Chapter Two
AMY WAITED UNTIL the clinic doors had closed behind Marion and the boys before turning to the short, perky nurse behind the receptionists’ desk. “Dr. Zapa said she wanted to talk to me?”
“That’s right, Mrs. Chastain.” The girl stepped around the counter. “If you’ll follow me, please.”
Amy followed the woman down the carpeted hall and through the open door to Eve Zapa’s office.
“If you’ll take a seat, Dr. Zapa will be with you shortly. Would you like some coffee? The pot’s fresh.”
Amy swallowed hard, her stomach threatening to climb her throat, and shook her head. With a perfunctory smile, the nurse turned and disappeared through the door.
She wandered toward one of the plush chairs facing the glass desk. Apart from the lighted X-ray reader next to the door, the walls were bare. The surface of the desk was just as sterile. Perhaps the overall austerity of the space fed into the atmosphere of desperation that choked the air. Or more likely it was her own emotions suffocating the small room.
She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Enough with the pessimism. There was no reason to feel so defeated. It didn’t matter what Dr. Zapa had to say. She’d find a way to save her children. Anything short of a complete cure was unacceptable.
“Ah, Mrs. Chastain. Please take a seat,” Eve Zapa said from behind her.
Amy turned, watching as the slender, white-coated figure of her sons’ doctor glided into the room. As usual, Eve Zapa looked like she’d stepped out of the glossy pages of Vogue. Even the casual swing of her black hair, in its fashionable bob, looked exquisite and expensive.
The good doctor would have been easy to dislike on general principle, if not for the compassion gleaming in her dark eyes and the obsessive commitment she’d shown to Benji’s and Brendan’s health.
Eve made her way around the pristine glass desk. She placed a manila folder thick with reports and lab results on the glass surface between them, neatly seated herself, and folded her hands.
“The healing didn’t work, did it?” Amy forced a matter-of-fact tone, but her legs went weak and wobbly. Fearing they might not support her, she sank into the chair across from the desk.
When Western medicine had failed to neutralize the genetically modified biological isotope proliferating in her sons’ veins, she’d turned her hopes to alternative—even mystical—possibilities. Shadow Mountain had three strong metaphysical healers on its payroll.
“No. It didn’t.” Eve’s dark, steady gaze shimmered with empathy. “There was no change to the cellular structure in their blood. The markers are still present. The isotope is still active.”
Amy nodded, steadied her voice. “All three healers were there? Kait? One Bird? William?”
With a solemn nod, Eve shattered Amy’s final hope. “Yes, all three were present this time. The healing went as expected. It simply didn’t have an effect.”
Disappointment swelled, wrestled with her hard-fought optimism. She’d held such high hopes that this healing would work. Kait’s talent alone was miraculous. By Rawls’s account, she’d brought both him and Faith back from the brink of death. But even with Cosky there to boost her healing ability, Kait’s attempt at removing the isotope from Benji’s and Brendan’s cells had failed. That’s when Dr. Zapa and Dr. Kerry had discussed the possibility of a combined healing—one utilizing all three healers’ talents at once.
It had taken almost a week to arrange the ceremony. The Shadow Mountain healers, along with Cosky, had been gearing up to rescue Faith’s coworkers. They’d had to wait for the healers to return, and since the mission had incurred injuries, which had required healing, they’d had to wait several additional days for One Bird’s and William’s psychic energies to recharge.
If Kait’s gift alone was of such biblical proportions it could bring the dead back to life, shouldn’t all three of them together be able to perform something even more miraculous?
Apparently not.
Amy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Yes, this was a major disappointment. But there had to be other avenues to explore. Other things they could try.
“So what’s next?”
Eve looked down. It was a fleeting gesture, but Amy’s heart froze and then slammed into triple time. The fierce throb of her pulse flooded her ears. She knew what Eve was going to say before the other woman lifted her head or opened her mouth. That simple, instinctive response had told her everything.
