Finding Grace (4 page)

Make that Dr. Thorne. He finished the CODIS file and
searched for anything related.

He scanned the newspaper articles first and stared
at the photo. She might have been pretty, it was hard to tell with
the big glasses she was wearing. They weren’t tinted or as cool as
the ones she wore now. Her hair had been long and dark, pulled back
tight. She looked so small, so young and so very serious staring
back at him. She reminded him of a young owl. Of course, she’d been
barely twenty then and had just received her doctorate in computer
sciences.

The later photos, the ones from the court records,
had been taken around a year later. Flipping through them and
reading the doctors’ testimony was like watching a horror movie he
couldn’t look away from. Almost twenty years on the force should
have prepared him. It hadn’t. He nearly ended up losing his coffee
to his wastebasket.

If she’d weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet in
that first photo, she must have weighed less than seventy in the
later ones. And the injuries…God, the injuries.

He was thankful that his officer hadn’t seen more,
hadn’t seen the same scars around Thorne’s neck and ankles, or the
cigarette burns covering much of the skin on her torso. Skin the
doctors said had also been flayed by some kind of whip. They’d
tried to fix her, smooth out the skin. He couldn’t see much of an
improvement in the photos.

Then there was the internal damage. They couldn’t
repair much of that, either. Dr. Thorne would never have
children.

His stomach rolled again as he tried to forget.
Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep. She’d
been missing for six weeks before turning up in a backroad ditch,
in a coma. A newspaper article mentioned that the guy who’d found
her had needed counseling. After seeing those photos, Luke wasn’t
surprised.

The court records also contained mug shots of three
men. Three; Christ Almighty. They’d been found and prosecuted.
Thorne had been in no condition to testify and that had hurt the
DA’s case. But even if he couldn’t make the attempted murder stick,
they should never have gotten off with less than ten years for the
rape, torture, and kidnapping. So what if it was a first offense
for all three? It was one damning hell of an offense.

No wonder Thorne didn’t believe in the system. It’d
failed her miserably. Luke’s fist slammed onto his desk, rattling
everything on it and not making him feel the least bit better.

A short newspaper article further on did make him
feel better, though. All three men had met with peculiar accidents
just after arriving in prison. Electrocution. Something to do with
the door locks, investigators had surmised. Thorne had been called
in for questioning, of course, but she’d been in a cyber cafe when
it happened. The log had revealed her searching graphic novel sites
and shopping for shoes. The shoes should have tipped them off, but
Luke suspected that no one had really wanted to pin the deaths on
her anyway.

Electrocution was fitting, though, considering what
he’d read in one of the transcripts. Luke doubted he’d be able to
hear her rough voice again without wincing. It was no wonder it
sounded that way.

And no wonder about all the rest of it—the way she’d
made herself physically strong, the whole tough punk act, the way
she tried to hide that she was a woman, and why she was so angry.
It all made a lot of damn sense. The shrinks had been sure she’d
never recover and had tried to keep her confined. Yeah, right. That
explained the low profile she kept, too.

That, and the military file he was lucky to have the
clearance to access. A major from the DOD had marked Thorne as a
person of interest. It appeared that he’d been unsuccessful in
several attempts to recruit her prior to “the unfortunate
development,” as Thorne’s trip to hell was referred to in his
report. The major stated in no uncertain terms that Dr. Thorne was
not only a subversive and a mercenary who’d sold her genius to
foreign governments, but was mentally unstable and guilty of three
murders. The file conveniently left out what Thorne’s motive might
have been, along with substantive proof regarding the charges it
listed.

Luke had encountered a few like him. Men in
positions of power so fixed on their goals that collateral damage
to those under them never even entered the equation. Men so assured
in their righteousness that they were blind to the truth. Men like
that did more harm than good. They were dangerous to themselves and
whatever causes they served.

As far as Luke was concerned, there was only one
unanswered question: that of Thorne’s connection to the kidnappers.
But even they had denied there was anyone else involved.

