Page 31 of Go Alone

William was beaming with just as much joy and wonder as Kate, though his wonder was focused entirely on her, this beautiful baby girl who was his. That was his baby! His daughter!

Catherine was already experiencing the doubts that would plague the middle years of her marriage to William, doubts that would see them separate twice, not long each time but long enough to dim the sun of Kate’s sky even before she became acquainted with true darkness. But when she saw the look in her husband’s eyes as he held his baby girl, those doubts mattered not a whit. He was going to be a good father. She could tell.

Ironically, it was his struggles as a father that eventually fanned her doubts. He was a good father when he was there, but like so many fathers, when he was there became when he was there became WHEN HE WAS THERE became he was barely there.

But he tried. He never stopped trying. And he never stopped loving Kate. Or Catherine.

You’re avoiding the subject.

It was a cruel voice that said that. A cold voice. A mocking voice. One that spat on Catherine’s feelings and even disparaged them. She hated that voice, hated it because it was her voice, the same voice that told her, he’ll always love his work more than you. You should leave now while you still can. Don’t allow Kate to know him because she’ll never forgive you when you can finally take no more.

Thank God she had chosen not to listen to that voice and had instead worked through their problems and maintained her marriage. But now that voice was back, and she wasn’t sure if the right choice was to ignore it once more.

Of course it is, another, desperate, voice said. Of course it is. You have to ignore it because Kate loves her father and considers him a hero. You love him, and even if he’s not your hero, he was your husband, a title far more valuable and far harder earned. You owe it to both of them not to poison his reputation to satisfy the whim of a cruel murderer.

But Cox wouldn’t stop. Not until Kate stopped him. And if he saw the end coming, he’d tell Kate everything. Then, instead of hearing it from the mouth of someone who loved her, she’d hear it from the mouth of a cruel serial killer who wanted only to hurt her.

You don’t know that he knows anything. He’s grabbing at straws. He’s a liar and a killer, and you cannot feed into his obsession over Kate.

But he was obsessed whether Kate fed into it or not. He would keep trying to kill Kate until he succeeded or he was killed. Catherine no longer believed he could be held. He’d broken out of prison twice already. If he was arrested again, he’d break out again. He would have to be killed.

She hadn’t shared that with Kate, of course. Kate believed in the system she worked for and wanted Cox brought to justice within that system as proof to the world that it worked, that it actually did put bad guys away.

Catherine knew better. She’d seen that system fail her husband.

You’re still avoiding the issue.

“Shut up,” Catherine hissed. “Shut the fuck up!”

Her dogs, not used to that tone or that vulgarity, whipped their heads up. She smiled quickly at them and said, “I’m sorry!” in a soft, singsong voice. She kept the smile and sipped her tea while the dogs lowered their heads, watching her warily.

She set the photograph down and allowed herself to remember.

One time in medical school, William Valentine had stolen an idea from a roommate of his. That roommate had speculated that pluripotent stem cells could be programmed not just to passively follow instructions from donor tissue but could be programmed to follow a genome sequence.

That idea had eventually grown into William’s groundbreaking research, which used sliced sections of genome to encode the specific proteins required to grow heart tissue. Further development allowed William to isolate the genetic code of transplant patients themselves and use that to create tissue that would be accepted by the body without the risk of immune system rejection.

Catherine hadn’t known the founding idea wasn’t William’s until years later, shortly after Kate was born. She’d found him drunk and weeping on their front porch after Kate went to bed one night. When she’d gone to comfort him, he’d mumbled that he stole the idea from his roommate during freshman year of medical school.

That roommate had dropped out after freshman year. It wasn't until William's residency that he developed his hypothesis. Catherine had talked him through that and explained that if the roommate in question even remembered that statement, which she didn't seem likely to, he would never have done anything with it. That idea, that good, lifesaving idea would never have seen the light of day.

“Maybe so,” he had said, “but I still stole it.”

Eventually, he'd gotten over it, of course as he should. No one would argue that William Valentine's stem cell research hadn't led to immense breakthroughs in healthcare.

No one except for Elijah Cox. The man who was trying to kill her baby girl.

She set her teacup down on the coffee table, buried her head in her hands, and wept.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tuesday, March 16th

Dennis Quill had made it. He didn’t feel any shame or guilt saying that either, because unlike so many others in law, he had made it without a whiff of dishonesty. That had earned him a reputation both within and without Brannigan & Associates as the world’s luckiest goody two-shoes, a title he wore with pride.

And guess what? He got to park a brand-new Bentley Continental in a private parking spot in front of a twenty-two-story office tower and take a private elevator to the top floor of that tower where he had a large office with a great view in the leased space of Columbus’s most successful property law firm. He got to do that without the flashes of guilt that would have come if he lied, cheated, and fudged his way to the top.

God, that felt good.