“I’m afraid we’ve run out of options. Our attempts to neutralize the isotope have failed.” She paused to sigh. “Let’s back up. How much do you know about cellular biology?”
Fighting the panic fluttering in her belly, Amy shrugged. “Next to nothing.”
“Then let me give you a quick rundown of how cells acquire energy. It will give you a better understanding of our problem.” She ran a hand through her sleek black hair. “Within each cell there are adenosine triphosphate molecules—or ATPs. These molecules are made up of three chemically bonded phosphate molecules. When the chemical bonds between the phosphate molecules break, a flash of energy is released. The cells use this energy to power their processes.”
She paused to scowl and shake her head. “The isotope that was injected into your sons binds itself to the ATP molecule by mimicking the phosphate bonds. When the phosphate energy is released, the isotope siphons it off and uses it to power its signal. We still don’t understand how this signal is produced, but—” She broke off, frustration touching her face. “In any case, every attempt to disrupt the bond between the isotope and the ATP molecules has failed. Until we identify this compound and disrupt its bonding mechanism . . .” Her hands separated, going palms up in the universal gesture of helplessness.
“And if you can’t identify it?” The muscles in Amy’s jaw tightened at Eve’s silence.
It was time to explore other avenues, like how the compound had been delivered. Knowing who’d injected it would give her someone to hunt down, someone to demand answers from. “Do you know whether the isotype was delivered through a flu shot?”
“It’s certainly possible. H3N2 antibodies were found in both boys’ blood. We found traces of thimerosal as well, which is a preservative found in flu vaccines—so there’s no question the boys were given a flu shot. What’s less clear is whether the biological agent was delivered through the vaccine or whether the timing of the two events is coincidental.”
“The flu vaccine is the only injection the boys received.” Frowning in thought, Amy settled back into the armchair across from the gleaming desk. “Could the compound have been delivered in a different manner? Through food or drink? Or through the skin, like shampoo? Soap?”
Both scenarios meant someone close to them would have had to slip the isotope into their food or personal hygiene products. She shied away from the implications of that thought. The only people with such access to the boys were her mom, her dad, and Clay.
No. Her parents and brother were not behind this.
They couldn’t be.
Dr. Zapa shook her head. “My best guess would be that it was delivered through the flu vaccination. If the compound had been taken orally, stomach enzymes and acids would have neutralized it. As for absorption through the skin, the components of the isotope are too large to allow for transdermal absorption. It had to have been administered via injection.”
If the compound had been delivered through the flu shot, then the doctor who’d administered the vaccine would know where it had come from. Which gave her a place to start.
With a deep, calming breath, Amy refocused. “If this biological agent is siphoning off the cells’ energy, what will happen to the cells? How long will they continue to function normally?”
“We don’t know.” Eve’s dark eyes softened. “As of now the boys’ cells appear to be receiving enough energy from the ATP molecules to continue their normal cellular processes.” She shifted uneasily in her chair, her lab coat rasping slightly against the cloth upholstery. “How long this can continue is an open question. It would be wise to restrict their activity. The less energy they burn, the less stress on the individual cells. We’ll need to monitor them closely, but until we know what we’re dealing with, that’s about all we can do.”
“Restrict their activity . . .” Amy echoed wryly, her stomach constricting. “Have you met Benji?”
But some of the ache in her tight chest eased. The news could have been worse. Much worse. While the danger was still present, Benji’s and Brendan’s cells hadn’t started deteriorating yet. She just had to find a way to neutralize the compound before they did. Clay was the logical place to start since he’d brought in the doctor who’d injected the flu vaccine.
Commander Mackenzie’s darkly handsome face flashed through her mind. Mac was certain that Clay had been instrumental in shooting her boys full of that damn compound, and he wasn’t shy about bombarding her with his suspicions. His belief that her brother was involved with the NRO meant the commander would step up and accompany her when she confronted her brother—whether she wanted him to or not.
