze meekly. “Thank you for stopping by. I really don’t feel like talking right now.”

“Sure, I understand,” the other woman said, but her frown contradicted her words. “I have to go. The children are sleeping.”

She didn’t look back as she hurried across the adjoining yards. Jill glanced at the street then closed and locked the door.

“She lied to me.” She met Paul’s gaze as he stepped into the hall. “She told me she knew nothing about Kate and her son. That the children never played together. I don’t understand why.” She shook her head. “This makes no sense at all. And I think she figured out I wasn’t Kate before she left.”

The fire in his eyes had her pulse skipping before he even spoke. “You need to come with me. There’s something you should see.”

He’d found something. Jill’s stomach executed an unsettling flip-flop.

Still clasping the photograph, she followed him into the coat closet and then down to what she presumed to be a basement.

“What is this place?” She’d had no idea her sister’s storm shelter was…like this.

Paul glanced around the room, then up at the ceiling. “I think it’s a large vault. Looks fireproof. Concrete and really thick. The house plans likely listed it as a safe room.” He motioned for her to join him at a table. “Pull up a chair and take a look at this stuff. I’m going through the file cabinets.”

Disbelief and horror clawed its way into her throat as Jill scanned folder after folder. No one would really perform these kinds of experiments on humans? Would they?

But they had. The reports…detailed descriptions. Dear God. Jill shook her head. No. God didn’t have anything to do with this.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she finally looked up, stretched her neck. Paul was still poring through drawers of files. None of the subjects were named. All were designated by a number. Somewhere there had to be a database that linked these numbers with names.

“This is... unbelievable.” Her throat had gone dry, her heart felt strangely distressed. “I’m not sure I can quite grasp that it’s real.” Genetic tampering, strange experiments that she didn’t know how to begin to describe. Transplanting embryos, cloning. It was too incomprehensible.

Paul paused long enough to look at her. “It’s real all right. The really scary part is that it’s probably just the tip of the iceberg. I’m—”

A muffled sound echoed overhead.

“Stay put,” he ordered.

If someone was in the house they would notice the closet door standing open and then...

Fear tightened around her throat. Paul took the stairs two at a time. What if it was the chief? Or...? She couldn’t label the other threat. It was too enormous to encompass with a single individual or entity. Too awful to name.

She reached for the photograph she’d taken from Kate’s hobby room and clutched it to her chest. Was there any place safe from what lay outside these walls? Jill was certain that for her and the people she loved, there wasn’t.

“Jill!”

She moved to the bottom of the stairs. “Who’s up there?” Fear pounded through her veins.

Paul was halfway down the stairs now, reaching for her. “We have to get out of here.”

Her nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of smoke following him. Fire?

“Hurry! The house is on fire!”

Chapter 13

“You’ve destroyed evidence. I could get you disbarred for this!” The chief glowered at Jill.

“We didn’t start the fire, chief.” It took every ounce of resolve Paul possessed not to lose it right now. But he couldn’t do that…not and protect Jill. Not and find the truth.