“So you can read thoughts as well?” Emily asked tentatively.
“Yes, and a good deal more.” Amanda paused for a second to allow Emily to compose herself. “I was a little unstable when I first changed; actually I was beyond a little unstable. I became convinced of my infallibility and that I had been given the responsibility and the authority to dispense justice. I’m still struggling with it now.”
“That helps to explain the last six years of isolation,” Emily said.
“I’ve been torn down the middle; a part of me wants to go back to the way I once was, to feel again. But the other part wants to embrace who I’ve become and live beyond the restraints of society.” She avoided her Aunt’s eyes. ”Maybe I’m just tired of always trying to do the right thing.”
“I can see why you kept this a secret. Society can’t tolerate your existence.” Emily stared at Amanda. “You’re in a very dangerous place.” Two long minutes passed before Emily spoke again. “You’re hoping that by going back to Colorado Springs you will find redemption? To save the day and balance the scales?” She phrased it as a question, but it was more of a statement.
“Not redemption, I need resolution. I have no remorse about what I’ve done, but I can’t live this half-life anymore. I’m not even sure I care about those who are going to die; this is about me, not them.”
“I don’t believe that; otherwise you wouldn’t be here. If this was entirely about you, and you truly had no concern for those who could die, there would be no debate, you would have already made a decision, and you would be lost to me and everyone who cares about you.” Another minute passed. “Life isn’t fair; you more than anyone should know that. You have been hurt so many times I’m surprised that you can get yourself out of bed each morning, but you do, and because you do, it is your responsibility not to turn your pain into anger.” Emily began to cough, and it took her another minute before she could continue. “Anyways, how do you know that Greg is even right about this? Maybe it’s entirely unrelated to what happened to you.”
“He is right,” Amanda said quickly.
“Look at this logically, Amanda. Your virus killed hundreds of people, and that’s just not happening now.”
“No, they aren’t dying — at least not yet. Someone has changed the virus.”
“Amanda, this sounds a little fantastic and more than a little irrational. There are other more reasonable explanations. Or is this another thing that you. . can do?”
“There are no other possibilities; someone is purposefully spreading this new virus. He is close enough that I can almost feel his mind, and I know that he is aware of mine.”
“I see.” Emily began to fidget with her gown. “So you are going there to find this person.”
“I’m going to get some answers,” Amanda said.
“And once you have those answers, will you stop him or help him?”
“I won’t help him,” she said flatly.
“But will you stop him?” Emily countered.
“I’ve already tried. I contacted the CDC this morning and they ignored me. I’m done trying to help”
“You’re done! I won’t accept that from you, Amanda, and you can’t accept that from yourself. You may have been changed, but not to the degree that you’ve grown comfortable lying to yourself. If you’re going to claim that you’ve tried to stop him, then really try to stop him. Go to Colorado Springs, get your answers, and then if you have to, kill this bastard in the most painful manner possible. Then make a decision as to how you’re going to restart your life.” Emily’s face was bright red and spittle flew from her lips.
Amanda waited for her aunt to calm down. “Maybe you haven’t changed.”
“There’s no reason to change when you’re always right. So what are you going to do?”
“What I have to.”
Chapter 8
Rodney Patton did not need this; he did not need this at all. He watched Phil Rucker walk out the Van Ders’ back door, and all he could do was shake his head. Of course, he had heard all about Rucker before this morning, but even those estimations fell well short of the mark. Rucker really did live on another planet, one without the realities of this one.
A uniformed officer eased into his view and waited for Patton to compose himself.
“What is it?” Patton said gruffly.
“We’re done with the scene; nothing much to report, except for some footprints that lead out to the road. We’re having some trouble getting a casting. .” He spoke slowly, hoping Patton would take the hint.
“Castings in snow,” Patton said bitterly. This job was not turning out to be what he had been promised. Over a year ago, the Colorado Springs chief of police had personally recruited him out of the Baltimore Special Homicide Unit. That unit had been his life for eleven years, and he had been its chief for seven of them. He had hated to leave, but the success he had achieved, and the pride he felt, was easily overshadowed by the pain of the familiar surroundings. He saw his wife, Connie, everywhere. Each time his desk phone rang, he expected to hear her voice; every time he reached for his car keys to go home, he remembered the thousands of nights he had taken solace in the fact that no matter how bad work got, he would sleep next to a woman he loved. He felt her presence in the grocery stores, the dry cleaners, and the gas stations. He never realized how much of their life had become routine, or how special that routine really was, until he had tried to live without her.
Connie had fought breast cancer for four long, hard years, and he had balanced work with helping her through biopsies, radiation therapies, chemotherapies, and surgeries. His unit deserved more loyalty than he had shown them. They supported him through all of it, but after she died, he saw her in them, and that was just too much to take. He should have retired like he had planned, maybe written a book. Lord knows he had enough material to write about, but his chief knew the Colorado Springs chief, and before he knew it, he was moving to Colorado. A change of scenery seemed a reasonable alternative to premature, boredom-induced senility. He was only fifty-eight, and a thirty-two-year veteran of some of the meanest streets in America. He had earned a change of pace, but maybe not yet a gold retirement watch. Only the sleepy little town of Colorado Springs had chosen this moment in time to come apart at the seams.
“Don’t bother with trying to cast footprints. It doesn’t work, despite what the book tells you. Take photos with a ruler.” He ratcheted down his frustration. It wasn’t their fault that they didn’t have the necessary experience. “Is there a bullet out for the Taurus the witness described?”
The uniformed cop stared blankly at Patton. “A what, sir?”
“Sorry, old habits — an APB. I doubt there are many vehicles out now. Maybe we’ll catch a well-deserved break.”
“Already done, but our patrols were limited by dispatch this morning. It seems that everyone is out with the flu. We’ve got the main streets covered, but not a lot else.” He spoke in his most professional voice.
Patton guessed that the officer was in his early twenties and anxious to please. “What’s your take on this, Officer Yaeger?”
“You mean the body, sir? I think Mr. Van Der died of natural causes. There are no signs of a struggle. No marks on the body. No real motive. I don’t think we’re going to find much here.” Yaeger was excited that the new chief of detectives had asked for his opinion; it would make for a good story back in the precinct.
“What about the witness’s account of a man standing over the body?” It was strange, but Patton was starting to see things a little from Rucker’s point of view. What were the odds that someone had driven by just at the instant that Van Der fell over? Especially on a morning like this. And then, after stopping to help, why did he calmly walk away when Rucker showed up? Good Samaritans didn’t do things like that. His brain began to itch, a sure sign that he was missing something.