Love, Lies & Clones
Date: 2016-12-16 05:00:00+00:00
Description: June Taylor never asked to be cloned. She never asked for the faulty heart that beats inside her chest. But most of all, she never asked for the chaos that would become her life.When her estranged father mysteriously appears at her doorstep to warn her of impending danger, she immediately dismisses him. But when he goes missing, his seemingly unbelievable claims prove to be true. Not only is her life in danger, but the lives of others like her are at stake.As clues about a malicious conspiracy unfold, an AWOL soldier emerges insistent that he holds the missing link in this deadly puzzle, but p

Love,

Lies &

Clones

JOYNELL SCHULTZ

Copyright © 2016 Joynell Schultz

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9780998410111

WET DOG PRESS

THANK YOU

Instead of a dedication, I wanted to start with a thank you. Thank you for picking up this book and taking a chance on me. You are the reason I write. Sit back and enjoy.

I also wanted to thank my family, who listened to me talk nearly non-stop about this book. They stuck with me for the ups…and downs. Words cannot express my gratitude.

Lastly, I wanted to thank my many beta readers. Without you, there would be no way anyone would enjoy this novel. You know who you are. If you every need anything from me, I’ll be there.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 1

Six in the morning wasn’t the time for visitors, but Thursday disagreed with me. Before my intercom chirped, he sprang off my bed and rushed to the front door with his tail wagging.

“What is it?” I snatched my uniTab from my nightstand while trying to keep up with my furry companion. The way his entire hind end swayed in rhythm to his tail made me smile. His ears were at full attention, which for a Vizsla-lab mix was saying something.

The man’s image on the uniTab’s screen made me stop. With a shaky hand, I rubbed my eyes. It couldn’t be.

Shit.

My father had found me. Despite a new pair of glasses, his chocolate brown eyes and round face gave him away. My heart thumped, and I forgot to breathe as memories of our last encounter flooded my thoughts. Was it too late to crawl back into bed and burrow beneath the covers?

Thursday barked and bounded around me, while I took a deep breath.

You can do this, June.

I touched ‘speak’ on the display. “What do you want? It’s been three years.”

“May I come in?” His words were polite, yet his voice was edgier than I remembered.

“This isn’t a good time.” It would never be a good time, especially not today. “I have to go to work in an hour, and I need to get ready.”

My father looked at me like only a father could—one eyebrow raised and head cocked. It reminded me of how he used to wait for me to spill whatever mischief I had been hiding from him when I was a kid. It appeared the look still worked on me as an adult. With a heavy sigh, I clicked ‘unlock’ as I walked to greet him. As I opened my door, Thursday pushed his way through to sniff the guest.

My father rubbed my dog’s head and strolled across my living room into the kitchen, sitting down at the round pine table. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Nothing like making yourself at home.

He seemed younger. Sure, he sported a few more gray hairs and a couple of extra crow’s feet wrinkles, but he looked good. The last time I saw him, though, he was downing a bottle of cheap whisky.

I scrutinized the sixty-some-year-old man, examining him for bloodshot eyes, glazed expression, or a flushed face. Nothing. Was he sober? I focused on the scents in the room, picking up the faint odor of lemon from my recently scrubbed floors, but no alcohol. His clothes appeared clean. Wrinkles ran deep in his plaid shirt, but he hadn’t been this put together since I was a child.

Keeping the table between us, I leaned against the kitchen countertop and realized how small my duplex truly was. My finger rubbed a worn spot on the laminate while I waited for him to talk.

“Who’s this?” He ruffled the light reddish brown fur behind Thursday’s ears.

My fingertip heated from rubbing the counter, and I pulled away. “How’d you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he said.

My jaw tightened. “Forget it then. Let’s get to the point. Why are you here?”

“There’s no easy way to say this.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his short hair. “You need to get out of town.”

I laughed. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t think so.”

“Sit down.” He eyed the kitchen chair across from him.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Too bad. Sit down.”

“Can’t you call me later?”

“This is too important.” His voice was firm and, like always, his eyes avoided my face. “Sit down.”

I felt like a child again, even though I hadn’t lived with him in twelve years. I plopped down and folded my arms across my chest.

He still didn’t look at me. “I’ve been asked to help with another cloning project.”

“So? Why should I leave town because of that?”

“I’m going to say no.” His words were calm and firm.

“I still don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid of what they’ll do to make me help them.”

“What who’ll do?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“You’re paranoid.” Images from my childhood surfaced.

“I’m not paranoid.”

I stood up and pushed my chair in harder than intended. “You’ve always been paranoid.” I glanced at the time on my universal oven. “I need to shower and get to work. I’m not leaving town. I have a career, bills to pay, and a life. I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“June, you must! I can’t leave town unless you do too.”

My fists clenched, and the words exploded from my mouth. “Is this like the time the FBI was after you and we had to stay at a cock-roach infested motel for two weeks? Or the time you barricaded us in the house for a month? I missed a lot of school that year and almost needed to repeat the seventh grade! How about the secret stash of goodies you have buried in the backyard? Have you used them yet? I could go on.”

I waited in silence before retreating to my bedroom. The door banged behind me, leaving him in my kitchen. He was stubborn, and if he didn’t want to leave, he wouldn’t. I needed to move forward.

While taking a few calming breaths, I paced at the foot of my bed.

Don’t let him get to you, June.

Sober or not, this crazy behavior was typical of him. He would make me as paranoid as him, switch to some other made-up crisis, then let me pick up the pieces. Did he enjoy working me up? This time, I wouldn’t show him he was succeeding.

Once I calmed down, I grabbed clothes and went into the bathroom to get ready.

“You probably need your meds adjusted,” I yelled through the door.

“I’m not on meds.”

You should be.

I showered and dressed in a blur as my thoughts still lingered on him. I wiped the steam from the mirror and struggled to brush out my wavy hair. Good enough.

Taking one more deep breath, I opened the bathroom door.

He was still sitting at the table, playing with Thursday.

“I need to take Thursday for a walk.” I pulled the leash off the hook by the door. No matter what he said or did, I was staying calm. It was a big day for me, and I wouldn’t let him ruin it.

My father followed me outside.

A light cloud cover blocked the morning sun. April weather in Wisconsin could be unpredictable; this morning, the crisp air made me wish I had grabbed a jacket. I pushed my pace to warm up.

The streets of my neighborhood were quiet, especially this early. One or two cars hummed as they drove by—their electric motors nearly silent. Most the homes were single families, but there were a few duplexes mixed in. The houses were looking dated, being built at the turn of the century. Many of them still had the original vinyl siding, now riddled with hairline cracks and faded colors. Asphalt shingles still covered the roofs.

Thursday tugged on his leash trying to chase down a package delivery drone flying overhead. A small growl vibrated in his chest, showing it who was boss.

My father panted next to me. “You know,” he inhaled deeply, “how I created you?” He was being careful not to say too much, which was ridiculous because there was nobody around.

“That I’m a clone?” Even though he cloned me and we shared no DNA, we were still father and daughter. As far as I knew, we were the only two who knew this secret.

“Shh.” He looked around and tried to catch his breath. Nobody supposedly knew human cloning had happened.

I shook my head. “Nobody can hear us.”

Of course, a bicyclist chose that moment to whizz by us in the bike lane.

My father shook his head at the bicyclist and lowered his voice, “I’m well known in the scientific community.”

“I know, I’m in that community,” I whispered back.

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, they’re cloning humans again.”

I stopped. Why hadn’t I asked him this before? “Humans? Plural? There are more clones out there?”

Thursday took advantage of our pause, lifting his leg to water a budding maple tree.

“That’s not the point. It’s wrong, and I won’t do it.” He looked at my face. His features drooped, and he snapped his head away. I imaginedmemories of the woman he cloned me from—his wife, my mother—rushed through his mind. It had to be difficult having a daughter that constantly reminded you of the woman you loved and that you would never hold in your arms again. She died shortly after I was born.

He avoided my question about the number of clones. My words slipped out again, this time, my voice threatened to quiver, but I held it in. “Why don’t you ever tell me anything? She’s as much a part of my past as yours.”

“You know more than you should,” he snapped.

“Urgh!” I tugged Thursday’s leash and headed home.

My father was still right beside me. “The thing is I don’t exactly know what they are up to. You need to understand that if they want to clone humans, they are willing to break the law.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m afraid what other laws they’ll break to have me help them.”

Because human cloning was illegal, I could tell no one how my father created me. Did it matter I had identical DNA as my mother? I was a human, despite how I was created. My fear was that if the authorities found out my father cloned me, he’d go to prison, or worse, get the death penalty. As much as he angered and frustrated me, I’d never wish that on him. He was my father, no matter how I felt about him.

“Who’s asking you to do this?”

He shook his head and his metallic blue glasses slipped down his nose. “The less you know, the better. I need you to get out of town.”

“Tell me what’s going on and I might go with you.” Okay, that may not have been true. I still felt he was delusional.

“It’s for your own safety I don’t tell you.”

There was no arguing with him. If he didn’t want me to know something, he wouldn’t tell me. I picked up the pace and hurried home.

“Well, I won’t leave unless I know why I’m going. When you’re ready to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen.” I entered my duplex and closed the door on him. I clicked the intercom on my uniWatch. “I need to get to work. Whatever you think is going on, you’re overreacting as usual.”

“I’m not overreacting!” he yelled into my intercom.

“You’ve done this before. In fact, you’ve told me to get out of town before. More than once.” I rubbed my shoulders, they were getting sore from the stored up tension.

“This time’s different.”

“You said that last time too.”

He sighed on the display. “Well, I won’t leave until you agree to come with me. I’ll be back tonight. What time will you return home?”

“Don’t come. I don’t know when I’ll be back—maybe I won’t come home at all.”

“You will eventually, and I’ll be here waiting for you. Be safe and trust no one, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” I had heard it all before. “It’s okay. I can handle myself.”

His next comment surprised me. “June, I’ve really missed you.” He sighed heavily and leaned one hand against my door, looking into the camera. His eyes softened and for a moment, I saw the father I used to know. “I haven’t had a drink in over a year. I’m sorry for everything I put you through, and I really want a place in your life. You did the right thing…cutting ties with me. It took me way too long, but I realized you’re all I have.” His voice cracked and faded near the end. There was so much emotion wrapped in those few words that I didn’t know what to say.

I clicked off the intercom before he said anything else. I stood there, leaning against the door and got a grip on my emotions. This was what I wanted. He was sober. How long would this last?

I put clean water out for Thursday, packed my lunch, and headed out the door for work.

My father was sitting on my porch when I left.

“June, please listen.” He rose slowly to his feet, giving me time to escape to my car.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. Work’s waiting. I can’t be late.” And I didn’t want to think about our situation now. I carried three years of guilt and didn’t know what to do with it. I shut the car door and gave my father a small nod. My hand shook as I engaged the auto-drive and touched ‘to work’ on my dash computer.

Remember, June, he deserved it.

Chapter 2

I was still twenty-five minutes early for work, but for me, that was five minutes late. I easily beat my graduate students there, had plenty of time to double check their previous day’s set-up, and give myself time to prepare.

My stomach fluttered. I was more like my father than I wanted to admit. Paranoid things would go wrong. I shook the thought out of my head.

My lab wasn’t large by university standards, but I didn’t need a lot of space for what I did. The room was probably the size of the ground floor of my duplex. Shelves of glassware, refrigerators, and a biological safety cabinet lined the walls. A digital display board faced eight lab tables with black countertops and cabinets of supplies underneath.

“Good morning!” I greeted Isaac as he walked through the doorway.

“Morning!” he replied. He was early, as usual. He got a cup of tea from the multi-drink dispenser tucked away in the corner before joining me at the main lab table to review his notes. The scent of light and fresh cologne caught my attention. Isaac’s dark brown hair was neatly styled, and he was clean-shaven, which made him look younger than he was. Instead of his usual t-shirt and jeans, he wore a nice polo shirt and a pair of khakis. He caught me looking at him.

“You smell nice. What’s the special occasion?” I swallowed. I hoped he wasn’t dressed up for me.

He had asked me out six months ago, and I had to say no. I was his teacher and a relationship with my students was wrong in multiple ways. Besides, I had sworn off men. I was running out of time and had to focus on my research to make something of myself. I didn’t need any distractions. My insides quivered at that thought. My father had his first major discovery while still in grad school. He had published multiple papers by the time he was my age.

Isaac grinned, exposing dimples usually hidden by his normal scruff. “It’s a big day for us, Professor Taylor. I’m showing my enthusiasm.”

I smiled in return. “Yes, it is. No need to call me professor. June is fine. We’ve been working together long enough.”

Kaitlin bounced through the door a few minutes after eight o’clock. She wasted five more minutes putting her things away, and I tapped my finger on my uniTab in front of me. Late as usual.

Finally, she strolled up to us and spoke in her normal, bubbly tone. “Hey, Professor! Loads of fun today.”

Maybe it was my interaction with my father this morning, but Kaitlin’s perkiness was on the verge causing me to say something I’d regret. She didn’t deserve that; she was trying her hardest.

I took a deep breath to center myself. “Isaac and I were just discussing that. So, are we ready?” I asked while retrieving the specimen from the refrigerator.

“Yeah, you bet!” Isaac’s voice was full of enthusiasm.

“I can’t believe we’ve had them soaking for two weeks already,” I said. Today we were going to use cloning technology to bring the golden toad back from extinction. I held the test tube up to the light and examined the few cells floating in the nutrient solution. It was amazing how much money these few cells cost.

“I’ll get the host eggs,” Kaitlin said.

The tree toad eggs had arrived earlier this week. We gathered around the lab table, studying the two vials of cells as if we expected them to tell us their story.

“Are you going to let us help insert the DNA into the eggs?” Isaac asked.

I assumed that would be my job, but seeing the excitement on both their faces, I caved. “I’ll get started, but you two can take a shot at it.”

Kaitlin sighed. “I don’t understand why we’re trying to bring back a toad?”

She missed the whole point. Had she done the reading I assigned? “It’s not that it’s a toad. Why did this toad become extinct?”

“I don’t know.” Kaitlin pulled her straight black hair into a ponytail.

Isaac shrugged. “The one article you assigned us said that they believe humans wiped them out.”

“Maybe. Nobody knows exactly what happened to them. That’s why bringing them back is important. If we had a few of these alive, we could figure out why they became extinct and prevent other species from the same fate.” Plus, nobody had cloned an extinct species before.

Isaac added, “Also, it would right a wrong humans did. Bringing back a species we wiped out is a way to return nature’s balance.” Isaac was sharp, and he would make great advancements when he finished school. I didn’t really enjoy the classroom teaching part of my job, but I loved working one on one with students.

I returned the test tube to the rack and examined one containing the unfertilized tree toad eggs. “Amphibians are nice because their eggs grow outside the mother’s body, making it easier for us to observe them.”

Kaitlin shrugged. “I think we should bring something more important back.”

“Like what?” Isaac asked.

Kaitlin laughed. “Like Elvis.”

“Human cloning’s illegal. You don’t know what you are saying.” My words were a bit harsh–blame it on seeing my father this morning. I forced my clenched jaw to relax.

“Calm down.” Kaitlin waved a hand at me. “I was only trying to be funny, but think of the possibilities...”

I let out a sigh. “Cloning humans is very complicated.”

“I think it could be done, though,” Isaac said with glowing eyes. “Your dad cloned primates, right?”

I nodded, but didn’t want to think about my father.

Isaac was leaning on the table with his eyes locked on mine. “Well, if he could do primates, I imagine cloning humans wouldn’t be that much different.”

“Human DNA is more complicated. The survival rates of cloned cells is low already, the more complicated the cell the lower the survival rate. Plus, with cloning humans, there’s the whole array of ethical dilemmas.” The only cloning that had ever taken off was for pets. For a year’s salary, you could duplicate your pet. As much as I loved Thursday, I wouldn’t do that. You’d never get exactly the same pet back. Their life experiences made them who they were. Commercial cloning survival rates had only minimally improved over the last twenty years.

“Like what?” Isaac asked.

I flipped into teacher mode, asking questions. My entire post-graduate dissertation was on this topic, and I could go on for hours. “Do clones have equal rights? What psychologic pressures do they have?”

“What do you mean by pressures?” Isaac asked.

“Well, since humans are conscious creatures, they would be aware they were a clone. There might be pressure for them to live up to their potential, defined by the successes of their cell donor. They would be always compared with the person they were cloned from and might feel the need to either live up to their donor or be their own person.” I spoke from experience. I had always felt the need to be as brilliant and kind as my father described my mother.

Kaitlin’s disinterest saved the day. “I think we should get to work and save this debate for after we’re successful.”

“Yeah, we’re getting ahead of ourselves, anyway.” I picked the test tube up with the golden toad cells. “Hopefully, our nutrient solution will do the trick.”

We got to work as I extracted DNA from the cells and passed it to Kaitlin and Isaac to screen it for completeness.

We were so focused that when my boss cleared his throat, we all jumped and Kaitlin’s arm caught the vial of eggs, sending them crashing to the floor.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, and then looked up to my boss. “I mean crap! I mean…what brings you here, Warren… I mean Professor Brandt.” I squatted down, picking up the glass, shaking my head at myself.

“I’m so sorry!” Kaitlin exclaimed, kneeling down beside me.

“It’s okay. They were the tree toad eggs. We have more.” I didn’t want to see the disappointment on Warren’s face. Even though they were the tree toad eggs, they still came out of the department’s tight budget.

“I’m here to see how your project is going.” He straightened his crisp comb over.

“Um...yes. It’s going well.” I turned to throw the broken glass into the garbage.

“I can see that,” Warren said.

I spun around to face him. He looked unhappy, but then, he always looked unhappy. I averted my eyes from the buttons of his pink shirt bursting at his belly. “We’ll be inserting the DNA soon. Would you like to watch?”

“No, no, that’s okay. I need to report your progress to the board tonight and wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. Your eggs are a big budget line item this year.”

Yeah, I was fully aware of the impact this had on the department and Warren personally. He had stuck his neck out for me to obtain the funding. It took me nearly a year to sell my project to the board, and I had a lot of pressure on me to succeed. “We should have the DNA inserted and the eggs secure in the biosphere in a few hours.”

Warren put a hand on my shoulder. “Shoot me a message when you’re done. I’ll present that to the board.” He left as quickly as he arrived.

Kaitlin swept up the remaining glass and took her spot next to Isaac. They both gazed into the microscopes while I retrieve more eggs from the refrigerator.

Kaitlin broke the silence. “I feel like we’re in that old movie…with the dinosaurs and mosquitoes in amber. Only, I don’t think toads will try to eat us when we’re done.”

“Lucky that was fiction,” Isaac added.

Yeah, but it wasn’t really that far-fetched.

Once they found complete samples, I did the final check of the golden toad DNA and inserted it into the tree toad eggs. We prepared as many eggs as possible, not knowing what our survival rate would be. I gave Isaac and Kaitlin the opportunity to inject the DNA into a few cells.

I leaned in to watch their technique clearly on the digital microscope display. “Kaitlin, hold the syringe up higher. Isaac, steady your hand and inject it slower.”

Soon, all the eggs were filled with the extinct toad DNA.

“Great job,” I said to my eager students. “The easy part’s over. The hard part is waiting the two months while they gestate. We’ll need to check daily to ensure the correct temperature, moisture levels, and filter out the dead eggs. They’ll turn white and cloudy.”

Isaac clapped his hands once. “Well, that was a lot of fun.”

I caught myself smiling ear-to-ear, but quickly stopped. We weren’t successful yet, and I had a lot riding on this.

“I’ll clean up here.” I was avoiding going home. Usually, I’d leave the clean-up to them so I could take Thursday for a jog or to the dog park. Would my father be waiting for me at home? Would he be past his paranoia? Deep down I realized I couldn’t avoid my father, nor my pent-up feelings too long. Thursday had already been home alone for ten hours, and it wasn’t fair to him.

I shuffled around the pipettes and put the samples away. Kaitlin left, but Isaac stayed.

“I’ll help.” He moved the empty test tubes to the autoclave.

We loaded the glassware in the machine, wiped down and disinfected the counter tops, and checked the toad eggs in the biome. I stared at the eggs and felt a sense of accomplishment, a smile twitching at my mouth again. “We did well today.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac nod. I turned to get my jacket, and he followed close.

“Professor Taylor….I mean, June?” He hesitated.

I turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Um… Can I ask you something?”

Oh no, here it came again. I took a deep breath and formulated my excuses: I’m your teacher, I could lose my job, I’m not over my ex-fiancé. “Yes, what is it?”

“Well, um…I don’t want any hard feelings between us.”

I tilted my chin, trying to understand what he was saying. “Yes…”

“It’s just that…”

“What’s up, Isaac?”

“I want to ask Kaitlin out…on a date…but I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us.”

I laughed, it probably wasn’t appropriate, but I couldn’t help it. “Yes, please. It’ll be good for you.”

His face grew long. Did I hurt his feelings? “Isaac, I think you are brilliant, a neat guy, and you deserve happiness. Go, have fun, be young.”

“I’m not much younger than you. I’m twenty-seven.”

Yeah, he wasn’t, but I felt a lot older.

He took my coat off the rack and handed it to me. “So, there’s nothing weird between us?” He smiled with sincerity.

Poor kid, that had to be hard to do. “I really appreciate you asking me. That took a lot of courage. Go, have fun. Enjoy life.” I smiled, but on the inside, I felt turmoil. Even though I wasn’t interested in Isaac, I was disappointed with the reminder of having to live my life alone.

You did it to yourself, June.

I had pushed my father out of my life and then left my fiancé.

Chapter 3

Turning onto my street, my stomach swirled as I looked for my father’s silver pickup. It had been three years since I’d last seen him, and he was probably driving a different vehicle by now. I should have looked for it this morning. When I saw he wasn’t on the sidewalk or my front porch, my grip on the steering wheel loosened and my shoulders relaxed.

He must have moved on to another delusional crisis.

It was only six PM, and I assessed the remaining daylight. There was still time for a jog before dark, but I didn’t have it left in me. Instead, I took Thursday for a short walk, made a light dinner, and spent the rest of the evening answering my student’s questions in the online classroom.

That night, Thursday snuggled beside me in bed, hogging it as usual. Without distractions, thoughts I had spent all day trying to suppress surfaced. As foolish as it was, part of me hoped my father had changed—that the father I used to know was still in there.

Thursday lay his head across my waist, and I rubbed his neck. “It looks like it’s still only you and me.”

He let out a questioning whine.

Why had I thought my father and I could put everything behind us and pick up where we left off when I was twelve? That he’d tell me he was happy he had me? Proud of me? I fell asleep believing I was as delusional as he was.

I woke up early the next morning, wanting to get the five-mile jog in that I skipped the previous night. Running would help clear my mind and help me forget about yesterday. I was as addicted to running as a smoker is to nicotine.

Thursday’s tail flew side to side and his nose kept nudging my arm as soon as I pulled my running shoes out.

“Hold on.” I laughed at the eager dog. “Give me a minute.”

I threw on my shoes and fastened Thursday’s running leash around my waist. “Let’s go!” I tried to get him excited. I loved watching him bounce and spin in circles, unable to control himself.

As a teenager, running was my way to escape my troubles. I kept running, though, because my mother died of a heart condition in her thirties. She never had any health problems and just like that, my father and I were left alone. Once I understood genetics and cloning, I feared I would die of a heart issue too—I was an exact copy of her.

If I stayed in shape, I might avoid my early death. My doctor said my heart was normal and didn’t think I had whatever she had. Maybe I didn’t or perhaps running changed my fate. No matter what, I still prepared myself to die in two years. If I had been cloned today, they could have screened for and corrected any genetic abnormality. In 2006, they didn’t have that capability.

The chilled spring air sent a shiver through me, but after the first mile, I warmed up. This morning, the air had a faint odor reminding me of a campfire. A few of my neighbors were out, taking advantage of the morning by raking old leaves and grooming their tulip patches. I wondered if some of them burned their leaves, as the odor was strong.

I ran fast and hard. My breaths were deep, my heart pounded, and sweat trickled down my back. My uniWatch kept warning me ‘above maximum heart rate,’ but I didn’t care. I tried to think of the amazing thing we did at work yesterday, but the events with my father played in my mind instead.

Mile by mile, I dwelled on how typical of him this was. He was always so overdramatic and never kept his promises. Right before I cut ties with him, he had missed my master’s degree graduation ceremony. Later, I found out he had passed out at a bar. I should have learned my lesson earlier in life, but he was the only family I had. Would he show up today? My stomach fluttered. He had been so sincere when he apologized. Forty minutes passed when my duplex came in view.

Thursday scratched at the back porch while I unlocked my door. “What is it?” Something shined from under his paw. I knelt down and slipped my fingers between the composite boards, pulling out a lens from a pair of glasses. I turned it over in my hand. How long had this been here?

Tossing the lens in the garbage, I quickly showered and made my way to work.

That evening, I settled into my old tan corduroy sofa, eating my pita chips and hummus dinner. Thursday jumped up and cuddled next to me. His cold nose nudged my hand, and I gave him a chip.

“TV on.” The screen glowed to life as I ate, sneaking Thursday a few more chips. “Scan programming.” The TV display flipped between multiple things, sitcoms, sports, and finally stopping at the news.

The report showed a burning building. A huge fire engulfed the structure. Flames leapt from the windows, support beams crashed down, and finally, the building imploded. I listened, trying to figure out where this happened.

“The old Del Monte cannery burned early this morning, located off Highway 14 in Middleton,” the news reporter’s voice announced over the images of the firefighters spraying water. My favorite running store was near there, but I wasn’t familiar with the cannery. “No one was injured, but the fire couldn’t be contained by the four fire engines that responded. Leaving nothing but a pile of rubble. Residents across Madison are reporting they could see and smell the smoke throughout the city all morning.”

Yeah, that was what I smelled on my run.

Images of the pile of charcoal and bricks displayed on the TV. “No news yet as to the cause of the fire.”

A few more stories were reported: a fundraiser for the homeless shelter and a celebrity wedding. Then, the screen flashed back to the anchor desk.

The reporter, a woman in the blue blazer, put her hand up to her ear. “This just in. The police are now reporting they found a body in the cannery fire. No identity has been released, but a fire rescuer did comment that it looks like it could be foul play.”

Foul play?

The paranoia my father doused me with yesterday surfaced. What if he had truly stopped drinking and he was right this time? What if the only reason he didn’t come back for me was because something happened to him? He had been afraid of what they would do to him if he refused to help with the cloning project. He said that they were willing to break the law. I dropped a pita chip, and Thursday quickly gobbled it up.

What if that body in the fire was his?

Stop it, June.

It wasn’t him, but I worried. No matter how much I said I didn’t want to see him, he was still my father. He was the man who played tooth fairy and put money under the pillow when I lost my baby teeth. The man who spun me in circles at the second grade father-daughter dance.

I pushed down my stubbornness, touched ‘Voice Call’ on my uniTab, and spoke his name. It was the first time in three years I reached out to him. As much as wanted him to stay away, believed he didn’t want to see me, and I only caused him grief, I couldn’t stop myself. He raised me the best he could.

His phone didn’t ring. It went straight to the messaging tree. Crap. Where was he? I touched ‘Leave Voice Message.’

“Hi, um…it’s June. I’m wondering where you are. Call me when you get this.”

I pushed the chips and hummus aside and slumped into the couch, rubbing the soft fur behind Thursday’s floppy ears. He nuzzled into my hands, and his big reddish brown eyes seemed to ask me what was wrong. His eyebrows twitched as if he was trying to read my thoughts. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing.”

In between toad eggs and students, I spent the next day searching the internet for cloning projects I hadn’t been familiar with, checking my phone for missed messages, and scanning the news for an identification of the body from the fire. All of which were unsuccessful.

I had started my day angry and frustrated as I replayed memories of my father’s earlier disappearances, convinced he was self-centered and didn’t care about me. Then, I wondered if he was avoiding me. I had been brutal to him. I hadn’t seen him in three years and when he finally reached out, I pushed him away. He was my father though, he’d always be there for me, right? Now, his apology wouldn’t leave my mind. He had missed me. I thought he hated me because I reminded him of Mom, but he was sorry. Why apologize if he was going to take off and hide from me again?

It felt different this time. If he truly quit drinking, then what was going on? He had never been gone this long before. And telling me to ‘be safe’? Who was he afraid of? If I could relive that morning, I’d have listened more rather than letting my emotions get in the way. Images of him sitting at my table, pleading with me while pushing his glasses up his nose came back. Glasses. Thursday had found a lens between my porch boards. My stomach twisted.

On the drive home, I gave my car’s dash computer a command, “Call my father.”

Voicemail picked up again. “You’ve called Samuel Taylor, please leave a message.” I turned off the auto-drive and stomped on the accelerator. I couldn’t get home fast enough.

I let Thursday outside while I examined my back porch. Had that lens been his? Nothing seemed out of place, but Thursday kept pushing himself into the evergreen bushes. I squatted down and moved the branches aside. There, sitting amongst the woodchips, were a pair of blue metallic glasses with a missing lens. My heart skipped. I rushed inside and pulled the lens from my garbage, fitting it into the empty spot.

No. No. No.

Crap!

I commanded Thursday into my car and sped to my father’s house, absentmindedly scratching Thursday’s head the entire drive.

As I pulled into the driveway of the small beige home, a flood of memories made me pause in my car. I played hopscotch with my father and knockeddown anthills on the walkway. The way my father clapped when I first figured out how to ride my bike without training wheels—and the subsequent crash leaving me the ugly scar on my knee. He had scooped me up, and kissed me on the top of my head. I felt so safe with him.

We were so close when I was younger. It wasn’t until I became a teenager that we grew apart. More than typical teenagers and their parents. Everything about me reminded him too much of Mom. He drank to cope with the ghost haunting him.

I felt pressure to be different than Mom, for his sake. I didn’t want to cause him pain. In fact, I almost didn’t go to college to be different. But one night, I decided I wouldn’t pretend to be someone else. I was my own person and would be true to myself. I turned to a career in genetics and cloning, it was my origins, and I had questions my father wouldn’t answer.

Thursday and I waited on his front porch after pressing the intercom button.

No answer.

I checked the knob—locked. Something wasn’t right.

My fingers danced over the keypad, entering the same code from my childhood. I punched in my creation date, not birthdate, but the day my father inserted my mother’s DNA into an egg. 06-14-06. He named me June in honor of the month he created me. Keeping this tradition, I named Thursday for the day I adopted him from the pound.

I placed my finger on the fingerprint reader. The grinding of gears and the clicking of pins inside the lock told me I was successful.

“Hello?” I called into the house.

The hair on my arms raised as images of finding my father’s dead body fluttered in my mind. Why did I always think of the worst-case scenario? My stomach churned, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten lunch. Better to get this out of the way. I rushed in and searched each room of the house. Relief settled over me when I didn’t find his body, then I started to worry.

Don’t jump to conclusions, June.

He could be out on an errand, but I tightly clutched the glasses in my hand. I looked through the house again, paying more attention this time, even though I didn’t know what I was looking for.

“TV on.” The machine came to life on my father’s living room wall.

“History.” The channel history populated the screen. The last time anything was watched was four days ago. This confirmed nothing, and worry settled in again.

I searched the house once more, but nothing stood out. I found his washer/dryer machine and opened it to reveal cold wrinkled clothes. They had been in there a while. His refrigerator had food in it; the milk was out of date by a day. This still didn’t confirm anything.

I went outside to see if he had any mail. There were a few pieces of advertising. I pulled up this area’s mail delivery and saw it came weekly on Tuesdays. He hadn’t brought his mail inside in two days.

Was this enough to confirm he was missing? Did it matter? I had his broken glasses, and he wasn’t answering his calls or messages. I clicked my uniWatch’s screen and called the police.

A nasally woman’s voice answered the phone. “Madison Police Department, this is Lilly, how can I help you?” No video display, just the blue and bold emblem of the PD displayed on my uniWatch.

“Yes, this is June Taylor.” My voice cracked as I held back emotions. “I think my father, Samuel Taylor, is missing.”

“Where are you? I’ll dispatch an officer to you as soon as possible.”

I focused on keeping my voice steady while I gave her the address.

After ending the call, I went outside to wait, hoping the fresh air would help me get a grip on my emotions. I let Thursday run in the front yard and focused on the setting sun and the warm rays that provided comfort.

I surveyed my old neighborhood and memories fought to surface again. The blue house across the street made me smile. My first boyfriend, Matt, lived there, and I used to sneak out to meet him. Oh, the thrill of a first love, butterflies, sparks, and adrenaline. Smiling, I thought of my students, Isaac and Kaitlin.

A car was parked in front of Matt’s house with a man sitting behind the wheel. Did Matt’s parents still live there? Was it him in the car? I bit my lip, squinting inside, but realized Matt was probably married already and maybe even had children. I fought with a hardening in my stomach. I had focused on my career instead of having a family. Children were always off limits for me because if I was to die in my thirties, I wouldn’t leave a child without a mother. I had known what that was like and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

I shook those thoughts from my head and focused on my father instead. He was paranoid someone was out to get him. In a rush, the pieces started to click together. Why was there a man sitting in a car down the street? Had that car been there when I arrived?

I looked at Thursday. “Okay, get inside.”

He shot right through the open door.

Pins and needles danced on my skin as the sensation of being watched consumed me. I stumbled to get in the house and lock the door. My shaky hands pulled back the curtain. The car was dark green, and I couldn’t identify the model. Only that it was old and probably still ran on gas. The front of the car didn’t have a license plate.

I squinted to get a good look at the driver, but the visor was down. He was a good sized man, but I couldn’t make out his features.

Perhaps my father wasn’t paranoid after all.

A police car then came down the street and pulled into the driveway. I released the drape and took a few breaths to steady myself.

When I opened the door to greet the officer, my eyes searched the street for the dark green car. It had disappeared.

Chapter 4

“Hello, Ms. Taylor, I’m Officer Sheridan. You reported your father’s missing?” Her words were as rigid as the lines of her nose and jaw. Even with sunglasses, I could tell she was younger than me. Every brown hair secured tightly in a bun, her expression stern, and her posture straight. Her navy uniform was minimally decorated—only a patch on her arm, badge, and name tag.

“Yes. Please come in.” I stepped aside.

She pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head as she entered. Thursday’s tail wagged as he intruded on the officer’s personal space. His light red fur threw itself at her dark uniform while he eagerly nudged the officer’s hand. She frowned.

“I’ll put him in the spare bedroom. Have a seat in the kitchen, and I’ll be right back.” I grabbed his collar and pulled him away.

Once Thursday was settled, I returned to the officer. The image of her sitting at the old oval table in the empty house brought the realization of how serious this situation was. I hesitated before sinking into the chair across from her. What if I was wrong and he wasn’t missing? What other explanation did I have? I fidgeted, trying to get comfortable.

