The Day Before (28 page)

“He won't believe me.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But you have to try, you know?” He nodded. “Good. Have . . . have someone tell my parents I was doing my job. They'll understand. And tell MacKenzie it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have done anything. Tell him to take my dog.” Poor Mac. She wished she had the time to say good-­bye. At least she hadn't taken him to meet Marrins and an unwelcome end.

The machine's whining grew louder. Krenstien cut his circuit short and moved into the safety zone marked by yellow tape. Sam couldn't help but notice that she and Troom were both lying in the death zone, the riptide of time was just waiting to suck them down and smash them to brittle bits.

Fun.

Nodding to Troom, she army-­crawled forward. Sam stopped and pushed herself to a crouch when Marrins started hitting buttons. Her ankle burned. Her arm ached.
It's just for a moment,
she promised herself. She glanced back. Henry was crouched near the door, watching with a terrified expression. She nodded, and he opened the door. As light from the hall stabbed the dark lab, she erupted into motion, lifting the baton and hurling it at the machine like a spear.

It missed, bouncing off Marrins's arm instead, but she was already twisting away. He yelled out, drawing his sidearm. Sam ducked, rolling forward in the confusion of light and darkness, and came up with the truncheon in her hand again, slamming it into the machine as someone tried to pull her away.

The machine fizzled, blue-­green light washed in kaleidoscope ripples around the room and fell dark.

“Sam! Down!”

She hit the floor before she realized what was going on. Lights were turning on as the machine died. There was a gunshot. She recoiled on involuntary reflex, waiting for the burn.

It didn't come.

Agent Marrins dropped beside her, a stunned expression on his face.

Blood dripped on the tile floor as another gunshot sounded. She flinched, shutting her eyes. There was a burst of noise, more gunshots, the sound of bodies dropping, then an eerie silence.

Someone touched her leg, and she screamed.

The light flickered off as the machine behind her coughed a death rattle. There was pain, and the soft sound of liquid hitting the tile. Sam forced herself to open her eyes and turn. Light from the hallway silhouetted a bulky figure in exo-­armor kneeling beside her. “Captain United, I presume?” she joked with a tear-­filled laugh.

“Close, but not quite,” the man said, his voice calm, deep, and familiar.

“Mac?” Tears stung her ripped cheek.

Strong hands helped her sit up. “Captain United was busy, beautiful. Will a US Army Ranger do?” She started crying in relief. He slung his gun over his back. “How bad are you hurt?”

“Facial contusions and some bruises. I might have a concussion, I was feeling pretty light-­headed for a bit. Oh, and my ankle is definitely broken.”

“The left one?” Mac guessed as he unrolled something from his pack.

“How did you know?”

“Jane's autopsy. She had a fractured left ankle that had healed over.” Tenderly, he lifted her leg as she winced. “Consider me your doctor for the evening.” She gasped as his warm fingers probed gentle flesh. “Broken. Can you hold a flashlight?” he asked as he pulled one out of his bag.

“Sure.” She eased back against the bulk of the dead machine. It was surprisingly cold for something that had sucked up so much energy.

Mac flicked the flashlight on, illuminating a smile. “Do you have that black-­lace bra on, because if you do, I have this fantasy about—­”

She kicked him with her good foot.

“What? I've always wanted to rescue a girl wearing a black-­lace bra. Can't a man dream?”

“Unlock me, MacKenzie.”

He dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Standard bureau-­issue-­cuff master key. I picked it up earlier this evening.”

“When?” She twisted her head to watch him unlock her arm.

Mac grimaced. “On my second trip to the office. Did you know the bureau armory doesn't have any serious bullets? All we have are those rubber ones. I miss the States, it was easier to find weapons there.”

She glanced sideways, where the bulk of Agent Marrins lay still, and shuddered.
He missed the States, too . . .
“It looks like you found something effective.”

“Hmmm,” Mac said noncommittally as he finished wrapping her ankle. “Yeah. I'm not sure if any of the toys I brought are legal.” He moved around her and unlocked the cuffs.

She rubbed her wrists. “Thank you for coming for me. I know . . .” She took a ragged breath. Her heart was racing, and the tears were coming back. “How'd you even find me?”

“Bri called.
Your
phone. I was coming to give it to you and saw Marrins dragging you to his car.”

