13

"Hey, doc. How's it going?"

Julia sat up in bed with a start. That voice. She knew it. She fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand and turned it on.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Jeremy Bolton sitting on the foot of her bed, some folded sheets of paper in his hand. She slept in an oversized T-shirt and comfy pants, revealing nothing, yet for some reason she found herself clutching her sheet and blanket up to her neck.

Two black eyes and a bruised, swollen nose made him look even more threatening.

"Jeremy. What… what happened to you?"

He sneered. "As if you didn't know."

She didn't know… why would he think she did? But a more important question arose.

"Why are you here?"

"Ohhhhh, I think you know."

She forced some indignation into her voice and hoped it sounded convincing.

"No, I don't, Jeremy, and I want you out of my house right now."

"That ain't gonna happen." The finality in his tone jarred her. "We got things to discuss."

"Well, whatever they are can wait till morning. Call my office first thing and I'll—"

"Tonight, doc. Tonight."

Something in his eyes frightened her. She'd always felt in charge with him—as much as anyone could be in charge of someone with that much oDNA—but tonight was different. Someone or something had unchained the beast in him. A very scary thought.

She considered screaming but dismissed that. No one would hear her, and it would immediately relegate her to a subordinate position. She had to maintain her rank as his overseer.

"'tV'i v well, then. Lei me pul on some clothes and I'll meet—"

"No. Here. Now."

And now she detected a new undertone in his voice, his expression. Fear? Had he got himself in trouble?

Robertson!

Had he gone wild and done something that could be connected to him?

"You didn't do anything foolish to that detective, did you?"

"7b him? No." He pointed to his nose. "But he did a tap dance on me—as you knew he would."

"Don't be ridiculous. You didn't… do to him what you did to Gerhard, did you?"

"No. Not yet. But I ain't here about Robertson. I'm here about you." Fury lit in his eyes as he raised the papers. "And these… your recent correspondence."

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.