Project Renovatio (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Rana’s ringtone jolted her into consciousness, and her heart raced when she didn’t recognize her surroundings. The caller ID reminded her: she was at Levin’s apartment. Maggie drove her here last night–or early this morning.

“Hello?” She couldn’t hide the grogginess in her voice.

“I woke you. Sorry. I picked up Dayla from Alicia’s house, and we’re on our way to you.” Levin’s voice boomed through the phone.

“What time is it?” She searched for her phone to check the time before remembering she held it against her head.

“Almost 10:30. Did Maggie leave?”

Rana rose from the couch and wandered around his meticulously neat apartment. “I don’t see her.” She glanced outside. “Her car’s not here.”

“Good. I sent her . . . away. We’ll get there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” She ended the call.

Twenty minutes. Plenty of time to take a shower.

She scanned the room for the backpack she’d hastily stuffed with clothes when the police told her she couldn’t stay at her mother’s house. It rested upside-down next to the front door.

While the water ran over her skin, she tried to sort out last night’s events. Most of the images felt like a dream, as if she could go home and see her mom sitting at the table and drinking coffee. When she recalled the smaller details–her mom’s voice during her last phone call, her panic when she saw the blood, the terror of thinking Walt had died–she found herself doing more crying than washing.

Keys jostled from the front door as she toweled off. Levin’s voice came through the bathroom door, and Rana rushed to get dressed.

She emerged from the bathroom. Dayla sat on the couch, clutching her backpack and staring at the wall. Dayla made eye contact with Rana, dropped her backpack, and ran into Rana’s open arms. Levin stood in the kitchen and talked on his phone. He still wore the cargo shorts and blue T-shirt he had on the night before.

“Levin said we can’t go home.” Dayla spoke into Rana’s bicep, muffling her words.

“Yeah. Did he tell you why?”

“Something happened to Mom and Dad.”

“That’s right, but we don’t know what yet. We’re staying here until it’s safe to go home.”

Rana squeezed Dayla, thankful her sister hadn’t seen the house.

Levin joined them. “That was a nurse at the hospital. Walt woke up. I’m going there now. You and Dayla stay here. Call work and tell them you’re not coming in.”

“I’m not scheduled today.”

“Good. Just lay low. I brought in some groceries. Help yourself.”

Dayla released herself from Rana’s arms and entered the kitchen. The mention of food must have made her hungry.

Rana lowered her voice and stepped closer to Levin. “Have you slept?”

“No. I’m fine. I went back to the house this morning to let the cleaning people in.” He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. “How are you doing?”

Her eyes burned. “I’m scared,” she said in a near whisper.

He pulled her close for a hug. “So am I.” He released her, took her by the hand, and led her to the couch, where they sat facing each other. Dayla rejoined them, sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, and peeled a banana. Rana considered sending her away again but decided she probably needed to know more of their situation. Her mother was missing, too. Still, Rana hoped her sister wasn’t entirely listening. 

“I’ve been up all night, partly because I had no choice, and partly because I’ve been thinking.” Levin leaned closer to Rana and lowered his voice. “Do you remember what Scott said about why PR created us?”

“Yeah. To survive. We’re supposed to be smarter and stronger and healthier than everyone else.”

“Right. So, why don’t we use that to find Mom? Or to fight PR? Or whatever we have to do? We can do things the police won’t or can’t do. I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend to sit back and wait to see if people who don’t know our mom or our situation can find her.”

“Okay. So what do we do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to visit Walt and see if he knows anything, and then I’m picking Scott up at the airport. I’ll take him to the house to look for anything that will help us.”

“Where’s Maggie?”

“I sent her to her uncle’s place in Arizona until I figure out what’s going on and how to keep her safe.”

“She left just because you told her to?”

Levin scowled. “Well, not
just
because I told her to. She wants to stay safe too. If anyone asks you–and I mean anyone–tell them we broke up and I don’t know where she is.”

“Even Scott?”

“Yeah. I’m not taking any chances. I’ll call you later.” He gave Rana a quick hug and stood. “Call me if you notice anything weird.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

****

After driving a few miles from his apartment, Levin turned his mother’s phone back on, in case she needed to reach them and only knew her own number. Project Renovatio likely had her information, and he didn’t want them tracking her phone and figuring out where he lived. His paranoia made him uncomfortable. Part of him wished the police hadn’t given the phone to him, but he couldn’t have found Dayla without it.

He met two police officers at the hospital. They walked together to Walt’s room, but Levin entered first, leaving the officers in the hall.

Walt lay in bed and stared out the window. His blond hair looked dirty, and he needed a shave. It occurred to Levin that he needed a shave, too, and he touched his jawline to confirm the presence of stubble. 

“Hi, Walt,” Levin said from the door.

Walt looked at him. “Levin. I…what…”

Levin entered the room and stood next to the bed. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“The nurse said Rana found me passed out. She said someone drugged me,” he said through an unusually scratchy voice.

“That’s right. Did she tell you anything else?”

“No. Is your mom here?”

He took a deep breath. “No. She’s missing.”

“Missing?” Walt sat up.

“Yeah. When Rana got home from work last night, she found you on the floor and blood in the living room, but no sign of Mom. Rana called me, and I told her to call the police. They collected evidence. I have Mom’s phone.” He handed it to Walt.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Answer it if someone calls, I guess. The police are in the hallway and want to talk to you.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Levin went to the hall to retrieve the officers, who followed him into the room. Levin sat in a chair by the window.