Was it really a vision like she’d said? He had found
an obscure tabloid clipping that mentioned her solving a vicious
robbery and assault while she was still in the hospital.

Luke wasn’t as skeptical as Paul when it came to
psychics or other phenomena that were hard to explain. He ascribed
to the philosophy that the explanation that fit best, no matter how
strange, was probably the right one. He had to admit Thorne’s
ability, if she had one, made more sense than any other connection
to the kidnappers. And then there was the question of how she’d
known how he’d blown it with Sarah. There was no logical
explanation for that at all.

Now that he knew what he knew, he was worried. Gifts
like hers needed to be channeled to the forces of good before the
dark side could truly win her over. If she’d been an odd duck
before, she was well into a flock by now—not that anyone could
blame her. She already had a problem with authority; he’d seen that
for himself. He didn’t need to take the major’s word for it. Maybe
he’d read too many graphic novels himself, but she wasn’t someone
he’d like to see end up as the evil genius in this story.

And he’d fucking locked her up. Luke couldn’t
imagine what kind of memories it had brought back for her. Just
reading that shit had damn near brought back his coffee. He owed
her. Hell, the city owed her, never mind the Tierneys. And he just
happened to know someone who would be able to channel her skills,
someone who could guide her. Someone who’d want to protect her. God
knows, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to face her again.

For everyone’s sake, maybe especially his own, he
flipped open his cell phone.

“Paul? Luke…Oh yeah, I got a hit in CODIS all right,
but it’s not what you think. It’s nothing anyone would think, not
in their worst nightmares.” Luke let out a hard breath and went on.
“I’m calling because I want you to consider hiring Thorne…No, wait,
Paul. I’m going to breach twenty kinds of protocol to do this, but
I want you to read the CODIS report and everything else I found.
I’m sending the files now. It’ll take you a while to read it all,
long enough for me to have someone drop off the laptop so you can
bring it as a peace offering when you make your recruitment pitch.
I’ve got a hunch Thorne will be there…Well, not exactly
released…Hey, I resent that…No, I don’t think Thorne will talk to
me and I don’t blame her…Yeah, you heard right,
her
. And
bring Dagger, I think she likes him…Don’t ask me, I don’t know why
you hang around with that scary sonofabitch. Oh, and I think it’s
safe to say that she doesn’t want anyone to know about her, so
don’t tell him anything until after you’ve cleared it with
her…Because I don’t want her any more pissed at me than I’m sure
she already is…Trust me, you’ll be interested. You, um, might want
to read this stuff on an empty stomach though, Paul. It’s bad,
really bad. Well, let me know what happens after you talk to
her…Yeah, you will…Yeah, because I’m Captain fucking America,
that’s why.”

Luke clicked his cell phone off. He was going to go
see Sarah, just walk into her office and kiss the hell out of her
like Thorne had told him to. If nothing else, just to reassure
himself that she was okay and that there weren’t any monsters
lurking near her.

* * * *

“Uh, Thorne, you in there?” Paul had been knocking
for five minutes and Dagger was ready to make him leave and insist
he forget about the whole thing.

Then he heard a distinctive husky voice ask them,
“Who wants to know?”

“Paul Weston and Jack Daggery.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

Definitely Thorne. He couldn’t stop his grin. The
damn kid had lifted the corners of his lips more in the two days
since he’d met him than anything in the last year—including busting
those two lame clowns at the ball.

Paul blew out his breath and made a face, “Buzz and
Judas to you, I suppose. We have your laptop.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” The door opened about
an inch. “Why did Captain America give it to you? What do you
want?”

“Look, after yesterday, I’m not expecting any kind
of warm welcome. I was an asshole.”

That got Dagger’s attention. It was as close to an
apology as he’d ever heard Paul make to anyone besides his wife,
Katherine.

Paul said, “We have a proposal for you, Thorne. All
I ask is that you hear me out. Here’s your laptop, whether you let
us in or not. But, ah, may we come in?”

Dagger was trying to understand what the hell was
going on. He’d been out when Lieutenant Rigby had called Paul. When
he’d come back, Paul had informed him that they were going to
recruit Thorne. No discussion.