The officer had her uniTab on the table and the stylist in her hand. “Samuel Xavier Taylor, right?”

“Yes.”

She made notes on the screen. “Ms. Taylor, would you tell me why you think your father disappeared? How long has he been missing?”

I started with him warning me to get out of town because of the scientific project he was asked to help with, leaving out the word ‘cloning.’ I told her about discovering his broken glasses on my back porch, and how I came here and discovered things that made me believe he hadn’t been home in several days. My voice was calm despite my churning stomach.

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions to complete the report.” She looked me in the eyes, waiting for my go-ahead.

I nodded.

“Okay, how about a physical description? Height, weight, hair and eye color.”

“Light brown graying hair, brown eyes, I don’t know his height or weight. Can’t you pull that from his driver’s license?”

“Yes, but please take a guess, Ms. Taylor.”

“Okay, about five-nine and two hundred and ten pounds?”

She clicked on the screen of her uniTab. “Your relationship is his daughter, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else live with him? Perhaps a Mrs. Taylor?”

“She died when I was still a baby.”

The officer looked up and her face glowed blue from the digital screen. “I’m sorry. I lost a mother too.”

I nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t remember her at all.”

“Has he ever gone missing before?”

“Yeah, a few times. Years ago when I was in high school, he would disappear for a night. Once he drank too much and passed out in his car, other times, he ended up at whatever hotel was close to him. Another time he spent a night in jail, also related to drinking. It wasn’t anything big, but it worried me.” Yeah, he was an outstanding citizen.

“Does he frequently drink too much?”

“He says he quit over a year ago, but before, he drank quite a bit.”

The officer continued her notes on the display. “Any emotional trauma, domestic issues, bizarre behavior lately?”

“Aside from showing up on my doorstep? I hadn’t seen him in three years.”

She set her stylist down and looked up at me. “Three years? Why?”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth felt dry. “We had a disagreement.”

“What happened?”

Did she think I was involved somehow? “He was unreliable and an alcoholic. I insisted he quit drinking, but he didn’t see it that way. Trying to make a point, I left, telling him I didn’t want to see him again until he was sober… I couldn’t see him that way.”

The indifference my father showed that day confirmed my decision. He was sitting on the couch, in only his boxers, staring at the TV. He didn’t even flinch when I headed for the door. I walked slowly, hoping he’d call me back. Hoping he’d apologize. I blinked and looked away from the officer. I wouldn’t allow the tears. “We were both stubborn and time slipped away.” It seemed more complicated than that, but it really wasn’t.

She tilted her chin. “You’re sure he’s missing? I mean, you hadn’t seen him in three years.”

I pushed his glasses across the table. “Besides these, the situation seems different this time. I don’t know what to say, it’s my gut instinct telling me something’s wrong.”

“Are you sure these glasses are his?”

“Yes…no… I think so. I had only seen him for a short time the other morning, but they were this shade of blue.”

She picked the glasses up and looked through them. “They’re not very strong. Did he always wear them?”

I shook my head. “No. In fact, the last few years I had spent with him, he had broken his and never got replacements.”

“I’ll swing by your place after this to look at where you found these.” She made more notes. “Why would he tell you to get out of town?”

“I don’t know.” Well, I didn’t know exactly why.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything that stands out from his past? Debt? Bad people he associated with? Trouble he’d been in?”

Would participation in human cloning count? I sat back and crossed my legs, shaking my head. “Nothing comes to mind. It’s been three years, and I really don’t know him that well anymore.” My stomach knotted, knowing I was intentionally withholding information. He always told me to take our secret to my grave… I hoped I didn’t also take it to his.

“Any other habits, unusual behavior, or plans he talked about?”

“Not that I know of. Again, I just saw him yesterday morning.”

She nodded. Her sunglasses slipped down a little, and she righted them. “Do you have his bank records or payment card carrier? We can check for any unusual activity.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know who my father was now. It had been so long. Before that, the alcohol clouded him. All I wanted was to get that father back from when I was little. The man whose world included me. I looked away from the officer. I didn’t know if he even existed anymore.

She made a few more notes. “Can I look around?”

“Yes, of course. What are you looking for?”

“Anything unusual. It could be notes, travel plans, newspaper clippings, messages, or internet usage. Anything that gives us a clue to what he was thinking or where he was planning on going.”

We walked around the house, examining the few items he had laying out. He had always been a neat freak. We briefly searched through his things and nothing seemed significant to either of us.

“Is it odd to you that there are no photos of anyone anywhere?” the officer asked.

I scanned the house. Sure, there weren’t any photos out, but I didn’t think it was odd. I had none either. “We never worried much about photos. He never liked clutter, and we never dwelled on the past.”

“Yeah, but usually there’s at least a photo of a family member, even if it’s really old. I mean, you’re his only child, right? You’d think he’d have one at least of you.”

Unless your daughter reminds you of the wife you lost.

As I walked her out, something flashed through my mind. “Oh, one more thing. There was a dark green Pontiac parked across the street before you arrived. A man in the car seemed like he was watching this place. As soon as your squad car came down the road, he left.”

“Do you have a license plate? Description of the man? Type of Pontiac?”

I shook my head. “The car was older. It probably still ran on gasoline. Maybe manufactured between 2010 to 2020. I couldn’t see the man. He was big?” I shrugged. She must see me as incompetent.

“It’s probably a coincidence, but it’s always good to keep an eye out.”

Was she humoring me?

“Here’s my info.” She swiped her uniTab’s screen and my uniWatch vibrated. “Call me if you think of anything or if your father shows up. Often, with missing adults, they come back on their own. Many of them want to disconnect from their life, you know, escape something for a little while.”

I hoped that was true. “So what’s the next step?”

“Well, I’ll finish this report and then talk with the neighbors. Maybe they’ve noticed something going on.”

“I’ll come along.” I wanted to know everything she learned. Maybe it would trigger something only I knew.

“Ms. Taylor, the best thing you can do is find me a photo of him and information on what bank he uses. Please think over the questions I asked earlier to see if anything else comes to mind. I know you want to help, but you need to let me do my job.”

“So, basically, you want me to sit and wait?” I shook my head. That idea didn’t settle well.

“No. I need you to look for clues that will help us in our search. Please contact me with information when you have it.”

Really? Was she pushing me away? My nails pressed into my palms. “I have one more question. This morning, at the cannery fire, there was a body found. I was wondering if it would be possible that body was my father.”

The officer’s face was expressionless as she removed her sunglasses from the top of her head and replaced them on her face. “We’re still waiting on an identification on the body. I don’t have any details other than the victim was male.”

My father could be dead.

“Why would you think that body’s his? Was he mixed up in something?”

I shook my head. “I guess I’m just a little too worried.”

“I’d tell you not to worry, but I know that won’t help. Try to find us those items and get some sleep. It’s the best you can do right now.”

I closed the door behind the officer and let Thursday out of the back room. I flopped on the couch and my best friend settled beside me. Staring out the window, I watched the officer return to her vehicle before going to the neighbors’ houses.

He can’t be dead.

And if he wasn’t dead, that meant I needed to help the officer find him. It took all my willpower not to go outside and listen in on the interviews. What if she missed asking the right question? She didn’t know my father… I guess I didn’t either.

Stop it, June. Let her do her job. You have your own job to do.

“Come, Thursday, she wants us to look for clues,” I said while stroking the dog’s head.

We started in my father’s bedroom. Well, only half of us searched; Thursday jumped up and lay on the bed.

The only item I discovered of interest was his handgun—a 9mm in a belt clip holster hidden amongst his perfectly folded underwear. I picked it up and sat beside Thursday in bed. I turned the gun over in my hands.

After I turned twelve, we had gone to the range and practiced a few Saturdays. At first, the noise and kick-back terrified me, but my father’s hands steadied mine, and I learned to shoot. He said knowing how to handle a gun was a skill everyone should have. He started drinking soon after and never finishing my training. I pulled the gun from the holster and felt the weight of it in my hands. I hadn’t shot a gun in nearly twenty years. Why didn’t he take this with him? I put the gun back in the drawer.

In his closet, above the shirts sorted by color, was a box of ammunition containing rounds for a .45 and the 9mm. There was an empty spot on the shelf. Maybe he kept the .45 there. Its elaborate wooden case would fit perfectly between the ammunition and the wall.

Thursday and I went to my old bedroom. It was exactly how I left it when I went away to college, a bare mattress and my worn white dresser. There was nothing else there.

I moved to the final bedroom, which my father used for an office. On his desk was another empty spot. I imagined it was where his computer sat. His file cabinet was locked, and I couldn’t find the keys in his desk drawers. I never thought about it when I lived there, but why would he have a file cabinet? Everything was paperless.

The closet was almost empty except for an old shoebox. We had always kept our memories tucked away in these boxes. I sat next to Thursday and rummaged through the contents. It contained notes from Mom to Dad all dated a handful of years before I was born. My chest tightened thinking about what was written on them. Like many things, I was told my mother’s handwriting was similar to my own. If only I remembered her. I opened a letter, but quickly refolded it, not wanting to violate their privacy.

There were a few photos of Dad and Mom, me, ticket stubs to a Broadway showing of Annie, and a thumb drive, which I slipped into my jeans’ pocket. I’d check what was on it when I got home, I didn’t want to be here any longer than needed.

One photo made me pause—I had the same one tucked away somewhere. It was of Dad and Mom holding me right after I was born. I hadn’t looked at this photo in years. The older I got, the more unnerving the photo became. I was almost the same age she was in the photo. Her crystal blue eyes, light blond hair, and high cheekbones were like looking in a mirror. Her face was fuller than mine, and honestly, I thought she looked better. I ran too much and sometimes sacrificed eating to work.

I rubbed my finger over the slippery surface of the photo; I hadn’t held a printed photograph in a while. My father was thirty years younger and looked too different for the photo to be helpful in finding him. I returned it to the box.

My search of the rest of the house turned up nothing useful. It was dark when I finished, and my thoughts returned to the green Pontiac I had seen earlier. My stomach cramped at the thought of going outside, but I needed to get home. I had to teach tomorrow.

It was absurd, but I rushed to my father’s bedroom and obtained his 9mm and the ammunition. I stuffed the gun in my waistband. Wasn’t that what they did in the movies? I turned off the lights and called for Thursday.

This was ridiculous.

I pulled the gun out and wrapped it in a towel. At least now, I had something more than pepper spray. Butterflies wrestled in my stomach as Thursday and I ran to the car and locked the doors when we were inside. I slipped the gun under the passenger seat, probably breaking a ton of laws, but I didn’t care. With my father missing and the eerie feeling that man in the car gave me, I felt better having it along.

“Auto-drive home,” I told the computer.

Settling into my seat, I shook off a sudden chill. Why was I worrying about my safety when my father was the one who disappeared? All the way home, I dwelled on what was in the house and realized what was missing. There was no alcohol. Had he told me the truth? Was he finally sober?

My eyes stayed glued to the mirrors during the ride. I thought every set of headlights was following me.

Thursday had to do his business on the walk to the house. We both missed our jog this evening.

I locked the door and sat on the sofa with my uniTab on my lap. As much as I knew I’d pay for staying up late, I needed to see what was on that flash drive. Soon, my screen populated with various photos from my father’s life. Most of them were old, my mother must have been the photographer, but there were a few photos of her too.

I arranged the photos by date and found one taken eight years ago of my father and me at my undergraduate graduation. He made it to this ceremony—James, my ex-fiancé, had dragged him out of a bar. The photo looked like him, except he had more gray hair now. I emailed it to Officer Sheridan along with a message saying I couldn’t figure out where his finances were kept.

Despite being tired, I clicked through my life in reverse. There weren’t many photos, just the highlights. James and my engagement party, my high school graduation, the first day of school from 6th grade all the way back to kindergarten, and then the familiar photo of baby-me held in my mother’s arms. I tapped my lip while staring at the photo. Something was different, but I couldn’t place it.

I went to my closet and dug out my shoebox, pulling my copy of the photo from the bottom. I held it up to the one on my uniTab screen and stared at it for a while before noticing the difference in the baby’s eyes.

On the digital photo from my father’s house, the baby’s eyes were dark. They definitely were deep brown, like my father’s, while my eyes were light blue. A baby’s eyes could change color, but they tended to darken, not lighten, at least not that much. I tossed the photo down and dropped my head in my hands. My copy of the photo was altered.

The baby in my mom’s arms wasn’t me.

I clicked open the file details and looked at the digital date on the photo. It should have been near my birthdate, but it wasn’t. It was five years earlier.

More lies.

What was my father hiding from me?

Chapter 5

I spent the next morning obsessively checking my messages, dwelling on my father, and pondering who the baby in the photo was.

I took Thursday out for a seven-mile run to clear my head and hoped a brilliant idea would pop in somewhere during the running high. It didn’t work, but Thursday wagged his tail and spun in circles when he saw the leash. He deserved it because he had been extra cuddly last night. The night I left James, I tossed, turned, and didn’t sleep at all. Right away the next morning, I went down to the pound and adopted Thursday. Experts say humans need companionship, boy, did I believe it. Especially now.

I flew through my classroom lecture on gene mutations then stopped by the lab to check on the toad eggs. In the adjacent lab, Kaitlin and Isaac introduced the work for today to the undergrads. I stayed out of their line of sight.

I checked the biome and stared into the glass sphere. About one-third of the eggs were dying and had already turned cloudy. I wiped the glass and blinked, hoping it was an illusion of some type. It wasn’t.

When I arrived home, I couldn’t wait any longer. I called Officer Sheridan from my uniTab.

While holding the device in my hand with the camera facing me, I paced my living room. “Um, hello, this is June Taylor. You made the report about my missing father yesterday.”

“Yes, I remember.” The officer nodded, her face as stoic as I remembered. “I received your photo and message last night.”

“Have you found anything yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Had she even started working on it yet? Did I give her enough time? “Did you get his bank account information?”

“Yes, we got it. There has been no activity since the day before you last saw him. Phone records didn’t turn up anything either.”

My stomach calmed some. They had done something. “Did you swing by my place?”

“Yes, I looked myself, there was nothing significant. I even knocked on some doors, but you’re kinda tucked away. Nobody noticed anything.”

“Has anyone spotted his truck yet?”

She tilted her chin. “Truck? I only saw a car registered with the DMV.”

“Oh. Anything on that yet?” How could I not know what vehicle my father drove? How did that look to the officer?

“No, nothing yet.” She looked over the uniTab at something in the distance.

“What about my father’s neighbors? Did they have anything useful to offer?” I paced faster and turned sharper.

She acknowledged something in the distance before returning to me with firm words. “Ms. Taylor, I’d let you know if I discovered anything useful. This is as frustrating for me as it is for you.”

“Um…” I closed my mouth. I didn’t know what to say.

She broke the silence. “How about you? Have you found out anything that would be useful for us?”

I release a breath. “No.” I wouldn’t tell her about the human cloning nor the altered baby photo.

“Well, when you find something out, please let me know, and I’ll do the same.”

“How about the cannery fire? Any identification on the body?”

“Full ID is not back yet, but I can tell you the body was not someone your father’s age.”

I stopped pacing, disconnected the call, and sunk into the sofa, tapping the corner of my uniTab. Thursday nudged me, and I rubbed his chest with my free hand. The body wasn’t my father’s…but he still could be dead.

Stop it, June. He’s alive. They’ll find him.

Officer Sheridan wasn’t moving fast enough. Had she learned anything from the neighbors? She may have missed a subtle clue. I also wanted to get into my father’s file cabinet. Dusk was approaching, and there was no way I was going to his house at night. I’d go in the morning. I spent the rest of the evening visiting my own neighbors. Officer Sheridan was right, nobody noticed anything unusual.

A little after ten the next day, we pulled into my father’s driveway. I had taken Thursday for a quick three-mile jog and swung by the lab to check on the eggs. Pleased with no more cloudy eggs, I focused on my three goals today: getting inside the file cabinet, retrieving the shoebox of memories, and talking with the neighbors. Considering how creeped out I had been last time, I wanted to get in and out of his house as quickly as possible. I’d bring whatever I found home for further review.

As ridiculous as I told myself it was, I clipped my father’s gun to my waistband. I tapped it with my hand. Maybe it was for protection, maybe it was a nice memory I shared with him, but it needed to come along. Thursday and I started in the garage, punching in my creation date to open the overhead door. I pulled down a pry bar from the wall of perfectly organized tools.

Entering the house, my mind was all over the place, firing off a string of questions. Had he been there since yesterday? Had anyone else broken in? Where had he gone? Was someone watching me?

The place made the hair on my arms raise. It was too silent. I stopped outside his office; the door was shut. Had I closed it? I listened at the door with a pounding heart, keeping my eyes on Thursday. His ears stayed down and tail wagged.

I flung it open, tightly clutching the pry bar. My eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next, but it was exactly how I left it.

I put one end of the bar in the small slit between the drawers and applied a little pressure. The metal bent almost instantly, allowing me to pull the lock right through. I’d buy him a new file cabinet, something more secure, when I found him. If I found him.

Stop thinking that, June.

The first drawer contained papers organized by color—four colors to be exact. I thumbed through them, finances. Red was bank statements, green retirement funds, yellow credit card statements, and orange was bills. The second drawer had manila folders holding scientific papers relating to cloning; all of them were out of date. I returned to the first drawer and perused the bills; they were all out of date too. Didn’t he throw anything away?

I frowned at the broken file cabinet and tapped my finger on his desk. What did I expect? I pulled out one file after another and flipped through the papers.

One bank account stopped me. There was a large lump-sum payment from a company called Synthetic Biology Research, Inc. (SBRI). My dad used to work for them. This statement was from ten years after I thought he quit.

I examined the rest of the bills, noticing the January statement every year had the same payment. Why would he be getting this? It was large enough to live on. Was this why he never had to work? Even more interesting was why he also paid out a lump-sum once a year to a person named Olivia Caldwell. This went all the way back until the year I was born. There were no statements for the past few decades. Was he still getting the money?

I was torn. Did I tell the officer about this? My gut told me the money was related to human cloning. Would telling the police this lead them to discover my father was a criminal?

I pulled the statements out, along with a few of the studies tucked away in the bottom drawer, and put them in the shoebox of letters from the closet.

As I closed the car door on Thursday, his eyes captivated me. “Guard that box of papers. I’ll be right back.” I chuckled, rolled down the windows, and gave his fur a ruffle.

Now, on to the neighbors.

I took a deep breath as I rang the closest neighbor’s intercom. Memories came back of my time at this house. When Mrs. Walker’s husband died, I started coming over to keep her company. She had one of the first internet-based smart TVs in the neighborhood. I spent quite a bit of time drinking lemonade and searching the channels. She always made time for me and my stories of my father.

A woman in her fifties with a heart-shaped face I didn’t recognize came on the digital display. “Hello?”

“Yes, hi, I’m June Taylor. Samuel’s daughter.”

Her mouth turned up in a welcoming smile, and she opened the door. “I’m so sorry to hear he’s missing. Come in. I’m Tina Jones.”

I stepped inside and took in the room. Gone was the comfortable worn couch, the gliding rocking chair, and the beautiful rugs. The place was now painted in bold colors with modern furniture. “What happened to Mrs. Walker?”

The woman’s facial features drooped, and her shoulders followed. “She’s in a nursing home now. I understand she had a stroke a few years ago.”

My throat constricted, and I forced myself to swallow. I should have spent more time with her. She had always loved daisies; I’d send her a bouquet when I got home. “Did you talk to the police about my father?”

“Yes, they were here yesterday. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help to them. Come, sit down.” She led me to the kitchen, and we sat at the island.

“What did you tell the police?”

“I didn’t have anything to tell them. Just that I hadn’t seen him either. Other than being distracted a little, there was nothing different going on with him.”

“He’d been distracted?”

“Yeah. He’d cut our card games short or not come at all some days.” Tina rubbed her chin. “Any news on where he is?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think it’s a priority for the police.”

She tucked her overly highlighted brown hair behind her ear. “I’m sure they’re doing the best they can, but with the Del Monte fire the other day, all their spare resources are on that. They’re saying the body they pulled out may have been a murder victim.”

“Murder?” I choked on the word, but reassured myself Officer Sheridan told me it wasn’t my father.

“Yeah, they think it may be a serial killer, they’re calling the Orphan Killer. The body at the cannery seems to be connected to three other murders from a few years ago.”

“Orphan Killer?”

“They say all three victims had been adopted.”

The police must have identified the victim then. Was Officer Sheridan working on that case as well? “The police think my father will come back on his own.”

She pursed her lips. “That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t just leave.”

“He’s disappeared before.” I was trying to portray the police view of the case.

“Well, the Samuel Taylor I know wouldn’t disappear.”

“How do you know him?” I glanced down at her hand, no wedding ring.

“He stops by every day after his morning walk. He has a lot of time on his hands and says he’s lonely.” Her look told me he was lonely because his daughter abandoned him. “I’m done with work at about eleven. We have lunch and either play cards or watch TV. I haven’t lived here long, so I didn’t know him when he used to drink.”

I refocused on my father’s current situation. “So, what do you know about what happened? Any idea where he could be?”

“No, he had been jumpy lately. I thought it was because he talked about coming to see you.”

“Yeah, he visited me four days ago and told me to get out of town.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Four days ago? On Tuesday?”

I nodded.

“The last time I saw him was Monday. You must have been the last one to see him.”

My stomach turned. If I’d just listened to him. “Were there any odd visitors at his house?”

She laughed. “Any visitor would be odd.”

Another thing I had in common with my father.

Tina continued, “He kept to himself, other than coming to visit me for a few hours every day.” Tina rubbed her chin. “I guess he had a few cars over lately, more than usual, but I couldn’t identify them.”

“Was one a green Pontiac? It’s an older one that still runs on gasoline.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t noticed that car.”

“Well, if you do see it, please snap a photo or get me the license plate.”

She cocked her head.

I shook mine. “There was a car parked on the street yesterday that made me feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s creepy that he’s missing. I think we’re all on edge from it. Especially that nobody knows what happened.”

We talked a while longer, but it appeared she knew little about my father or his disappearance. He did a good job of keeping his secrets. What I did learn was my father helped her deliver Meals on Wheels every Saturday and helped prepare a meal at the homeless shelter once a month. Neither of which reminded me of him. Perhaps he finally had a normal life?

I worked my way around the neighborhood. The only additional information I discovered was he now drove a black Toyota compact car, and I was wrong, many of the same people still lived on this street. What I had expected to be a quick tour of houses turned out to be more elaborate. They asked me how I was and what I’d been up to.

As I left the final house, I spotted the dark green Pontiac parked on the road. A shiver shot down my spine and a knot formed in my stomach. The pressure of the holstered gun dug into my side, which only made me sweat. I squinted at the shadowed man inside. The officer asked if I had a license plate last time, but I still couldn’t see it.

There were a few people outside in the daylight, coming and going. Nothing would happen, I told myself. I would show Officer Sheridan I was useful by getting her some solid information on who this man was.

Chapter 6

My plan formed as I tried to walk naturally to my car, keeping the green car in my peripheral vision. I’d zoom in with my uniTab and take a photo of the man’s face. Unfortunately, the license plate wasn’t visible from my father’s house.

I slipped inside my car, carefully lifted my device, and snapped some photos. Zooming in on the car, his face wasn’t clear. A strong jaw line, but the whole top of his head hid behind the visor. Would this be enough for the police to believe me? Sure, it confirmed a man was sitting in a car, but nothing more.

“Let’s go for a little walk.” I hooked Thursday up to his leash and double-checked the 9mm at my waist. If I could come up behind the car, I may be able to get the license plate. I’d stay far enough away and in plain view of neighbors outside. We’d then jump in my car and speed away. It was probably nothing anyway. Just a man visiting a neighbor. Purely coincidental.

I headed down the sidewalk, away from the green car. My insides jumpedall over. I held my breath while listening for anything behind me—any sign that the man had gotten out of his car and followed. A rustling of a branch, a house door, a bird. It’s nothing, June. Calm down.

I turned the corner and was out of view of the car. I quickened my pace, wanting to get this over with. When I turned the final corner, the car was there, but a truck was parked behind it. Damn, the license plate was blocked. As I got closer, some of the plate was exposed, “349,” but the first part was still hidden.

Was it worth crossing the street to find out? I scoped out the man in the car, and he seemed focused on watching the house and fiddling with something in his hands. A uniTab of some type, I guessed by the slight glow inside.

Deep breath. I’d come this far. I felt the holster in the small of my back with my free hand, hoping I wouldn’t need it. You’re just overreacting, June. Who would watch me anyway? If this man wanted to harm me, he could have already.

I led Thursday to the other side of the road, slowing down as I neared his car. I glued my eyes to the car’s mirrors, repeating to myself, please don’t look behind you. But then,as if on cue, his eyes darted up. I stopped. Did he see me hesitate? Only a few more steps to the license plate. A small squeak raised the hair on my arms—the car door had opened.

My heart leapt into my throat as I jumped back. “Come, Thursday!” I spun around.

The man’s feet patted on the sidewalk. He was coming for me, so I ran.

“Stop!” His voice was commanding, deep and rich. “I want to help!”

Yeah, right. Stupid move, June. Why the hell did you need to get that license plate? My thoughts were on the broken glasses; I was certain they were my father’s. I kept running at an all-out sprint. One block after another until my lungs burned from the speed. Thursday galloped beside me with his tongue swaying in the wind. The man’s footsteps had faded long ago, but I kept going. I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. What if he got in the car and followed me?

I kept sprinting, despite my stinging legs, taking side streets, rushing through abandoned yards, and making it hard for him to follow. When I was certain there was nobody after me, I found the first neighbor who was outside. An elderly man who was pulling weeds from his tulip patch.

I fought for air. “Sir…do you mind…if I step inside your garage…to make a call?”

He stared at me, and his eyebrows wrinkled more than his face.

I took a deep breath. “I think I’m being followed…and would like to call the police.”

He slowly stood up while holding a hand to his lower back. “Yes, of course.” He led me in through the side door. I swiped the screen of my uniWatch and called the police. They had to be sick of me by now.

I looked to my host. “Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing, and I’m just paranoid.” Yup. I believed it full force now. I was officially insane, imagining the worst.

When the dispatch officer answered, I told her all the details of what happened. Whether she believed me or not didn’t matter, she was sending a police car to assess if the man was still there and to escort me back to my car.

While waiting, I felt like an idiot. I tried to stand tall, but found myself slouched over in thought. The man did open his car door and yell for me to stop. He knew something, and with my father missing, I had a right to be fearful.

When the officer came, I thanked the elderly man over and over as I crawled into the squad.

Soon, we turned onto my father’s road. My eyes dashed all over, looking for the green car, but it was gone.

Days passed, and I had no sign of my father nor the man from the car. I called Officer Sheridan every day for an update, and she came back empty-handed. I had sent her the photos of the car and kept trying to give her bits and pieces of information: a few details of the man in the car, the partial license plate numbers, hypothesizes why my dad was still getting money from SBRI. I urged to do everything possible, as my father must be in trouble because he took his gun. When I ended my last call, I felt defeated.

“Um, Officer Sheridan?” I said to the video display. “It’s June Taylor.”

A small I-know-that-already smile flashed on her face. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh. Well, do you have any update on my father?”

Her face tensed up. “Ms. Taylor, if I had an update, you’d be the first person I’d call. I told you that already. I know it can be hard, but you need to take it day-by-day and continue to move forward. It's good we haven’t found him. That means he could still be alive.”

My heart fell to the floor as I allowed that new idea to sink in. “He could be dead?” I had put that thought away since learning he hadn’t been burnt in the fire.

She shrugged. “Anything’s a possibility. You told us he took a gun. We’re approaching a week now that he’s been missing…”

Suicide? I didn’t want to listen to the rest of what she had to say. I needed to end the call and be alone. “If you find anything, call me right away. I won’t call again.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for your help.” I ended the call. It was my fault they didn’t find him. How did I expect them to find him if I wasn’t willing to tell them the whole story? Either I needed to confess my dad’s involvement in cloning, or I needed to look for him myself. What would my father want? I couldn’t tell her…or anyone anything about cloning, no matter what.

Thursday laid his head across my lap as I sat on the couch, stroking his neck and scratching behind his ears. The TV wasn’t on, but my eyes wouldn’t leave the screen. Numbness took over. If my father’s situation wasn’t emotionally draining enough, everything I had worked for my whole life was going down the toilet…one toad egg at a time.

Were the police even looking for my father? If I wanted to find him, I’d have to take control and do something.

I opened the uniTab’s notebook app and wrote a random list of questions. Who needed my father’s help with cloning? Who was the baby in the photo? Why was SBRI paying him? Why was he giving money away? Who was that man in the green car and why was he watching me?

The list was a starting point. I tapped my finger on the corner of the device while speculating the answers. I didn’t have them—yet. I clicked into the calling app and began following the leads. Where was my father’s money coming from and who did it go to?

It was early enough, so I started by calling SBRI and asking them why my dad was still on their payroll. Hopefully, they’d tell me the police already called as well, then I’d confirm they were doing their job and not brushing me off.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Synthetic Biology Research Corp. How may I direct your call?” The words came from the most beautiful, computer-generated man’s lips on an equally attractive face. Too attractive, scientifically engineered and digitally enhanced to be that way. I preferred to find beauty in the flaws of real people. His voice was smooth, but monotone. His shirt was programmed a pleasing Easter-egg blue.

“Yes, I want to see if Samuel Taylor works at your company.”

“Let me check.” There was a slight pause while the man processed the request—his digital eyes continued to stare straight ahead. “No active employees by that name.”

But he had a payment. “When was the last time he worked for you?”

“That information is confidential. Please hold for the Human Resource Department.” The digital operator’s face disappeared, and SBRI’s logo replaced it.

“Thank you for calling SBRI’s Human Resource Department. We are currently out of the office. Please leave a message, and we’ll return your call on the next business day.”

I glanced at the time—it was 4:45PM. “Hi, this is June Taylor. I’m looking for my father, Samuel Taylor, and I was wondering if you’d tell me the status of his employment with you. Any information you could give me would be helpful.” I left my contact information and thanked them for the help.

The thought of waiting until tomorrow had me dialing their number again.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Synthetic Biology Research Corp. How may I direct your call?” spoke that beautiful synthetic man again.

“Accounting Department, please.”

Hold music then a human. “SBRI accounting, this is Danna.” She had a nice smile and welcoming dark eyes that calmed my nerves.

“Yes, hi, Danna. My name’s June, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me. I have been going through my father’s finances and see that your company had been paying him a large sum of money every January 2nd. Is there any way you can tell me what that’s for?”

“Maybe. I can pull what the ledger says, but I don’t know how much help that’ll be. What’s his name?”

“Samuel Taylor. Thanks for the help. I’ll take any information you have.”

I stayed on the line for a few minutes and Danna returned.

“Yes, I see we’ve paid this sum of money every January 2nd for the past twenty-five years. The entry is under R&D department and is titled research royalties.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. If you want the exact reason, you’ll have to go through HR, but if I had to guess, it probably had to do with stem cells. That’s about when we changed our focus and began specializing in that technology.”

“Is this normal?”

Danna laughed. “I wouldn’t say it’s normal, but there are a few people getting research royalties. He must have contributed something important to the company.”

When we ended the call, I updated the list of questions on my uniTab screen, adding research royalties and before stem cells under the SBRI bullet point.

I spent hours searching the internet on the history of SBRI. Before specializing in stem cells, they were creating artificial limbs, implants, and even organs. They took your DNA and grew you a replacement part, but ended up closing that division because the process took too long. With sensory robotic limb technology and 3D printing, this became obsolete.

I returned to my list. Next up, Olivia Caldwell. A few clicks around the internet produced nothing of use. She had no contact information posted online, except for her address. She lived over three hours from here, and I’d never make it there in a reasonable time tonight. I’d tackle the trip to Eyota, Minnesota, tomorrow. I wanted to know why my father was paying her.

I stared at my list. I felt better doing something, even if I got nowhere. My father had been missing for nearly a week and the police hadn’t found anything yet. Maybe if they had the whole story…

Stop, June! You can’t tell them. Would they even believe you?

I tapped my finger gently on the side of the uniTab as another idea formed. I flipped through my father’s research papers, looking for anything useful. My father published them with only a few different partners. My mom’s name, Alice Taylor, was on some. The other names that caught my attention were Payton Rollins and Russell Cohen. I had heard those names before, but didn’t really know much about them. Maybe talking to them now may give me a clue to find my father. Perhaps they were recently asked to help with the cloning too.

The buzzing of my intercom interrupted my thoughts. My heart jumped, hoping it was my dad. My uniWatch flashed ‘back door’ and I clicked view. My muscles tensed as I recognized the dark eyebrows from the green Pontiac’s mirror.

Chapter 7

I should call the police. The man who appeared to be following me and watching my father’s house was at my door.

How long would it take the police to come? If he was a bad guy, I’d be dead before anyone showed up. At the thought of calling them again, I frowned and my chest tightened. I couldn’t get myself to do it. If he was a man trying to help, I’d feel pretty stupid making that call. Again, I told myself that if he intended to harm me, he would have already.

Positioning myself against wall near the door, I steadied my breathing. “Who are you?” I said into the intercom. He looked right at the external camera, his green eyes vibrant through my uniWatch. I clicked ‘image,’ saving his photo.

“My name’s Elliot, ma’am. I want to help you find Samuel Taylor. He’s your father, correct?”

“Then you should go to the police. They could use the help.”

“I can’t go to the police.”

“Why?”

“Because they can’t help me.”

Shit.

Did he know the secret I kept? I fumbled to get the 9mm and chamber a round. My father taught me to shoot to kill. My trembling hands said I didn’t know if I could do that. I put my uniTab on the counter and queued it up to call 911 at voice command.

His voice was soft, “A locked door isn’t keeping you safe. If I needed in, I’d already be inside.”

I lifted the 9mm, took a few deep breaths to calm myself, and flung the door open. The man’s dark eyebrows arched and took a step away, focusing on the barrel of my gun pointed at his chest.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Stand down. I’m here to help.”

“Sit. Over there,” I commanded, nodding at the chair at the kitchen table. Thursday must have felt my tension; his ears were back while he cautiously sniffed the man’s legs. Growl, Thursday. Distract him. Do something. But he was silent. Hopefully, there was something to a dog’s sixth sense about a person’s character. I stepped away from the door while keeping the gun leveled at him. One step after another, he approached my table.

I sized him up. He had to be over six feet tall and a wall of muscles. He had the start of a scruffy dark beard. A thick scar on his left cheek stood out where the hair wasn’t growing, making me want to stay away from him. His black hair was military, buzzed short. The bulky green fatigue jacket also screamed military. I wondered what weapons he hid beneath it. He was probably a few years older than I was.

The man sat, making the table and chairs look tiny compared to him. He held back a grin, despite the situation. “Nice welcome. Not exactly what I expected from you.” He was way too polite.

