She shrank back. "What?"
He tossed them at her. "Tell me what the fuck you were thinkin when you wrote that."
She grabbed them, retrieved her glasses from the nightstand, and began to read. Astonishment warred with cold, sick dread as the words flashed through her brain.
Dear Ms. Pickering… the man you know as Jerry Bethlehem … recently an inmate at this facility… special experimental program… raped your mother… is your father … have his baby… murdered your mother… have initiated procedures to rescind his release and return him to this facility. . .
Signed with her name—only that wasn't her signature. Not even close.
She looked up at him. "I never wrote this! It's pure fiction! It's… it's deranged!"
"Don't gimme that!" he gritted through his clenched teeth. "Only you could have figured it out."
"'Figured it out'?" And then the meaning came through with a cold shock. "You mean it's true? That girl is your daughter?"
He shot to his feet and leaned over her. That was when she noticed some sort of iron bar in his hand.
"Cut the shit! You know damn well she is—you did the test!"
Julia shrank back against the headboard. "I did no such—"
"Shut up! You think I'm stupid? You think I go around givin out samples of my DNA?" He pointed the metal bar at her. She could see now that it was a tire iron. "No, it was you. It could only be you. You been suckin my blood and lookin at my genes since I got here. You gotta full file on me. You're the only one who coulda put this together."
… he murdered your mother . . .
She didn't doubt he had. Was this homicidal madman the Jeremy Bolton that girl's mother had seen before she died? And Gerhard—had he felt the fear slithering through her right now?
His diction had gone south—far south. And that, she knew, meant trouble. She glanced at her phone—no help there. Was he going to kill her? No. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
Why was this happening? Who had set her up like this?
And then she knew.
"Please, Jeremy! Don't you see? Doctor Levy's framed me. He wrote that letter, trying to goad you into attacking me." She almost said "killing" but didn't want to put the idea in his head if it wasn't already there. "If you do, the agency will track you down and put you away."
And if he did kill her, Aaron would step into the void. It all fit.
He stepped closer, his eyes wild.
She held up a trembling hand. "Stop, Jeremy! It's a trap! For both of us!"
He didn't seem to be listening.
"It was my daddy's Plan—to purify his Bloodline and to bring the Others back here where they belong."
"'Others'? What are you—?"
"My brother and me, we been part of it. And now when it's all come true, when the baby—the Key to the future—is finally on the way, you come along and ruin it!"
"Baby? You mean she's pregnant?"
"You know damn fuck well she is! You said so right in your letter."
Julia didn't know about that, but a part of her brain, a part that wasn't scared nearly as senseless as the rest of her, wanted to examine that child, test it, observe it, watch it grow.
Key to the future? Who knew? But it might be the key to her survival.
"I can help you with your child."
Another step closer. Foam flecked his lips as his voice rose to a shout.
"There ain't gonna be no child! Because now, thanks to you, Dawn knows I'm her daddy, and sure as shit she's gonna get rid of my baby! You've ruined everything! Everything!"
With that he raised the tire iron.
Now Julia screamed. "Jeremy! Please! NO!"
"Yes!" he said as he swung.
She raised her arm and screamed in pain as her ulna cracked. He swung again. She tried to fend him off with her other arm but couldn't raise it fast enough.
The last thing she heard was the crunch of her skull as it caved in.
14
Finally Jeremy stopped swinging. He didn't know how many times he'd hit her but his arms had tired.
He looked down at what was left of Doc Vecca: Below the neck she was undamaged; above… another story. Mostly bloody goo with chunks of bone. Gonna need fingerprints to identify this one.
Now, with the rage-fire cooling, he started to realize what he'd done, how he'd royally screwed himself.
This agency Vecca kept talking about… if they were half as tough and connected as she'd said, they'd be after him as soon as her body was found—probably no later than mid-morning tomorrow when she didn't show up for work.
Had to get out of here and disappear. Fast.
Shit. If he only had Moonglow's two hundred fifty K. Easy to disappear with that. For a while, at least. He'd have to make do with what was in his bank account. Clean that out first thing tomorrow and hit the road.
But first… one more score to even.
Levy.
Maybe Vecca had been telling the truth. Maybe she hadn't signed the letter. Maybe it had been Levy instead. One way or another that weasel had to be involved. He'd always had it in for Jeremy, always against using him for the clinical trial.
Might as well make as big a splash as possible before dropping out of sight. In for a dime, in for a dollar, as Daddy used to say.
Levy had a date with Vecca in that great laboratory in the sky—tonight.
15
When it became clear where Bolton was headed, Jack had been tempted to turn around and head home. No question about Bolton's first stop. But would he make a second?
The possibility bothered Jack, so he found a place near the woods where he had a view of Levy's street, fished a brand-new goody from the spare tire well, and made himself comfortable.
After a while his eyes wanted to close and he'd had to shake himself awake a couple of times. But the drowsiness fled when he saw a silver Miata pull up in front of the house.
Bolton, damn him.
Jack's plan had been to put a couple of degrees of separation between him and Bolton: Light his fuse, point him at Vecca, and let him deliver the payback for Gerhard and Christy. That done, Jack could sit back and watch from afar as the agency reeled him in and threw away the key.
But that wasn't going to be possible now.
Wait. Why not? Levy was almost as responsible as Vecca. Why not let him take a hit?
Because he wasn't alone in there. Bolton might very well kill everyone in the house.
Shit.
Jack was going to have to get his hands dirty. Just what he'd wanted to avoid.
He eased out the door and hurried toward Levy's house. When Jack caught up to Bolton—carrying that same old tire iron—he was halfway across the lawn, silhouetted in the light from the lamps flanking the front door. He stopped a dozen feet behind him.
"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
Bolton froze, then turned. Jack couldn't see his features, but knew Bolton could see his.
"You!" He started toward Jack at a limping run. "You ain't gonna sucker me this time, motherfu—!"
"Hey, now, wait!" Jack said, backpedaling. "That was all a big misunderstanding!"
He slowed enough to let Bolton get close, then speeded up as he took a swing.
"I'll show you a misunderstanding!" Bolton said as the iron cut through empty air.
Jack was off the curb now and backpedaling toward his car with Bolton in hot pursuit. He was glancing over his shoulder, making sure he was on course, when Bolton lunged forward for another swing. Jack felt the breeze from the tire iron, but no more. The move cost Bolton, though, twisting his knee and worsening his limp.
Just a little farther…
As Jack backed around the rear of his car, he pulled a Taser M-18. When Bolton reached the trunk area, he fired it. The darts flashed out and pierced the T-shirt and the skin beneath, sending fifty thousand volts into his central nervous system. The tire iron went flying as Bolton hit the pavement doing an epileptic variation on the worm. Jack released the trigger and he lay still.