Mackenzie was a pit bull when something mattered to him, and finding a conduit to Eric Manheim, one of the men responsible for setting up Mac and his buddies, as well as for killing his friend Rear Admiral McKay, was of vital importance to him.
She wanted to see Manheim pay as well. Not only was the NRO directly responsible for injecting her children with a life-threatening isotope, but they’d also taken the life of the man she’d loved—the father of her children.
That earlier splinter of pain sharpened, but not as much as she’d expected. Although it had been only five months, John’s death already felt like a lifetime ago. With a careful breath, she pushed the residual pain aside and focused on the mission at hand.
Mac’s certainty that Clay was involved made him the perfect partner. He’d back her play because confronting Clay would benefit him as much as her.
She frowned, remembering the menacing byplay between the two men back when they’d picked up Benji and Brendan. While she preferred Mac’s in-your-face confrontational style to Clay’s sneering and mental games, Mac was an expert at escalating tense situations. And God knows her brother was already feeling defensive and unappreciated.
What a fun meeting this was going to be. Clay could be a stuffy, pretentious ass when his back was up, and Mac would make sure his back was up. Still, it had to be done. She needed to find the doctor who’d injected her boys.
Benji’s and Brendan’s lives depended on it.
Mac swore beneath his breath as he headed across the clinic lobby. It wouldn’t hurt to offer support, which she’d turn down, thereby alleviating him of this unwelcome chore. With that in mind, he approached the reception desk only to stop short when Amy suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her pace faltered when she saw him but quickly picked up tempo again.
He studied her tight face, which was a chiseled mask of resolve. Whatever news the doctor had imparted hadn’t skewered her. Rather, it had forged a spine of steel. Admiration stirred. Hands down, she was the strongest woman he’d ever known.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of him.
Mac shrugged. “Marion was worried about you. Didn’t want you to be alone. What did the doc have to say?”
She frowned slightly, scanned his face, and then rolled her shoulders before squaring them again. “The last healing didn’t work.”
He caught the barest hint of a waver at the beginning of the sentence, which indicated that she’d pinned a hell of a lot of hope on the outcome of that healing. An insane urge hit—to lean forward and drag her into his arms, to offer her the comfort she so clearly needed. Before he had a chance to act on the horrifying impulse, her voice firmed. She stepped back, retreating into her habitual mask of capability.
Thank Christ.
“With Kait?” He fought to keep an even tone and his hands to himself.
He still found it damn near impossible to believe that Kait Winchester had healed the double tap to Rawls’s chest and dragged him back from the dead. Sure, he’d witnessed the miracle with his own eyes, but he still had trouble wrapping his brain around it.
Metaphysical healing? Hands-on healing? No shit?
Even now, a voice deep inside him insisted that he’d misinterpreted what he’d seen or that Kait had somehow tricked them. A Penn and Teller performance, if you will. Although how in the hell she’d managed that and then continued to fool the Shadow Mountain brass . . .
“Kait, William, and One Bird,” Amy corrected, her voice so steady it sounded wooden. “Their three strongest healers. But it didn’t work. The compound is still active.”
Sympathy stirred. The circumstances had to be unbearable for her. Christ only knew what that toxic shit inside her kids was doing to their bodies or how long they’d survive if the isotope wasn’t neutralized soon.
“What’s the next step?”
“There isn’t one.” For a second her voice went breathless and high. She stopped talking to clear her throat.
That earlier insane impulse to wrap her in his arms struck again. His arms twitched. His fingers flexed. He held his breath and took a careful step backward, relaxing as her breathing stabilized.
“They’ve explored every avenue available to them. Until they identify the compound, there isn’t much they can do.” Resolve hardened her face again. “Dr. Zapa believes the compound was delivered through the flu shot, as you suspected.” She held Mac’s gaze unflinchingly. “That gives me a place to start looking for answers.”
She meant Clay Purcell, her brother. He’d been the one to arrange the flu shot. Mac cocked his head, studying her face. She’d been damn resistant to that possibility earlier.