“What do you know?” I demanded. Sweat trickled down my back.

“Only that your father took off, the police think he may be dead, and he used to work for SBRI. That his disappearance may be related to the work he used to do with them.”

I focused on the first part of his sentence. My father may be alive? I had a flicker of hope that this man, Elliot, may be able to help, but then my skepticism pushed through. What about the broken glasses? “How do you know this?”

He slowly put his hands down on the table.

“Hands back up,” I demanded, giving the gun a nudge to remind him it was there. The grip slipped slightly in my sweaty palms.

“Cautious compassion please! I need to know your intel, and I’d prefer not to ask questions at gunpoint.”

Trust no one, my dad had said. I wasn’t telling this man anything. “Why does any of this matter to you?”

“Put the gun down, and I’ll tell you.”

Thursday was sitting beside Elliot, ears back and focusing on the man’s face.

“I’m not putting it down.” My heart was hammering again.

“Okay, I only want to talk. To learn what you know. I’m trying to find someone too.”

“Who?”

“My brother.” He was trying to play a sympathy card. I was sure of it. “I think his disappearance may be related to your father’s.”

“How?”

“I think it’s connected with work they did at SBRI.”

Briefly, I felt foolish holding the gun at this man and debated putting it down. I didn’t, though. “You’ve been watching me. How did you know I was at my father’s house?”

“I have a camera in the tree out front.”

Yeah. I was glad I kept the gun drawn. What the hell did he have a camera for?

The man continued, almost pleading for me to understand. “It’s on a motion sensor. I’ve been waiting for your dad to return, hoping he leads me to my brother. Please, put the gun down,” he urged again. “I’m not saying anything more until we can talk civilized.”

Trust no one. It wasn’t hard for me; that was how I went through life.

He put his hands down again, more slowly than before.

“Get ‘em up!” I shuffled my weight back and forth from foot to foot. I had as much space between us as I could in my tiny kitchen.

I didn’t know what hit me next. One second, I was pointing a gun at the guy, the next, the table flipped up, hiding him behind it. My finger was on the trigger, but it was too late. In my moment of hesitation, he shoved the table to the side and twisted the gun from my hand.

I tried to voice command my uniTab, but his hand covered my mouth. I twisted to throw a knee where it counted, but he pressed his entire body against mine, pinning me to the wall. I snapped my teeth at his hand, but he cupped it just right. Thursday growled, stepped back a few steps, and barked.

“Let me give you some friendly advice. Firstly, if a big company like SBRI is involved in your father’s disappearance, you don’t want to mess with them. You don’t call them asking questions; you need to be more discreet. You’ll have to trust me on this one. Secondly, if I wanted you dead or to harm you, you wouldn’t be here right now. And thirdly, we need each other. I had wanted to talk, but it appears you’re not ready for that. I will be back when you’ve thought about my offer.”

I couldn’t move—I just stared into his eyes trying to find what he was hiding beneath them. There was something I needed inside, but I couldn’t pick it out. He guarded his emotions well. The intensity of his eyes made me look away, focusing on Thursday instead. He paced the kitchen with his hair on end, letting out a whine between barks. Bite him. Nothing. Some guard dog.

I took a breath and noticed the slight hint of campfire smoke coming from Elliot. He was still talking, but the hammering of my heart and my internal monologue prevented me from hearing what he was saying. All of a sudden, I realized the man had quieted. I darted my eyes back to him, and the empathy in his eyes took me off guard. My knees weakened.

“Can I let you go now?” the man asked.

I attempted to take a deep breath, but his body was still tightly against mine. I couldn’t even nod a reply.

He must have realized this. “I’m going to go. I’ll find you soon. Please be careful. If Samuel is still on the run, whoever is after him may come after you for blackmail. Keep the gun and learn how to use it.” The corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. “Your first lesson is to make sure you turn off the safety before pointing at a threat.” His hand softened and he released me, turning to run out the door. I noticed a distinct limp in his jog. Was this why he hadn’t run after me at my father’s house?

I picked the gun up from the counter to check the safety—it was on, like the man had said. How long had he realized this? He probably could have disarmed me the moment I opened the door, but instead, he allowed me to point a loaded weapon at him.

I closed and locked my back door, then ran to the front to peer out the window to watch his green car pull away. Damn. He was too quick for me to get the license plate.

I walked around my duplex and ensured the windows were locked, but his words kept repeating in my head. If someone wanted to kidnap, kill, or do who-knows-what to me, it would be easy. I was an easy target. I should leave my home, go somewhere nobody will find me, call the police, something, but I was so tired from all the emotion over the past week. I couldn’t figure out where I’d go and didn’t have the energy to do it. I was quickly coming down from the adrenaline high.

Who did I have to turn to anyway? The police thought I was obsessive, my father was missing, and James, the only person who had been my friend, I severed ties with two years ago. It was only Thursday, me, and my work. I ended up crawling into bed, pulling the covers securely over me, and hiding from the world. I couldn’t get myself to do anything else, except tuck the gun under my pillow.

As I processed everything that happened, all I ended up with was more unanswered questions. Who was Elliot and what did he want? How did he know about me calling SBRI? What help could I possibly give him? Why didn’t he tell me everything? It didn’t add up. If my dad was on the run, why hadn’t he sent me some message?

I knew two things: One, I didn’t trust this guy, even though he gave me more hope than the police did, and two, despite what the man said, I wouldn’t stop asking questions. My father counted on me. Tomorrow, I would stick to my plan and visit Olivia Caldwell’s house, but this time, the gun’s safety would be off.

Chapter 8

While I prepared to drive to Eyota, Minnesota, the next morning, I received a call from the Madison Police Department.

“Hi, any news?” My chest tightened with anticipation.

Officer Sheridan’s voice was smooth. “Hello, Ms. Taylor. I wanted to let you know that we had a development in your father’s case. We had been attempting to track his phone, but it had been off. We pulled historical records and pinpointed his last location to the WestTown Mall. I swung by there this morning, and they had his cell phone in the lost and found. Based on the tracking information, it looks like it’s been there since Wednesday. They say it was found outside in the parking lot.”

“Any signs of him?”

“Not yet. We’re still charging the phone to see if there’s any useful data on it. We’ve reviewed the security footage, but without knowing exactly where the phone was found, the task seems impossible.”

I thanked her, and when I hung up, I dwelled on this development. Why had he abandoned his phone? Or had someone tossed it outside? Was he alive? I had to hope he was on the run, like Elliot had said, but then I thought of the broken glasses. Maybe I should have told Officer Sheridan about Elliot, but it wasn’t until after I hung up that the thought crossed my mind.

Needing to keep moving forward, I prepared to drive to Eyota to visit Olivia Caldwell. As I left my house, I checked the street for the dark green car and saw nothing. Thursday and I jumped as we stepped outside. Elliot came out of nowhere, walking beside us. Thursday moved to my other side, away from him.

I stopped. “I’ll call the police.” However, I really didn’t want to talk to them again.

Elliot snuck a dog treat around his back, and Thursday didn’t hesitate gobbling it up. “And I’ll tell them you pulled a gun on an innocent man who was trying to help.”

I ground my teeth. “I’ll tell them you’ve been stalking me. I’ve already filed a police report on you.”

“And I’ll tell them you’re interfering with their investigation. Besides, you have no proof I’m any sort of danger. We need each other’s help and getting the police involved isn’t going to solve anything.”

I stopped and looked up at him. He had a point. Thursday moved beside him with a wagging tail, and Elliot scratched his head. Of course.

A sly grin spread over his face, though he stood rigid, almost ready to salute. “If you were going to call the police, you would have last night.”

He was right again. “How did you know I talked to SBRI yesterday?”

“I reviewed your call history.”

“Seriously?” The tension in my jaw returned. “How’d you do that?”

“With the right set of skills, it’s not that difficult.”

I was glad I hadn’t found Olivia Caldwell’s contact information and tried calling her. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I already told you. I need you to help me find my brother. All my leads have led nowhere, and I’m out of options. Maybe if we worked together, we could find them both.” He rubbed his hand along his scar.

Olivia was involved in my father’s past. I was afraid it was connected to the baby in the photograph and my father’s cloning activity. Even if Elliot could help me with my father, this was more about my past than about the present situation. I couldn’t let a stranger in on my secret. “You can’t come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“But maybe I can help.”

“How? If you have information, spit it out.”

“Well, if I told you everything, you wouldn’t need my help anymore.”

My shoulders slumped. “You can’t come with me.”

“Ma’am, you don’t understand. I’m not giving you a choice. You need me. I’m better with the gun than you are and without the police, it’s best to be safe. I’ve been chasing my brother for over a month now, and I have some information.”

How could I get him off my back? “Do I need to pull out the gun again?” Probably not the right defense if he was military, plus I had already tried that on him.

Now he was in a full-fledged smile. He was enjoying taunting me. “And you know how effective that was.”

Yeah, I remembered. I would wait him out. At some point, he would tire and need to go home. Would I feel better with someone around? No. He was the only person giving me the creeps.

What if he was involved in my father’s disappearance? I couldn’t lead him to Olivia Caldwell’s. What if she was unconnected, and it put her at risk? Don’t trust anyone, June. All those years away from my father, trying to be normal, were down the drain.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere then.” I retreated to my house and shut the door.

I paced in my small living room with Thursday circling around me. What was I going to do? I needed to see Olivia. How would I get away from Elliot?

I shook my head and pulled up the police again on my watch. I didn’t care if he told them I held a gun on him, or I was investigating my father. He was a roadblock, and I needed him gone.

“Um… Hello, this is June Taylor. I reported a suspicious man watching me a few days ago. Could you send a squad car to drive past my house?”

“Yes, we have a car in the area. Maybe five minutes away? I’m sending them now.”

Well, that worked. Soon, a squad drove down my road and a guy in an army jacket pulled away on a red motorcycle. I slung my bag holding my father’s gun and the contents of his shoebox over my shoulder, gathered up Thursday, and soon was safely pulling out of my driveway.

It wasn’t the smartest idea, but I needed to stop at work to check on the eggs. I couldn’t put my whole life on hold because of my father. I was sure Elliot knew where I worked, but didn’t believe he’d think I escaped him just to go there. I hoped he didn’t anyway. I debated calling Isaac or Kaitlin, but with everything riding on this experiment, it was too important.

There were more cloudy eggs. My stomach turned as I fished out the dead ones. The weight of everything happing was pressing down on me.

Within fifteen minutes I had removed the bad eggs, ensured the temperatures and humidity were optimal, recorded my readings, and left the building.

Walking to my car, I scanned my surroundings for Elliot. No green car, no motorcycle, no army jacket.

Thursday was waiting for me with his head out the driver’s window.

“Get over, you goof,” I laughed at him. He slowly turned around and wiggled into the passenger seat. I slipped into my car, pulled up Olivia Caldwell’s address on its computer, and we were off.

Olivia lived on the outskirts of Eyota. Her two-story house was modest, but a beautiful front door with leaded glass welcomed me.

“Stay, boy,” I said to Thursday, rolling the car windows down for him. He always stayed put.

My palms became clammy as I approached the door and pushed the intercom. What would I say to her?

A woman’s plump face appeared on the digital display. She had short gray hair and eyes that hid behind glasses. She was probably the same age as my father, but with more gray and less wrinkles. “Hello.”

I forced the words out. “My name is June Taylor. I think you know my father.”

She squinted at me, then a smile spread across her face. “June? I never expected to see you. Hold on.” In a few minutes, the door opened and she stepped aside. The rest of her body was as round as her face. “Come in, dear.”

Stepping into the main room of the house, I took in my surroundings. Her house was lived in: takeout containers littered the kitchen counter with dishes on the table, unfolded blankets on the couch, and waste cans full to the top. I wanted to tidy up some, but resisted the urge.

She took my hand and gave it a pat. I forced myself not to pull away. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. The police were here yesterday asking me a few questions. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell them anything.”

I relaxed, realizing the police actually listened and followed the lead I gave them. Then her words bounced around—the way she said ‘couldn’t’ grabbed my attention. “You couldn’t tell them anything?”

“Don’t get excited, honey. I don’t know anything about his disappearance. The police asked me about the money your father gives me every year, but I couldn’t tell them the truth.”

“The truth?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

“I promised your dad I wouldn’t tell anyone anything. But under the circumstances, I think you have a right to know.”

My jaw fell open, and I don’t think I blinked.

She noticed. “Sit down, dear. It appears I have some things to tell you.”

She led me to her couch and moved some blankets and magazines to make room for me. I did a double-take on the magazines. I didn’t think anyone printed that stuff anymore. Obviously, Modern Quilting did. She sat in a recliner next to me.

Olivia rubbed the armrests. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. I found your name on my father’s bank statements. He’s been paying you a significant sum of money every year, and I don’t know what for. He never told me anything.”

“Well, dear, there’s really no easy way to tell you.” She rocked back in the chair. “About thirty years ago, your father came with a proposal. He needed a woman to carry a test-tube baby. See, his wife had died, and he needed a surrogate.”

I fidgeted with the corner of the quilt next to me waiting to hear more of the story.

“That baby was you, honey. You mother died five years earlier, and he still had some fertilized eggs from in-vitro frozen. He really wanted a child and offered to pay me to carry you.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“That can’t be.” I shook my head, then looked down. The corner of the quilt was balled up in my hand. I pulled it smooth and put my hands neatly on my lap. My mother had given birth to me. I had a photo to prove it…My jaw sagged when it hit me. The photo had been manipulated. My father had lied to me. When he told me to trust no one, did that also mean him? I couldn’t breathe again.

Oliva ran her wrinkly hands through her gray hair. “I’m sorry you didn’t know this. Your father wanted to keep it a secret. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I really needed the money. He was so noble. He lost his wife and still wanted the baby they were meant to have.”

She didn’t know the whole story. They weren’t meant to have a baby. I wasn’t made through in-vitro fertilization. I was cloned. She didn’t realize she took part in something illegal, and I wouldn’t tell her. A heavy rush of emotions knocked me into the sofa, and I stopped listening. My dad cloned me well after my mother had died. My father always kept secrets from me, but I was beginning to see the magnitude of them.

I felt hot and cold at once. A jitteriness overcame me, and I wanted to hop up and pace the room. It took all my willpower to keep my composure. “What else do you know? Any ideas where he went? Where can I start looking?”

“Like I said, I don’t know anything. We have no contact; the money just shows up every year. I haven’t seen him since right after you were born. My job was to carry and deliver the baby, then go about my life like nothing happened.”

I sat there looking at this woman, it was an odd feeling that she gave birth to me. No relation, no shared DNA, yet I felt connected to her. I was grateful she carried me and gave me a chance at life, despite what she thought was the reason for it. “Could you tell me how you met my father? Everyone that helped you with the pregnancy? Anyone connected to my…um, birth.”

“I didn’t know him well. We both attended the same church.” She laughed. “Well, I attended church every Sunday. He had recently started attending. Maybe he came looking for someone. I was really down and out. My husband had left me for another woman, and I asked the church for some financial donations until I could find a job. Your father approached me with a proposition. I had nothing and believed in his cause.”

“Who else knew about the pregnancy?”

She laughed again. “Honey, I was pregnant, everyone knew. I took the glares and whispers about who the father was from my friends and family. ‘It was an accident’ and ‘I’m giving the baby up,’ I told them. I was in no place to raise a child. Whether they understood or not, they didn’t question me. I didn’t know such a church-going woman could be so deceptive, but you do what you need to do to survive, right?”

“Who knew your connection with my father?”

“That, honey, was very secret. Only one man, the doctor who did my check-ups and delivered you. His name was Dr. Mulligan. I didn’t see him at a clinic. They had an office space set up in an industrial park on the East Side. I showed up there for my prenatal care and it was converted to a delivery suite when that time came. That’s all I know. I don’t know where he is now or even what his first name was.”

“Thank you. You’ve been extremely helpful.”

Her eyes were kind. “You're welcome. So, is it my turn to ask questions?”

I never thought she’d have questions. “Sure.” I owed it to her.

“Tell me about yourself. I’ve always wanted to know of what became of the little girl I gave birth to.”

I wanted out of there. Every moment I stayed gave Elliot more time to find me. But when I looked into her eyes, I couldn’t disappoint her. I gave her the quick version of my life story, keeping to the positives. I told her of the great times I had with my father when I was little, about college, and about my teaching job at the university. She didn’t need to know the part about the alcoholic father who couldn’t look at the ghost of his dead wife and about me running from my ex-fiancé. She seemed content with my story, and this filled me with a little happiness.

Don’t trust anyone.

But I couldn’t help trusting her. What did she have to lose? What could she even want from me?

We said our goodbyes. When I stepped out of her house, a chill shot up my spine. I recognized the tall, dark-haired man playing fetch with Thursday on the sidewalk. That traitor’s tail wagged as Elliot held the stick and smiled at me.

Chapter 9

I trudged up to Elliot. “How’d you find me?”

He threw the stick for Thursday and spoke matter-of-factly. “If I tell you, I won’t be able to find you next time.”

“Never mind. You’re as cryptic as my father. Thursday, let’s go.” I opened the car door for my dog, but he stood in front of Elliot with the stick, tail wagging. Traitor! I grabbed his collar and pulled him into the backseat of the car, letting him keep the stick.

When I turned, Elliot was right behind me with that lopsided smile tugging his scar. “Where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” I wanted to shut the car door on him, but he was holding it open. I got in and sat down, staring forward.

Elliot squatted beside me, keeping himself eye level. “So, who’s Olivia Caldwell? How is she connected? What did you learn?” Was he trying to push my buttons? His insistence and the playfulness in his voice told me he was enjoying this.

“You’re asking for me to call the police again.” I would, even though I really didn’t want to call them for the eighth time in the last week. Yes, eight.

“I’ve already told you I want to help. Your dad’s missing, and I don’t see that you have a choice. I want to find him too.” Our eyes met for a moment. I felt vulnerable and uncomfortable, trapped in the car while he squatted in the open door next to me. We were too close again. “I know you don’t want me along, but I need to find my brother. I’m struggling as much as you are.”

He was right. I was putting up with Elliot in hopes he’d be able to help me find my father. I didn’t know what else to say. “Show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Prove that you are looking for your brother. Where’s the police report?”

His face went blank. “I don’t have one with me. His wife filed it.”

“How about a photo?” Maybe I was being too harsh, but the way he smiled when he harassed me made me uneasy.

He pulled out his phone, scrolled through the screens, and turned the device to me. On the display was a photo of a man that looked nothing like Elliot. Strawberry blond hair and fair skin opposed to Elliot’s tan complexion and dark features.

“He doesn’t look anything like you.”

He put the phone away. “Please hear me out.”

For a moment, my heart went out to him at his desire to find his brother, but my paranoia kicked in. He had to be making this up to get me to sympathize with him. What if he was telling the truth?

My stomach let out an awkward growl. It was well past noon, and I hadn’t eaten today. “I’m gonna get lunch.”

“I could use some chow too. I’ll follow you.”

“Urgh,” I grumbled, tugging on the car door. Elliot let go, and I slammed it shut. Thursday sat up in the backseat; he had given up on his stick for the moment and put his head on my shoulder. I gave his face a few strokes before bringing up food on my GPS.

Fast food wouldn’t work; I needed more time to figure out how to lose Elliot. How was he following me? I hadn’t spoken the name Olivia Caldwell; it couldn’t have been from my internet calling history. Maybe my browsing history? I had searched for a phone number.

I had the car take me downtown, and I found a little café with outdoor seating. Perfect. I could bring Thursday with us. If nothing else, I’d pump any information I could from Elliot.

I’d be foolish to pass this opportunity up. I wouldn’t tell him anything, and once I got the information he knew, I would ditch him.

Thursday and I walked about half a block from our parking spot to the restaurant. Elliot parked nearby and fell in step with us. When he walked, his limp didn’t show. We walked up to the hostess. I should have requested a table for two, but I couldn’t get myself to say the words. To admit I was giving in.

The hostess glanced at Elliot beside me, startled when her eyes locked on the scar running along his cheek.

I turned to Elliot, his grin left, but he pushed forward. I almost felt bad for him.

“A table for us and the dog,” Elliot said.

“Yes, no problem.” She led us to a corner of the patio.

As we walked over, Elliot leaned in towards me and gestured to Thursday. “Did you get him on a Thursday or something?”

I stared straight forward. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Elliot pulled the seat out for me to sit down. I didn’t expect that. Of course, I took the other chair.

He stifled a chuckle.

I was certain he was enjoying taunting me. If I weren’t so damn stubborn, I’d give in to his charm.

The hostess handed us each a digital menu. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I quickly lifted the menu and submitted my drink selection.

Paging through the screens of choices, I tried to focus, but was more interested in the man across the table. What did he really want? “So, why do you think we can help each other?”

His scar moved as he spoke, and I wondered where it came from. I pictured what he looked like before—normal, perhaps even handsome. Elliot set his menu down in front of him. “I’ve already told you. What can I do so you trust me?”

I stared at my menu for a while, trying to come up with an answer. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.” I was skeptical of everyone.

He smiled again, seeming amused. “Then don’t trust me. Use me to get what you want. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I really think your father and my brother’s disappearances are connected.”

I glanced up into his intense eyes and looked back at my menu. He wanted me to use him, but that wasn’t my style. I always did things on my own.

A server brought us our drinks and a basket of crackers. “Do you have any questions about the menu?”

I hadn’t focused on a word on the screen, past getting the soda. “No, I got it.” I clicked the first item listed, the Bucky Burger, and handed her the e-menu.

Elliot did the same, and she left us alone again. I grabbed a pack of crackers and split it with Thursday.

“So, what do you know?” I asked while trying to formulate more specific questions.

I half-expected a story spelled out in cryptic phrases again, but instead I was pleasantly surprised.

“I was in the military for the past seven years. When I returned with an injury six months ago, my brother was acting strange. It was like there was something between us. I thought he was mad at me for leaving and not visiting for over a year or couldn’t come to grips with the fact I almost died protecting the country.” Elliot looked at me, searching my face for a reaction, but I wouldn’t give him one.

How was it possible he almost died? Our country hadn’t been at war for years.

He went on, “He blew me off, said he had to work. His wife said he was busy working all the time, but felt he had changed too. He wouldn’t tell us what he was doing. Well, one day about five weeks ago, he didn’t come home. We thought he was dead.”

“Why dead?” Officer Sheridan had said something similar about my father. “Couldn’t he have wanted to start a new life?”

Elliot fumble with his silverware. “Evan was adopted. You’ve heard of the orphan murders?”

I nodded. My dad’s neighbor had filled me in.

“Well, the police had thought he may have been a victim.” Elliot looked down at his silverware.

“So how does this connect to my father?”

“It could be unrelated, but see, Evan worked for SBRI in their security department. All his changes were after he started that job. And your father had worked for them and is also missing.”

How much time did Elliot spend researching to find the connection between SBRI, Evan, and my father? “But my father was never an orphan.”

“One of the police’s theories was that my brother’s disappearance was because he was adopted, but I think it’s something else completely. SBRI is a big powerful company, and I think the city’s police department is in over their heads.”

“So who can help us?”

“The FBI, the military, I’m not sure.” He shrugged.

“Well, you’re the military. Get some help.”

“It’s not that easy, ma’am. I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Nothing ever was easy, was it? “Please stop calling me ‘ma’am’!”

“Yes, ma’a… Okay.”

“How do you know my father’s on the run and they don’t have him?”

Elliot hung his head. “I don’t.”

My knee bounced. “You said he was on the run.”

“Ma’a… June, it’s okay. He was. I just don’t know if he is still.” It was weird hearing him use my name, too familiar. “The last time I saw him was Monday morning. I tried to follow him, but he lost me.”

The server saved Elliot. “Two Bucky Burgers.”

Of course, he ordered the same thing as me.

He didn’t hesitate and dug right in. “Mmmm, this is good.” Swallowing, he examined the sloppy mess in his hands. “The military definitely doesn’t know how to make a good burger.”

I cut mine in half and took a bite, thinking about what Elliot had said. I was pretty certain I was the last person to see my father. He hadn’t been home Monday night, which explained the early morning arrival at my house.

Elliot tilted his head a little. “You sure don’t look anything like your father.”

I almost choked on my burger. Was he toying with me? Did he know I was cloned? There was no way I could ask him that. Instead, I threw out more questions.

“Why would SBRI want both your brother and my father?”

“I don’t know.” Another bite of his Bucky Burger.

“Who else could want both of them?” I gave Thursday a french-fry. His drool had soaked through my jeans.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

I continued to quiz him, but his answers were more of the same. Either he was keeping things from me, or he knew nothing. This was a total waste of time.

If his brother was missing, and he was desperate for my help and whatever information I had, it seemed he needed me more than I needed him. If his story was true, I wanted to help him.

If it wasn’t, I’d feel like a fool believing him.

By the end of our meal, I still hadn’t figured out my escape. When I pulled out of my parking spot and Elliot’s motorcycle was gone, I was relieved—at least that’s what I told myself. Relieved…and lonely. I scratched Thursday’s ear.

As my car drove me home, I searched my dash computer for Dr. Mulligan. There were pages of results, even when I narrowed it down to Wisconsin. I’d look harder when I got home. I couldn’t focus anyway, because I kept thinking back to my conversation with Elliot. Why wouldn’t he tell me anything? I had felt he truly didn’t know anything about cloning, but then he made the comment about me not looking like my father.

Once home, I slumped into my seat at the sight of Elliot’s motorcycle in my driveway. Did I doubt he’d be here?

I tried to ignore him, but his focused eyes made me self-conscious. “What’s your plan? Are you going to stake me out all night?”

Didn’t he need to sleep or something? I didn’t want to admit it, but I was impressed at his dedication. How long would he last?

“I was hoping you’d let me inside. Show me what you found at your father’s house. Tell me about Oliva Caldwell. You had a few hours to think about it now. This time, perhaps not at gunpoint.” His face lit up. He was enjoying taunting me.

Um, bad idea, but I felt a little flattered. I had never had anyone interested enough in anything about me to chase me down. Even when I left James, he never came after me. He’s just using you, June.

Part of me reasoned I could let him in. If he wanted me, he had many opportunities already. He wanted information I knew. Whether he was telling the truth or not. Was I being stubborn by keeping him outside? No, June. You’re keeping your promise to your father.

“Sorry, I don’t know you, and I won’t let you in.” I entered my home, leaving Elliot outside. An image of my father’s big brown eyes pleading with me when I left him last week on my porch surfaced, but I shoved it aside. I didn’t want to revisit that guilt as well.

Thursday and I settled on the couch. I should have responded to my student’s questions, but I couldn’t get myself to do it. Instead, I focused on my father. I told myself, over and over, that I was only doing some extra research, and the police had this under control. They’d take care of everything, right?

I paged through the internet results of Dr. Mulligan, trying to find any connection between them and my father. I rubbed my eyes after an hour passed. It felt like a black hole. I could cold call them, but I was hesitant to use my internet-based calling. I couldn’t go to his house; he lived five hours away in northern Wisconsin.

I sat back on the sofa and stared into Thursday’s empathetic eyes. I really needed a run to clear my mind, but I wasn’t going to do it with Elliot outside.

I grabbed my dad’s shoebox again and picked up the papers. Maybe Dr. Mulligan was mentioned on these.

I frantically skewed the papers on the sofa, kneeling in front of them and making Thursday take a place on the floor. I had one paper after another laid out, and when I was nearing the bottom of the pile, there it was. In the acknowledgments at the end. A special thanks to Dr. Robert Mulligan.

I whipped out my uniTab and sent him a message.

Dr. Mulligan –

My name is June Taylor and I believe you used to work with my father, Samuel Taylor. He’s been missing for over a week, and I was hoping I could meet with you, to see if there is any information you may have that may help me find him. I realize it’s been thirty years, but I don’t know where else to go.

—June Taylor

I attempted a preliminary search on my father’s research partners, but my thoughts kept turning to the man now sitting on my front porch. I didn’t have his last name, so I searched for “Elliot, Madison, WI” and “Elliot, WI” but too much came up. After scrolling through at least ten pages of social media, news reports, and miscellaneous articles, I took a different approach. I needed his last name.

Through my living room window, I saw him sitting on the porch with his arms folded at his chest. The temperature must have dropped as night approached. I found an old blanket, filled a cup with water, and opened my front door.

Elliot hurried to stand, nodding a greeting. “Evening.”

“I may not trust you, but I’m not cold-hearted. If you insist on staying, here’s a blanket and a cup of water. You’re still not coming in, though.”

“I never thought you were cold-hearted. I wouldn’t let me in either. Hopefully, you understand that I can’t leave. You’re my last option to find Evan.”

Maybe I’d have the best luck with honesty. I always preferred this approach anyway. “What’s your last name? I want to research who you are and confirm what you’ve told me so far is true.”

“R-O-E. My name’s Elliot Roe.” He focused on a white car coming down my normally quiet street. The streetlights were coming on as dusk settled.

“Thank you,” I said. He was cooperative. “One more thing. How are you tracking me?”

“Again, I don’t want to tell you that. If I tell you, you’ll sneak away.” He reached under his jacket with his right hand.

“It would make me trust you more.” Okay, that may have been a lie. Knowing how he tracked me wouldn’t make me trust him any differently. His hand was still in his coat. Was he pulling out a gun? I took a step back to run into my house.

“I’m sorry. I’m out of options,” he said, not noticing my retreat. His attention was still on the beat-up white sedan as its tinted window rolled down. “Get in the house!”

Before I registered what I saw, a gun barrel pointed out the car’s window right at us.

“Get down!” Elliot shouted, tackling me and throwing me into the house, water spilling all over us. He kicked the door shut while still on top of me, covering my entire body with the weight of his.

He rolled off, and I noticed he’d been hit. He dropped his gun and pulled a dart from the back of his arm. My chest dropped in relief that it wasn’t a bullet, but this was serious as well. The look on Elliot’s face told me he was relieved too, but then I realized, this man I had just met jumped in front of a potential real bullet to save me.

Chapter 10

“Fuck! Tranq dart.” Elliot’s hands dug into both my upper arms and gave me a gentle, but firm, shake. He bent his knees so he could look me directly in the eyes as he spoke. “June, you need to listen. I can’t go to the hospital or the police. I need you to do this one favor for me, please?”

I tried to focus on his words, but instead, escape plans kept forming—now was my opportunity. His movements were becoming slower, and he struggled to stand.

He twisted his body, showing me another dart stuck between his shoulder blades. “Pull it out.”

My hands shook as I removed the dart and handed it to him. He rolled it in his fingers.

His words were slowing while he put pressure on his arm with one hand. “I need a thin dishtowel or something else I can tie around my arm.”

I didn’t hesitate and ran for my kitchen. While rummaging through the drawer, I contemplated what I was doing. Focus, June. It didn’t matter anymore. He clearly jumped in front of a dart for me and helping him was the right thing to do.

Elliot wrapped the towel around his arm like a tourniquet. His movements continued to slow.

“Get me to your car.” I allowed him to drape his arms around me as we quickly staggered through the house. He was still helping, and I was grateful I only had part of his weight. Dragging him would have slowed me down to a snail’s pace—if I could move him at all.

Stumbling towards my back door, sweat beaded on my forehead. “What if they are out there?”

Elliot’s words slurred. “We’re sitting ducks in…here... Calvin…Sherwood’s…ho..u.se.”

He was right; we were easy prey.

I grabbed my bag holding my father’s gun and the letters from his shoebox as we passed my kitchen table. With some sluggish help from Elliot, I pulled him to my car and pushed him into the backseat, forcing Thursday to settle in the front passenger spot. I slipped behind the steering wheel and prepared to speed away. My insides quivered as I came around the corner of my house. There was the white sedan parked on the street.

“Shit!”

Two men were walking up my porch steps. Now was my chance to get away.

I stepped on the accelerator and the car’s engine hummed.

Down the driveway. Right turn onto the street. Left turn onto the main road. I ran the red light with my eyes glued on my rearview mirror.

No white sedan.

I turned again and again, ensuring we were difficult to follow. Thursday righted himself in the seat with every turn.

My free leg bounced. “What if they’re following us?”

No response.

I glanced over my shoulder. Elliot wasn’t moving.

Please don’t be dead.

With a shaky hand, I clicked on ‘auto-drive to work’ on my dash computer. I crawled up to my knees and leaned over my seat.

I locked my eyes on his chest and steadied myself against the seat. No movement…then a slow breath came…then another. Slower than I expected. Irregular.

Police. Call the Police.

The stream of thoughts rushed through my head faster than I could analyze them. Who did this and why me? What would have happened if Elliot wasn’t there? I needed to call the police and report the white car, but I didn’t get a good enough look. It was beat up with tinted windows and a gun barrel pointed right at me. That was all I saw. They’d ask me for the license plate, and I definitely didn’t have that. How about a description of the men? I didn’t look at that either. All I remembered was the shiny bald head of the shorter one.

I tried to convince myself of how serious this was. I needed the police, but ignored that realization for now. Perhaps part of me didn’t call them because Elliot asked me not to.

I was crazy. I had a man I didn’t know in my car. A man I didn’t trust, with unclear intentions, and who could snap me with his bare hands. But who jumped in front of a gun aimed for me. Didn’t I at least owe it to him to drop him off where he requested? After that, I could take off, and we would be even, right?

I twisted around in the seat and resettled behind the steering wheel. I clicked on the dash computer’s voice command before speaking, “Calvin Sherwood.”

“Please select which Calvin Sherwood you’d like,” the computer voice replied.

The screen displayed a full page of choices. Narrowing the list down to Calvin’s within fifty miles still gave me four choices.

I twisted and leaned over my seat again, searching through Elliot’s pockets for a phone. He was loaded with weapons. My hands glided over a gun, a knife, an empty holster, and probably a handful of other things that could harm me.

Was this all a ploy to get me? Was it all staged? Why couldn’t I just trust someone?

It appeared Elliot was my best option at the moment. He wouldn’t lay unconscious in my backseat and trust me with his life if it was a ploy, would he?

The first thing I found was the tranq dart sitting on top of his chest. He must have carried it out. I tossed it into my center console.

Next, I found his phone. Damn, password protected.

On my car’s computer, I composed a group text message to all the Calvin Sherwood’s, hoping the one who knew Elliot would respond.

Call me ASAP if you know Elliot Roe! This is urgent. He needs help.

I may have given too much away, but in this situation, it didn’t matter. I needed someone to call me.

It worked. My phone rang less than a minute later. A man with a round face came on my dash screen.

“Are you Calvin Sherwood?” I asked.

He nodded. “Who are you? What happened?”

I took a deep breath. He’d find out soon enough. “Elliot was shot with two tranquilizer darts.”

Calvin shook his head. “What are you doing? Take him to the hospital!”

“He won’t go. He said to find you.”

Calvin sighed. “Here’s my address.” The screen flashed with the incoming contact info.

I clicked ‘navigate.’

