Suddenly, the situation and Travis’s urgent instructions became clear. Smith had taken her. She had been sure he couldn’t find her, but somehow he had, and he was holding her captive, the way he had held Travis. And she knew Travis had had only a short time to live after he left this room.
Seconds after that horrible moment of realization, Smith’s hand came down hard against her cheek, making her skin sting, and her eyes water. They blinked open, focusing on her captor. He didn’t look imposing. He was old, with thinning, salt-and-pepper hair, and veins that stood out. One in his neck was throbbing now. Maybe he’d have a stroke, and this would all be over.
“How do you know Travis Carson,” he growled.
She blinked again, trying to focus, and saw the hand moving again, getting ready for another strike if she stayed silent. “I don’t,” she cried out. “Who?
“Travis Carson. Don’t lie to me. If you don’t know Carson, why were you with Bowman?”
Why indeed?
Travis had told her not to admit anything. But how could she pull that off? Somehow, this man had seen her with Gabe. That was an immutable fact. Why had she been with Gabe? He’d told her to stay hidden. She had thought she knew better. Answers sprang to her lips, none of them any good. Her mind was too muzzy for her to think straight. But she knew that she couldn’t put it on Gabe—Lord knows what Smith would do to him if he thought Gabe had come looking for her.
And she was the only one who could stop Smith from realizing that Travis was still here. What would happen if he knewthat?
She scrambled for an answer that would make sense and satisfy this horrible man.I have to tell him somethingshe finally said to Travis, and she felt him follow her logic and come to the same conclusion.
“I knew him...a long time ago,” she finally said.
“Where?”
“At the clinic.”
“What clinic?” the monster pressed.
“Dr. Solomon’s clinic. I used to go there with the other children.”
Smith kept his gaze locked on her, and she wondered if he believed her answer. “Why were you there?” he demanded.
She raised a shoulder. “I think they were testing us.”
“For what?”
“I was just a little kid. I don’t know.”
Smith was looking thoughtful. “But that doesn’t explain how the two of you got together recently.”
This time, Travis supplied the answer.I recognized you. I asked to have coffee with you so we could talk. I’m dead. He can’t prove otherwise.
Hysteria threatened to bubble up in her throat, but she held it in check. “One day when I was in town delivering furniture, he saw me. He said we had met before.”
Smith’s eyes lit up, then dulled. Probably he was excited to prove his theory that she was connected to Travis but kicking himself that he had already killed the man, so he couldn’t find out what they could do together.
That thought brought a spurt of hope. What could they do?
She reached for Travis in the way they had developed, but it was no good. Her brain was still fogged, and she could barely talk to him, let alone do anything more.
What are we going to do?she asked in desperation.
His answer was no comfort.I don’t know.
She knew Smith couldn’t see Travis, but she could. His face was suffused with horror and regret, as the man who had killed him hovered over her.
He turned away from her and went to his laptop, where he called up a list of names, scrolling rapidly through the entries. She watched him anxiously, wondering what was coming next. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. The next thing she knew, he was shaking her—hard.
His voice was a low, menacing growl as he said, “The Howell Institute doesn’t have Carson as one of the children who were brought back to the clinic for testing.”
She feigned surprise. “Huh?”