“My hero. Thank goodness you have that combat training . . .” Her face went ashen. “Oh, Mac, I'm so sorry . . .”

A weary smile spread across his face as he slid her other shoe off. “It's okay. I almost didn't come. I thought I couldn't.”

“But you did.”

“Tomorrow, I'll have nightmares about not getting here in time. When I start screaming, you can come tell me everything is fine.”

“Even in my pajamas?”

He chuckled. “I'd love that.” Strong arms scooped her up. He was warm, solid, comforting, Sam rested her head on his chest and took comfort from the quiet beat of his heart. “Stay just like that, beautiful.” Cool air from the hall brushed over her skin, and she shivered. “Keep your eyes shut,” Mac said. “You don't want to see this.”

She squirmed, wanting to see what he wanted to hide. A hand covered her eyes. “Don't look. You don't need to see this,” he repeated. “Trust me.”

I do.

He didn't move his hand until the door clanged shut behind them. Police sirens screamed in the distance. “There's the cavalry.”

“How are you going to explain this?” Sam asked.

Mac's truck beeped as he unlocked it. “What do I need to explain? I'm a bureau agent who put down a group of home-­grown terrorists and exposed a weakness in the local police force.”

“With no orders?”

“The senior agent for the district was incapacitated. As the only other level four in the district, I made a command decision.”

Sam gasped, tilting her head back to look up at him. “You're serious? You outrank me?”

“Probably not for long.” Mac chuckled. “If they don't promote you after tonight, I'll be surprised.”

“You outrank me! Why didn't you ever say so?” She slapped his arm in mock outrage.

“I'm a doctor, too, and you never use that title,” he pointed out, as police cars flooded the parking lot.

“You were a medic,” Sam said.

He grinned. “Before I went to the army med school. I'm not a brain surgeon, but I'm a pretty good for a field surgeon.”

She put her head back down. “I like a man who's full of surprises.” Mac sat in the car, holding her tight until the EMTs took her away.

In the ambulance, she missed the feel of his arms around her.

 

CHAPTER 28

One person can change the world. One person can tip the favor of balance against us. If this is so, then I say: Kill that person. No single person should have that kind of power.

~ Colonel Aina—­Commandant of the Ministry of Defense War Colleges I1-­ 2072

Monday July 8, 2069

Alabama District 3

Commonwealth of North America

A
gent Benjamin Anan stood by Sam's hospital bed, frowning. “Listen, Rose, I'm not trying to belittle you. I know you've been through a traumatic experience, and I am trying to help you. Now, once more, who unlocked the handcuffs and helped you get out of the building?” The setting sun glinted off his gold pen as he waited for answers.

“Once again, I repeat, Dr. Emir unlocked the handcuffs the first time.”

“The Dr. Emir who died last week?”

“No, the Dr. Emir who killed that Emir last week.”

“His twin?”

Sam rolled her eyes. They'd been stuck on the same question since Anan showed up with breakfast, and even she was beginning to question what she'd seen.

“Come on, throw me a bone. I'm on your side.”

“Maybe it was his clone,” Sam finally said.

Anan snapped his notebook shut. “Thank you! That, at least, is something I can use in court. Time machines? Agents who are also serial killers? Do you know what a mess this is? And I've got to go to court to cover all of this as the bureau's representative down here.” He looked longingly at the chair beside her bed.

“I was there for all of it, and if you'd sign the release paperwork, I'd handle this in court.”

“You know that can't happen. If you represented the bureau's case, it would become a game of he said she said. It's already embarrassing enough.”

“I haven't done anything wrong.”

A nurse pushed aside the curtain. To Sam's surprise, Lacey Altin scowled back at the two of them. “Officer, visiting hours were over ten minutes ago.”

“My apologies, Nurse, I just have a few more questions.”

“So does her doctor,” Lacey said, pushing the curtain aside and wheeling in a tray with a cocktail of drugs. “Now you either get on out of here, or I'll put a shot of this painkiller in your butt and admit you for a concussion when you hit your head on the ground.”

Sam swallowed a giggle.

“Get!” Lacey Altin drew herself up to her full Valkyrian height and pointed at the door, chin trembling with fierce pride.

Anan held his hands up in surrender. “I'm going. Sorry. I didn't realize things were that strict around here. Rose?” He slapped the door lintel. “If you think of anything, give me a call.”