“Is he awake?” Calvin asked, rubbing his lower lip with his hand.

“No.”

“Is he breathing?”

“He was.” I turned around and latched my eyes to his chest. There…a breath. I almost smiled as I twisted back towards Calvin. “Yes, he still is. Not much though.”

“Hurry.” The screen went black.

I spoke to my computer. “Bring up information on tranquilizer darts.”

Pages of results. Everything from buying and selling for large game use and their use in virtual reality games. I’d need time to sort through all this information. Time I didn’t have.

A few minutes passed that felt like eternity and my phone rang. Crappy timing—it was Officer Sheridan. I could tell her everything. Maybe I would. I was falling into this fiasco so deep that I didn’t know if I would get out.

I answered the call in the voice only mode, not wanting to chance her seeing Elliot in my backseat. “Hello.”

Her voice was as firm as always. “I’m calling because I was following up with the report I received from the Eyota Police Department. I called Ms. Caldwell and found you were at her house earlier today.”

Olivia told her that? Why? I thought we had a connection, but then, I never told her not to tell the police. “I was.”

“What were you doing there?” Her voice was more accusatory than curious.

“Looking into my father’s finances.”

“I wish you’d tell me what you’re doing.”

Really? “I think I have a right to look into my father’s things. I may have to coordinate his finances while he’s away.”

“Was that truly the reason you were there?”

I was silent.

“I urge you to stay out of the investigation. I know you’re upset about your dad’s disappearance, but please stay out of it. Let us do our job. I really want to keep you safe.”

I tried to bite my tongue, but the tension of the situation didn’t help. “So, have you found anything about my dad’s phone yet?”

“Ms. Taylor, these things take time. We’re doing everything we can. I understand you’re emotionally tense right now.”

I managed to force myself silent. My emotions were in charge.

Officer Sheridan continued. “I’ll take your silence as agreement. Again, you need to stay out of it. Interfering with a police investigation could be seen as obstructing justice.”

Obstructing justice? Was that a threat?

I hung up. Shit. Now what? What would Officer Sheridan do if she knew I had an unconscious man in the backseat of my car? And I didn’t tell her about the men with the tranq gun? I was truly obstructing justice now. And deep down, I didn’t care.

My car finally pulled itself into the driveway of a giant, old Victorian home. Many details of the house were hidden in the darkness, but the muted gray, blues, and purples of the old wood siding were still visible. A woman, not much older than me, stood at the end of the driveway, appearing to be waiting.

“Calvin will be right back. He ran for supplies.” The woman helped me open my backseat door and pull Elliot out. We strained with his weight and tried our best to lower him gently to the asphalt driveway, but he still fell with a slight umph.

Struggling, we dragged Elliot towards the house. We made it out of the driveway and to the walkway when a short, stocky man with a round face came up to us, holding a white paper bag. “Is he still breathing?” he asked, rushing to Elliot’s side.

“Yes, but slower than normal,” the woman replied.

He placed two fingers on Elliot’s neck. “Pulse is present. Here, I can help.” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a tiny vial and a syringe. He drew up a clear liquid and injected it in Elliot’s thigh, right through his jeans. We waited for a minute or so and nothing happened. “Let me try something else.” He drew up another compound and shot it into his other thigh.

Within moments, Elliot stirred.

“Okay, let’s get him inside,” Calvin said.

Between Calvin, me, and the incoherent Elliot, we pulled him up the porch steps, through the front door, and lay him on the couch. The woman threw the orange and yellow decorative pillows aside, and I helped situate Elliot, tucking his arms and legs beside him.

“He looks comfortable.” The woman stood straight and pushed some stray auburn strands of hair from her eyes.

I took a step back. Now was my opportunity. If I wanted to get away from him, I needed to act. But where would I go?

The police? I was really obstructing justice now and couldn’t go to them. It had been just Thursday and me for the past two years, and I was used to being on my own. Elliot had said we could do this, and deep down, I believed him. I was crazy, believing this stranger. But when everything else has failed me, what choice did I have?

Elliot struggled on the sofa to push a pillow out of his face, and I stepped forward to help. He reached out and gripped my forearm, prying his eyes open to meet mine. With as much focus as it appeared he could muster, he whispered, “Thank you,” before loosening his grip and shutting his eyes again.

My heart jumped. There was so much sincerity and emotion in those two little words that I forgot everything else.

Calvin turned to me. “Yes. Thank you for bringing him here. I can take over now, and you probably should go. You don’t want to be mixed up in whatever Elliot’s got going.”

I looked at the sleeping man on the couch. His scarred face was towards me, and I realized it no longer made him look intimidating. Whatever his intentions were, those two words, ‘thank you,’ were sincere.

I needed an ally in this crusade and had nowhere else to turn. The thoughts of what could be happening to my father made me nauseous. Whether it was the images of him hurt or dead, or the thought of how I could have simply prevented everything if I had run away with him, causing me to wrap my arms around my stomach, I didn’t know.

The police had their hands full with the Orphan Killer, and I wasn’t convinced they were giving my missing father adequate resources. It was peculiar how with everything going on, it was Elliot’s two words of gratitude that kept me at the Sherwood’s house. His own words came out of my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter 11

Elliot was sprawled across the couch while Dr. Sherwood attended to him, shining a light in his eyes and listening to his heart.

I settled myself on a gray-cushioned chair and stared at a painting of a seascape in a daze. I hugged my arms around my waist and my hands trembled.

Holy crap!

Someone almost kidnapped me…or worse!

Calvin snapped me back to the present. “They shot Elliot with twice as much tranquilizer as he should have received. He’s lucky to be alive. I had to give him flumazenil to reverse the effects, which tells me the gun was loaded with a benzodiazepine. I thought it would have been an opioid, but naloxone didn’t counteract it. If he had taken a double dose of an opioid, I think he would have died.”

A pang of guilt shuddered through me.

Calvin continued, “Even being a doctor, I’m always amazed at the power of medications. If he was shot with a long acting benzo, he’ll need another dose of flumazenil in a few hours.”

I absorbed this information. Elliot truly risked his life for me.

Calvin’s words continued, making nothing more than background noise. I kept replaying everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it. I rubbed my eyes and realized Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood were staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you think you were followed?”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t think so. They didn’t make it to their car fast enough to catch up with me, and I took a lot of extra turns.”

“Where’s your ignition microchip?” Calvin asked.

I pulled the small gray piece of plastic from my pocket.

“Heather, would you get her car out of sight? Pull it into the garage?”

Mrs. Sherwood took the chip and headed out the door.

Elliot struggled to sit up on the couch. His fingers pressed into his temples. He had heavy eyelids, but was awake. It was odd seeing him like this. He wasn’t the big scary man anymore. Thursday sat in front of him, keeping his eyes on Elliot and letting out a small whimper here and there. What did Thursday sense?

I looked at Calvin, “You’re a doctor?”

“Yes.” His eyes dashed to Elliot. “Actually, a psychiatrist.”

I was taken aback a little. A psychiatrist? But why would Elliot have me take him here? Military… Injury… “How do you know Elliot?”

“I’ve been a friend of the family for quite some time.”

Elliot’s voice cracked, and he scrunched his eyes shut. “Just tell her everything.”

Calvin…or rather, Dr. Sherwood didn’t say anything.

Elliot pulled his hands from his temples and looked at me a moment before closing his eyes again. “He’s helping me work through some issues.”

Oh boy. “Issues?” What had Elliot told me? He had almost died protecting our country. Our country that was not at war.

Elliot slumped into the couch and used his hand to shield the light from his eyes. I turned to Dr. Sherwood for answers.

Dr. Sherwood shook his head at me. “Patient-doctor relationship, I can’t say anything.”

“Tell her whatever she wants to know.” Elliot’s voice was sleepy again. “She’s come this far and needs to understand.” He lay down again. “I’d do it, but my head hurts, and I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Dr. Sherwood spoke to Elliot. “I’ll call the police for you? You should have gone to the hospital.”

Elliot cracked open an eye. “And I’m grateful for your services. You know my wishes.”

Dr. Sherwood pulled the reversal medication out of his white paper bag and prepared another dose. He stood in front of Elliot for a while, but put the vial and syringe down on the glass-topped end table next to his chair. “I’m sorry; I haven’t asked your name yet.”

“Oh, it’s June.”

“How do you know Elliot?”

I shook my head. How much should I tell him? “My father’s missing. Elliot thinks it’s connected to his brother’s disappearance.” And he’s been stalking me. “The police are looking for my father, but it’s been over a week, and I’m a little nervous. And now, it seems someone wants me for something.” I still didn’t believe it. This whole thing didn’t happen in real life. Especially not my life.

“I’m sorry about your father. It’s not my place to say, but I urge you to stay out of trouble. I know Elliot though, and he always does the opposite. Hopefully, you two can put your brains together and come up with something useful.”

I couldn’t help it. It may have sounded rude, but he offered the information. “So, why are you seeing Elliot?”

“My family had been friends with the Roes for my whole life. My mom went to college with Elliot’s mother for her undergraduate degree. I’ve grown up with his family, helping them after his dad took off.”

“His dad took off?”

“Yeah, peculiar thing. He got his secretary pregnant and took off to California. He never looked back. Elliot’s mother raised the two boys herself.”

Thursday made his way to Dr. Sherwood, sniffed his pants, and progressed to nudging his hand for a reassuring pat on the head. “When Elliot returned from the military, he wanted me as his doctor, of course. We worked through his acute PTSD together while his body healed. He was quite a soldier, I understand.”

“So, what happened?”

Calvin raised an eyebrow at me, telling me I should have known the answer. “He was tortured.”

“Torture?”

“I think he should tell you about that. It’s part of his healing.”

I wanted to pry, but bit my tongue on that topic. “What do you know about his brother? He says SBRI took him?”

“Well, not exactly. He thinks SBRI has him. Not necessarily took him. Evan took a security job with SBRI about a year ago. When Elliot returned home to recover, he found his brother’s wife in a panic. Evan was behaving oddly and working random hours. At some point, Evan stopped coming home. Elliot couldn’t let it go because it wasn’t like his brother to behave that way.” Dr. Sherwood paused to watch Elliot a moment before continuing. “As Elliot’s doctor, I should help him see that Evan makes his own choices, and that Elliot needs to let it go, but as a friend of the family, I knew Evan and agree with Elliot.”

“He disappeared, right?”

“Yes and no. He told his wife, Ginny, he was getting his own apartment and he needed some space, though he wouldn’t tell her where the apartment was. He acted like their marriage was over.”

“So, he’s not missing?”

“Again, it depends who you ask. Ginny hasn’t seen him in over a month. Elliot has caught glimpses of him a few times, but has been unsuccessful in talking with him. He won’t answer the phone or respond to any messages. The police have investigated Ginny and Elliot’s concern and he tells them he’s fine and needs space. At first I tried to convince Elliot that people change, he’d been away for seven years. Only Elliot insisted there was something else going on.”

“So this whole fiasco is over a hunch Elliot has?” He was truly crazy.

“That’s one way to put it, I guess. But, sometimes you need to trust your instincts. Besides, I don’t think Elliot could live with himself if he didn’t figure this out. Closure is very important for a person to move on. I thought the whole thing was over because I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, since he was supposed to return to the military.”

It hit me. “He’s AWOL?”

“Yeah, he has a clean bill of health and should have gone back two weeks ago.”

Mrs. Sherwood came into the living room. She handed me my car’s microchip while balancing some blankets and pillows on her free arm. “Here, I’m sure it’s been a long day.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” My stomach rolled and chest tightened thinking about it.

“You can sleep out here on the other couch, or if you’d be comfortable, we have a spare bedroom right over there.” She pointed to the doorway off the living room and smiled at Thursday. “There’s a shower off the bedroom.”

Dr. Sherwood injected the reversal into Elliot’s bicep. “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on him and see if he needs another dose.”

“Thank you,” I said.

The couple put their arms around each other and left the room. I wondered what that was like, to have a loving life companion. My dad never had one, and I really tried with James, but that was never quite right. More expected than anything else.

Forget it, June, you don’t have much time left.

I sat on the chair across from the sleeping Elliot. I thought about making my escape, but what was I running from? I looked at the man who took up the entire couch—his body pouring over the edges. Sleep softened the lines of his cheeks, smoothed the wrinkles of his forehead, and relaxed his jaw. Thursday edged up to him and licked his scar, making Elliot turn away.

This man could have died saving my life. I owed it to him at least to try to help him find his brother. Hopefully, we would find my father in the process. Calvin was right. Maybe if we put our heads together, we’d figure this out.

Once inside the spare bedroom, I sat in bed with my uniTab. I hoped to have received a reply from Dr. Mulligan, which I did not. Thursday crawled up beside me. I scanned through the emails from my students while the weight of my current situation settled on me. I was in this wild adventure now and, as difficult as it was to ask for help, I still had responsibility. If someone was after me, work would be a prime spot to wait for me to show up.

I took a deep breath and composed a message to Isaac and Kaitlin, turning over responsibility for watching the eggs and detailed instructions on what needed to be done. Hitting send, my chest constricted. I smoothed my hair into the ponytail and reassured myself it was my only choice. I had to teach later this week and hadn’t come up with a plan to cover that yet.

I changed my focus to finding my father. I messaged my dad’s old research partners, Russell Cohen and Payton Rollins. It appeared neither of them still worked for SBRI. Maybe they’d reply, and I’d know something by morning.

My thoughts turned to the man outside my door, searching the internet for Elliot Roe. Headline after headline of the following filled my screen:

Tortured Hero Returns!

Soldier Survives Seven-Day Stand Off!

I scanned the articles, but all I learned was Elliot refused to comment on the ordeal. How had I missed this? I searched for earlier articles, but there was so much about his torture and capture that I couldn’t find anything concrete. The best I did was find an article in a school’s online blog congratulating him on a college mathematical scholarship fourteen years ago.

I shouldn’t have slept well with a man who had terrified me a day ago in the next room, somebody out there trying to capture me, and being in an unfamiliar home. Boy, was I was wrong. Thursday snuggled close comforting me, and morning snuck up on me. Voices from the living room woke me up.

Dr. Sherwood was lecturing Elliot he was “in over his head,”“this is serious,” and “you could have died.” That he was “being a little paranoid” and some more technical medical lingo. He was giving Elliot his “professional opinion.” I hoped he didn’t turn his lecture to me—I deserved it too. With each phrase I caught, many emotions swirled inside me: anger, frustration, fear. What I dwelled upon, though, was guilt. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened. If I would have just listened to my father and run off with him.

It was seven AM, and by my standards, I had slept in. I needed a cup of coffee, but first groggily forced myself to check my messages. I skipped all my messages from my classroom students and focused on ones relating to my father. Still no response from Dr. Mulligan. Kaitlin and Isaac agreed to watch the toad eggs. I also had a message from one of my father’s research partners.

Electronic Message – From Payton Rollins

Miss Taylor –

I’m sorry to hear about your father. I hope they find him soon and I hope I can help you. Please call me and we can talk. I’ll be free after five today.

—Payton Rollins

When I finished reading my messages, Thursday anxiously paced around. “Fine, I’ll take you out.” Before I opened the door, I debated purposefully listening to all the details, but that wasn’t my style. Another deep breath.

“Good morning,” I greeted the men in the living room.

“Morning,” they greeted back

Calvin slid out of his chair and stood, pointing towards the back of the house. “There’s coffee in the kitchen if you’d like some. Make yourself at home.”

This was odd, too casual. Elliot had been shot with tranquilizer darts less than twelve hours ago. I was ready to jump in my car and zip off on a chase somewhere, finding who did this. “I’ll get some after I take Thursday out.”

Elliot stood, setting his coffee cup on the end table. “I’ll come with you.” Determined guy, wasn’t he?

“I got it. I’m not gonna run away.” I patted my thigh to keep Thursday near.

He looked down and shook his head. “It’s not that. I realize you could have left last night.” He looked up, meeting my gaze with a humble smile. “It’s better if we stick together.”

He was right. “Whatever you want,” I said, heading towards the door with Elliot close behind.

I didn’t have a leash along and would have to trust Thursday to follow voice commands. Never mind the leash law. Why not break another one? I was getting good at it.

When we were half a block away, I blurted out the words, needing to clear the air between us. “Thank you for last night. Those darts could have killed you.”

“It’s all good. It was only my training, and I didn’t think about it. I just neutralized the threat.”

He was downplaying the whole thing. “How did you know it was a tranquilizer dart gun?”

Elliot didn’t answer.

“You didn’t know?” I assumed he was military and would have known. But, I guess all I saw was a rifle barrel too. “Anyway, thanks. Who knows where I’d be right now if you didn’t do that.” I paused, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent. “So, what do you think of the whole situation? Who were they and what did they want?”

He rubbed the scar on his cheek. “I’m not sure. You weren’t adopted, were you?”

I stopped. I put the pieces together. The orphan killings.

“No, of course not.”

“Well, then it’s probably related to your dad.”

“I’ve already asked this, but please tell me everything you know about my father.” I needed to know if Elliot knew about cloning. This would be a lot easier if he knew something.

“I know he worked for SBRI thirty years ago. He patented the method for growing individual replacement organs using cloning technology. Somehow, once the organs begin to develop, they are injected with growth hormones and other meds to select which organ will be matured.”

I smiled, resisting the desire to correct him on the specifics. This information was all public knowledge in the papers my father wrote.

“Hey, I’m not a scientist. I don’t know the details. But I do know he used to work for SBRI. I know my brother works for them now, or at least worked for them recently. I jumped on that connection. Maybe it’s unrelated, and it has to do with a common grocery store they use or where they do their laundry, but SBRI seemed like my best connection.”

“So all you know of my father is what you’ve read online?”

Elliot nodded. “Affirmative.”

He knew nothing about human cloning, nothing really about my father, and truly had no leads to follow. Basically, he’s wasn’t helpful to me other than being a bodyguard—which, lucky for Elliot, it turned out I needed.

Thursday let out a bark towards the sky. A drone flew overhead.

“Shit!” I lunged for Thursday’s collar.

It was too late. He took off down the sidewalk, letting out a few barks.

“Thursday, stop! Get back here!” He hesitated, began to turn towards me, but gave up, running after the drone.

I took off after him.

An ear-piercing whistle came from behind me, and Elliot’s deep booming voice. “Thursday, come!”

My dog turned around and dashed straight to Elliot’s side.

“Good boy.” Elliot rubbed Thursday’s head and grabbed his collar. “He likes me,” he yelled down the sidewalk to me. His grin was so large, it was visible from half a block away.

I folded my arms over my chest. I wanted to yell, “Ha! That makes one of us,” but I didn’t. Why did I insist on hiding my true feelings? Or at least, not admitting them?

“Come on, June.” Elliot walked Thursday up to me. “Lighten up. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re alive.”

I took Thursday from him, not wanting to think about his comment. “I’m going for a long drive today. We should get going.” That was it. My official surrender.

Elliot gave me a nudge with his elbow. “Where are we going?”

What could I tell him? “My father worked with a doctor thirty years ago. I don’t even know if it's related to his disappearance, but it definitely is related to something he hid from me. I’ve tried contacting this guy but he seems to be avoiding me, so I thought we’d pay him a visit.”

Elliot smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed car rides.”

“You’re waiting in the car when we get there, though. The topic’s kind of personal.” It appeared Elliot didn’t know about cloning. If Dr. Mulligan knew, I couldn’t take the chance of Elliot finding out. Another person who knew what my father did may put him at risk, and honestly, me as well. I feared cloning prejudice and ridicule if this got out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen, but history always showed that anyone different was discriminated against, one way or another.

He shook his head while he appeared to think up a protest.

I didn’t let him argue and spoke with firmness. “That’s the deal. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at me, but I turned away, focusing on the sidewalk ahead.

“I’ll help you with your brother, and I’d appreciate your survival skills, but there’re some things I’m not willing to pull you into. I don’t even know if this meeting will help us, but it’s an active lead.”

He rubbed his scar before dropping his hands to speak. “Fine, I’ve got your six.”

“My six?”

“Watching your back. Your six o’clock. Military speak.”

I tugged Thursday’s collar and headed towards the Sherwood’s house for that cup of coffee. I knew I’d need it today.

Chapter 12

Riding in the car next to a strange man should have been uncomfortable, but for some reason, it wasn’t.

It was clear Elliot was trying to ease the silence and the tension. “Tell me about your dad.”

“I don’t know what to tell. He showed up on my doorstep last week and—”

“I don’t mean those details.” Elliot turned towards me the best he could in my compact vehicle. “What was it like growing up with him?”

Terrible. He hated me. But he was family. I wasn’t going to say anything, but a memory surfaced. “One of my earliest memories was actually my first day of kindergarten. My father insisted on getting the ‘best first day of school photo–ever,’ so he put me on the front step of our house, but wanted to do something creative. He climbed up on an old folding chair to snap the photo from a different angle. The chair collapsed, sending him tumbling into the grass. The metal from the chair jabbed into his leg and we ended up at the hospital for a tetanus shot and stitches. I missed my first day of school.” A chuckle escaped. “It’s when I learned my first swear words.”

“You should do that more often.” Elliot’s voice was soft.

“What? Swear?”

He shook his head. “No, laugh. It humanizes you.”

Of course. I bit my lip and regained my composure. One by one, other memories came back of my father, causing my guilt to resurface. Other emotions were there too, taunting me to explore them. I changed the subject. “Tell me about yourself.” As soon as I asked, I wanted to take it back. The more I knew about him, the more the soldier next to me would turn into a human. He’d become more difficult for me to dislike and push away…but I wasn’t pushing him away, I kept bringing him in closer. Honestly, it was hard even to dislike him, at least if I didn’t let my brain try to convince me he was setting me up.

“I grew up in Madison. My mom, brother, and me. My father had left us when I was only a few years old. This wasn’t a problem, though; my mom was a nurse practitioner and easily supported us financially. She said she was happy he was gone, then she could keep us all to herself.” He paused.

“Is she retired? You said she was a nurse practitioner?”

Elliot stared out the window. “Yeah, she died eight years ago. I ran away, I guess, and joined the army.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “My brother was married, my mother dead, and that left me all alone. I ran towards a different type of family. With only one semester left, I dropped out of graduate school.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I didn’t. Not until I was injured and returned home, realizing the only true family I still had was in trouble. I kicked myself. If only I stayed around, I could have prevented this.”

I didn’t want to dwell on his grief. “What were you in graduate school for?”

“Electrical engineering. It made the military a good fit, taking their training as a technical engineer, becoming a sergeant.”

“Isn’t that more of a white-collar job? How did you get injured?”

His face firmed up and he looked away.

“Never mind,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“While visiting an…out of country prison, I was captured by a group of prisoners trying to prove a point.” He shook his head. “It was nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was sent home to heal both physically and emotionally.”

“Calvin told me you were supposed to return a few weeks ago?”

He rubbed his hand through his short hair. “And if I don’t return in the next two weeks, I’m going to federal prison.”

“What? I mean, I know the military can be extreme, but prison?”

“Extreme rules to make us return. It’s all spelled out in Article 85 and 86. If we were at war, punishment could be the death penalty.” Elliot shrugged. “That’s the military for you, though. Doing everything they can to keep things in order.”

My fists were clenched and my head hurt trying to understand. “Isn’t there an extension, paperwork you can fill out?”

“I’m already on my extension.”

“But what about your leg, they can’t possibly want you back, you have a disability.”

“My knee? Really, it’s fine. I won’t let it get in the way. I need the military. I don’t know where I fit into life without it. At thirty-two years old, they’re all I have.”

Saved by a phone call. Unfortunately, it was the police department. I debated letting it go to voicemail, as I didn’t need to be reprimanded again, but what if they had found my dad? I answered the call, leaving the video off.

“Ms. Taylor, this is Officer Sheridan. A few things… We ran the partial license plate you gave us. There’s only one dark green Pontiac with that partial plate registered in Wisconsin. It belongs to an Elliot Roe. Do you know him?”

I turned towards Elliot. “No, I’ve never heard that name before.” Urgh, now I was lying to the police.

Elliot mouthed, “Thank you.”

The officer continued. “Well, I ran a quick background on him and it appears the military police is looking for him. If you have any contact with him, stay away. He has military training and should be considered dangerous.”

I looked at the man next to me. Thursday’s head rested on his shoulder and Elliot gave him a gentle pat. Yeah, he was dangerous. Hopefully, it worked in my favor though. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the warning.”

“The second thing is we ran into a dead end with your dad’s phone. Unfortunately, there’s no useful information on it, and the surveillance videos don’t show anything either. There are a lot of areas of the mall’s parking lot not covered by footage.”

I let out a sigh before ending the call. The police hadn’t been at all helpful in finding my father.

We arrived at Dr. Mulligan’s house a little after four.

“Deep breath,” Elliot said. “You can do this. I’ll be right here taking Thursday out to stretch his legs. You’ll be fine. I’ve seen your strength in worse situations than this one.” He leaned on my car. The air was much cooler here in northern Wisconsin with a breeze off the still ice-covered lake. Elliot held his hand out to me.

I stared at him.

“Give me your wrist so I can put my contact info into your watch. If you need me, I’ll be a button push away.”

I held my uniWatch out to him and he zapped over his information from his phone. I had to respect Elliot. He didn’t push to come inside and drill Dr. Mulligan.

I approached the door, glancing over my shoulder at Elliot and then back to the door. What if the people out to get me were inside?

Deep breath, June, you can do this.

Elliot jogged towards me, the limp still present. “Ten minutes and I’ll come in to get you.”

I nodded. It actually made me feel better, even though I told myself there was nothing to worry about. I had to try.

Focus on your father, June. But images of him being tortured crept into my mind.

I pushed the intercom button. Hopefully, I had the right house. “Dr. Mulligan, it’s June Taylor. I need to talk to you.”

The digital display stayed dark, but his voice cracked through the speakers. “I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.” His words were rushed and bitter. I was certain it wasn’t the truth.

I latched onto this and pushed forward. “Please let me in. I know you worked with my father.”

Elliot was still behind me, he added, “Dr. Mulligan, sir, June’s father is missing. We fear he has been kidnaped. We need any information you can offer to help her find him.”

Before I could be angry that he gave away all this information, the door buzzed open.

I looked at Elliot one more time and his eyes were soft and gave me encouragement.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and wiggled it a little.

As I took another deep breath, realizing I believed him.

A middle-aged man, about my father’s age, greeted me. His kind eyes relaxed me a bit, but I still told myself to be careful.

Elliot stepped away from the front door, allowing me to enter without him. How could my feelings change towards him in only one day? I couldn’t hate somebody who saved me. What was the technical term for it, Stockholm syndrome? I wasn’t falling in love with him, but the part where I was becoming sympathetic. I shook the thought out of my mind.

He wasn’t my captor.

He saved my life. My feelings couldn’t be more than some psychologic syndrome, but as Elliot returned to the car, I found myself wanting to include him. I again turned to look over my shoulder.

Elliot leaned against the vehicle and held both hands up to me, showing all his fingers, and mouthed, “Ten minutes.”

I stepped inside and it all came out in a desperate plea for help. I debated not spilling everything, but I didn’t think I’d convince him any other way. Elliot had already told him some of it. “Dr. Mulligan, like Elliot said, my father’s missing. He showed up on my doorstep last week and insisted I get out of town. Now he’s missing and I need to find him.”

The man’s stone expression softened. “I don’t know why you think I can help you find him.” For a moment, I thought he still wouldn’t cooperate and my heart sunk, then he continued, “I haven’t seen him in about thirty years. Well, since shortly after you were born.” Dr. Mulligan led me to his kitchen. He obtained a cup of coffee from his multi-drink dispenser. “Would you like something?” he asked.

“No, that’s okay.” I was eager to learn what he knew, but didn’t want to push him into silence. I sat down at the kitchen table and waited patiently.

Dr. Mulligan set his cup down on the oak surface and took the chair across from me. “I wasn’t supposed to know what was going on, but I figured it out.”

“Please tell me what you know. Everything if possible. I don’t know what is important and what is not.”

He took a small sip from the hot liquid. “Well, your father approached me soon after I completed my residency, asking for my help. His company was working on a project and needed a physician to do health checks on pregnant women and to deliver their babies. I was happy for the work. Not only did it pay well, I had recently completed the obstetrics component of my family practice training and was glad to have the experience. The joy involved in a new family and watching children grow up drove me into the field.”

It was interesting how his face lit up talking about his chosen career path, even after all these years. He took another sip.

“Women?” I said. “There were more than one?”

He nodded. “Yes, seventeen of them, including your delivery. And that’s only what I know about. One baby died at birth, but the rest were successful.” He took another sip and continued. “So, I had glorious reasons for focusing on labor and delivery and when the first woman was disinterested in the baby, I should have known something was up. I was a new doctor and thought this just happened sometimes. Then the second and third woman were the same. I asked the third one why she wasn’t interested, and she said she wasn’t keeping the baby. The fourth woman too. I had become a doctor to a bunch of unwanted babies.” He looked me in the eyes. “It was terrible work so I quit.”

I took a risk and smiled to break the tension. “That must not have gone well, since you delivered thirteen more.”

His eyes met mine and smiled back. Phew, my icebreaker had worked. “They doubled my pay, which I really needed. I had so many student loans and was starting my own family. You being born though? I remembered that well. I expected an unemotional delivery once again, but when you came out, your father was there and immediately held you and cried. He cradled you and wouldn’t let you go. After that, there were only a few more women, and your father said the project was complete. He thanked me for my services. That was the last I saw of him.”

“Any idea how the women became pregnant? If they didn’t want the babies, where did they come from?” I was probing. I knew the babies were clones. There was no other explanation.

“No, I don’t know that. I had asked Samuel that question once, and he said it was better I didn’t know. That made me suspicious, and I was going to quit again, despite the money, but the project came to a close soon after.” My father had done a good job ensuring nobody knew about cloning.

My uniWatch vibrated with a call. SBRI, it flashed. Bad timing. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

The doctor nodded, and I stepped into the living room while I slipped on my earpiece.

“This is SBRI’s HR department returning your call about the message you left on Monday. Sorry we didn’t contact you sooner, but your question was harder than expected.” The man’s voice was attentive and sincere.

Had it only been two days since I called them? What had I said on the message? “Yes, thank you for calling me back. What have you found out?”

“Your father used to work for us. He quit over twenty-five years ago, though. What took so long is I was looking for his electronic file to give you the details of his employment, but it was locked. I needed to work with IT to determine our Director of Research, Gabe Winkelman, last accessed the file.”

“Why’d he have it?”

“He had used it over a year ago when he tried to get your father to help the company with a project. He still had it saved to his personal drive.”

“So, the last time SBRI was in contact with my father was over a year ago?” In the background, the doorbell rang, but I ignored it, focusing on my phone call.

“Yes, it appears that way.”

“What project was he working on last year?”

“Sorry, that I can’t tell you. Proprietary information.”

I let out a sigh and shrugged. “How about the years he worked for you?”

“2000 through 2007, but it looks like he took some time off in the middle.”

“What for?”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you that either.”

Of course not. “Well, thank you for the help.”

“You’re welcome. If there is anything else we can do, please reach out to us again. I heard that your father is missing, and if there is anything this company can do to help, we’d be glad to. Samuel was a major player in our company’s early developments.”

When I hung up, Elliot was standing next to me. Had it been ten minutes already?

“You okay?” he whispered, putting his hand on my upper arm.

“Yeah.” Before I could shake off his hand, I took in his stooped posture, wrinkled eyebrow, and focused gaze, determining he was truly concerned about me and held true to his ten-minute promise. Why did he care? He didn’t even know me… He didn’t care. He was protecting his asset, as I was the link to his brother. “I’m fine, just finishing up here.”

“I can step back outside.” He motioned towards the door.

“No, it’s okay.” Dr. Mulligan didn’t know about cloning anyway.

I turned back to Dr. Mulligan again. “Any idea who the women were?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have their names. Well, I had their names, but later I wanted to check on what had happened to them and soon realized they all had fake names. I then tried to track down the babies, thinking, what would you do with unwanted babies?”

He paused, waiting for me to answer the question. “You’d give them up for adoption.”

“Exactly. I looked up the adoption agencies in town and they said they had some unusual surrenders. That actually made me feel a little better, knowing that the unwanted children were getting a chance at a family that loves them.”

My mind was turning… Unwanted babies…adoptions...orphans!

I don’t know what else Dr. Mulligan said, because my mind was churning. My father was missing, there was a rash of orphan murders, and he was definitely connected with them. The pieces were beginning to take shape and I kept trying to sort them out.

Elliot wrapped up conversation with Dr. Mulligan and I realized my hands were shaking as Elliot guided me outside with his hand gently on my back.

“Take the passenger seat,” he said.

I simply stood there, beside my car, fighting off nausea while trying to figure out all my father’s secrets. How was he connected to the orphan murders?

“June,” Elliot said. His face was inches from my own. His hands on both my shoulders.

“What?” I focused on his steely olive eyes. I shook out of his grip and got in behind the wheel. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

Elliot didn’t argue. He took his spot on the passenger side, making Thursday move to the back.

I pondered my choices. Swallowing hard, I found my words. “I…I need to tell you what is going on.”

Chapter 13

Okay, I didn’t tell Elliot everything. I left out the whole human cloning thing, but I told him about the orphans, my fake photo, and everything Olivia Caldwell and Dr. Mulligan told me. “I’m sorry, we may be on a wild goose chase and none of this may be connected to our current problem. One lead takes me to another and then another. I’m hoping by the end of all this it leads to my father and your brother.”

Elliot scowled, rubbed his scar, and slouched into the seat. I expected words of frustration, instead I got, “Thank you for supporting my search for Evan. So, we’re going to investigate these adoptions next?”

I let out a small smile while speaking to my dash computer. “Show me adoption agencies in Madison, Wisconsin.” There were over a page of results. I clicked through them. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Elliot took over touching the screen. “I do. With Evan being adopted and he and Ginny fostering children, I’ve learned some.”

I gripped my steering wheel and stared out the window as a thought filled my mind. Was Evan a clone as well? I pushed it aside.

He scrolled through the list. “We start at the beginning. There are multiple ways a child enters the system. The most common way is parental abuse or neglect where the child is taken away. Sometimes the parents are incarcerated, or the child is abandoned. In this case, it’s abandonment we’re looking at, probably through the safe surrender program.”

“That’s where you drop a baby off at a hospital or fire station, right?” When I caught myself leaning closer to Elliot, I pushed myself away. I was grateful he was along. Having someone with different life experiences made things easier.

“Exactly.” He spoke to my dash computer, “Search for the Department of Children and Families, Madison.” Only one name came up. “That department keeps the information. Adoption records have always been very private, but the laws are loosening up around it some. At the very least, there may be some non-identifying information available.” Elliot did some more swiping of the screen. “It’s the government, of course they’re closed now.”