What Thorne had said the day before in the
interrogation room had nailed it, however the kid had known. Paul
was a natural leader and Dagger—well, he guessed he was a natural
bogeyman. It was best for the company if Paul was the boss and
afforded Dagger ample latitude to do what he did best—keep order
among the men and scare the fuck out of anyone who might want to
threaten whatever it was they were being paid to protect.

But he couldn’t believe Paul had out-and-out refused
to tell him anything more about Thorne, had just asked Dagger to
trust him on it. It wasn’t a card Paul had ever played before, and
he felt bound to honor it. But that didn’t mean he was happy about
it. Not one fucking bit.

On top of it, Paul had asked him to come with, and
that made less sense than anything so far.

He wasn’t sure what he expected the kid’s place to
look like, but this wasn’t it. The first thing he noticed was all
the color. There were balls of yarn everywhere, arranged in
rainbows. Well, that figured, anyway. There were just as many
books, stacks used as construction materials for shelves that held
the yarn and one that functioned as a table with a lamp on it. A
lot of them bore labels from the secondhand bookstore he’d spotted
around the corner. Dagger wondered if the kid had read them
all.

There was no TV. Who the hell lived without a
TV?

Paul was acting stranger by the minute. First,
there’d been the apology and now it looked like he was hunting some
particularly wild and spooked prey. He was moving in front real
slow, letting Dagger hang back to cover the rear; holding the
laptop out like bait, not looking directly at Thorne, using his
softest, least threatening tone.

Thorne seemed to be moving a little stiffly, but he
managed to snatch the laptop from Paul before motioning them
inside. “Um, pull up a seat.” The kid waved his hand vaguely around
the room before flipping open the laptop briefly, closing it again
and plugging it into a charger in the wall. “Did Captain America
say anything? I can tell prying fingers got pinched, but not how
badly.”

Then he just plopped down on a blindingly bright
quilt covering a mattress on the floor and started knitting like
they were three old ladies at a stitch ’n bitch.

He and Paul were still standing. The single chair in
the kitchen was the only thing besides the mattress or the floor to
sit on. Paul squatted down just far enough from Thorne to give the
kid his space, but close enough that he towered over him some.

Dagger slid down an empty piece of wall and
stretched out his legs, folded his arms across his chest, and
watched Paul do his thing. He figured he was just along for effect.
Just what effect exactly, he wasn’t sure.

Paul said, “The lieutenant didn’t mention anything,
but knowing what I do, I can imagine. Warning him was definitely a
gesture of good faith.”

Thorne had stopped knitting and was looking at Paul
like he was trying to read his mind.

Finally the kid shrugged and said, “I hope he
listened to me. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for some kind of
crime database meltdown. But I have a right to protect my work. Now
what do you want from me, Mr. Weston?”

Dagger remembered that Thorne had said something
yesterday about not hooking the laptop into a network. So it hadn’t
been a bluff. But the kid still seemed awful tense. There had to be
more. Why the fuck hadn’t Paul told him what was going on?

“We’re here, Thorne, to offer you a job with our
company, Blackridge. One better suited to your, ah, skills, than
the catering business.”

“Satisfied I’m not connected to the kidnappers? I
can’t work with someone looking over my shoulder, not trusting me.
And what makes you think I’m looking for that kind of job? I take
it Blackridge is a security outfit.”

Dagger noted the kid’s shoulders had relaxed, in
spite of what he just said. He’d been afraid Paul was going to talk
about something else. What? Dagger wondered. And yeah, what about
the kidnapping attempt, damn it?

Paul shifted and Dagger felt his friend’s
discomfort. “Listen Thorne, I’m not going to lie to you and tell
you that I believe any of your crap about visions, but however you
knew they were coming, you saved a woman’s life. The lieutenant is
convinced you had nothing to do with the kidnappers and that’s good
enough for me. However, there are a couple of things on your, um,
resume I’d like to discuss with you privately.”