Hunting the Shadows Page 11

  Was she working with the Council to gain her freedom?

  “Stop it. I told you, I’m not a spy,” she snapped. “I’m not pretending to get into your confidence and then sell you out. I haven’t lied to you once and I’m not about to start now.”

  Freedom would be enough motivation for anyone, let alone someone who had been locked up for pretty much two decades. He did a set of reps before he answered. “Is something wrong?”

  He didn’t address her comments about not being a spy. Whether she was one or not, she was going to help him catch this killer. He would have to guard his plans as much as he could. It wasn’t that he thought she was, really, but she drew out things in him, a side he couldn’t show. Not if he wanted to take the Council down. He had to keep his mind clear and not get distracted by another woman who needed his help.

  Like Leila.

  “I had a dream. The body was moved.”

  “Where?” Lowering the weights to the floor, he reached for a towel and wiped his damp brow.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  He already didn’t. Another agent was dead. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do my job. What can you tell me?”

  “He took her from the gym to…well I don’t know. Once she was killed, he left her body in the tunnels.”

  Where Leila died. The image of her slit throat was a constant reminder of what happened when people trusted him.

  “No, she died because a sick bastard hunted her. You didn’t kill her. You gave her a reason to hope for a better life. There’s nothing you could have done.”

  His gaze caught on Ariadne and Rick. “I need you two to come with me. We may have found Teresa.”

  And they had. Her body had been discarded like trash tossed in an alcove to be forgotten. She’d been lovely once. The vivaciousness of the way she’d lived had faded from her eyes—now wide with the distressed expression of death.

  Like the others, her throat had been slashed.

  “Let’s get her to the morgue. There’s a chance we may get something off her.” J.C. crouched beside Teresa, studying every detail of the scene. He was sure whatever evidence had been there was gone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to go with protocol. “I want a full work up done on her.”

  “Shit, J.C., don’t you think she’s been violated enough?” Rick slid his hand from his mouth. He looked ready to throw up, a sentiment J.C. understood. “We’re not going to find anything.”

  J.C. touched Teresa’s cool hand. Turning her palm over, he studied her nails. Just maybe… “Bag her, Rick. It looks like we may have blood under her nails.” The words felt thick on his tongue. He swallowed the disgust and fought to keep his mask of indifference. “Ariadne, are you getting anything?”

  She tore her gaze from the body to his. “No. I can’t get any readings from her.”

  Like the others.

  He rose and rubbed absently at a stain on his knee. “Let’s get the scene recorded.”

  * * *

  The next day dragged on, wearing on J.C.’s last nerve as he stared down at the results from the series of tests he’d run on Drake. Normal. Every test had come back normal for a seven year old, even one whose genetics had been messed around with since birth.

  He stood to work out stiff muscles, sighing as the words blurred in front of his eyes. After finding Teresa he’d spent the night in the morgue, going through every little detail. Nothing. Rick had been right about that. Damn it. The blood beneath her nails had been her own.

  He pressed a fist against his temple. The migraine that stalked him from lack of sleep blew up, exploding across his forehead. He lowered his hand as Broderick walked in.

  “Anything?”

  “We’re running tests, but so far nothing of use. No fingerprints. No stray DNA. We’re still working on the scene.”

  Broderick nodded. “And how did you know where to find Teresa?”

  Like a good little soldier, J.C. ground out, “The woman who got away from the psych ward. She knew where the body would be.” Despite not wanting Broderick or the Council anywhere near Amy, it would make the situation worse to lie.

  Broderick slapped the file in his hand against his thigh. “Ah yes, Amy. Tell me, J.C., why is she staying in your dorm?”

  “It is easier to keep her close. I didn’t want to bring her to the psych ward when she might be useful to us.”

  “And how might that be?”

  He rubbed his brows, frowning. “She’s a telepath. That means we can use her to track the killer.” He edged along the subject, not wanting to reveal too much.

  “She’s Rick’s case. Not yours. You had no right to take her.” Broderick’s words hardened. “He’s been working with her for years. She’s unstable.”

  “She’s not unstable. She was attacked by the killer because she can go into his mind.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because she’s confided in me. She knows things we shouldn’t dismiss.”

  “How do you know she’s not using you, J.C.? I’ve read her file. She’s manipulated others into helping her in the past.”

  “All I’m asking for is a chance with her. If she’s linked to this killer as I suspect, we can’t put her away yet.”

  “No, we can’t. Amy was part of a special project. Now that she’s out of the confinement of an isolated environment, all the information we gathered on her over the years is useless. The question is why should I give her to you when you’re so quick to ignore protocol?”

  His knuckles whitened. No, the question was why Rick hadn’t pursued the idea of her knowing about the killer. How could he have thought her crazy? “Rick’s done all he can. He was having trouble getting her to work with him. I can get her to do what I want. She trusts me.”