I slumped into the seat and stared out the windshield, watching the towering pines slowly disappear as we made our way south. An idea caused a big smile to display on my face. I reined it in as I looked at Elliot. “Back when you were stalking me, you told me you had skills. Could you hack into the Department of Children and Families database?”

He laughed. “I’m not that talented! It’s the government. There are so many security measures; you’d need someone that more than dabbled in it.”

The time on the dash computer caught my attention. It was after five. Ineeded to call Payton and was sure she’d know about cloning—she’d worked side-by-side with my father. I didn’t want to have that conversation in front of Elliot. He may sincerely be helping me, but I wasn’t ready to bring him into the human cloning world.

“I’m gonna get caught up on my messages then.” I pulled out my uniTab and settled in the car seat. “Do you think electronic messaging is more secure than voice calls?”

He rubbed his hand on his chin before he answered. “Yes, I couldn’t figure out how to read your electronic messages unless I had obtained your login and passwords. Someone with more skill than me may do it with ease, though. Nothing in this world is really secure.”

I scanned my new messages for something that stuck out. A new message from another one of my father’s research partners.

Electronic Message – From Russell Cohen

June –

I knew your father (and your mother) well. I’m truly sorry to hear you can’t find him, but if I know Samuel, he’ll show up. I’d be happy to talk about him with you. I’m retired so anytime works, but don’t know how I can be of help.

—Russell

Now I had two people I wanted to talk with and not in front of Elliot. I debated making up an excuse, like I needed to use the bathroom, and making the call instead, but I think he’d be on to that. I resorted to sending Payton another electronic message because I didn’t want her to believe I blew her off.

Dr. Rollins –

Thank you for your quick response and willingness to help me with my father. I am unable to call you this afternoon but will be in touch soon.

—June Taylor

Electronic Message–From Isaac Washington

June, the eggs are good today. Only two cloudy ones. The environment is perfect and I’ll go back tomorrow. BTW – Your boss was looking for you. He seemed a little upset you were not at work. I tried to smooth it over— hopefully it worked.

—Isaac

Not more dead eggs! I needed to be at work. If I was there, somehow this all would be magically fixed. I rubbed my lip as I reasoned with myself that the eggs were in good hands.

“What’s wrong?” Elliot asked.

His words pulled me out. “Is it that clear on my face?”

“Your face tells me everything about you.”

“Really?” Not everything.

“It’s entertaining to watch.” He rubbed his dark scruff on his cheek. “In fact, when I first met you, I’d say things on purpose to work you up.”

I forced my fists not to clench. “Really?”

“See, there it is. Your scowl. It’s…cute.”

I shook my head and focused out the windshield at the passing countryside, trying to prevent the tingling sensation in my cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.” He was just trying to get me worked up, but at least he was successful in making me forget about work.

We picked up supplies, including fresh clothes and food for Thursday, at a department store before ending the evening at a motel on the outskirts of Madison. Going to my house was too risky, of course. We didn’t want to impose on Calvin Sherwood. If someone was after me, I’d rather not involve him. Elliot had been staying at his brother’s place and worried someone was watching it as well.

As Elliot left Thursday and me in the car to rent a room, he turned with a lopsided grin. “One room or two?”

He was trying to work me up. “Two.” Of course. Images of the men with the tranq darts taunted me. “Maybe two rooms with an adjoining door?”

Early the next morning, Thursday needed to go out, and both my body and mind really needed a run. It was still too early to call my dad’s partners.

I knocked on the door between Elliot and my room. He opened it wearing a thin t-shirt and boxers. The huge scar running down his left leg and over knee caught my attention at first, but my eyes focused on the defined muscles of his thighs. I snapped my eyes back to his face before he could realize what I was looking at, but he greeted me with an I-caught-you smile. Too late. “I…I’m going for a run.” When I spoke the words out loud, I realized how dumb this was, but still felt the need to do it.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I need to take Thursday out anyway. Nobody knows we’re here. How would they find me? You’re welcome to join me.” I didn’t mean it to be mean, but the tilt of his chin and squinted eyes told me it was.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re in denial about this whole thing.”

I wanted to deny it, but that would only further his argument.

“How about I take Thursday for a quick walk, and you get some miles in on the treadmill?” He motioned his thumb to point to the check-in area of the building. “There’s a small fitness room off the lobby.”

“The treadmill?” I couldn’t argue with him, though. This was the smarter idea, and I craved the endorphin release. I needed to zone out and maybe it would help me feel a little more like myself.

“Please?” His eyes showed his sincerity.

“Fine.”

“Stay frosty while I’m out with Thursday.”

I raised an eyebrow. More military jargon.

One corner of his lips turned up and shook his head. “Stay alert.”

I hesitantly handed Thursday’s leash over to him.

The fitness room was small and smelled of an old gym locker. A mixture of sweat-soaked carpet and high humidity. I stepped on the treadmill facing the window and pretended I was outside in the sunshine. I eased the machine up to 6.5 mph. It was great moving my body after being in the car yesterday.

When I finished mile two, I was in a groove and my mind wandered back to my conversation with Dr. Mulligan. Images of my father handing over tiny newborns for surrender to the orphanage filled my mind. Then I bounced to thoughts of the Orphan Killer. Why was he or she killing these orphans…these clones? Who was it and how did they know there were clones out there?

Oh my god.

I flew off the treadmill and pushed myself against the wall. The belt of the machine still spinning with its rhythmic hum filling my ears.

I might not have been an orphan, but I was a clone. What if the tranq dart episode had nothing to do with my father and the killer was after me for another reason?

I had little time to analyze this as the door to the room burst open. In rushed Elliot.

“We got to go!” he commanded.

Forcing my body to move, I rushed out of the room with him. Elliot had my car pulled up next to the entrance and continued with the commands. “Get in!” His movements were jerky, his lips puckered, and his eyes darted around our surroundings.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He waited until we were driving away to answer. “I had told the front desk to ring me discretely if anyone asked about either of us.”

I raised my eyebrow at him.

“I told them you were having trouble with your ex…”

I let out a sigh and shook my head. “And?”

“Well, they called the room and said someone asked which room June Taylor was in. As I requested, they didn’t give out your room number, which gave me time to get our stuff and get out.” He motioned to the bags thrown in back.

“Any idea who it was?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t wait around to ask them.” He was on edge as he kept watching his mirrors. “Sorry, it’s just this car sucks and if they come up behind me, I’ll never be able to get away. There’s no power.”

“Electric engine.”

He checked his mirrors again. “I think we’re okay though. How long are you willing to keep this up?”

The answer was obvious. “Until I find my father.”

Elliot pulled the tranquilizer dart from the console and held it up between us. “You have evidence of this whole fiasco. You should go to the police and let them protect you.”

I laughed. “Protect me like they did when I thought you were stalking me?”

“But I wasn’t a threat. Now you have someone shooting darts at you and tracking you down to motel rooms.”

“Their protection won’t get me any closer to finding my father. If I tell them, I’ll need to wait for them again, and I can’t sit around and do nothing.” And I couldn’t tell them about the connection with my father and human cloning. “You’d be better off if you separated and can look for your brother on your own.”

“Not a chance. I’d miss out on all the fun.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.

“Well, thank you.” There I said it. At that moment, I realized I believed him. He was truly out there searching for his brother. “So how did they find us at the motel?”

“I don’t know. Payment card, phone, GPS, there are many ways.”

“Do we ditch it all?”

“We should be more careful. Without these things though, we’re in the dark. The world is so digitally focused that technology is a necessity. Power down your uniWatch.” He powered down his phone while I turned off my watch and dug through my bag to power down my uniTab. “We’ll stop using the payment card too. I don’t know what to do about the car’s computer and GPS. Let’s hope those aren’t being tracked.”

I was breathless and kept shaking my head. “You found me at Olivia’s house. How’d you do that?”

“I have a tracking device on your car.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Of course you do!”

He held his palm out to me. “Calm down, June. I know it was crazy. Remember, I felt completely out of options. I didn’t want you to get away.”

As I caught my breath, another thought settled in. “Could they be using your tracking device?”

“I doubt it, they’d need to know it was there and what frequency it runs on.”

“Maybe they have their own on the car?”

Once we were far enough away, we pulled over and Elliot searched the car, removing a tiny silver dot, which I assumed was a tracking device, from the frame of the car. “This is mine. I don’t see any other ones.”

“Where did you get that anyway?”

“An online spy shop. I bought it when I was trying to track Evan.”

He put it in the console between the front seats alongside the tranq dart.

Before we finished listing all the potential ways we could be tracked, we were circling the Capital Building near the Department of Children and Families.

Elliot pulled the car off on a side street. “There it is. Let’s see what we can find.”

Parking near the capital was a pain. We ended up a few blocks away in a structure. I wouldn’t leave Thursday unattended in a dark parking garage, so we took him with us as we approached the building, knowing one of us would need to wait with him outside.

The massive gray stone structure was at least seven stories high and had row after row of windows. The entrance was huge with bronze window trim and doors.

“Which one of us is going in?” I asked, patting Thursday’s head.

“You can go in, I’ll wait.”

“But…you know more about the adoption thing…” It was my responsibility, though.

Elliot took the leash from me. “You’ll be fine. Find the adoption desk and ask about the adoptions from about the right period. They probably won’t give you this information, but then keep asking what to do next. Maybe ask for a list of locations of safe surrenders. Maybe access to the database to search yourself. If all else fails, tell them you think you were adopted and want to find out more. If they ask for ID, tell them you left it in the car or didn’t bring it yet. Asking for information is not illegal, the worst they can do is say no.”

I bit my lip, trying to play this out in my mind.

Elliot put his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’re smart and resourceful.”

I nodded and stepped through the dark glass doors. I didn’t know what I expected, but an enormous lobby with a row of digital directories was not it. Afraid to make a noise that would send an echo throughout the building, I walked softly. My eyes darted around. I expected security, but the lobby was mostly empty.

Finding the Department of Children and Families on the directory, I made my way up the elevator and down the numbered hallways. I bypassed the self-help computers and took my place in the line to talk to a real person. After about ten minutes, I approached the middle-aged man with colorful, low-riding reading glasses.

It was as if the entire place heard me, despite my attempt to keep my voice down. “Um, I was wondering if I could get a list of all adoptions from 2000 to 2007.”

“2000-2007?” The man pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I thought you wanted it until 2010. I’ll have to rerun it.”

Why had this man just run that report? Who asked him to do it? “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll take it through 2010.” I was rocking back and forth on my feet, clutching my hand on the edge of the countertop in front of me.

“I thought we were sending it to your department electronically. I’ll have to check with my boss.”

Maybe if I played along, I could get my hands on it. I glanced down at his nametag and smiled nicely. “Thank you, John. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Hold on.” He left his station, walking between a dozen cubicles of workers on the phone before entering an office in the back. A huge glass window allowed me to watch him interact with an older woman sitting at a desk before he returned. “My boss is printing it, but says I just need to see your badge.”

“My badge?”

“Yeah, Madison City Police, right?”

“Oh, yeah. My badge.” I patted down my waist and pockets. I really wanted that list. There had to be connections between the orphans that would help me find my father, or help me figure out why he’d cloned so many babies. “Dang. I must have forgotten it in the squad car. I had to park so far away and I’m running out of time. Could I bring it up later today? See, I really need that list now.” I swallowed down the lie. Were the police looking for my father and did they make the connection between my father and the orphans? He’d be in so much trouble when he’s found. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

John pulled his glasses down and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t without confirming your identity.” There was an awkward pause, but John leaned in and whispered. “I saw on the news this morning that all the victims were safe surrenders. What’s going on?”

My chest tightened. The police had to know about my father. Even if I couldn’t get the list, maybe I still could get some information. I pretended to scratch my temple, but wiped away a drop of sweat. “Is the news reporting where all the safe surrenders were found?”

He shook his head. “No, but that information is on the list.”

“It would really save me some time if you’d tell me?”

“I didn’t look at the list.” He shook his head again. "What’s your name? I could call the police station and validate your status there, so I could give you that information.” His expression began to sharpen as he looked me over.

I spit out the first name that came to mind. “Officer Sheridan. Tonya Sheridan.”

“Okay, give me a moment.”

While John stepped back to his boss’s office, I took a step away from the counter. I’d never pull this off. My heart hammered in my chest as John explained the situation to the older lady.

Shit.

I was going to be in trouble. I didn’t wait around. I yelled, “Never mind, I just got a call and need to take off,” and I spun around, fleeing the department. I walked as casual as I could to the stairs. I took them two by two, holding the railing to keep me from tumbling. I shoved my way out the heavy door and into the lobby. My echoing footsteps made my heart race faster. I rushed out of the building and locked my eyes on Elliot.

“Let’s go!” I panted.

He limped to keep up with me. “What happened?”

I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for an army of government workers to burst out of the building, but kept moving forward.

“Nobody’s behind us, June. What did you do?”

I slowed down to go easy on Elliot, though my pounding heart kept telling me to keep moving. Faster. “We need to get out of here…I told them I was the police.”

“You did what?”

“I said I was Officer Sheridan.”

“You impersonated an officer?”

“It’s no worse than you putting a tracking device on my car!”

He shook his head and put his free hand softly between my shoulder blades as we rushed down the sidewalk and back to my car. “I told you to improvise, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Within moments, we had my car pulling out of the parking structure and were headed as far away from this place as possible. Once I confirmed there were no flashing lights in my mirrors, I told Elliot what I learned. “The police are looking for the Orphan Killer. They had the building run a list of all orphans from between 2000-2010. I guess it’s all over the news that the victims had been safe surrenders.”

I clicked on the auto-drive and typed into the car’s computer “orphan killer.”

A news article came up of the burned Del Monte Cannery from last week. Flames and smoke poured from the picture on the screen. I could almost smell the smoke…like I had last week while running…and on Elliot’s clothes when he had attacked me in my home. He had smelled like campfire…the day after the fire. My stomach rolled. What if it wasn’t campfire smoke and smoke from the cannery instead? I turned my eyes from the screen to the man sitting next to me.

He caught my gaze and slowly turned towards me. I found myself staring in the depths of his green eyes before he cleared his throat. “June, I need to tell you something.”

Chapter 14

“My brother was at the cannery before the fire started.” Elliot looked down at his hands. “I think he may have started it.”

I put the pieces together. “So you think…your brother’s the Orphan Killer?”

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know, but the signs point that way. The more I learn, the more the dots all connect.”

“What dots? His disappearance?”

Elliot sat back, turned towards me, and blew out a breath of air. “Everything, I guess. His odd behaviors since I’ve been home, avoiding his wife, and the facade he’s putting on with the police. He and Ginny had been fostering children, and he was an orphan himself. Then, he was at the cannery where the last victim’s body was found. Plus, he’d been watching your father. You can’t ignore all those signs.”

Those words hit me. “Wait. He’d been watching my father? Why? How?” I pulled my body away from Elliot and stiffened. That was it. Both Elliot and his brother were insane—that was why he saw Dr. Sherwood.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t know if I believe it. I had tracked him to your father’s house and to the cannery with a similar tracking device.” He motioned to the device in the console. “I lost its signal the same time I met you. I was hoping he’d return to your father’s house, but he never did–”

“But…you’re the one who smelled like smoke…when I held you at gunpoint.” My hands clenched on the steering wheel and my knee bounced slightly.

Trust no one.

Stop it, June. You’re over that!

I pushed myself away from Elliot, into my seat, and stared out the windshield. I unclenched my fingers, one by one, from the steering wheel.

Move forward.

“I had been to the cannery and snuck into the rubble. I was looking for something, anything, but that was ridiculous. I wanted a clue of some type to tell me he was innocent.” Elliot shook his head. “It was ludicrous; everything had been consumed in the fire.”

I disengaged the auto-drive and pulled the car over. “Get out of my car.” He had to be using me as bait—a way to get to his brother.

“June?” His eyes were soft.

I snapped my head away and stared at the parked car ahead of me. “Get out!” I repeated.

He didn’t budge. “When you’re out of options, you do crazy stuff.”

I tensed on the steering wheel. Did I really want him gone?

“June, I’m sorry. I should have told you everything right away.”

With the sound of sirens, my eyes darted to my rear view mirror. Had the police found out about my failed attempt to get the list of orphans? Elliot continued to apologize, but I didn’t hear him over my hammering heart. I pulled out into traffic and headed away from the capitol. Once I couldn’t hear the sirens or see any flashing lights, I realized Elliot had fallen silent. We were in this together. “Tell me everything you know,” I demanded.

Elliot shifted in the seat beside me. “I did. You know everything I know.”

I stared straight ahead and waited. No more information came. “Well, if you’re lying, I’m going to have the military pick you up while you’re sleeping. You’ll never know what hit you.”

“That’s fair.”

I ground my teeth and turned towards him, taking in his slouched posture and expectant face. Thursday leaned forward and licked Elliot’s cheek.

Elliot wiped his cheek and shook his head before scratching a floppy ear. “Thursday thinks I should stay.”

“Yeah, I suppose he does.”

I spent the time sorting out what I was thinking and determining where we went from there. Elliot had kept information from me. Though, not a lie, it still didn’t sit well with me. Who are you to judge, June? I wasn’t completely honest with him either. I still hadn’t told him about cloning and that information may actually be helpful in figuring out what was going on.

All these missing…dead orphans were clones.

I turned the auto-drive back on and returned my focus to my car’s computer screen, searching for any information about the Orphan Killer. The most recent victim had been identified along with a listing of three other names. Four dead clones in the past five years. Four of seventeen. Or maybe more.

Elliot rubbed the scruff on his cheek. “Do you forgive me?”

“For now.”

“I’ll take that.” He focused on the dash computer. “We need to talk with someone familiar with the victims. Probably not the current family, the police will be all over them. Maybe someone that knew the first victim. They might be frustrated they haven’t had closure yet and willing to talk.”

I understood that feeling. I clicked around on the screen. “From the first article, five years ago, there was quote from a girlfriend, Melinda Lancett. It looks like she is now married, but perhaps she remembers what had happened. She’s been out of the media awhile now.”

For fear of using internet calling, we found Melinda’s address and engaged the auto-drive. Next, we checked our texts and messages through the in-dash computer. I skipped the ones from my students, leaving only one other message.

Voice Message—From Madison PD

Ms. Taylor, this is Officer Sheridan calling with an update. Nothing new to report but I wanted to thank you for staying out of the investigation. Bye.

Elliot let out a laugh, and I struggled to hold in a chuckle. She obviously hadn’t heard of my recent escapade. I rubbed my cheeks and temples, to finish dissolving the tension.

“My turn.” Elliot took over the computer and navigated to a website, punching in some codes to access his voicemail.

Voice Message–From Ginger Roe

Elliot, it’s Ginny, the PI hunted down where Evan’s staying. I’m going over there now to talk to him. I wanted you to know.

“What the hell is she doing?” Elliot exclaimed, powering on his phone. “That was over an hour ago already! I need to call her. I don’t know if they’re tracking me, so drive in the opposite direction, do circles, something just in case.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

I glanced at Elliot, his eyes narrowed at the screen while he scrolled through his phone’s contacts. With a hard jawline, he spoke the old-fashioned way, with his phone up to his ear, “What are you doing?” There was worry in his voice.

There was a pause, and I froze in place, afraid I’d miss part of the conversation if I took a breath.

“Where are you?” he demanded. His head bowed and he faced the dash.

Another pause.

“Get out of there. Meet me at the coffee shop up the road. I think it’s called The Perky Pig. I’ll be right there.” He ended the call with determination in his eyes. “Sorry, but we need to take a detour. She’s outside an apartment Evan rented. He wasn’t there, thank God.”

We arrived at The Perky Pig in about fifteen minutes. The digital sign displaying a pink logo of a pig swimming in a coffee cup was a unique addition to the monotone neighborhood. Once we parked, I assessed the weather–not too hot for Thursday to stay inside the car. It would be soon though, if the temperature kept climbing. We rolled down the windows.

“Good boy,” I said while patting his head sticking out the opening. He pleaded for me to stay, with huge brown eyes and wrinkled eyebrows. I lingered a few moments while I smoothed the fur down on the top of his head. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

Entering the shop, I momentarily enjoyed the rich coffee aroma before Elliot rushed over to sit by a woman at a corner table. Her eyes focused on a white coffee cup clutched in her hands.

Elliot’s scowl returned. “Ginny, you shouldn’t have gone without me.”

The corner of her lips turned up and her eyes latched on to Elliot. She relaxed into the pink vinyl chair. Her vowels were slow and glided out of her mouth in a southern accent of some kind. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t get ahold of you. I couldn’t wait, he’s my husband.”

Elliot sat in the chair across from her and rested his hand on hers. “It’s not safe. Something’s going on.” He turned towards me and focused on my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my t-shirt. Could he sense how awkward I felt? He stood and pulled the chair out next to him for me to sit down. “June, this is my sister-in-law, Ginny. Ginny, this is June. She’s helping me look for Evan.”

Ginny nodded a greeting. Her eyes dashed between Elliot and me. A small smile appeared and only grew when she looked back at Elliot. “Nice meeting you. Thanks for helping us.”

I didn’t have much of a choice. I pulled up a sincere smile and sat down. “You’re welcome.”

She returned her focus on Elliot. “Well, it looks like we found him.”

“Not yet,” Elliot said. “The apartment may be rented by him, but that doesn’t mean he’s there. Even if we do find him, he may run again. Tell me what happened today.”

I wanted to shrink away. Should I be listening to this? A single tear made its way down Ginny’s cheek and Elliot took her hand. I couldn’t pry my eyes from it.

Ginny continued, not seeming bothered by me at the table. “Nothing. I came down here and rang his intercom, but nobody came.”

“Well, let’s wait outside the apartment for a while and see what happens.” Elliot gave Ginny’s hand a pat and looked up at me while I tried to make myself smaller. “I’m so sorry to drag you into this.”

“Hey, it’s okay. They might be connected anyway. Finding your brother may help lead to my father, right? Probably a better lead than anything I have.” My heart went out to Ginny. I understood the loneliness she felt.

Ginny wiped the tear away. “The military’s been calling for you. I must be your emergency contact. You need to go back.”

Elliot ground his teeth. “I know. I won’t, though.”

“You’ll be in so much trouble. If you aren’t already.”

“I can’t, Ginny. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself leaving all this up in the air.” Elliot slouched into the chair and rubbed his eyes. He appeared as lost as I felt.

It was a stakeout like in the movies. We sat in my car, Thursday and I in front, and Elliot and Ginny in back, across the street from Evan’s apartment. The neighborhood was silent, only a few cars here and there. Ginny had given me her phone, and I rolled it in my hands way too long before calling Melinda, the first victim’s girlfriend.

“Hello? Is this Melinda?” I asked when the woman answered the phone. Her video chat was off. I searched for the right words.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Um…” The best way to get over the awkwardness was to just blurt it out. I didn’t believe she’d give me the information I needed unless I told her my story. “My name is June, and my father’s missing. I think his disappearance may be related to someone you used to know, Chase Morgan?”

She was silent. “So, what do you need from me?” A child screamed in the background.

“See, I really don’t know. Perhaps you could tell me anything that stands out to you about his disappearance? New acquaintances? Patterns?”

“I’ve already told the police everything...a few times. It’s been years, and I’m no help anymore. The details are getting fuzzy. I don’t remember what is real and what I’m making up to fill in the gaps. The best testimony is to read my police report from five years ago.”

“Please tell me what you know, anything at all. I really need to find my father.”

“The police have since told me they think Chase was killed by a serial killer going after once-orphaned children in their twenties and thirties. How would your dad’s disappearance be related to this?”

I hesitated but continued with the truth. “My father seems to have known a few orphans before they were abandoned. I don’t know how it’s all connected, but I need to find him.”

A child’s muffled voice called for mom in the background. “Okay, again, this was a long time ago.”

Elliot opened his door and dashed outside, turning to Ginny and me. “Stay here.” His voice was firm as he gently shut the car door. A blond-haired man walked towards the apartment building, and Elliot rushed to intercept, his limp more present than ever. When the man spun around, I recognized his face from the photo Elliot had shown me. It was Evan.

Melinda continued. “We met at a college party and dated for about six months before he disappeared.”

I focused on the men talking, but only heard muffled voices. I was too far away and Melinda was still on the other end of the phone.

Two other men in jeans and dark jackets were coming up behind Elliot. Their backs were to me, and I couldn’t see their faces. I held my breath. If things went bad, Elliot was outnumbered three to one.

Their jackets seemed out of place since the temperature outside was heating up. Why did they need them today? They had to be hiding something underneath. They were still over half a block away from the brothers.

My jaw tensed. Were these the men that took my father?

“Melinda, I’m sorry, there’s an emergency. I need to call you back.”

“It’s okay,” Melinda said. “I have a copy of the police report; I’ll send it to your contact info.”

“That’d be great. Sorry, I need to go now.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I clicked the phone off and flung it at Ginny.

Chapter 15

The two men in jackets turned slightly and a flash of recognition passed through me from one man’s bald head. He had been involved in the tranquilizer dart episode.

Shit.

Elliot was in trouble.

Evan turned away from Elliot and walked towards the apartment entrance. I leaned over the seat and rummaged in my bag, pulling out the 9mm. I removed the case and exited the car, the gun tucked away behind my back. Ginny was right beside me, despite me urging her to stay in the car. Evan was her husband, and I was sure she would do anything to help him.

“Stay,” I commanded Thursday, who was still in the passenger seat. I rushed out of the car and took a few steps towards the men, clutching my gun out of view.

“Elliot!” I yelled.

He turned. His eyes narrowed at the approaching men for a moment, then an innocent smile took over. He walked calmly towards them.

As Evan turned, his eyes flashed open, shoulders tensed, and he took a step back. There was going to be trouble. He caught sight of Ginny and shook his head.

The other two men brushed their jackets away and slid their hands beneath, reaching for something at their waists. Guns, of course. They didn’t draw them yet. I readied my hand on my weapon’s grip, continuing to keep it hidden.

“I’ll be right there, honey,” Elliot called to us. Who was he calling honey? It was a cover. “It wasn’t him.” Another cover.

Elliot cautiously stepped away from the men who were only a handful of sidewalk squares from him. “Honey, you can drive. I’ll sit in back with my sister.”

It was a hint. I was ‘honey.’ Ginny slipped into the car, but I was hesitant, the gun still heavy in my hand.

Elliot was halfway back to my vehicle now, and the tingling anticipation in my body intensified when Baldy yelled, “Stop!”

Elliot didn’t hesitate; he kept walking towards the car, pretending he didn’t hear the man calling for him. Behind Elliot, Baldy rushed forward to grab his arm and stop him.

Before I realized the depth of the threat, Elliot had the man down on the pavement with one graceful twist of his body. Baldy had rolled right over Elliot’s shoulder blades before hitting the ground–hard. Elliot sprinted towards the car, ignoring the second man who pull out his gun.

Without hesitation, I drew my gun and pointed it straight at the second man’s chest. My heart beat as rapidly and forcefully as a rabbit thumping their hind legs in warning. “Drop it!” I yelled. Baldy staggered to get his footings.

Elliot had enough space between him and the men that he could reach the car with only a few more steps. The rear door was open and waiting for him. He may be good, but I doubted he could outmaneuver a bullet.

Even though we were on a quiet side street, there were enough people on the sidewalks and main road that the man began uncomfortably moving his gun around. Finally, he slipped it beneath his jacket and allowed Elliot make a get-away. I glanced at Evan before I rushed into the car myself; he had a gun out as well, but put it away when the men turned towards him. It was unclear whom he intended to help.

As I sped away, Ginny’s words were frantic. “What happened? Is Evan okay?”

“I don’t know.” Elliot shook his head. “He says he’s fine, but the way he said it wasn’t quite right.”

“I don’t believe it.” Ginny’s image, biting her lip, filled the rearview mirror.

“He told me to return to the military and when I returned, it would be like none of this ever happened. He pleaded with me to let him get through this part of his life.” Elliot sighed and rubbed his cheek. “I don’t understand what is going on. If he’s in trouble, he’ll need me. He has no one on his side. Why were those two men approaching him? They seemed to know each other.”

Of course Elliot didn’t recognize the men. He had been unconscious. “Those men, at least one of them, were who shot you with the tranq dart.”

“You were shot with a tranq dart?” Ginny’s voice firmed up.

“Long story.” Elliot shook his head and a small chuckle escaped.

A knot formed in my stomach. “What if those men were coming for Evan?”

Elliot shook his head. “No, he seemed familiar with them. I just don’t believe it. There’s something in my gut telling me something else is going on.”

Part of me wanted to go to the police. Tell them everything, but part of me believed Elliot.

Ginny panted. “If he’s working with those men, what’s he planning to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot said. “We’ll figure this out. He said to make sure you’re okay. A man doesn’t say that if he doesn’t care for someone.”

“Maybe he’ll tell me what’s going on. Maybe I should approach him.” Ginny wrung her hands together.

“That’s definitely not a good idea. He’s set on leaving his family out of this. It’s really up to us to do something.”

“What can you do?” I asked Elliot. “Are you gonna rush in and kidnap your brother?”

“I don’t know. I just know I need to make sure he’s okay. Please go back.”

I turned the car around. “We may be fools for this.”

Elliot put his hand on my shoulder from the backseat. “Thank you.”

I pulled over. “What’s the plan first? What are we gonna do? We’re gonna get ourselves killed.”

“You underestimate me.” Elliot smiled and pulled the tracker he had used on my car from my console.

We carefully circled the streets near Evan’s apartment. My eyes darted up and down the streets, watching for police and any signs of the men that we had just escaped. It seemed safe, so we pulled up behind a mid-size maroon sedan parked in a lot off the main road. I was bouncing in my seat while Elliot attached the tracking device to the car’s frame. Elliot flew into the car, and my foot hit the accelerator before he even closed his door. I jumped when Elliot put his hand on my shoulder.

“Relax, June, they’re all gone.”

I still scanned the streets, ensuring those men and Evan were nowhere around.

Phew.

“Now we wait and watch,” Elliot said. “Ginny, I think you should go home and get some rest. I’ll let you know when I figure something out.”

Ginny let out an awkward laugh, “Rest? What’s that?” Her voice cracked, causing me to look at her in the rear-view mirror. She was wiping tears away.

Elliot put his arm around her and pulled her into his chest, rubbing her arm softly. “It’s okay.”

Ginny laid her head on him. The softer side of Elliot made me forget our earlier disagreement. I didn’t know how I felt about it. He was a soldier, but at this moment, he looked like nothing more than a concerned brother-in-law.

Ginny spoke into Elliot’s shoulder. “Where are you staying? You haven’t been home in a few nights.”

“We’ve been finding places.”

Ginny smiled, her reddened watery eyes twinkling. “We?”

“It’s not like that, Ginny.” Elliot found me in the rearview mirror, then let a taunting grin expose itself. “She hates me anyway.”

Ginny caught my eye in the mirror too. “Well, you’re a great guy.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” I said to get off the subject. A tingling sensation grew in my neck and slowly spread into my cheeks. I saw my cheeks redden and turned the mirror away.

I didn’t hate Elliot. I was grateful for him. I was a little perturbed he didn’t tell me the whole story from the start, but I believed he had been truthful. Besides, who was I to judge? I hadn’t been completely truthful either. What was I missing out on, anyway? A crazy man AWOL from the military? Or an opportunity to die from a heart condition and leave someone lonely? No, I wasn’t missing out on anything.

My car’s auto-drive had returned us to The Perky Pig, and I manually navigated to park it. Ginny got out and leaned in through the open door. “You can both stay with me. It would make me feel better having someone in the house.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we have things we need to do, and I don’t know where we’ll end up.” Elliot rubbed Thursday’s head that leaned over the front seat watching him. “June, what do you think of Ginny watching Thursday?”

My stomach hardened, and I spat out my answer. “No.” She couldn’t. I couldn’t leave him.

Elliot carefully pushed forward. “With the warmer weather, we can’t leave him in the car. We may need to make a quick get-a-way and end up leaving him somewhere.” Elliot leaned towards me, and his voice softened. His breath caused the stray strands of my hair to sway, and my skin warmed up. “It’s your decision, but he would be safer with Ginny.”

I grasped Thursday’s head, firmly scratching his cheeks. Oh, the guilt I’d feel if something happened to him. He was so innocent and loyal. Elliot was right. “Fine.”

“Really?” Ginny perked up. “I’d be happy to watch him. He’ll be a good distraction.”

I hesitantly got out of the car and hooked Thursday up to his leash. I hugged him and rubbed the spot he liked behind his ear. “Behave, I’ll get you soon.” I gave Ginny detailed instructions on Thursday’s routine, clutching the leash to my chest.

Ginny waited, and when I didn’t hand him over, she gently took the leash from me. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. We’ll have such a good time.” Her smile was genuine and lit up her face as much as her eyes did. This helped me find peace in my decision. She turned to Elliot. “Please be careful and call me when you find something.”

Once we ensured Ginny and Thursday were in her car and pulling out of a parking spot, I turned to Elliot, who had settled in the passenger seat. “Why didn’t you take her up on the offer to stay with her? We have nowhere to go.”

“I worry having us there will put her at risk. It's obvious Evan is protecting her from something by staying away. I can’t then bring the danger right back to her.”

He said ‘us,’ but I knew he referred to me bringing danger. I put us all at risk. I dropped my eye contact with him and hung my head, staring at the dashboard.

I should leave him.

I hadn’t worried about Elliot. He was military and could handle himself. I had never thought he had people he cared about who weren’t as capable as he was.

Run away, June. Find your father yourself.

My stomach swirled and heart pounded as I fought with my inner voice.

Chapter 16

That evening, we found ourselves checked into another motel. It was like the last one. Rows of rooms opened to a parking lot. This one took sleaze to a whole new level, from the red lights outside to the blue neon sign blinking ‘Madtown Motel.’

We made sure we obtained a room on the ground floor, in case we needed to make a quick escape. We had purchased a blank payment card and a new uniTab across town and left quickly to make sure nobody would find us. The motel’s Wi-Fi was perfect for anonymity, we created a new user name and soon were connected.

I was still turning over all the reasons I should break my ties to Elliot, but kept returning to Calvin Sherwood’s words. If we put our heads together, we could figure this out. Especially now, knowing his brother and my father were somehow connected.

Elliot interrupted my moment of self-pity. “So what did you find out from Melinda?”

I lifted my head. His dark eyebrows wrinkled in a look I only could read as concern. “Not much, I hung up when you got out of the car. But she’s sending the police report to my contact info. Shoot! I was on Ginny’s phone. She’s sending the info to Ginny.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll just have Ginny forward it to us.” He was making the video call before he had even finished his sentence. The device beeped when Ginny forwarded the report. Before Elliot hung up, he asked the question I had been thinking. “How’s Thursday?”

“Oh, he’s having a great time. We both are.” A huge smile spread across her face that made me smile. “Tell June thank you.”

I was sure he was having the time of his life, all the new smells were probably exciting him and tiring him out. He would sleep well tonight, which made one of us.