“Good morning, sir. I’m Officer Wyatt, and this is Officer Ortiz. We worked on your wife’s case last night. We’d like to ask you some questions, if that’s all right.”

“Okay.”

“Rana said she spoke to her mother on the phone around 6:00 yesterday afternoon. She came home from her job at the store at 11:20, when she found you and the evidence in the living room.”

Walt’s attention wandered; he stared at the wall behind Levin.

“Sir, are you okay?” Officer Wyatt asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’m listening.”

“Okay. Can you remember anything that happened at your house after Rana’s call? Anything at all?”

“Well, let’s see. Liz and I ate dinner around 6:30, I guess it was. Dayla stayed the night at a friend’s house. We put a movie on after dinner. I remember someone rang the doorbell in the middle of the movie…” His words trailed off and he went back to blankly staring at the wall.

“Walt, do you remember who came to the door?” Levin asked.

“I, um, no.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I heard Liz yell.” He coughed as tears escaped. “I didn’t remember that before.” He brought his hand to his face and sobbed for a minute, pulled himself together, and continued. “I ran to see what happened, and a short guy with a ski mask on stuck a needle in my neck.” He moved his hand to his neck. “Here. I don’t remember anything after that. Next thing I know, I was waking up in here.”

“Do you remember looking out the front door? Did you see any vehicles? How many people entered your house?” Officer Ortiz asked in between taking notes.

“I dunno–two, maybe? I remember seeing another hooded guy in the front room before the short one got me.” He paused again and stared at his feet. “I shoulda answered the door. I coulda protected her. I told her I would protect her.”

“Protect her from what, sir?”

Walt looked to Levin, who took over, but cautiously. How much should he say? “My family is involved with a group–a research organization. They tried to be more invasive, so my mom sent them a letter telling them to back off. They threatened my girlfriend, but we didn’t think they would come after us.” Levin’s emotions caught in his throat; he cleared it. “I broke up with Maggie last night and told her to leave the state for a while. I don’t know where she went.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is this group still a threat to her?” Officer Wyatt asked.

“No. They wanted me to break up with her from the beginning. They have what they want now.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble for them to care about your love life. Do you know where they might have taken your mother?”

“We have the address where she sent the letter. It’s probably in her email.” He walked to Walt and took the phone. He searched on the touch screen before turning it around to the officers. “Here.”

Officer Ortiz jotted it down. “San Diego? I’ll call the department to get someone to check it out.” He left the room.

Officer Wyatt’s gaze followed his partner out the door before he turned to Levin. “What kind of research does this group do?”

Levin swallowed, remembering Scott’s warning about the public’s likely response if they knew of the Project. A few awkward seconds passed before he answered. “It has to do with genetics. It’s kind of complicated.”

“Genetics? Like what? Cloning?”

Levin glanced at the door. “No, not cloning.” What would Scott say? Too many silent seconds passed for Levin to elaborate.

“So what do they do?”

Officer Ortiz re-entered the room and handed a card to Walt, interrupting Officer Wyatt’s line of questioning. “All right. Thanks for your time. We’ll contact you if we find anything or if we have more questions. Call us if you have any additional information. Oh, and what’s the name of the research organization?”

Levin sighed with relief at the safer question. “Project Renovatio.” The cops could ask PR directly about their research.

The officer wrote it down. “Thanks. I hope you get to feeling better,” he said to Walt. He turned his attention to Levin. “Can we speak to you in the hall?”

Levin held his breath, nodded, and followed them out of the room. They walked through the hallway towards the elevators, where they stopped and faced him.

“Sir,” Officer Ortiz said, “can you tell us about the relationship between your mother and stepfather?”

Levin took a step back. “Uh, yeah, they get along all right.”

“Do you think your stepfather would do anything to your mother?” Officer Wyatt asked.

“No, I don’t think so. And besides, he was unconscious.”

The officer nodded and wrote in the notebook. “And what about you? Do you have a good relationship with your mother?”

He leaned forward. “Are you suggesting I had something to do with this?”

“No, sir, we just need to eliminate all the incorrect possibilities. Most of the time, these cases lead us to someone in the family.”

“My mother and I are fine. I love my family.”

The officer wrote in his notebook again. “Okay. Thank you. Call me if there’s anything else you can tell us.” The officers turned around and walked into the elevator.

****

Scott appeared ready to get right to business when Levin arrived at the airport. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing Dockers, a burgundy golf shirt, and carrying a laptop case. “Tell me everything that’s happened so far.”

Levin described the events as he drove, looking at the road and occasionally glancing at Scott. “Well, when Rana got home from work late last night, she found Walt–my mom’s husband–passed out on the floor. There was blood spray on the wall of the living room and blood on the carpet. She called me in a panic. I told her to call 9-1-1.”

“You called the police?”

Levin scrunched his eyebrows. “Yeah. Seemed like the thing to do with a missing person and blood everywhere.”

“All right. What else happened?”

“The police found a note. It said, ‘You should have listened. Tell Maggie to watch her back.’ That’s when I called you.”

“Where is Maggie now?”

Maggie was safe, but Levin paused as if holding back tears to make his lie more believable. He stared at the road. “I told her it wasn’t safe for us to stay together, that I love her too much to put her at risk. I told her to leave the state for a while and not talk to me. I don’t know where she went.”

“That’s good–for her, I mean. They’ll probably leave her alone.”