“Bless his heart,” Lacey muttered. “How you doing?”

Sam shrugged. “I ache everywhere. Nothing makes sense. I want to go home, but I think I'm going to go to jail.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Do you think you can handle one more visitor?”

“Yeah. I won't promise I'll answer their questions, but they can come in.”

On cue, Detective Altin turned the corner holding a picnic basket. “Hey, Rose.” The distinct aroma of Miss Azalea's fried chicken filled the room.

“Hi.” Her stomach grumbled. If he wasn't planning on sharing that chicken, he was going to wind up in the bed next door with a broken arm.

Altin kissed his wife on the cheek. “Thank you, honey.”

“Ten minutes,” Lacey warned, “and then you have to be out of here.”

Sam motioned to the empty chair beside her. “Have a seat. Are you allowed to tell me anything?”

“Officially? No. That's why I'm here after hours.” He propped the basket on his knee. “I swung by your place, had a quiet chat with your ME, and brought you some real food. Your landlady threatened to report police abuse if I didn't see you were fed.”

Sam clapped her hands. “I'll tell you everything, just feed me! Tofu burgers do not live up to the hype.”

With a chuckle, Altin set the basket on her bedside table. “All right, I think I got most of the story from MacKenzie. The machine you broke killed Melody. Marrins killed Robbins and Emir. It took a bit of doing, but we found the bullets, and they match the ones from the gun he had on him at the lab.” He sighed. “I was going to tell you on Monday. I've got the warrant and everything. I think Robbins was going to back out, tell someone what happened, and Marrins had a golden opportunity to silence Robbins and get you off the case.” He leaned back in his chair shaking his head.

“Marrins arranged the interview in D.C., so he could dump the body at my house?” She couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice.

“I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. I should have let you know as soon as I suspected anything. After Emir's death, the phone call you had . . . things started to click. I knew someone was trying to get you, but I didn't figure Marrins would ever go that far. I feel guilty as hell.”

Lacey cleared her throat. After a stern warning look for her husband, she went back to silently counting out Sam's pain pills.

Sam shrugged. “You told me it could be someone in the bureau. You warned me, and I didn't want to believe you. Even if you had warned me about Marrins, I wouldn't have believed you. There was no way I would have believed a bureau agent was involved.”

Altin crossed his arms with a frown.

It wasn't worth arguing over. “When's the trial start?” Sam opened the basket and pulled out a piece of greasy chicken. Heaven. Artery-­clogging, horrible-­for-­your-­hips heaven.

“Friday. Closed court. No jury. Since everyone involved was a government employee, they've decided to do a judges' panel. I don't think five of them is enough, but I'm old-­fashioned like that. And they couldn't find any other judges with the security clearance to see all the information. I don't have clearance, but I will by Thursday.”

Sam was confused. “Mordicai Robbins wasn't a government employee: he was a civilian contractor. So was Melody.”

“The murder cases won't go to court. The guilty party is dead, case closed, justice done.”

There was a long silence. She knew what the next question had to be, the tension was gnawing at her, but still . . .” What about me? Do you know what's happening to me?”

“Psych testing, physical therapy, and weekly mental-­health meetings is my guess. I'm not entirely sure what Agent Anan is going to recommend. Except for the psych eval—­I saw the paperwork on that. Kinkarri is a good doctor. You'll like her.”

“What about Mac?”

“What about him?”

“Is he in trouble?”

Altin shook his head. “The bureau's using him as the example of a national hero, swooping in to save the day at the last possible moment. No mention of the PD assist. We never get credit.”

“And neither do I? What the hell? I had things under control!” Sam protested. “Mostly.”
Except for the fact I was probably about to be executed after I broke the machine.
“I was trying at least. Why am I the victim?”

“You don't want the answer to that,” Altin said.

“Of course she doesn't,” Lacey cut in sarcastically. “That's why she was asking. Here, honey, take these. That's a good girl.” She patted Sam on the back as she swallowed the pills with a glass of lukewarm water.

Altin patted her good knee. “No one likes a self-­rescuing damsel in distress, but you'll survive. No one gets to the top of their field without getting some bad press.”

“Top of my field? Altin, all I want at the end of the trial is to still have a job!” Sam collapsed back onto her pillows.