After he ended the call, he handed me the uniTab. He walked the perimeter of the room and peered out the window a few times to check our surroundings while I skimmed my messages for the important ones. One message was from the Madison PD, and for a moment, hope filled me they had found my father.

Voice Message–From Madison PD

Ms. Taylor, this is Officer Sheridan again. I had a report that someone used my name to try to obtain a list of orphans from the Department of Children and Families. I was pissed at first, but then imagine my shock when I reviewed security footage to see your familiar face. I understand you are upset about your father, and don’t know what you are doing, but you must to stay out of it. You need to call me back. Bye.

I deleted the message. I wasn’t returning her call.

Voice Message–From University of Wisconsin Biology Department

Professor Taylor, this is Warren. I need you back at work. The board is restless and insist on a report of the progress with the eggs. They’re concerned you’ve been MIA, which is not like you. Talk to you soon.

I deleted that message too. I’d need time to figure out a reply. He was right, I’d been MIA, and I was more responsible than that. I had to teach tomorrow, and it was too late to cancel, so I messaged Kaitlin and Isaac, asking them for help. They knew the material and could cover the Q&A session. I told myself it would be a good experience for them.

I turned the uniTab over to Elliot, and he pulled up the map for the tracking device he had on his brother’s car. The screen showed the device hadn’t moved. It was stationary at Evan’s apartment.

This no-frills motel didn’t have anywhere to sit, except the beds. Elliot and I settled next to each other and read the police report. I took the motel notepad and pen, jotting down notes that could be significant.

Elliot held the uniTab and scrolled through it with me. I was suddenly aware that I was extremely close to him with my shoulder leaning against his. The smell of the motel soap from his recent shower was pleasant. I told myself to pull away, but to be honest, I found I liked it.

It wasn’t until I straightened slightly and saw his face soften with parted lips and heavy eyelids that I moved over. “Why don’t you read it and I’ll jot down what is significant.” I held up the motel pad of paper and pen.

He scooted back against the headboard. “You’ve come a long way.”

I could have played dumb and questioned what he meant by this, but I didn’t. Only a few days ago, I had held him at gunpoint. I turned away from him, focusing on my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

He leaned over slightly and playfully bumped his shoulder to mine. “So you believe me now?”

“Yeah, I supposed I do.” I didn’t want to dwell. “Now focus on the report.”

He put his finger to the uniTab screen and scrolled through it. “It says Ms. Lancett had last seen Chase Morgan twenty-four hours previous. They had gone to a movie at the mall in Middleton. She didn’t see him the day of his disappearance, and after she couldn’t get a hold of him, reported him missing. Upon searching his house, he packed nothing, never asked for anything back from Ms. Lancett, and never said goodbye.” Elliot continued to scroll down. “This is interesting. It looks like two days before, Mr. Morgan declined an invitation to participate in a clinical trial at the university.” He handed me the uniTab.

I scrolled through and confirmed Elliot had hit the high points. The familiar format of the police report reminded me of the frustration I felt when filling one out on my father. Where was he? I returned the device to Elliot while I tapped my finger to my lip. What was the significance of all of this? I rubbed my face and returned my focus to Melinda’s report. “Where did they find his body? How many days later?”

Elliot performed a quick internet search and found the information. “Three days later. The body was burned beyond recognition in a stolen car.” Elliot scrolled down the page. “Identified by dental records.”

Was I destined to turn up burnt beyond recognition? My chest pounded, and I felt physicallysick—my stomach swirling and palms sweating. Did I have a fever?

Stop thinking about it!

I breathed deeply and focused on the scar on Elliot’s cheek. Another deep breath, and I started to feel better. “Why burn the bodies? It obviously doesn’t prevent identifying the body.”

“You okay?”

I bit my lip and nodded.

Elliot continued. “They were probably hiding evidence. Hiding what they did to the bodies.”

I shuddered.

Elliot refocused me. “The clinical trial part is interesting.”

“Yeah, especially with the whole cloning thing—”

“Cloning thing?” He titled his chin. “I mean, I know both you and your father work in cloning, but how does that relate to this?”

Crap! My stomach jumped. “Um…my father… It’s just that he used to be in genetic engineering and development at SBRI. They worked with medical cloning technology.” As I struggled to explain without giving away my secret, an idea began to grow. “If there really was a clinical trial at the university, I should be able to access the proposal.” I sat up straight in bed and took the uniTab back from Elliot.

I connected to the university’s servers and logged into the clinical trial and research database. “I don’t have access to participant’s names, but I can look up most other things.” I searched all active trials within two weeks of the date Chase Morgan went missing. Pages of results displayed. “Urgh.”

“Yeah, that looks like a pain in the ass.”

“Well, I don’t know what choice we have.” One by one, I scanned through them. An hour? Maybe more time passed, and Elliot had gotten up a few times to peer out our window, surveying the parking lot. His jacket was off and his gray t-shirt clung to his body, accentuating his broad shoulders. I kept glancing up at him with appreciation for the lengths he was going to keep us safe.

I plopped the uniTab down on the bed and rubbed my eyes to refocus them. “I’ve got nothing. There were no active clinical trials that were testing anything on twenty-something men.”

“So, this tells us the university wasn’t involved.” Elliot sat beside me.

“This tells us that the request for Chase Morgan to participate in a clinical trial was a lie. This database is a master list of all clinical trials going on in Wisconsin. I wonder who contacted him about the trial. If we figure that out, I think we’ll find the Orphan Killer.”

Elliot nodded. “I’m sure the police have already investigated that angle.”

I tapped my finger on the corner of the uniTab. “I wonder if I searched for SBRI as a primary researcher.” I picked up the device again, and my fingers flew on the virtual keyboard. Again, pages of results displayed. I sorted it by reverse chronologic order, and when I was about to scroll down, a name caught my eye.

Samuel Taylor.

The entry was dated a year ago. SBRI had told me the truth. I opened the file to see what the trial was about. “My father worked with them a year ago on DNA manipulation to extend the life of stem cells.” Relief settled over me. He may have used cloning technology for this, but it was completely legit.

I skimmed the list, confirming there was nothing going on at the time Mr. Morgan disappeared. I tapped my lip and stared at the old flat-screen TV on the dresser. “I think we need to go back to the original question. Who took my father, and where is he? What was he doing with the doctor and the orphans so many years ago?” I rubbed my temple, and an idea formed. I looked up at Elliot. “Could you get some ice?”

“Now?” Elliot raised an eyebrow.

“Please?” I put on that sickly sweet smile.

Elliot shook his head at me, but headed out the door. “You better be here when I get back.”

“We’re over that. I’m not going anywhere.”

As soon as the door clicked, I grabbed the uniTab and called one of my dad’s research partners. He did say I could call any time. I hoped ten at night wasn’t too late.

The call was quickly answered by a man older than my father was. Maybe seventy? His wrinkles were deep, his nose scattered with gin blossoms, and his eyes appeared a bit cloudy.

“Hi, is this Russell Cohen?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse and his jaw shook when he spoke.

“This is June Taylor. I had sent you a message earlier.”

“Yes, June. Any luck finding your father yet?”

“No. Not yet. I’m trying to learn as much as I can about him. I’m hoping that something will stand out and help me locate him.”

Russell smiled a lopsided grin, showing his darkened teeth. “Your dad was always an odd duck. He may be anywhere.”

“I was wondering if you know anything that may help me find him, since you worked with him on some revolutionary projects.” I hoped he understood what I meant.

He hesitated a moment. His words came out slow and cautious. “I imagine you know some things.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then you’ll realize that the phone is not the best place to discuss them.”

Yeah, if he was also involved in human cloning, he wouldn’t say anything over an insecure line. “Yeah. I realize that. I could come to your place.”

He laughed. “No need. I don’t know anything you don’t know. Samuel was always an interesting man. When his wife died, he quit his job and disappeared for two years. He came back. I’m sure he’ll show up this time too.”

“Was that when he worked for SBRI?”

“Well, it wasn’t SBRI back then, it was much smaller and called Biotechnology Engineering Group. The company switched hands quite a few times when the original owner died.”

“And they took him back?”

“Of course. He was the leading expert in his field. Nobody has even come close to his level of knowledge.” Russell continued. “Even when he quit the last time, they kept trying to get him back.”

“When was that?”

“Oh, twenty-five years ago or so now.”

So, Russell didn’t know my father had worked for them last year. Maybe he didn’t know anything that would help me.

Russell continued, “He said he didn’t want to do it anymore and his time was better spent with his daughter. You were everything to him. He scheduled his day so he could stop in at daycare to see you for lunch. He’d leave early to take you to the park. Never missed the children’s midday book reading at the library. I had never seen a parent so dedicated, much less a father.”

A deeply buried ache surfaced as I remembered those times with my father. My life was picture-perfect right up until I was about ten years old. That was when he kept telling me how much I reminded him of mom. He looked me in the eyes less and less, eventually avoiding my face altogether. He started drinking. Our family dinners turned to meals in front of the TV.

I buried those memories and focused on the conversation instead. “So, you only worked with him for a short time on the primate project?”

“Yeah. We published two papers together, so we got to know each other well. Once he moved to the other project, I didn’t see him as much. Most his time was spent off-site.”

“Off-site?”

“Yeah, the company was small, so he had to utilize equipment at the university. They were the only ones with enough money to have the fancy stuff.”

I muttered through the rest of the conversation with Russell and learned nothing new. I attempted to meet face-to-face again.

“I’d be happy to meet with you, but I really don’t think I’ll be much help.” He shook his head and dropped his eyes from the screen. “I only worked with him before he got into the more controversial topic, if you know what I mean.” Yeah I did. “I stayed out of all of that.”

“Why?”

His eyes still focused downwards. “I didn’t think it was right to play God. The team that worked on that project saw life as nothing more than a bag of tissue. In fact, at that time, the majority of the scientific community saw it that way. So much that the government needed to intervene and make laws to prevent unethical use of cloning.” He stopped, maybe realizing he said too much over the phone and looked up at me.

Elliot returned to the room with a bucket of ice, distracting me. He shook his head, obviously realizing why I sent him away. I shrugged and tried to look innocent.

I returned my focus to Russell. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll think about your dilemma and send you a message if I come to any conclusions that may be useful to you. I haven’t seen Samuel in over twenty-five years, and you’d be wasting your time meeting with me.”

After I hung up, I rubbed the back of my neck and contemplated his words.

Elliot set the ice down on the small table between the beds and pulled me out of my thoughts. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

“I was just calling one of my father’s research partners. It all seems to be a dead end anyway.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but stayed quiet. I returned my focus to the uniTab, sending Payton, my father’s other partner, a message. I doubted she’d be helpful either.

Dr. Rollins–

I’m sorry; I’ve been unable to contact you. I would like to see you as soon as possible. What time works for you? I’d stop by your place if that makes it easy.

—June Taylor

We spent the next hour or so searching for information on SBRI, Biotechnology Engineering Group, and the Orphan Killer. We learned small tidbits, but nothing substantial popped up, and it was well after midnight now. My eyes were tired, and I caught Elliot looking at me in a way I hadn’t seen before. His heavy eyelids and parted mouth returned, but now, his lips turned up into a smile.

His voice lowered and softened. “Can I ask you something not related to any of this?”

“I think you’ll do it anyway.” I straightened myself and put more space between us.

“How is it you’re still single?”

I didn’t expect that question. “How do you know I’m single?”

“Even if you have someone, it can’t be serious. If I was your significant other, I would have been with you every moment during this time of crisis… Well, that is unless you didn’t want me along. Actually, that wouldn’t have stopped me.” He chuckled.

“I don’t understand your question; some people are just single.”

“I’m amazed. You’re dedicated, determined, and stubborn…to a fault. Plus, you’re feisty. Pulling a gun on someone you don’t know. And you do stupid things…so dumb they make me laugh, and hope you don’t get killed. They make you real…and human. You don’t believe anything. You’d never survive in the military.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. He was trying to work me up again. “I guess that’s your answer then. It’s easy to see why I’m single.”

“To be frank, I find those things…charming. You pair those traits with the passion, patience, and loyalty you show Thursday, and I can’t help but wonder how you’d treat a person you loved.” He shook his head as a full smile uncovered itself, causing his scar to pucker. “There were more reasons than finding my brother that I couldn’t stay away from you.”

The tingly sensation in my cheeks told me they had reddened. “Okay, what do you want from me?”

Elliot straightened himself next to me. “I want nothing. Well, that’s not exactly true. I meant those compliments.” He leaned in and hesitated briefly, as if waiting for me to protest.

I closed my eyes and allowed him to brush his lips softly across mine. My stomach turned over in anticipation, but he placed his kiss on my cheek instead.

His words softened. “That’s what I want, but only if you’re ready and want it too.” He looked forward at the blank TV. “And you need to realize I won’t be around long. Military prison or back to the military, one or the other is in my future.” He laughed the next words. “Death is always an option too, I guess. Depends what we end up getting ourselves into.”

My eyes went to his jaw, his eyes, and then his lips. Thoughts fill my head of the reasons I left my fiancé, and I pushed out of his arms. “I’m sorry,” I said, getting out of his bed and crawling into my own. Why did we decide to share a motel room? Oh, because we were running out of untraced money, and I was a little nervous being without him near.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Get some rest, June. We’ll look at all this with fresh eyes in the morning.” He got up and did another inspection out the window before turning off the lights and crawling into his bed.

As tired as I was, I lay awake in bed. I had so many emotions and thoughts playing in my head that there was no way I could calm them to sleep–not to mention I hadn’t slept by myself in years. It was my fiancé followed immediately by Thursday. The bed was cold and lonely.

The thoughts I couldn’t stop were of my father. Images of him being tortured, chained, and injured, even dead. Calling out for me. Asking why I didn’t listen and leave town. Images of him saying I was nothing like my mother because she would have figured this out already. For the first time since he disappeared, I let the tears stream down my face. I had stuffed the feelings into a bottle and it was now full and overflowing.

He can’t die. He’s all I have.

I may have pushed him away, but I did it for his own good. I kept busy not to feel this emptiness, knowing he was only twenty minutes away from me. The thought of him leaving this earth made me feel completely vacant inside.

Allowing the tears to come should have made me feel better. It didn’t. It left me feeling hopeless.

I tried to hide my breakdown from Elliot, but I let out a small whimper of a cry at least once.

Over an hour must have passed that I lay there, trying to sort everything out. The tears had stopped; I didn’t have the energy left in me to cry anymore. Instead, I found myself getting out of bed and crossing the small gap to where Elliot slept.

What are you doing, June?

I ignored the voice in my head and crawled in beside him. He moved over for me, but didn’t say anything. I would like to say there were all these great reasons why I did it, but there wasn’t. I was tired of being alone. What did it matter what I was doing? I may die on this adventure, or in a few years, and Elliot was going away anyway.

When his arm slipped around me and buried his face in the back of my head, I allowed myself to relax. Bizarre as it sounded, away from everything, on a frantic search for my father, I felt like I was home in his arms.

Elliot gave me a tender squeeze, pulling me closer to his warm body. His breath softly caressed my cheek. “We’ll find him, June. This will be over soon.”

I fell asleep only moments later.

Chapter 17

“June, wake up.” Elliot’s hand gently shook my hip. I couldn’t have been out long. I rubbed my stinging eyes and looked around, orientating myself to my surroundings.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re being watched.” He helped me out of bed and took me to the window. “Look behind the curtain. Be careful not to draw attention. Back row. Silver Toyota.”

I pulled the heavy fabric away and peeked out into the rainy parking lot. I blinked, trying to make out the vehicles. The rain kept the sky dark, despite the rising sun. My eyes moved from spot to spot and found the car with two people sitting in the front seat. Nervously, I laughed, “Are they after you or me?”

“I’m still voting for you.” Elliot threw our things into a bag and slipped into his jeans. I tried not to look, but failed when his t-shirt came off, and I glimpsed reddened scars on his abdomen. One ran nearly from his nipple to his bellybutton and had red dots beside it that couldn’t be anything but stitch marks. He looked like Frankenstein.

His clean shirt quickly went on, followed by his weapons. He was preparing.

While I gathered my things, I tried to formulate a plan. “What are we gonna do? That’s the only door.”

Elliot packed and assessed his weapons simultaneously. “I’m thinking. I don’t understand how they found us.” His eyes searched the room. The only window was right next to the door. “The door’s our only extraction point.”

I peeked outside; they had backed into a parking spot only a few stalls behind my car. “My car. The computer hibernates when it’s off.”

“Of course!” he exclaimed.

I rushed to pick up some clothes and went into the bathroom to throw them on, talking through the door. “I have an idea. They’re watching the car. They can’t know which room we’re in, right?” Pins and needles filled my chest again. My stomach turned with anticipation.

“Yeah, but I’m sure they are watching the motel. They’ll see us slip out.”

I tried to speak slowly, but my words rushed out. “We don’t want them to chase us. We need a diversion.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I exited the bathroom. I kept shifting my weight around. “Well…the police are here to help us, right? Well, at least help those of us that don’t have the military looking for them.” I tried to copy one of Elliot’s sly smiles to break the tension.

“Not funny.” Though his smile said differently. “The police may be looking for you too, with obstructing justice…and impersonating an officer.”

I pulled my grin back. “I think I’ll call them and report a suspicious vehicle outside the motel. When the police come, we can slip away. Even if the men in the car run or if the police talk to them, it’ll create an even better distraction.”

“We’ll need to go foot mobile and leave your car here. If they don’t see us leaving, they will if we get in it and drive away. If they’re tracking that, leaving the car will be the best.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“About six.”

“We can take public transportation then. I think some busses run as early as five. The south bus transfer station is about a half mile down the street.”

“The busses are slow.”

“Yeah, but you said we are harder to track when we’re moving. I can call a ride instead. Maybe a taxi?”

“Have them pick us up at the bus station. Worst case is we get on the bus. It’s better to keep moving than wait for something to happen.”

“Can you run that far?” I glanced down at his bad leg so he understood what I meant.

He laughed. “I can run, though not fast. I limp a little because it’s stiff. It doesn’t hurt anymore. The military sees it fit for duty, anyway.”

“Once we’re out of sight, you can walk. There’s bound to be a bus in the station we can hop on and figure out where it’s going once we’re moving.” I made the phone call to the police, leaving the video functionality off. “There has been a weird silver Toyota car parked in the parking lot of the Madtown Motel all night. People have been sitting inside it and they’re making me a little nervous. Is there a way you can send someone to check what is going on? I’m afraid to go outside to my car.”

“Yes, ma’am, we can do that. What are they doing in their car?”

“I don’t know. It’s just odd. I’m alone and the men in the car stare at me. I’d feel better if you’d check them out. They give me the creeps.”

“I’ve already dispatched a squad car. What is your name and which unit are you in? I’ll have an officer make sure you are okay.”

“Room twenty-three and my name is…May Showers.” Add lying to the police to my rap sheet.

After I ended the call, Elliot cocked his head in amusement. “May Showers? Really?”

I shrugged. “I was under pressure.” Next, I pulled up the taxi’s app and requested a pick up at the bus station ASAP.

Not long after, we had our bags slung over our shoulders and perched ourselves at the window, watching for the police.

The squad arrived and pulled in front of the silver compact car, trapping them.

Elliot put his hand on my back and gave me a gentle push towards the exit. “Now’s the time.”

I took a deep breath and stood close to him while he opened the motel door. Trying to walk normal when your heart is racing and your adrenaline is telling you to run was difficult… Extremely difficult, but we didn’t want to create a spectacle.

We kept close to the building and once we were away from the row of motel doors, took off jogging. It felt good. The breeze, the stretching of my legs, the useful pumping of my heart. I didn’t even mind the rain soaking us. Elliot was right, he may limp, and he was slower than I was, but he could run.

We made it far enough down the street that some buildings blocked the motel from view. Whether the men saw us slip away or not, the police had them distracted. Worried about the man next to me, I slowed to a walk.

“No, it’s okay,” Elliot said, putting his hand between my shoulders. “Keep going. Let’s get to the bus station ASAP.”

When we made it to the station, there were two buses there and no taxi. One bus’s digital display read “WestTown Mall” and the other’s was “East Transfer Station.” The bus heading east began to pull away.

“Run!” I yelled as we rushed to the bus, pounding on the door for the driver to let us in. I wouldn’t wait around for a taxi.

The driver frowned, but opened the door for us. Elliot swiped our payment card for entry and we were moving. We could pick up a taxi at the East Transfer Station and figure out where to go next.

At that moment, I thought of Thursday. This whole thing would have been much tougher with him along.

There were a few people on the bus, most of them with dirty clothes and tattered bags of thing in seats beside them. Did they have anywhere to go? Or did they ride the bus to stay out of the rain? I chose the cleaner of the bench seats near the rear entrance door and sat against the window. Elliot took the spot beside me, arm to arm.

Once we settled in our worn out blue seats and the bus pulled away, I wiped the rain off my face and slicked my hair off my face the best I could. “I feel like a caged animal. Without a car, we can’t get anywhere. The buses are terribly slow. It’ll be an hour to get across town.”

“Is there a bus stop near your house?”

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t go back there.”

“My car is in my storage unit, which is out of town. The busses don’t run there. We need to either go to your place to get my bike, or steal a car.”

My eyes darted to his face, and he had that lopsided grin. He was toying with me again.

“We could get a taxi,” I suggested.

“It’ll be okay. Besides, my bike is a Ducati.”

“A Ducati?”

He laughed. “Let’s just say it’s kinda fast. We can outrun anyone with it. We’ll make a quick stop; the men are occupied with your car and the officers. I don’t think they saw us leaving. Hopefully, they’ll think we’re still at the motel and not come looking for us. I think the gas engine and computer-free motorcycle is just what we need.” He ran his hand through his wet hair. “Let’s hope the rain stops by then.”

We used the bus’s Wi-Fi to check our messages. Neither of us had any, but how long had it been since I last checked them? Less than six hours. I was anxious that a message could be waiting for me that they found my dad…or his body. We then searched for Payton Rollins’s address. We’d stop in for a visit once we got our own transportation.

Elliot pulled up the tracking device on his brother’s car. “He’s up early. He left the city and is driving west.”

A red dot slowly moved on the map. Elliot zoomed in and the world came into focus. It was almost like you were in the sky with a real camera on him. Satellite imagery was amazing. A little spot gliding along Highway 18. “Is he leaving town?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

We stared at the map for a while. I could no longer hold my curiosity, and we had time. “So, what actually happened to you? The scar on your face, your limp, and I saw the scars on your abdomen when you were changing.”

His eyes left mine, and he stared past me out the window. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do. Calvin…I mean, Dr. Sherwood says it’s part of your healing.”

He turned towards me, and his eyes searched my face. He slowly reached up and brushed a soggy clump of hair from my forehead, focusing on my eyes. “It’s not easy to talk about.”

I shook my head, and he dropped his hand. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to tell me.”

Elliot stared straight ahead and rubbed his hands against his jeans. He let out a sigh. “I told you I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, it lasted for…days. There was a standoff at one of the terrorist prisons.”

“How did you end up at a prison? I thought you were in technical engineering.”

“That’s exactly why I was there. They needed to remodel a wing, and I was there to oversee it. A few prisoners had decided to attempt an escape when the new military personnel arrived. I don’t know how, but they were tipped off visitors were coming that day. Well…the military attempted to intercept their plan, but they took me…hostage.” Elliot swallowed and rubbed the scar on his face. “Their makeshift knife wasn’t sharp. It was actually quite…dull.”

Elliot looked at me, and I gave him an encouraging nod. He lifted his t-shirt slightly for me to see. I reached out and traced a J-shaped scar with my finger, flattening my hand on his warm body to feel the raised bumps from the stitches. Elliot’s hand released the t-shirt and pressed on top of mine. My heart skipped. He smiled at me and released his hand.

“When you look at me, your eyes don’t focus on my scar. They look me in the eyes. Thank you.” He smiled, then his expression went stoic again. “Over three days, they slowly fileted my skin on my abdomen.” He stared at the seat ahead of him.

I moved my hand from his abdomen to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

I had thought he was done, but he continued. “At first they demanded escape, but when they realized the military wouldn’t give in, it turned to demands of…cigarettes and alcohol. All I could think was, Really? Torture a human for a couple dollars’ worth of pleasure?” Elliot let out an uncomfortable laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what happened to him. “The scar on my cheek and my broken leg came when I fought back.”

I felt sympathy towards him. “How did you get through it?”

“I don’t know... You just do. Embrace the suck. I found a reason to live. My focus was on seeing my brother again; making amends for taking off on him. Maybe starting my own family. I separated my mind from my body and let them do whatever they wanted, pretending it wasn’t me.” Elliot shrugged. “Other thoughts got me through as well.”

“And the military sent you home to heal?”

“Yeah…both physical and mentally, I guess. Before this whole event, I thought I was a lifer and would retire from the service. In fact, I probably could have gotten a medical discharge, but I did everything I could to prevent it. Clean bill of health from Calvin, physical therapy for my knee, and insistence my job was not physically demanding. Now… I’m not so sure if the military is for me.”

“Why?”

“Calvin says I’m reexamining my life, as I thought I faced death. That I’ll get over it, but I think I’m changed. I tell myself I need to return and put my remaining years in. When my contract’s up, I can decide then. But, my time to return is running out. Being AWOL, I have six days left to go back before I’m classified as a deserter. Either way, there’ll be consequences.”

The bus dropped us off a few blocks from my house, and the rain had lightened up. We took the less traveled route. My stomach tingled as we came to the corner that would give me a view of my duplex. Scanning the sidewalks, the driveway, and the house told me nobody was there. Elliot led me to his motorcycle tucked away behind the garage. He wiped as much rain off the seats as possible, and we fastened our bag to the back.

I had never ridden a cycle before. Elliot straddled the machine first and started the engine. “Hop on.”

“Where’s the helmet?” I had paid too much for my education to end up in a hospital with a head injury.

Elliot laughed. “We have thugs chasing us and you worry about a helmet?”

He had a point.

“Besides, there’s no helmet law in Wisconsin.” Well, that was one law I wasn’t breaking.

I let out a sigh and stumbled to get myself on the seat behind him. The machine was loud, and the vibration traveled through my body. It purred like a cat, only the cat was a tiger, and you were in a nest of a dozen of them.

Elliot twisted to look at me. “Where to?”

“Payton Rollins’s place. I’m hoping she knows more about my father than Russell did.”

“Hang on,” Elliot yelled as he revved the engine.

Hang on to what? However, we were off, and I wrapped my arms around Elliot to prevent falling off. I had flashbacks of last night even though I didn’t want to remember my moment of weakness. Even now, his body felt oddly comfortable in my arms–solid and present. It was a silly thought, but in this time of turmoil, it was nice having a foundation. For an instant, I thought I’d miss him when this was all over and we went our separate ways.

I leaned forward, pressing myself to him, and focused on the present. Pushing the worries away, I let him take care of me for a moment. I was always in charge, always had everything in control, and had a plan. Now, things were so out of control that I didn’t know what else to do, so I surrendered.

Chapter 18

We pulled up to Payton Rollins’s lakefront condo not long after. The rain had stopped. We pushed the intercom button labeled Mike and Payton Rollins, and a man’s image came on the screen. He had dark circles under his eyes, sunken cheekbones, and gray coloration—I was sure it wasn’t just the digital display.

“Can I help you?” he asked. I presumed it was her husband.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m looking for Payton Rollins. Is this her place?”

“Yeah, she’s at work now.” He rubbed the bump on his nose.

“When will she be home?”

“I don’t know. She’s been busy lately and her hours have been unpredictable. I can tell her you stopped by and give her your contact information.”

“Tell her June Taylor stopped by. We’ve been in touch through messaging. If she could let me know when and where to meet her, I’ll be there.”

The man rubbed his eyes. “June Taylor? As in Samuel Taylor’s kid? My, you look just like Alice, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”

I swallowed. He knew I was cloned.

Elliot leaned in and whispered, “Who’s Alice?”

I turned to him. “My mother.” When Elliot nodded, I returned my focus to Mike Rollins. “Yes, Samuel’s my father. He recently disappeared, and I was hoping to talk with your wife about him. They worked together twenty-some years ago.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they worked together last year too. Both of them were called in as consultants on SBRI’s new project. They had always made a good team, well, that was until your dad went soft.”

“He went soft?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t take the work anymore, well, since Alice died. It changed him. Their line of work is not a place to battle with ethics.”

“Ethics?” I turned to Elliot, waiting to read the realization on his face. He didn’t seem to put the pieces together. Maybe this would be easier if he knew what was going on.

Mike shook his head. “It’s not my place to judge. I just believe babies should be made the natural way.”

I tensed. He said this directly to me, knowing I was a clone. Despite this, I pushed forward. “Why were they making those children?”

“Come on,” he laughed. “You should be able to figure this out; you have Alice’s DNA and all.”

I assessed Elliot for any signs he caught on. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes met mine before he turned his attention back to Mike.

Mike continued, “Biotech Engineering Group was trying to grow organs, but struggled with having them ready when they were needed.”

My jaw dropped. Of course. Why hadn’t I figured that one out by now? Probably because the thought of one human doing that to another was unbelievable. “Can I come in? Could we talk about my parents?”

“Nah, it’s not my business.” He coughed. “Besides, you probably know everything you should.”

The way he emphasized should made me clench my fists and turn to Elliot. “Let’s go.”

“Let me try,” he said, pushing around me to the intercom.

I grabbed his arm. “No, please, it’s not worth it.”

I had never experienced prejudice towards clones, as nobody knew who I really was, but this is what I had always feared would happen if human cloning went public. It was why I could never get myself to tell my ex about me. I leaned towards the intercom. “Just tell Payton I was here.”

Instead of returning to Elliot’s bike, we walked to the nearby lakefront park. We sat on a bench under a large maple tree and connected to the citywide Wi-Fi. Elliot wanted to check where his brother was. While he waited for the terribly slow connection, he hesitantly asked, “So, what was that all about?”

I shook my head. “It seems he doesn’t like me.”

“Well, that was obvious. What happened? Did your dad have an affair with his wife or something?”

“No!”

Elliot lifted his free hand. “Hey, sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up a little.”

I shook my head. “Honestly, I really don’t know much about their marriage.”

Elliot pointed to the uniTab’s screen. The images had finished loading. “It looks like he stopped moving, he’s been stationary in Mineral Point for over an hour. I wonder what he’s doing there.”

Elliot further zoomed in. He was in a residential neighborhood on Birch Street. Close to where it intersected with 14th.

“He must be waiting for something or visiting someone.” I leaned in to make sure. Dizziness swirled at my next realization. “Isn’t that what he was doing in my father’s neighborhood?”

A solemn expression filled Elliot’s face. “We don’t know anything for certain right now.”

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, settling on bouncing one leg a smidge.

Elliot handed me the uniTab. “Check your messages, maybe there’ll be some good news.”

I sighed and sat up straight. I didn’t want to check any more messages, but I forced myself to click in and listen to the one from Officer Sheridan, always hoping the police located my father–alive.

Voice Message–From Madison PD

Ms. Taylor, this is Officer Sheridan again. Hmmm. You still haven’t returned my last phone call. Interesting turn of events today. I thought I was clear about you staying out of the investigation, but your car was at the Madtown Motel and there was a tip given to the police about some unusual men in the parking lot. I can’t figure out what you’re doing or looking for, but I worry you’re getting yourself in trouble. What’s going on? I will press charges about you impersonating an officer if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. Please call me back. Bye.

Nope. Still no good news about my father, but it appeared she wasn’t planning to press charges with me impersonating her—well, at least not yet. That seemed so minor in the scope of things.

We silently sat there, overlooking the lake, mesmerized by the small surface ripples lapping against the shoreline.

“So, I have a question.” Elliot hesitated.

I turned to him and urged him to continue.

“Why, when I first met you, did you want so much secrecy about Oliva Caldwell and Dr. Mulligan? I feel there’s more to the story.”

I looked up at Elliot, sitting on the bench next to me. His eyes were clear and focused, waiting patiently. I had expected this question to come.

I wanted to blurt it out, to tell him everything, but the words didn’t escape. Inside, a small knot of panic began to grow. I shook my head. “I’m not ready to tell you everything.”

Elliot turned towards the water, watching the small waves and the dimples in the surface caused by a few raindrops hitting the water.

I slid my hand into my back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the folded picture of my parents with the unknown baby. I handed it over to Elliot.

He opened it, and I kept my stare on the water.

“Is that you?”

I turned back to him. He was turning the photo slightly, as if another angle would give him the answers. I had hoped the photo would tell him what I couldn’t voice.

“No, nobody in that photo is me. It’s my father and my mother, and some baby I always thought was me, but isn’t.”

“Wow.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Mr. Rollins was right, you look so much like your mother… She’s pretty.”

Had that been a compliment? I focused on a duck swimming across the lake instead. “Yeah. It turns out so much of my life was a lie.”

Mike Rollins had put thoughts of my mother in my head, and now, I found myself more curious about her and my father. I pulled the bundle of letters my parents wrote each other from my bag. “We have time to kill while waiting for Payton. Maybe there are some answers in here.”

Elliot took the bundle from my hand and removed the rubber band. “What are these?”

“Letters my parents wrote each other before I was born. I scanned them right after my father disappeared, but didn’t notice anything that stuck out. Now, with everything I’ve learned, I wonder if there may be answers inside.”

Elliot unfolded the letter on top. His eyes scanned down it. “They seemed very much in love.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s why I couldn’t read them.”

“Why?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to admit my emotions, but I did. “I feel bad for him, having to live so many years alone,” I dropped my voice, “I felt bad that I’d spend my life alone.”

“I’m sure that was a choice you made… I mean—”

“Stop. Please… It’s okay.” If he only knew everything. I took a letter from his hand and began to read.

We spent the next hour deep in the early years of my parents’ marriage. It started out picture perfect, but things appeared to go sour. My mom wanted a baby, but my dad said it would interfere with work. More time passed and my mom said work was consuming my father and it was time he focused on his family… Family. Had my mom been pregnant?

I pulled the photo out of my pocket again. Was that baby their child? I folded it in half and spun it through my fingers. I needed to get my mind off this. “I can’t sit and wait. We need to do something.”

Elliot turned to me and asked with gentle eyes, “What do you have in mind?”

“SBRI has cooperated with me this far. They’ve been helpful and everything they’ve told me has checked out to be the truth. I really don’t think they are involved in all of this. At least not anymore. I wonder if they can help us in some way.”

He wrinkled his eyebrows and rubbed his temple. “So, you want to go there? What do you hope to find?”

Looking across the water again, I shrugged. My voice was soft. “Nothing, I guess. Deep down, I was hoping to find a room with my father inside. Or his jacket or something to tell me he was there.” I let out a little laugh. If I had been completely convinced they were innocent, I wouldn’t still hope to find him there. “Yeah, that’s an insane idea. If they were involved, I’d be walking right into the lion’s den.” I slumped into the park bench, rolled everything we learned around in my mind, and glued the pieces together. “What loose end haven’t we followed up on?”