  As sparse as the public file had been, he’d gotten the impression Rick had been fed up with her. There was more below the surface of what was in those pages. While he got the impression that Amy was going to be stubborn and would resist Testing, the file painted her as a nightmare to work with. He knew Rick and his methods. If Amy was rebellious, she had good reasons to be.

  “I’m listening.”

  “She opened communication with me. I’m in the unique position of being able to work with her telepathically. Rick hasn’t tapped what she’s capable of and he won’t if she stays with him. He doesn’t understand her.”

  “And you do?”

  “I know what she needs. A woman like Amy needs things to be taken slow. She shouldn’t be rushed and forced. She’ll spook.” Rick had done everything wrong. He didn’t have to see the complete file to know that.

  “What can you do with her if I gave her to you?”

  “Train her. She’d be a highly valuable resource if she can learn to survive outside.” He dragged a hand along his jaw.

  “That’s the question. Whether or not she can even survive on her own without scientific intervention. I have my doubts.”

  Broderick was quiet for awhile before he dropped the file on the desk. J.C. glanced down at the page that had partially fallen out. Setting his finger on the edge, he slid it the rest of the way out.

  “Rick is useless. He’s had her for years and he hasn’t gotten the results I need—not without going to extreme measures. If you think you can get her to work with you, then you better see to it that she does. I’ve about had it with her.” Disgust flickered in the depths of Broderick’s eyes. J.C. had
noticed the coldness a lot more recently. Nothing his sons did was good enough. “At three we realized Amy’s abilities were different compared to the other children, more internal. Special notice was placed on her, but we didn’t realize the extent of how different until she had her first seizure. Before the doctors could get to her, she went into cardiac arrest. It became evident we had to take precautions.”

  “So you isolated her.”

  “The psych ward was the most secure area for someone with her abilities. We managed to block out the mental waves enough to stabilize her. We were never quite sure why she hadn’t developed shields on her own so we had to create some for her.”

  J.C. flipped the cover of the file. “It’s possible they never got the chance to develop. With her mind being assaulted constantly, she probably didn’t have the time to build them before they got knocked back down again.” He stared down at the photos pinned to the stack of papers.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ve pandered to her weakness long enough. If she can’t survive, she’s useless.” Broderick said, dismissively. “She’ll be tested. If she can demonstrate that she’s capable of handling herself, we’ll see what happens. If she can’t, we’re not going to waste our time with her anymore.”

  An argument leapt onto his tongue but he held it back, instead shuffling through the photos. She was only a child in the last one, maybe five, hair about her face, eyes that same startling blue that made his insides tighten. He remembered her now—the young girl that sat in the corner most days, always keeping her distance. And then one day, she was gone. They’d been told she’d died.

  J.C. flipped to the next page to study her blood tests. Normal. Physically, Amy was healthy. Psychically, there were things he couldn’t explain.

  “I want her in Testing in the morning. See to it that she’s there. I don’t want to regret this decision, J.C.” Broderick’s tone was final, leaving no room to argue.

  He glanced up, watching Broderick’s retreating form then shifted his attention back to the file.

  He flipped through the pages, skimming through it all. Until he got to his own handwriting. He frowned, stiffening as a memory surfaced. Rick had asked him for a consultation regarding a young woman to fit her for a mind strengthening device—a personal shielding wristband he’d been creating to help some of the children. On the day he was to fit Amy with a band, she’d caused a disruption in the psych ward. He went in to help and found her mentally attacking the doctors inside. Instead of determining if the band would help her, he’d looked away and had given her a black mark.

  Amy. He’d sentenced her to a life in isolation.

  Easing the folder shut, J.C. pushed away from the table, as though closing the file would shut off the guilt. As a scientist he had to be objective. Or so he told himself because there were no other options. He couldn’t let emotion interfere with his job. Ever.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I can’t stay in here anymore, J.C., I need to get some air.” Amy stood by the door waiting for him. Leaning against the wall in a deceptively lazy pose, she drummed her fingers lightly behind her. Darilynn had brought her some clothes, the black military-esque uniform making Amy almost look like one of them. She’d washed, her hair and skin smelling of his soap as he passed by her.

  Settling at the corner of his desk, J.C. fingered the length of leather he’d been working on since Broderick had left his lab. “Come here.” He crooked a finger and when she hesitated, snagged her wrist and tugged her forward, feeling her pulse bump against his touch. “Relax,” he whispered against her ear.

  “I know what you’re capable of.”