If they were to believe Pachico, the tracking isotope had been developed by Dynamic Solutions and given to the NRO by James Link, the company’s interim CEO. Of course, the information had come courtesy of a fucking ghost, since Pachico had been dead at the time of his interrogation. Considering the circumstances, it was kinda hard to put much faith in the information. Hell, Pachico had been sketchy with the truth when he’d been alive, and they’d gone and questioned his ghost?
Yeah, right. He shook his head in disbelief. It would be nice to get some collaborative evidence that Link and Dynamic Solutions were behind the isotope.
“You’re going after your brother?”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “I’m going to ask Clay to put me in touch with the physician who administered the shot. Whoever gave the boys the vaccine knows where it came from, which makes them my best chance of tracking the compound back to its source.” She paused to take a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly released it. “Clay would never endanger the boys on purpose. He loves us. I have absolutely no doubt about that. However, I do recognize his weaknesses. Clay can be short-sighted and impatient. It’s quite possible he listened to the wrong people, which opened up the opportunity for someone to inject the isotope.”
Mac grunted, locking his instant disagreement down. His bullshit meter—which had served him well throughout his life—had warped into the red zone during the rendezvous to pick up Brendan and Benji. The moment Purcell had opened his mouth and started needling Amy about her kidnapping and subsequent rape, he’d known the bastard was involved. The verbal attacks hadn’t been those of a devoted, protective brother, but rather a narcissistic blowhard. The woman was too loyal to see what was right in front of her nose.
How fucking ironic. He’d finally found a woman who was loyal to her core, and that integrity could easily get her killed.
“What’s your plan?” It would accomplish nothing to confront her about Clay . . . again. Besides, she was on the right track.
Her asshole of a brother was involved in this whole mess. If they could force him to give up who’d administered the vaccine, they’d have a starting place, someone to point them toward the entity behind the isotope. Knowing who developed it was crucial in their efforts to neutralize it.
“You calling him?” Mac prodded. They’d have to play the conversation on speaker so he could listen in.
“No,” she said slowly, a distant look on her face. “I need to see him. Face to face.”
Mac’s forehead wrinkled. Why face to face? Maybe she wasn’t so certain of Clay’s innocence after all. Her questions could be asked and answered over the phone. To insist on a physical conversation almost had to mean she wanted to see his expressions, judge his truthfulness. Which indicated her family loyalty might be wearing thin.
Scrubbing his hand over his head, Mac simply nodded, more than happy to play nice with her plan. He too wanted to see the bastard’s face when they interrogated him. Amy might believe her brother had been tricked into betraying her, but he was equally certain the sadistic bastard had been in on everything from the very beginning.
“I’ll get hold of Wolf.” Mac pivoted, suddenly energized. “See what he can do about getting us down to Seattle.”
Amy matched his pace. “Normally I’d point out that you should remain here since you have a price on your head. But you’ll just ignore the warning, so I’ll refrain from pointing out the sheer foolishness of you accompanying me.”
Mac slid her a quick sideways glance. “A warrant, not a price.”
Shrugging, Amy walked through the clinic door beside him. “Do you honestly think that the NRO hasn’t put a contract out on you and your men? They can’t afford to have you taken into custody.”
Yeah . . . Mac frowned. She had a point there. Manheim and his buddies at the New Ruling Order probably did want him out of the way. But then the same could be said about Amy. The NRO couldn’t afford her account of events any more than they could afford his. Hell, she was much more dangerous to them. They’d managed to thoroughly discredit him and his boys. But Amy was still a media darling, a victim of flight 2077, the grieving widow of a bona-fide hero. Her account would be credible. She’d be believed.
Adrenaline suddenly surged through him.
Over his dead body would anyone touch a hair on this woman’s head. And that included her fucking brother.
His stride increased as boredom fell away and plans took shape. Finally he had something to strategize, something to do. They needed a team, backup. Men he could trust.
Luckily he had the perfect trio in mind.