“The situation is becoming a little too scientific for me with the clinical trials and the university connection…”

Elliot’s words triggered something. “My father’s old partner, Russell Cohen, said they used to use equipment from the university.” I straightened myself on the bench. “All equipment used is logged, and I have access to that database.” My words came out more excited than I wanted. “Maybe I could start there by seeing what equipment is being used by people not connected to the university. I imagine I could cross-reference it to the clinical trials to see if there is anything that doesn’t match.”

Elliot completed my thought. “That might show us a list of projects going on that are not officially accounted for.”

“I thought this was becoming too scientific for you?” I leaned over and nudged his shoulder with mine.

He shook his head and let out a gentle laugh, handing me the uniTab.

Soon, I was logged in via VPN and assessed my search functionality. I clicked every button and menu option, and that magical list never appeared. “Cross-referencing the two databases will be a nightmare! I don’t think there is enough hours in my lifetime to do this manually. The data’s in there, I just don’t know how to get it out in a list format.”

Elliot took the computer and squinted at the screen. “The info should be there, stored in a database file.”

I remembered how Elliot had monitored my phone calls when he was stalking me. “Well, you said you have the right skills.”

He laughed. “Not these skills. You need someone with some formal education on the subject.”

I rolled through my short list of close acquaintances and only one name popped into my head. Kaitlin. Her undergraduate degree had a minor in computer sciences.

I needed to resort to calling her on the uniTab. I crossed my fingers that whoever was looking for me hadn’t connected me to this device yet.

“Hey, Prof! Long time no talk.” The huge smile across her face disappeared when she blew a bubble with her gum. “Did you get my message?”

“No, sorry. I haven’t been checking them thoroughly.”

“No prob. I wanted to tell you Isaac got sick, and I ran your class. I’ve been watching your eggs too, but most of them aren’t doing well.”

“Thanks for covering my class. Don’t worry about the eggs.” I scanned her surroundings on the screen. She was at work in my lab. “I need another favor.”

“Yeah, you bet.”

It was internet calling. I didn’t want to say too much. “Can you meet me at the Memorial Union in half an hour?”

She nodded in rhythm to a silent song. “No problem.”

“Thanks, this really means a lot to me.” I ended the call.

Soon we were on the motorcycle, my arms wrapped tightly around Elliot, and headed towards campus. My thoughts, though, were still on my conversation on the park bench with Elliot. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed to tell him everything about my father and about how I was created. He had stuck by me this long and deserved to know. What would he do with this information? I’d just have to trust him.

I leaned my cheek against his back and closed my eyes.

Chapter 19

A softness settled over me when I saw Kaitlin’s familiar face. She was sitting in an oversized booth tucked away in the corner of the pub. The place was crowded, like always, tables full of students with their uniTabs glowing and buried in their thoughts.

Kaitlin looked up from her device as I approached. “Hey, Prof!” Her eyes then darted to the man beside me. “Who’s this handsome man?”

I laughed and turned to a smiling Elliot. His eyes nearly twinkled with the compliment, though his hand rubbed his cheek. Was he hiding his scar? “Kaitlin, this is my friend…” Yeah, I said friend. “Elliot.”

He reached over and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh…he’s polite too.” Kaitlin winked at me in the typical over-the-top way Kaitlin did things.

I scooted over in the booth, and Elliot sat next to me. “I need an equipment list and an extract of clinical trials from two independent programs. I want to cross-reference them and identify unaccounted for equipment. Can you do that?”

Her eyes brightened. “I’ve done harder things. I need to see the software you need the data extracted from.”

Elliot pulled our uniTab from the bag, and I logged her into both programs.

“Back to 2000 if possible.” I tapped my lip waiting for Kaitlin to finish swiping around on the screen.

In about fifteen minutes, Kaitlin returned the uniTab to me. There was nice spreadsheet of outside equipment use not related to a clinical trial of any kind.

The list of nearly one-thousand items caused heaviness to settle on me again. I settled into the hard wooden bench.

“Yup, it’s kinda long, huh?” Kaitlin sunk back into her bench as well.

I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, but it’s something to start with. Thanks for your help. You can get going, I’m going to stay here and sort this out.”

“I don’t think so,” Kaitlin said. “That’ll take you hours to get through. Share the document with me.” Kaitlin pulled out another uniTab from her bag and set it beside the other one. “I’ll help you sort through it.”

“Don’t you have work to do? Your thesis has to be due soon.”

She laughed. “I always have work to do, but I work best under pressure.”

I shared the document with Kaitlin. For once, I was happy for her procrastination. “Look for any piece of equipment specifically used for cloning, anything used by SBRI…or Biotechnology Engineering Group.” I glanced up at Elliot; he wouldn’t know what equipment would be significant. “Actually, Kaitlin, why don’t you start at the top of the list, I’ll start at the bottom. Elliot, if you could scan the list for familiar names, that’d be great.”

We all put our noses to the uniTabs and within the hour, had a list of twenty-one items used by non-university personnel, not related to clinical trials, and maybe related to cloning.

The first item on the list caused my heart to stop. It was a thermocycler borrowed six months ago by none other than Samuel Taylor. I handed my uniTab to Elliot while I tried to justify why my father was borrowing equipment six months ago. What was he up to?

“What’s a thermocycler?” Elliot asked.

“It’s used to amplify segments of DNA. Especially for controlled temperature reactions.” I tapped my bottom lip. “Maybe manipulating DNA.”

“Was he working for SBRI six months ago? Didn’t they tell you it had been over a year?”

One by one, things began to click. “I imagine SBRI owns this equipment and wouldn’t need to borrow it. It’s not that expensive.” I scanned the list confirming SBRI had never borrowed a thermocycler. In fact, there were no entries from SBRI, only names.

“What else is significant on the list?” Elliot asked.

I returned to the uniTab. “Nothing.” I focused more on the names. Half of them were my father’s. His name was prevalent from 2002-2008, where he had borrowed the same device. SBRI didn’t exist back then. “Maybe SBRI doesn’t own the equipment or they only sign in under the researcher’s name.” I tapped the corner of the uniTab.

“Now what?” Elliot asked.

“There’s only one way to find out if they own the equipment. We need to talk to someone at SBRI.” And I knew who to talk to. I had one acquaintance that had been super helpful to me already, and besides, accounting knew everything going on in the organization, right? “Kaitlin, may I borrow your phone?”

She eagerly handed it over.

Soon, it was ringing. I turned off the video display, in case SBRI were the ones looking for me.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Synthetic Biology Research Corp. How may I direct your call?” came the computerized man’s beautiful voice.

“Danna in the accounting department.”

“May I tell her who's calling?”

I eyed Elliot and smiled slyly. “May Showers.”

“One moment please.”

The soft elevator music halted when the transfer completed.

“Hi, this is Danna in accounting. How can I help you?”

“Um… Hi, this is June Taylor. We spoke a week ago or so about my father. He was receiving research royalties from your company.”

“Hi. I remember. I saw a blurb in the online news that he’s been missing and thought it was interesting you just asked about him. Have you found him?”

He made the news? He hadn’t before Elliot and I started searching for him, and I hadn’t checked since then. What did they find out? “No, we haven’t found him yet. I was hoping you could help with that.”

She laughed. “I don’t know how I could help, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Any chance you could tell me if SBRI owns a thermocycler?”

“We do. I know we do. I depreciate that equipment every year. In fact, we own four of them.”

“Have you always had some?”

“No, these are the first ones we purchased, and I just finished depreciating them… So I’d say we’ve only owned them for a little over five years?”

“Do you know why you purchased them?”

“Yeah, we’re on the cusp of a new method of growing organs for transplant using the cloning technology from thirty years ago. These devices were a key component in the process. The issue has always been they couldn’t get a matching organ grown fast enough for the person who needed it.”

“So the patient would die before the organ was ready?” I asked.

“Exactly. Now they figured out how to grow a mature organ in less than half the time, six months actually. Our research director just published a paper on it. I think you could read all about it, if you’re interested. A few more tweaks and they’ll have it completed. With this, we’ll save so many lives. At any moment, there are two hundred thousand people waiting for an organ and twenty-five die every day. This will not be big money for us, the market isn’t big enough, but it’s for the greater good. Um… Gabe, our research director, could talk to you for hours about that, though.”

Director of Research… The guy who had my father’s file locked up on his computer for over a year. I took a chance here. “Is there any way I could talk to him now?” Talking on the phone, even if he was evil and tracking me, was safer than going there in person I reasoned. Plus, I really wanted to see if he could offer any information to help me… Well, if he wasn’t the one trying to get me.

“Let me pull up his contact info to see if he’s available… Yeah, it looks like he’s in his office right now. Did you want me to transfer you?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks for all your help.”

Hold music again.

“Hi, this is Gabe,” came a young sounding male’s voice. “Is this Ms. Taylor?”

Urgh. Of course Danna told him who was on the line. “Yes. I believe you know my father, Samuel?”

Gabe let out a small chuckle. “Oh, yes I do. The man who turned us down. Time and time again. What a shame, since I needed his expertise. We were having an issue that I was sure your father could have solved in half the time.”

“You were having an issue?”

“Yeah, another scientist cracked it.”

“Who?”

“Oh, a partner of your fathers. Payton Rollins. However, it took her six months. We asked your dad for help over a year ago now. I didn’t realize I still had his file locked until HR notified me this week.”

“Do you have any other new projects going on?”

He laughed. “We always have a ton of new projects and research, but that’s proprietary information. Our success rate is actually superb for the market; double or triple our competitors.”

“What other competitors?”

“Oh, there are a few big players; Biotech Unlimited and SCI are two of them.”

I hadn’t thought of their competition. “Location wise, anyone around here? In Wisconsin?”

“No. Not really. Southern Illinois is our closest.”

I reviewed what we had learned and felt I was missing a part of the picture. “So, what are your big revenue streams? It’s stem cells, right?”

“Yes. That’s the major one, but our DNA manipulation is growing quickly. Check out our website—the technology in spotlight are our hot items right now.”

Though Gabe seemed sincere, I started to worry that if SBRI was involved in my father’s disappearance, they could be stalling to keep me on the phone—to track me. My words came out quicker. “So, where are those two things done? Is it all done at your main headquarters?”

“A lot of it is, but we have a few other buildings scattered around southern Wisconsin.”

Worrying about potentially being tracked got the best of me. I thanked him for his time and ended the call. Despite my paranoia, SBRI’s story seemed solid. I wanted to fill Elliot in, but didn’t want to drag Kaitlin deeper into this. “You’ve been a tremendous help,” I said as sincerely as possible to her.

“Anything for you.” Yeah, back to being over-the-top, but I found I liked it. “I owe you for taking me in as an RA anyway. I didn’t quite meet your requirements.”

No, she didn’t. She was my boss’s niece, and I didn’t have much of a choice at the time. I smiled at her–not a forced smile, but truly a sincere one. “No problem. I’m glad to have you.” A week ago, this would have been a lie. Now, it clearly wasn’t. All the little nuances that drove me crazy about her, I now found delightful.

I looked at the man beside me. I was feeling the same way about him.

Chapter 20

Elliot and I settled in another motel. The building was U-shaped, old, and out of style. The doors all opened to the parking lot in the center. Elliot and I both were hesitant, because we had been found at a motel for the last two nights, but we had nothing else traceable. Our one electronic device, the uniTab, was unregistered and we only let it connect to local Wi-Fi. The more common satellite/cellular hybrid that provided the high-powered, seamless internet access was too easy to track, Elliot had told me.

Tonight, I committed to staying in my own bed. Last night was a little embarrassing. I sat on the bed and rubbed my hands on my jeans, trying to push away my thoughts. I tried not to show any emotions for fear of appearing weak, even though, deep down, I knew I was. Neither of us discussed our comfort in each other’s arms, and I was happy to keep it that way.

Elliot checked the tracking app and his brother returned to his apartment. After he checked his messages, he handed me the uniTab to check mine while he paced the perimeter of the room. He paused multiple times to assess what was outside the window.

I only had one new message from my boss, but I ignored it. I pressed my lips together, clicked off the uniTab, and sat back in the bed, wrapping my arms around my folded legs. I was in so much trouble at work, blowing off my experiment and my duties. Burying my head in my knees and focusing on the warm, stale air, I tried to get a grip on what I was doing. My dog, work, and my estranged father were all I had...ever since leaving my fiancé. Elliot scooted closer and his hand gently rubbed my hunched over back. Again, I found myself seeking comfort in his touch, leaning into him. He adjusted his body and pulled me into his chest with a long hug.

Neither of us said anything. I pulled myself out of my self-pity and out of Elliot’s embrace. My life didn’t matter anymore. I was determined to find my father and wasn’t going to stop until I succeeded. I turned on the TV for a distraction, finding the local news. Danna had said she saw a blurb about my father being missing, and I wanted to know what they were saying about him.

Elliot scratched the side of his head. “We keep looking into things related to your past and your father’s past. What if this whole thing isn’t related to that? What if it’s a completely separate event?”

My voice was steadier than I expected. “If that’s what’s going on, I don’t know where to look next. There are secrets in his past, and they seem to get bigger the more we discover.”

A newscast interrupted us as I caught the tagline “Another orphan is missing.”

We both turned towards the TV. My insides sunk to the floor. The reporter’s face appeared with a photo of a thirty-year-old woman with a beautiful white smile. The anchor spoke solemnly, “Brooke Garret was last seen yesterday at work. She never returned to her husband and young daughter. Brooke was adopted at six months old and the police are not saying if they suspect the Orphan Killer has another victim. If you have any information about her whereabouts, please contact the Mineral Point Police Department.”

When I turned my head to read Elliot’s reaction to this, I met his eyes waiting for mine. I saw concern, anger, and confusion swirling behind his green irises before he looked away. His face went pale, and he rubbed his scar.

“She can’t be from Mineral Point.” I grabbed the uniTab and pulled up more details of the case. I handed it over to Elliot.

Yup, Brooke was from Mineral Point and her address was on 14th street…right where it intersected with Birch. Exactly where Evan’s car was parked all morning.

Elliot threw the uniTab aside, sprang up, and paced the room. “Fuck! What’s he got himself into?” He slipped his arms into his shoulder holster containing his gun. “That’s twice he’s been in places related to the Orphan Killer. It can’t be him. Who were those men with him? What’s going on?” He continued with strapping a sheathed knife to his ankle.

“What are you doing?” The question was rhetorical.

“I’m going to get him.” He didn’t stop to look at me.

“Then what?”

“Beat him until his senses return.” He hesitated and finally looked over to me sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know, June. I just know I can’t allow it. He’s my little brother.” His eyes seemed glossy and his brows came together in a point above the bridge of his nose. He seemed lost for once. I had begun to see him as day-old bread. The military had made his outsides hard, but that wasn’t who he was. His insides were soft and not what you expected from a soldier, sensitive and funny. Not now though. He was all business.

I walked up to him, took his pocketknife from his fingers, and returned it to the table. “Let’s think about this first. He’ll still be there in the morning.”

“Yes, but someone else may die in the meantime. I can’t have that on my hands.”

I needed to be the voice of reason. “Okay, let’s take five minutes to plan.”

Before we could sit down, Elliot’s attention turned to the door. His voice dropped into a whisper. “Did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was a scraping noise from outside, on the wall next to the door.” Elliot slipped his knife in his pocket and had his gun in his hand.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” But my eyes focused on the door, and my heart fluttered.

A shadow crossed the heavy blinds. It was one in the morning. Hopefully, it was only someone trying to find their room. Another shadow scrolled across the curtains and stopped.

Shit.

I rushed for our bag; I was glad Elliot made sure we always kept it packed and ready to run. I pulled out my father’s gun, flung the bag on my back, and returned to Elliot’s side. He pulled me close to him, and I swear I stopped breathing. Putting one finger over his lips, he urged me to stay quiet as he moved to the door and looked out the old-fashioned peephole.

My eyes focused on the flimsy security chain. There was no way that would hold. Hopefully, the lock was strong. The shadow moved away from the blinds, toward the door, and Elliot pushed me behind him. My heart continued to throb. He pulled me to the front corner of the room and slid an end table to the side, giving us a straight shot to the door, yet away from the window. I squatted down beside him, both of us aiming our guns at the door. I clicked off the safety.

I heard the lock mechanism disengage. Someone was coming in, and they had a keycard. The door opened, stopped by the chain. Through the crack, I saw a boot kick before the door violently swung open, bashing itself against the wall. The chain did nothing to stop it–the screws ripped from the wall.

In sprang a man with graying brown hair. His gun was drawn, and he spun towards us. I pushed myself closer to the wall.

BANG!

I flinched. Elliot sprang to his feet.

Bang!

And I flinched again. They graying man stumbled back a few steps, dropping his gun, clutching his shoulder, and folding over. Before I even took my eyes off him, in came a stocky man with a full beard. His gun aimed right for us.

BANG!

Elliot’s gun dropped to the ground while his body stumbled back against the wall. I didn’t watch to see what happened to him. I assumed he had been hit, but didn’t know how bad it was. Time slowed as I sprang to my feet and focused on the bearded man in front of the doorway. He took a step towards us. The other man straightened, blood coming from his shoulder.

Shoot, June, Shoot!

Don’t think about it.

I didn’t wait to see what happened. I aimed my shaking hands and pulled the trigger. And again. I got them in the chest. The graying man went down, but the bearded man only hunched over, letting out a grunt.

Elliot’s hand pushed on my hip and he commanded, “Don’t move.”

Before I could process what was going on, he did the same trick he had done on me when I first met him. The small, round end table flew up as a distraction, and Elliot lunged forward, knocking Bearded Man to the floor and away from the door. Elliot scooped up his gun. “They must have vests on.”

Gray scooted towards his gun and I twisted toward him, shooting him in the leg.

Bearded Man spoke, his voice deep and his accent clearly Russian. “Remember we need her alive.”

“Let’s go!” I yelled.

My body wouldn’t fly forward fast enough, but we were out the door in an instant and dashing towards Elliot’s bike. I stopped when a firm pressure engulfed my arm that held the gun. I spun around to see an unfamiliar man–bushy eyebrows and a baseball cap.

His grip was tight, and despite my attempt to raise my arm and point the gun, I was trapped. He was so much stronger than me. Again, the events played in slow motion. The man raised the gun he held in the other hand towards Elliot. I twisted toward my assailant and launched myself at him.

I tried to knee him between the legs, but he moved to stop me. Every ounce of self-defense I knew was pulled from my subconscious. I lunged forward and bit the shoulder of the arm holding the gun. He yelled and I went in for another knee. This time, I made contact. The man doubled over, providing enough distraction to aim my gun. I held it on the man and began to shuffle over to Elliot.

Shoot him, June.

The man raised his gun, despite me holding one at him.

Bang!

My bullet lodged in his thigh and he fell to the ground. I cautiously kicked the man’s gun away.

Elliot grimaced, but picked up the gun. My eyes turned back to the man clutching his leg. My gun shook in my hand, and I wanted to get rid of it. This was real. The gun was real. One of Elliot’s arms wrapped around me and the other took the gun from my fingers. He pulled me into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tightly. We were both alive–for now. “We got to go,” he urged.

Noises came from the walkway in front of the building. People were peering out of their rooms.

“I’m calling 9-1-1,” somebody yelled.

I pulled away from Elliot, and my eyes went right to the wet crimson spot on the sleeve of his army jacket.

“You’re hit.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but as I said it, I felt a wave of dizziness. Once and a while, the sight of blood got to me.

“We’ll worry about that later.” He tucked my gun into his waistband, took my hand, and led me to his bike.

“Get on,” Elliot said steadying the machine with his good arm.

“Can you still drive?”

“Do you know how to drive a bike?” Elliot had already taken the spot behind the handlebars. He opened and closed the hand of his injured arm. “I’m fine.”

I hopped on the seat behind him and wrapped my arms around his body. Now was not the time to argue. My heart was beating so strongly, I was sure Elliot could feel it. “How’d they find us?” I yelled into Elliot’s ear over the bike’s engine, holding back my nausea.

“I don’t know. They have to be tracking something. We’ll check my bike when we’re far enough away. Maybe they hacked into the government satellites and are watching live feeds of our movements.”

Or maybe they were the government. But they were too disorganized to be them.

A few turns and miles later, we pulled over in an empty car wash parking lot, and Elliot searched his bike and our things for tracking devices of any kind. He couldn’t find anything. The whole time, I stared at his bloody sleeve, replaying what had happened in my head. Guilt twisted and gripped my insides. Again, he had been shot because of me.

“Take your jacket off,” I insisted. I needed to see the wound.

He obeyed with a scowl. It wasn’t bad, well, not bad for a bullet hole, even though I hadn’t ever seen one before. It looked like a wide cut on the side of his upper arm. The bullet must have grazed his skin. Thank God. Blood was still trickling down his arm, but not a heavy stream.

“I think we’re out of time,” I said, backing away from Elliot. “We need your brother; he may be our best way to figure this out.”

“Our plan?” Elliot asked, obviously mocking me.

I shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t have a plan.”

“Then we’ll improvise, adapt, and overcome. We’ll get through whatever stops us and then keep going.” His jaw tightened as he looked at his wound, but then a proud smile crept on his face. “I didn’t realize what a good shot you are. I may have underestimated you.” He pulled a t-shirt out of our bag and tied it around his arm.

“We’ll stop off at a twenty-four-hour pharmacy first and get you some bandages.”

“No. I don’t want to waste any time.”

I wasn’t going to argue, I felt the sense of urgency too. With heavy limbs, I crawled on the bike, and we headed to Evan’s apartment. I hoped Evan wasn’t after me and we weren’t running ourselves right into a trap. At this point, it didn’t matter. I was out of options.

Chapter 21

We followed our “plan” by busting right into Evan’s apartment and hoping for the best, though it was just knocking to start with.

Evan’s face came over the intercom and as soon as recognition flashed in his eyes, he snapped, “Go away,” and the intercom went dead.

That was when we got to the busting part.

After attempting to plead with him over a dead intercom, Elliot jiggled the handle, but the door didn’t budge. He twisted the knob and pushed his shoulder into it with a grunt. It didn’t move.

“Get back.” He stepped away from the door and pushed me behind him.

He kicked the door. Nothing. He kicked again and the door broke from the frame. Pieces splintering into the entryway. Pins and needles danced all over my body.

The movement was ever so slight, but Evan’s eyes flicked to the refrigerator. I examined it to find a solitary magnet on the door. I bet it was a camera and someone watched Evan.

“You need to go,” Evan insisted. Elliot seemed to miss the magnet because he was too focused on Evan and the break-in.

I pulled my gun. We needed to get out of here and go somewhere we could be certain nobody was watching us. My gun was aimed at Evan.

“Why were you in Mineral Point?” Elliot demanded. His words were sharp and clear.

Evan was silent, and again, his eyes flickered towards the refrigerator. Yeah, there was a camera there. Probably a microphone too.

If we had any hope of Evan cooperating, we needed to be somewhere else. “Let’s get him out of here.”

Elliot glanced at me, and I gave him my most serious expression. I thought he would protest, but he nodded and edged his way up to Evan with his gun drawn. “Let’s go.”

Evan hesitated, and the absurdity of the situation hit me. Evan was Elliot’s brother. I was sure he knew that Elliot would never pull the trigger on his family. In fact, I wondered if Elliot had his gun’s safety on.

“Grab him,” I ordered. Someone needed to take control of this situation before it escalated. To my surprise, Elliot perked up an eyebrow with approval and twisted his brother’s wrists behind his back. Evan twisted and pulled against Elliot’s grip. With Elliot’s injured arm, it surprised me he didn’t break free.

“Car keys,” I continued to bellow the commands. We couldn’t get all three of us away from this place on a motorcycle.

While outside, rushing to Evan’s car, Elliot’s voice had softened some. “Any tracking devices on your car?”

“This is ridiculous. You need to let me get back,” Evan pleaded. “You’re going to ruin everything.”

Elliot ignored it and repeated with more determination, “Any tracking devices on your car?”

“I don’t know. I know they can track me through the dash computer.” Evan was cooperating with us. There was more to his story. “Who’s the girl?” he asked.

Elliot didn’t respond and pushed Evan into the backseat. “Cover him.”

I lifted my gun towards Evan. My heart thumped against my chest wall, my palms were sweaty, and I felt like my skin was going to jump off my body.

“I’m sorry for this.” Elliot switched the car to manual override and smashed the dash GPS with the grip of his gun. I flinched at the sound of the screen shattering.

Elliot did a quick sweep around the outside of the car for tracking devices while I continued to hold Evan at gunpoint.

“You really need to trust me. Stay away.” Evan focused on my eyes, allowing his to soften. “I have this under control.”

I stayed silent, waiting for Elliot to take over for me. He opened the back door and got in next to his brother with his gun raised. “I couldn’t find any tracking devices, except for this one.” He handed me the small tracking device he had placed on the vehicle. He treated his left arm gingerly.

I settled in the driver’s seat, forcing a deep breath and hoping it would calm me. “Any ideas where we can go?”

“My storage unit,” Elliot said. “We should be safe there.”

I took directions on how to get there from Elliot, and when we were on our way, I questioned, “A storage unit?”

“I’ve been away a long time. There are things I’m not willing to part with.”

“Like the Ducati?”

The corner of Elliot’s lip turned up, and he shook his head. “Yeah, like the Ducati.”

Evan tried to reason with us on the entire ten-minute ride. “You don’t know what you’re getting into; they’ll kill you, me, Ginny. I need to go back. There are things you don’t understand and that I can’t tell you. You will mess this whole thing up.”

Elliot drilled his brother with questions, not listening to what Evan was saying about anything else. “Why were you in Mineral Point today? What were you doing at the cannery last week?”

The combination of Evan’s pleas and Elliot’s questions was enough to drive me insane. If I wasn’t already.

I focused on driving since the auto-drive was destroyed. My eyes squinted into the morning sun. Where had the night gone?

I was so frustrated that I wanted to hit something–a sensation I had never felt before. Where was my father? Why were they trying to get me? What had Evan done to the orphans?

I was connected to the orphans, as we were all clones. Were they as lost in this world as I was? I pushed that thought away. Of course they weren’t. They didn’t even know they were cloned. Then, my frustration no longer mattered, and I wanted to run away and hide from all of this.

What were we doing? We were shot at with real bullets. We had a man in the backseat we were kidnapping. My thoughts started to tangle, and I couldn’t sort through them anymore. I had been through so many emotions lately that I was starting to be immune to them.

I focused on driving. My knuckles were white from clenching the steering wheel. Without the computer, we were on manual drive, and although I did enough of this lately, it took more concentration.

The storage complex was at the edge of town. There were about fifty units in four rows of dull tan buildings. Elliot directed me to his. He had me hold the gun to Evan while he got out of the car and typed in his access code, opening the large overhead door.

It was a tight fit, but I maneuvered Evan’s compact car inside to a spot next to Elliot’s dark green Pontiac. It had seemed so long ago that Elliot sat outside my father’s house in that car. The unit was large, but nothing special. Many wooden shelves contained plastic totes in many colors. Duct tape labeled them with words such as “Tools,” “Memories,” or “Kitchen.” I would love to dig through the memories tote, figure out what made Elliot tick. We had always been on the run, yet I found myself more curious about him.

Evan intrigued me as well. I looked for similarities to Elliot, but then remembered he was adopted. Was Elliot adopted too? I pushed curiosity away and focused on Evan. Maybe it was my own perception, but the evil in him was visible. His eyes were shifty, his movements were twitching, and I could almost see his cold heart. Elliot saw him in a completely different way, and I tried to open up to the other perspective.

Elliot flicked on the lights and lowered the overhead door. My trembling hands held my gun on Evan again while Elliot rummaged through the tote marked “tools” and came out with zip ties. He pulled a few folding chairs from the wall and tied Evan to one. The focus on his face told me he wasn’t thinking about doing this to his brother. He appeared more machine than man. What had he told me when he was tortured? He disconnected his mind from his body, and now, his actions seemed like he was back in that prison.

Elliot pulled out chairs for us to sit on facing Evan. He sat backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest. He examined his brother while appearing to riffle through his thoughts. Finally he spoke. His words were calm. “I know you understand my motives for doing this.” A pressure fluttered off my chest at the return of Elliot’s humanity.

Evan nodded. “I still can’t tell you. It’ll only get you and Ginny in trouble. Probably killed. I would gladly die to protect you both.”

Elliot shook his head and spoke with a rigid firmness, “You’re as stubborn as I am.”

“Let’s start from the beginning and see where we get,” I suggested. Elliot was remarkably composed, and I was determined to keep him that way. If he had PTSD, I didn’t want him to flip out on his brother. He’d never forgive himself for that.

Elliot nodded in agreement.

I started the questions. “Okay. I understand you were watching Samuel Taylor’s house. Why?”

Surprisingly, Evan didn’t hesitate when he answered. “I was asked to watch him.”

“For what purpose?” Elliot asked.

“They only wanted information.” That was twice now Evan had cooperated.

“Who?”

“My employer.”

“Who’s your employer?” Elliot’s voice raised. He breathed. He was still in control.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” I asked. What reason would he have to give us part of the story, but not the entire thing?

Evan was silent.

Elliot stood up and shoved his chair aside.

I continued the questioning. “Where did you take him?”

Evan looked into my eyes, appearing to try to add sincerity to his answer. “I didn’t take him.” He then turned to Elliot and repeated his statement.

I didn’t believe him, and Elliot jumped in while I tried to think about what to do. “Why were you in Mineral Point? At the cannery?”

“I can’t tell you anything.”

This would go on forever. Despite whatever threats Elliot made, Evan knew his brother would never seriously hurt him.

I pictured my father in Evan’s spot and me trying to interrogate him. If he didn’t want to tell me, he wouldn’t have to. Both of us would know that we’d do nothing to harm each other. Even though I hadn’t seen him in three years, it didn’t mean I didn’t love him. Watching the two brothers trying to protect each other made me realize how much I missed having my father. He was the only family I had.

The men kept going back and forth. I was finished with all of this. “We’ll get nowhere with questions. We need a different method.” I turned to Evan. “One last try. Why can’t you tell us? You say Elliot and Ginny are at risk, what can you tell us about that?”

“Just know, I’m doing the best I can to protect them.” Evan looked at Elliot. His light eyes pleading. His face twisting into a grim expression. “I need to be apart from you both. You are not safe near me. This’ll be over soon and everything will go back to normal. I’ve got this under control.”

Elliot took a step away from his brother and his words showed his disgust. “Killing orphans means you have this under control?”

Evan scowled. “You think I killed those people?”

“Twice now you’ve been involved in the disappearances of orphans, one showed up dead and the other is missing. You need to help us, otherwise the death of the woman from Mineral Point is on you.”

“It doesn’t matter if I was involved or not, she’d be in the same predicament either way.”

My fists had been clenched again, and I struggled with my breathing. “What about my father, Samuel Taylor? He’s missing too, and you’ve been involved.” My hand shook when I wiped my eyes. When had I started crying?

Evan’s entire expression changed, his eyes widened and mouth slackened. “Samuel is your father?”

There was a faint noise outside or wheels on gravel and if you listened closely, the light hum of an electric engine. I could feel the adrenaline rush coming on again.

“Take her and get out of here,” Evan insisted. “They’ve tracked us here.”

Elliot ground his teeth together. “You tipped them off. You brought them to us.”

I planted my feet on the ground and threw in my opinion. My voice cracked. “I’m not leaving until he tells me where my father is!”

Evan shook his head. “I didn’t tip them off. They must be tracking us.” He looked at me and his eyes focused. “You’re Samuel Taylor’s daughter?” he said again as he seemed to connect the dots. “Were you an orphan?”

Two weeks ago, I would have snapped ‘no’ at that question. I hesitated as I thought to the faked family photograph I had.

“She’s not an orphan,” Elliot hissed.

I wasn’t an orphan. I was certain. From what Olivia and Dr. Mulligan told me, I was not adopted. My father created me for him, but the lines between the two blurred.

Evan sped through his words. “Are you sure? The orphans had microchips planted under their skin when they were born. It made them easy to track, no matter who adopted them or where they went.”

The gravel crunched outside the unit.

I ignored all of this. “Where’s my father?” I pleaded as I walked up to Evan.

Evan looked me in the eyes. “I don’t know. I’m trying to find that out.” More noises from outside. “You need to go quickly! They’ll kill you.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” Elliot was so calm under pressure. I guess if you had been tortured, this probably seemed like a sunny Caribbean island.

“You need to trust me.” Evan focused on Elliot. “If I disappear or run away, I put others at risk.”

Elliot paced in front of the overhead door. He stopped to listen up against it. The car must be in a different aisle of the storage unit compound.

I took that time to quiz Evan while Elliot figured this out. “I ask again, where is my father?” One last attempt.

Evan’s expression completely softened. “Alive. He needs to cooperate, I understand.” He tightened his lips.

Elliot and I stopped and glared at his change of expression.

“It all makes sense now… I see how June Taylor, the scientist’s daughter, can stay hidden away from ten men. No wonder,” he chuckled, “she has the help of my brother.”

Elliot turned away. “June, get in the car.”

“Wait! I’m so close to finding my father.” I couldn’t leave. My father was within my grasp, I only needed to know which way to reach.

“We don’t have time,” Elliot commanded.

I focused on the noises outside. He was right. I hopped into the vehicle.

Elliot hesitated as he took a step towards his brother, but turned back instead. “Forgive me.” He opened the overhead door and flew into the driver’s seat of the car.

Elliot started the engine of his green Pontiac. The roar of the gas engine drowned out his brother, and we flew out of the storage unit. The other car was right on our tail.

The acceleration of Elliot’s car jarred me as he punched the gas. He turned down various streets and took some tight corners. We were quickly adding distance between our pursuer and us.

The rear glass window of Elliot’s car shattered from a bullet. Elliot and I shrugged down in the seat. Elliot still needed to drive, so there was only so far he could lower himself. Another gunshot rung out, but I had no idea what it hit.

Ahead was a red stoplight with a pile of cars behind it. We slowed some, which caused the car behind us to gain on us.

“Fuck!” Elliot hit the steering wheel with his palms.

He turned abruptly and the wheels squealed. This road was slightly more deserted. I pulled my gun from the case and straightened up.

“What are you doing?” Elliot roared.

“Drive,” I commanded, unbuckling my seat belt and twisting my body in the seat. I wedged my back against the dash and steadied my arms on the seat rest, aiming the gun out the shattered rear window. “Brace yourself.” I squeezed the trigger.

I flinched at the noise. When I opened my eyes, nothing had changed. I steadied myself for another shot, but the car jolted, throwing me against the window as we turned down another street. I aimed again, steadied myself, and pulled the trigger. The front end of the car behind us had dropped on a slight angle. I had shot out the tire. It wasn’t what I was aiming at, but close enough.