  He drew her between his thighs and waited until she stopped squirming. Her body pressed tantalizingly against his without her being aware of what she was doing to him. Gritting his teeth, J.C. hissed out a strained breath as blood arrowed to his groin. “You have to get used to being touched if you want to be on the outside. If you can’t handle even me then maybe you should rethink wanting your freedom.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  He chuckled at the tightness of her words but let the matter drop. “Well, I’m not taking the risk of sending you out there without some kind of protection.” He tied the leather band to her wrist, making sure the small watch-like device was turned on.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “You’ll need to wear this band at all times when you step outside. It’ll create the shields and filters you need.” The spark of hope in her eyes made his lips twitch. “It’s your tin foil hat, Amy.”

  Those blue, expressive eyes widened. He could feel her vibrating against him with excitement. “You mean it? I can go out?”

  “As long as you keep to my conditions, I don’t see why you need to stay here.” He slipped a finger beneath the band, feeling the warmth of her flesh as he stroked lightly, curious when she sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s your own personal bubble, protecting you from everyone outside this room.”

  “It’s like the ones the doctors used to wear when they came into my room.”

  He nodded. “It’s basically the same idea. I had to readjust the setting in yours, but you should be able to leave the protected zones without worry.”

  She launched herself at him, her body slamming his as she wrapped her arms tightly around him. That burst of emotion startled him and as he fell back onto the desk. Her body stumbled on top, her hair falling forward like a fragrant curtain about their faces. She laughed and her entire body shook against his. He found himself unable to resist, his laugh combining with hers.

  “You’re crazy. You know that?” His hands swept up into her hair, pushed those softly scented strands away from her face and fisted them at the back of her head so that he could see her face. Her eyes were bright with laughter, her lips curved upward in a smile that stopped his breath. She was stunning.

  “I won’t argue.” Her fingers tightened on his shirt with small exquisite touches that made his muscles clench. Insanely, he wanted to lean in and kiss her, to feel her mouth tremble against his.

  She grinned down at him, completely oblivious to the compromising position she was in. He wasn’t a good man. She should know better than to get this close.

  When her eyes finally widened in awareness and the blush crept up into her cheeks, J.C. smiled. Amy held on to him for only a fraction of a moment longer before she let go and stumbled off him. She stepped back—eyes wide and cheeks dark red.

  “Can we go now?” She didn’t wait for his answer.

  If she’d stayed a moment longer he might have believed that she wasn’t affected and that it was simply excitement that made her run from him. But before she’d hurried from the room, he caught sight of desire and something else in her eyes. Fear.

  He cursed himself. Of course she would fear him. She’d never been intimate with a man before. How could she when she’d been locked up all her life with barely any interaction? He was an idiot.

  “Amy, hold up.” She’d reached the corner of the hall. Lengthening his strides, he fell into step beside her. He caught her elbow, turning her to face him. “We should talk about what just happened.”

  “No we shouldn’t. What’d Broderick want?”

  He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “You can’t go into my head whenever you’re bored. We need boundaries.”

  If she wanted to pretend as though he hadn’t fantasized about her mouth, then it was fine by him. He didn’t need the complication. He’d never wanted it before and he could live without it now.

  But if that were true, why was there a gnawing feeling in his gut? Leila leapt to mind, but he forced the image away. He could only deal with one woman at a time. />
  She nibbled at the corner of her fingernail. “Sorry, habit.”

  “You’re now part of my caseload. I convinced Broderick to let me work your file.” Rick wasn’t going to be happy about it. J.C. expected a blow up. Rick didn’t like losing and if the file was any indication, Amy had been his pet project.

  “Okay.”

  Was that it? He wasn’t sure what he expected but he thought he’d get more of a reaction than “okay.”

  He reached into his pocket and drew out the picture of her at approximately seven years of age. Holding it out, he waited. The moment Amy’s fingers curled around it, he drew her in until their feet touched.

  “I want you to know what this means so that you can prepare.”

  Her gaze jumped to his, widening a moment before she steeled herself. She was keeping her cards close, he thought, and nodded with approval. At the Centre, she couldn’t trust anyone.

  He’d learned that rule early.

  He’d do what he could to protect her from Broderick and the Council. If he had any say, she wouldn’t be doing their dirty work again. “You need to realize that I’m not going to go easy on you. You need to learn how to control these abilities, and I’m going to be there for every step of your training. You’re going to hate me by the end of it.”

  “Do you warn all of your subjects?” She licked her lips.

  His gaze lingered on her mouth for a breath too long. He shifted his weight and moved his fingers along the picture, so close to hers he could feel the heat of her body. “Amy, I’m serious.”

  “And what,” Amy asked, clearing her throat, “should I be prepared for?”

  That one sentence snapped him back, away from the heavy curve of her bottom lip. There was nothing more effective than a cold dose of reality. He let her take the photo, moving back to put distance between them. The woman was hell on his system. If she wasn’t pulling a B&E on his mind, she was frustrating him with her stubbornness and back talk. “Tomorrow morning you need to go into Testing.”