“Nice shot!” Elliot patted my arm.

Bang! They were still shooting at us. I hid my body behind the seat.

Their car still pursued and now sparks were flying from the front left wheel. I shifted in my seat and tried to aim at the other one, but couldn’t get a clean shot as the body of the car shielded it.

The sparks were strong now, and Elliot turned sharply again while gunning the gas. I swear we were up on two wheels. Another turn followed by rapid acceleration and we made it to the highway.

Here, Elliot let out all the car’s power, and we zipped past car after car. The vehicle behind us faded into nothingness.

Once the immediate threat passed, I asked what had been on my mind. “How do you know your brother was telling the truth?”

“Sometimes you need to blindly trust and hope you get your trust returned.”

I turned these words over in my mind. I may believe people, but not truly trust them. I hadn’t since my childhood. Back then, my dad could take on the world. He’d make a mistake, and I’d forgive him. One mistake after another and soon, I had built a wall. I kept my feelings penned up and didn’t allow them out.

We pulled off a few exits out of town, and Elliot urged me out of the car at a mostly empty rest area. As soon as I stood beside his vehicle, he cupped my face in the callused hand of his good arm. His thumb stroked my cheek, and he grimaced as he brought his other hand up to feel the back of my neck. His skin was rough, his touch firm, yet it was all still gentle.

“We need to find the tracking device.”

I nodded for him to continue. His hands finished rubbing my face, under my hair, down my neck, and my arms. Then his arms wrapped around me.

Chapter 22

Elliot’s hands raked over my body, touching all my curves with care. “Do you have an unusual bump?”

Bump? “No, I haven’t noticed anything.” I shook my head as I pieced things together. Did I have a tracking device?

His hands rubbed over the exposed skin on my neck while his eyes locked on mine, telling me it was okay. He tried to keep distance between our bodies, attempting to keep it impersonal.

What are we doing?

Real bullets. Kidnapping. Interrogation. My chest constricted, and I struggled to get enough air to calm myself. Now, a tracking device implanted under my skin?

Elliot stopped a moment. “Hey, June? Come back.”

I blinked and focused on Elliot’s face. His full eyebrows drew together and his expression softened. His body leaned closer, and his thumb wiped the tear from my cheek I didn’t know I shed. Unable to control them, more streamed down my face. Elliot pulled me into his arms and held me tightly.

I gathered my emotions and pushed through my muddied thoughts. “Keep going. I never noticed anything, though I wasn’t looking for a tracking device.” It needed to be gone. ASAP. If it was there at all. I focused on our current situation, leaving those feelings behind. Don’t fall apart, June.

His hands pulled my jacket off, and he searched one arm then moved to the other. “It would be somewhere you wouldn’t notice; somewhere none of the others noticed. Turn around.”

I spun and leaned against the car. His hands moved over my back and soon they were beneath my shirt. I imagined it was for better sensation.

“You’re so thin, it should be easy to find.”

I tried to break the tension. “How’s that for romance? With your hands all over me, I was hoping for something a little better.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had much experience with beautiful women...or any woman, really.”

A shudder ran up my spine. Did he really think I was beautiful? Okay, I felt like an idiot now. I tried to relax while he searched one vertebra at a time, focusing on my breathing, and not his hands. There was no way my father would plant a tracking device in me. I tried to come up with another explanation. “Perhaps I don’t have one. Maybe a tracking device was on Evan’s car. Besides, I’m not an orphan.” Yeah, but I am a clone.

“I don’t know. They found us yesterday morning for no reason too. I have no other explanation.”

“Were you adopted?” I asked Elliot. Maybe the tracking device was on him.

“No. It’s not me. It’s got to be you.”

His fingers edged higher up my back. “I’m sorry for the privacy violation.” He halted. “I think it’s here.” His hand was between my shoulder blades. One of his fingers pushed to the side of my spine, marking the spot. “It’s small and flexible, but definitely a different sensation–more rigid than your skin, yet soft and slightly raised.” His fingers circled a small area. “I could see how nobody noticed it. If you weren’t looking for it specifically, you’d pass right over. Plus, it’s out of your reach. Honestly, if you weren’t so athletic, I don’t know if I would have found it.”

My dad had implanted a chip into me. My fists clenched. What were his plans? Was my destiny to be killed like the others? Was that woman in my phony family photo actually his wife? My knees weakened, and I struggled to not collapse on the concrete. I squatted down and clenched my swirling stomach. How could my father do this? I was dizzy and my vision filled with black spots. I pulled my knees in and buried my head in my arms to center myself. “Get it out,” I said, not caring how Elliot would accomplish this.

He didn’t respond.

I looked up at him. “Get. It. Out,” I repeated, louder.

“Not here.” He gripped my forearm and pulled me to my feet. This time, he didn’t give me time for a breakdown.

Elliot’s eyes darted between various people at the rest stop. The teenage boy nearest us was preoccupied with setting up a drone to fly. Other people were far enough away they’d never notice a little surgery.

“I don’t care. Get it out now!”

“No,” he repeated. “Get in.”

I made a noise that only could be described as a humpf. “Fine.”

We pulled into the nearest pharmacy, purchased a bag of supplies, and slipped into their bathroom. We were on camera entering the single room together, but I didn’t care what anyone thought, as long as they didn’t interrupt us. I pulled my shirt off and leaned over the sink, wearing only my bra.

A click came from behind me. In the mirror’s reflection, Elliot held a pocketknife. He wiped the blade clean with the alcohol swabs we purchased. His green eyes locked with mine in the mirror. “You ready?” Elliot’s warm hand laid on my back and he palpated the device. “It shouldn’t hurt that bad. It’s not deep.”

That bad? “Just do it. The quicker, the better.”

“We could get some ice to numb it.”

“Get it over with.” I leaned against the sink and let my head hang while I tried to clear my mind. I thought about all of Elliot’s scars. If he made it through that, I could handle this.

There was a pinching sensation followed by a sharp poke. I gritted my teeth waiting for the worst. Elliot pinched my skin, twisted it a little, and then let go.

“Okay, here it is,” he said.

I turned to see him hold a small bloody microchip on the tip of his finger. The reality of our situation hit me like a tornado thrashing through a forest. Trees were uprooted and broken. Skewed across the ground. Everything that had been in order, no longer was. I supported myself against the sink while I gathered up those feelings and stuffed them away. I wouldn’t have a meltdown. Again.

Elliot wiped the chip off onto a small piece of paper towel. “I see why nobody noticed it. It’s tiny.” He then flushed it down the toilet.

“I didn’t realize they had that technology back then.”

“Being in the military, I’ve learned there are a lot of things people don’t know about.” Elliot bandaged my wound and helped me into my shirt. His hand brushed my cheek and his eyes pulled me in. He shook his head and smiled softly. “Hey, we could use sleep and a good clean-up. Let’s try for another motel. I really don’t know what else there could be for them to track.”

Yeah. I hoped that was it. But I was certain we were safe before. “What about your arm?”

“It can wait.”

At the dive motel tucked away on the southwest side of town, I made Elliot remove his bloodstained jacket and shirt so I could tend the bullet wound on his arm. The bleeding had slowed down, and maybe even stopped, but when his shirt came off, so did the little scab intertwined in the fabric. Elliot’s jaw tightened, but he pulled his composure back.

He grabbed gauze to wipe it clean, but I reached for his hand.

“I got it,” I said.

“It’s okay, I can do it.”

“Please, let me do this for you. You’ve done so much for me already. Sit down.” I took the gauze from him and pushed him gently into the chair. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, which made me laugh. Wiping the blood away, I got a whoosh of light-headedness. Damn. I only felt faint around blood when it came from somebody I cared about. I swapped out the gauze for a fresh supply, holding it to his wound and looking at Elliot’s face instead.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’ve been hurt far worse than this.”

“With your brother. I mean…that had to be a difficult thing for you to do. Probably similar to what had happened to you…um…the torture and PTSD and all.”

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Torture and PTSD, huh?” He lightly laughed. “I had acute PTSD; I was over it within three months of being home. I couldn’t sleep and when I did, I’d wake up screaming. Calvin helped me through that quicker than it took for my leg to heal.”

I relaxed slightly, even though I hadn’t truly felt he’d flip out since getting to know him. “So, what do you make of all that stuff with Evan? He seemed to be helping us.”

“He’s in the middle of something. I don’t know if I should believe he has this under control or if he needs my help. If that woman turns up dead and Evan was involved…” Elliot’s mouth zipped shut.

I rubbed his shoulder. “Love really makes things that should be black and white confusing.”

He patted my hand. “June, you’ve been so patient with my…situation. I know this isn’t what you expected. It’s not normal.”

I laughed. “And disobeying the police to find my father is? Hey, we’re just two average people trying to do our best to be loyal to our families.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say we’re ‘average.’ At least we could say ‘two crazy people.’ Come on. Give ourselves some credit.”

I shook my head and finished cleaning Elliot’s wound. The blood mixed with clear serum still oozing didn’t look so terrible, well, at least for a bullet wound. I retrieved fresh gauze and applied pressure, hoping the bleeding stopped before I bandaged it up. My eyes found the scars on his body once again, and I couldn’t help staring. I couldn’t imagine the ordeal this man had gone through and understood why he was taking the bullet wound so well.

Elliot’s words were soft. “You’ve got some intestinal fortitude.”

“Intestinal fortitude?” I questioned. “Guts?” I was starting to get some of this military lingo. I shook my head in denial. I didn’t have guts. The situation scared me tremendously, but I couldn’t turn back.

He reached up with his good hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, causing me to look away from his battle scars and into his eyes. “June, your loyalty impresses me. We’re being shot at, dodging the police, and you still move forward. I really don’t think many people would put their own life at risk for anyone, much less a father you hadn’t seen in three years…or a man who you claim was stalking you. When you took me to Calvin Sherwood’s house, instead of the hospital, or police…it made me realize you were something special. You make me not want to go back to the military. I had always thought I was a lifer. Now, I’m not so sure.”

It wasn’t what I expected. He pulled his hand away from my face. This was not the time for either of us to pour out our feelings, our wants, and our desires. I pulled the gauze away and applied the butterfly bandages we had purchased.

“I need to tell you something.” I pulled my eyes from his and focused on the old carpet. “You don’t want to change your life for me.” I sat down on the foot of the bed while Elliot stood. He towered over me, and it was foolish, but at that moment, his size intimidated me. “Sit down.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me and let out a little laugh. “This doesn’t sound good.”

He didn’t sit, but I wanted to get this out. I needed to come clean. “So, my father made human clones at SBRI.” I looked at Elliot for a reaction. His face waited for the rest of the story. “You knew that?”

“Yeah, somewhere, I figured it out.”

“And all the orphans turning up dead have been clones as well.”

He shrugged. “I figured.” His expression changed as he anticipated where this was leading. I didn’t have to say it. “You’re a clone? I should have figured that out with the tracking device…and the photo of your mother.” He shook his head and took a step away from me. He enunciated each word, in a slightly louder tone of voice. “Why, June? Why keep this from me? I thought—” He fell silent.

I stood and pushed forward, closing the gap he created. My body felt heavy and a little bit of nausea touched my stomach. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

My heart raced and fists clenched as I took another step towards him. “Why? Because clones aren’t human? I bet you don’t want to help me anymore.” I don’t know why my mind made this jump, but deep down, it had always been a fear of mine. Another reason I never told anyone my secret. It was one of the ethical debates of cloning I studied and did a few research papers on.

“That’s ridiculous!” he protested, but I was back to not believing what he said. He paced the room while rubbing his wrinkled brow, then cleared his throat. “Why would this affect how I feel about you?”

I forced myself to look at him, and just like that, the anger left me and my energy disappeared like water down the drain. Again, I surrendered. “I may only live for two more years.”

He stopped and turned towards me. “What? Why?”

“My mother died of a heart condition at thirty-two years old.”

“That doesn’t mean you will. Your heart’s strong. I’ve seen you run.”

“We share all the same DNA. If she died of a heart issue, I’m likely to have the same.” I paused as the tear escaped. I wiped it away, and Elliot closed the distance between us.

He cupped my cheek with one hand and rested his other gently at my waist. “I don’t believe it.”

When I looked into his eyes, I couldn’t help lifting up on my toes and meeting his lips halfway. His kiss was soft and gentle. His hand slid across my cheek and slipped into my hair, while his other sat firmly on my waist, pulling me into him. I had feared he would think less of me, that clones weren’t human, only tissue, bone, and blood. That the soul rested with the original, with the donor. But he didn’t seem to care. Another tear slid down my face. I had thought I’d never kiss another man before I died. I wouldn’t allow it, but here I was, giving in.

He was controlled and reserved when I pulled away. “I’m sorry,” I said and went to take a shower. I needed space. Time to think.

Under the hot shower, all my insecurities with my ex-fiancé returned. I couldn’t marry him without telling him I was a clone who may die at thirty-two, and I wouldn’t leave children without a mother. I convinced myself leaving him was the noble thing to do, and it would prevent a lot of heartbreak. Now, I realized it was the opposite. All I did was run from my problems. Even now, I hid in the bathroom, running again. I turned off the shower. Maybe I should have given my ex the chance to choose me, despite the limited years we’d have. I took a deep breath and thought of Elliot. Why was I still making the decisions for someone? As I opened the bathroom door, I decided to give Elliot a chance.

When I stepped out, Elliot was sound asleep on the only bed in the room. Not sleeping for what felt like days, being shot, and the tension from the situation must have taken a toll on him. It had on me too, because as soon as I crawled in bed beside him, resting my head on his shoulder, I fell asleep.

I awoke with the golden evening rays of daylight dancing around the heavy motel curtains. We had safely slept all day. Elliot was up, sitting next to me in bed, and scrolling through the uniTab. His smile was soft when he handed me the device. I sat up and pulled the covers off.

“I’ll get you some lifer juice.” He slipped out of bed and got coffee from the multi-drink dispenser. “What happened to you?” Elliot asked, handing me the cup of coffee and nodding down to the huge scar on my knee.

“Bike accident when I was eight. I had just gotten my first bike with real handlebar brakes. My father and I were going downhill, and I was going too fast. I pulled the brake…but it was the front one. I flew over my bars onto the pavement.”

He touched my huge, ugly scar the size of a silver dollar.

“My father cradled me in his arms. My knee stung and the sight of blood running down my leg made me queasy. He never talked about mom, but at that moment, he told me the story of how they met, and it silenced me. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn more about her. He wiped the blood with his shirt, and when I wasn’t ready to go yet, he told me how he created me. He said, ‘Mom couldn’t have babies’.” I laughed. “I see why now, she had died.”

“You were lucky to have a dad.”

My chin trembled slightly. I didn’t want to say anything more about it, so I changed the subject, forcing a lightness to my voice. “So why are you single?”

“What?”

“You asked me that question a few days ago. I want to know your story.”

I took a sip of the coffee, waiting for Elliot to answer.

“My mom was sick for years before she died. I guess I gave up everything else in my life, except school, during that time to be with her. When she died, I ran away, so to speak, and didn’t want attachment. I don’t know. Years passed, and now I feel I’m running out of time a little. Maybe I’m older and wiser or maybe it’s because I realized my life could end at any moment. What have I accomplished? What I want now differs from what I thought I wanted in my twenties.”

“How does it differ? What do you want now?”

"A partner in life. I thought the military would fill that role, and it did for the first five years or so. It wasn’t until I was captured and they let me be tortured for days that my opinion changed. When I came home, and they denied me more time for my brother, I realized the military truly didn’t care for me. I guess I want someone that does.”

I took another sip of coffee to prevent having to say anything in response.

He stood from the bed and put some distance between us. “I really don’t want to pressure you into anything. Whenever you’re ready, let me know. I’m going to shower.”

And he left me there with my coffee, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts. I should have said something, but I didn’t. I turned to checking my messages to stop dwelling on all that had happened. It was from Madison PD. A small amount of satisfaction filled me. Now who was obsessively calling who?

Voice Message–From Madison PD

Ms. Taylor, this is Officer Sheridan again. We found your father’s car. Call me and I’ll fill you in. Bye.

I skipped my other messages—I’d get to them later. Was she tricking me into calling her? Did it matter? They had found my dad’s car. That wasn’t something to joke about. I couldn’t dial her fast enough. I breathed while the phone rang. She would have mentioned if they found him though, right?

“It’s June Taylor.”

She didn’t discuss my father. “Why is your car in our impound lot?”

I wouldn’t answer her question. “So are you calling to interrogate me, or did you really find my father’s car?” Elliot came out of the bathroom. He hadn’t showered yet.

She knew what I was up to and didn’t bother to reprimand me again. “No, we found it. Samuel’s neighbor, Mrs. Jones, called it in earlier today. It was in his driveway. I actually just left his house, but maybe you could meet me back over there to let me inside? A good assessment if he’d been home would help us decide if we should finish the investigation.”

Had my father been home? “Yes, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good. Don’t get your hopes up, though. In the car were his computer, a .45, and some bags of clothes. If he was home, I think he would have brought those items inside the house.”

When I ended the call, Elliot sat next to me in bed. “They found him?”

“No, only his car. Officer Sheridan wants me to let her in the house and look around. She wants to figure out if he’d been home or not.”

“This feels like a set-up.”

“By Officer Sheridan or whoever is after me?”

Elliot reached his arm around me and pulled me close to him. “By either.”

It didn’t matter. If there was a chance this would lead me to my father, I’d take it.

Chapter 23

In less than twenty minutes, we were at my father’s house. I debated all the reasons I shouldn’t go, but the chance that this might help find my father won out. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have done more…if I could have found him.

A squad car was parked in the driveway right next to my father’s. I let out a breath realizing Officer Sheridan beat me here.

I rubbed my hands on my jeans. “I think I’m gonna tell her everything.”

“Everything?” Elliot asked. He had tilted his chin and his eyebrows bunched together.

“No, not about your brother. That’s your information to tell, but about my father and the men that are after us. Maybe not about cloning. I don’t know what to do.”

Elliot rubbed my shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Wait. You can’t get out of the car. You’re trying to avoid the police.”

“I’m not letting you do this alone.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Just make up a name for me. I know you’re good at it.”

I relaxed in the seat, pulling my hands out and tapping my lip. “Well… You don’t look like a May Showers. Perhaps a…Red Ducati.”

Elliot laughed and shook his head.

We approached Officer Sheridan; she nodded at me, then looked at Elliot. “I brought a friend.” She didn’t even ask his name. Only a small greeting of hello before getting down to business.

Officer Sheridan and a masculine version of her, I assumed her partner, followed me up to the door. I punched in the code and placed my finger on the bio reader. When the door opened, I stepped away for them to enter. They had their hands readied on their guns. Did they expect to find something? Officer Sheridan caught her toe on the door ledge and stumbled slightly. I jumped a foot off the porch stoop.

They sent me to wait by Elliot where I paced, trying to calm myself down. What if my father was inside, dead? What if he had never been home? I didn’t know what to think. Elliot grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him.

I buried my head into his firm chest and breathed in his scent. I couldn’t believe how my feelings had changed towards this man. One moment he was stalking me, and the next, I was seeking the comfort he offered… Stalking me… I pulled away. “Do you still have that camera in a tree around here somewhere?”

A huge smile painted itself across his face. “I do.”

“And the data is recorded somewhere?”

He already had the uniTab out and tapped the screen. There it was. My dad’s car pulling into the driveway. A man with a familiar bushy beard getting out, jogging into the street, and getting into a familiar beat-up white sedan. We played this sequence a few times and didn’t see any signs of my father.

After a few minutes, the officers returned, and I pulled away from Elliot.

“The only thing we found was someone broke into his file cabinet,” the partner said.

I cautiously gave a little wave. “Um, that was me when I was trying to find bank statements.”

Officer Sheridan continued, “Then I noticed nothing different from when we were here last week. Don’t worry. We have his car; someone had to drive it here. Maybe it was your dad, or maybe it was someone else. I hope that there’s evidence in it that’ll lead us to him. His computer is a great starting point. We’ll look at the gun, if it was shot recently. Hopefully, in a few days, we’ll have leads to follow.”

In a few days? My hopes shattered. What if he didn’t have that kind of time?

“Here.” I handed the uniTab over to Officer Sheridan. “This is what happened.”

She played the video and her stern expression softened.

“How did you get this video?” she asked. Gone was her usual stiff tone. She now had a tinge of empathy in her voice.

“A camera in the tree.”

“So you’re not staying out of this, are you, Ms. Taylor?”

“What would you do if it was your father?” I asked. My confession dangled on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t get the words out. I didn’t have time for the questioning. Images of her dragging me into the station, filling out reports, and having the police watch my every move clouded my thinking. I felt urgency and didn’t want to waste time.

She started to speak, then stopped. She readjusted the gun at her waist. “May I speak with you in private?”

My heart rate picked up, but I followed her to the corner of my father’s yard.

“Ms. Taylor… June?”

I nodded.

“Well, June, remember when I told you that I lost a mother? That was eight years ago. She died in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver.” Officer Sheridan’s eyes turned glossy. “The driver went to jail, but only for a short time. Was that justice for taking my mother away? It ate me up; consumed me. At first, it was guilt… What if I spent more time with her that day? Would that have somehow prevented her from being on the road at that exact second? Then it was determination to make things right. In fact, that’s why I went into law enforcement. I would have done anything to have her back…to have justice. I’ve been in your shoes, and the only thing that actually will make you feel better is time…but I know you’re not ready for that yet.”

I hadn’t realized I was shaking my head. I stopped. “I’m sorry.”

Her face firmed up and her words came out harshly. “… don’t get yourself in any more trouble, okay?”

We returned to Elliot and her partner. Officer Sheridan played the video again, her partner watching over her shoulder. “There’s nothing here. No license plates and the big beard covers this man’s face so well, I don’t know if our facial recognition software will work. It may take a while.”

I left feeling defeated, a feeling I was getting used to.

The sun had set, and the moon was full in the deep blueish-purple sky when we settled in our motel room. Elliot took a few extra turns on our way back, checking his mirrors constantly.

“That was strange,” Elliot said while ensuring the drapes were fully drawn.

“It had to be a trap. Why would they return his car there? Why take the risk?”

“Maybe they didn’t expect us to be there along with the police.” My mouth went dry. “Or they have something else planned.” Needing a distraction, I grabbed the uniTab and checked my messages. One stood out.

Voice Message–From University of Wisconsin, Biology Department

Hello Professor Taylor. It’s Warren. Your absence has left me no choice but to speak with the department’s Biotechnology Board. I’m sorry to do this over the phone, but they put you on suspension right now and your position as professor at this university is being evaluated. I’m sorry, but we don’t have another option right now.

I couldn’t control my nausea. My world had fallen apart, and I didn’t think I would ever get it back. My life’s work was failing, I was sure I would lose my job, my father was still missing, the police were moving like an ant in honey, and I had people out to get me, wanting to do who knows what to me.

“What did you read?” came Elliot’s gentle voice. “You’re as white as a ghost.” He put his arm around me, and I buried myself into his embrace. He brushed my hair off my face.

Obviously, we were in over our heads. Elliot and I were alone in this, going up against some unknown force. What could two individuals possibly do with such limited resources? I wasn’t even that bright. I worked hard and was determined, that’s what got me through college, but there were so many cleverer people in this world. Just talk to my father.

I shook the self-pity out of my head. I was done wallowing in it. Instead, I replaced it with my determination. My voice was slightly shaky when I spoke. “I have an idea.”

“Tell me,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“What if I let them find me? I’m pretty confident the people after me are the ones who have my father. I’d then know who has him, where he’s being kept, and have a chance to save him.”

He pushed me away and looked into my eyes, giving me his firm answer. “No.”

My plan solidified itself. I was doing this. “I’m tired of running. I’ve run away from my father’s alcoholism, ran away from my fiancé, and now—”

“You’re running away from me.”

My jaw dropped, and I looked at him. I tried to argue, but the words didn’t come out.

He repeated himself, “You’re running from me and into the arms of the enemy.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m going after my father the only way I can think of.” I got up and found the tracking device in our bag, slipping it in my pocket. “Track the device and tip off the police. Come save me.”

He was standing right behind me. “June, you’re being foolish. You shouldn’t trust me that much.”

I turned around and became lost in his eyes. Trust him? Defy my father’s warning? The desire to run filled me, and I swallowed. He was right—I was still running from him.

“Don’t do this, June, please. They’re going to kill you like the others. I won’t be able to save you.” The look on his face wasn’t something I expected to see again. True worry for my well-being. I reached up and smoothed the lines that had formed on his forehead. He truly cared about me.

I rested my cheek against his chest to hide my watery eyes. His arms wrapped tightly around me. I was tired of running. Flattening my hands against his back, I lifted up on my toes. When our lips met, I gave him everything I had, dropping all my shields. The kiss lasted only moments, but tasted like a promise.

He pulled away. “I want to, but now’s not the time. Not under these circumstances.”

I slipped out of his arms, averting my eyes from his. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey, stop it.” He tilted my chin up to look at him again. “I liked it…loved it, actually, and I want more, just not right now.”

He was right. If something happened to my father, Elliot’s brother, or that woman that was missing because I was only trying to fill my loneliness, I’d never forgive myself. I reached my arms around his chest and squeezed. “Thank you.” I picked up the uniTab again, remembering I had one more message I wanted to read.

Electronic Message–From Payton Rollins

Miss Taylor,

I’m sorry I missed your visit at my home. I really want to help. Call me as soon as you get this message, I’ve tried calling you but it seems your phone is not working. Anytime day or night – and I mean that.

—Payton Rollins

I handed the uniTab over for Elliot to read the message.

He lowered the device and returned his eyes to me. “One more stop? Maybe she’ll know something.” I saw the relief on his face.

I picked up the device and made the call.

Payton’s face came on the screen. She had a big smile when she saw me. “June Taylor. Thank you for calling.”

“Yes, sorry that it’s late.”

“It’s okay. I’m heading home now. I’d be happy to make a stop-off. Are you able to meet tonight?”

“Yes, that would be great. I could meet you at your house.”

“No, my husband Mike’s not doing well right now. I don’t want to disturb him. How about down the street a little? There’s an Irish pub that shouldn’t be busy tonight. How about meeting me there in an hour?”

A spark of hope lit and chased away the darkness that had been consuming me. As we prepared to leave, the spark grew, even though I wasn’t sure why. Elliot strapped his ankle knife sheath on me to go with my gun.

When we stepped outside the motel’s door, I caught the flicker of a drone in the parking lot lights. They had come for me. Whether my phone call to Payton had been traced or the drone had followed us from my father’s house didn’t matter.

Three men and a muscular woman were outside waiting in the silent parking lot. Elliot instinctually had his gun drawn as soon as we realized the threat. I followed his lead, but it was too late.

“Put the guns down,” a tall, slender man said.

I squinted at him. He was one of the men from outside Evan’s apartment. He was the one that held a gun at Elliot. I scanned the other three people, pushing away satisfaction that the two men I shot weren’t there. Bearded Man from our earlier attack was there, the muscular woman, and a short biker guy I hadn’t seen before.

Bearded Man warned the group, “Careful! They’ll shoot.”

The slim man’s voice was smooth. “We only want to talk about your father. We have him, but he won’t cooperate. We need you to reason with him.”

A man and a woman exited the hotel, and when they saw the guns, returned to their room with a slam of the door.

“Where is he?” I demanded, nudging my gun between the members of the group.

Slim continued, “Put your gun down, and we’ll take you to him.”

My eyes darted between them. Half had their guns on Elliot and the other half on me. Was there any way out of this alive? At least for Elliot to get out alive?

“I’ll go with you if you let him go unharmed.” I nodded towards Elliot. “Nobody gets hurt in the process.”

“June, you better not,” Elliot warned. “Not now. We have a lead.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, still holding the gun at Slim and locking eyes with him. If it came down to a shoot-out, Elliot would be dead. He wasn’t needed. “We’re outnumbered, four to one. Let’s even the odds first. Two of you put your guns down.”

The four glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes, but gave a small nod. You don’t trust the bad guys, right? I didn’t have the energy for that anymore.

Bearded Man and the muscular woman set their guns on the pavement.

“Now, let my friend go.”

Elliot’s voice was firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Urgh! This was going nowhere. These people needed me alive and this was the only way I could think of to save Elliot… I hoped this worked. I turned my gun on myself. My father’s words echoed in my mind, Never point a loaded weapon at someone unless you’re prepared for the consequences.

“June, don’t do it!” Elliot insisted.

“Everyone, put your guns down,” I demanded.

Elliot was the first to squat to the ground.

“No,” Bearded Man said. “You’ll be the one left with the gun.”

I lowered myself. “We’ll all put them down at the same time, then you can take me to my father and nobody gets hurt here.”

With a nod, we all put our guns down. I raised my hands and walked forward towards the people trying to capture me. My heart was rapidly thumping against my chest. I hoped Elliot remembered the tracking device in my pocket. Please make this work.

Elliot grunted. He wouldn’t back down. What did I expect from a soldier?

Another person filtered out of the hotel, but I kept my focus on the woman. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The muscular woman pulled a gun from under her jacket and aimed it right at Elliot. I didn’t think. I flung myself at her, getting in between Elliot and her gun.

A booming noise filled my head.

The air was knocked from my lungs, and my chest burned.

Bearded Man pulled another gun from his waist and pointed it at Elliot, but my world faded before I could figure out what had happened.

Chapter 24

Am I alive or dead?

I blinked a few times, but everything was dark.

I should be dead. They shot me in the chest, and the sting over my heart proved it.

My knees were nearly to my nose, and I couldn’t move off my side. With my tongue, I pushed on the fabric gag that filled my mouth. It didn’t budge. I wiggled my arms and legs, but they were bound together.

Thump-thump.

I lost my focus to the throbbing of my head. I wanted to press my hands to my temples and squeeze to stop it. An image of Elliot grasping his head on Calvin Sherwood’s couch came flooding back. He had been shot by a tranquilizer dart what seemed like so long ago. Was that what happened to me?

Where was Elliot?

My thoughts were slow, and the dots didn’t connect as fast as they should have. My chest was sore, but definitely didn’t feel like I had a big gaping hole leaking blood. The woman who shot me had only been armed with tranquilizer darts. They must have changed their cocktail of medications, because I had blacked out only a few seconds after I was hit. What was the last thing I remembered? A gun pointed at Elliot. Was it a tranq dart too? They didn’t need him alive. My mind started to clear and nausea set in. Elliot. June, now’s not the time to think about it. He had to have gotten away. All I could control right now was me.

Bearded Man and his group had captured me.

All of a sudden, I pulled my mind out of the mud it was trapped beneath.

What do I do? Shit. Shit. Shit.

Deep breath.

Focus.

I was moving, a few bumps here and there, and guessed I was in the trunk of a car.

They are taking you to their base. You’ll find your father.

Fear gripped my heart and squeezed as I thought of Elliot again.

He’s a soldier, June.

There’s nothing you can do about it now.

Despite knowing this was my plan, I felt helpless and not in control. My lungs clenched and my breaths came out shallower and more frequent. I was running out of air in this trunk.

I was going to die.

My palms and temples began to sweat as my heart raced. I squirmed and kicked, but it did no good. All it did was frustrate me and tears threatened.

Stop it, June! Trunks are not airtight. You asked for this.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to focus on my breathing. I locked my feelings away. If I could do it with sadness and anger, I could do it with fear too. I kept telling myself I was still in control and this was my plan… As long as Elliot was okay.

Soon, the car stopped, and I was ready to get out of the cramped space, no matter what faced me ahead.

When the trunk finally opened, the artificial lights blinded me. I couldn’t do anything except lay there and let whoever opened the trunk stare at me.

The throbbing of my heart radiated to my eardrums. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the light and focused on the images hovering over me. Bearded Man was there with an older woman at his side.

Payton Rollins.

I kicked myself. Elliot and I were so close to figuring this one out.

“Ahh, June Taylor. We finally meet in person,” she said, raking her eyes over my bound body. I squirmed to sit up and succeeded on my second try. I wouldn’t let her see me helpless. “You’ve given us quite some trouble. I hadn’t realized Samuel had such a spry daughter.” She gave me a sly smirk. “I told you I had information about your father.”

I tried to spit words out through the wad of fabric shoved in my mouth, but didn’t get far. I settled for a glare that I hoped conveyed how pissed off I was. My silence was probably for the best anyway–I’d prematurely get myself killed.

She turned towards Bearded Man. “Put her in the cell with the clone.”

She didn’t say “other clone.” Did she know I was one too? She had to. Her husband seemed to know.

The man dug his fingers into my armpits and pulled me out of the trunk. He threw me over his shoulder, carrying me into the attached building. As much as I wanted to fight back, now that I got into their facilities with my tracking device, I forced myself to stay alert and focus on my surroundings. Besides, fighting back may prematurely lead to my death sentence.

He carried me down a white hallway with a few cream-colored doors before we crossed through a laboratory. There was a phlebotomy chair, some equipment along a counter, and some medical grade refrigerators. I didn’t have time to do a thorough assessment because we turned down another white hallway. The four doors we passed were light blue and appeared to be made of metal, probably for extra security. What was behind them? We stopped in front of one door, and I heard a beep before we stepped inside.

I think Bearded Man attempted to put me down on the floor, but I squirmed, causing him to drop me with a thud. Air pushed out of my lungs with a muffled, “urggumph.” The door slammed shut followed by the sound of the lock engaging.

I rolled over to my side and lay there. I took a deep breath while I tried to untie myself. My tongue pushed on my gag, but couldn’t loosen it. I wiggled and struggled to bring my arms secured behind me to my front. My body was small enough that after a little squirming, the zip ties slid down my wrists some and I succeeded. All that yoga and flexibility training paid off.

When I sat up, I noticed I wasn’t alone in the room. Tucked away in a corner far from me, a woman hugged her knees. I immediately recognized her face as Brooke Garrett, the missing orphan from Mineral Point. Her black hair was matted down, and her face was shiny from being here a while. Brooke was alive, and it appeared my father probably was also. I had to have faith Elliot was too.

With my hands now in front, I pulled the cloth from my mouth while my eyes darted around. Dirty white walls surrounded me. There was nothing but a toilet, sink, and a camera up in the corner behind a glass panel in the wall. Minimal accommodations. The walls had smears of what I thought was blood.

Time to break the ice. “Nice place, huh?” I let out a nervous chuckle.

Brooke’s eyes would not leave me. She rocked back and forth in the corner.

I used my teeth and nipped at the zip ties on my wrists with no success. I twisted and turned my wrists and all it did was cause the plastic to dig into my flesh. They were sore, and my arms and shoulders tired too.

After a few minutes, Brooke’s voice was a hoarse whisper, “Try this.” She cautiously raised her hands above her head, pretending her wrists were tied. She then swung her arms down, hitting her wrists on her stomach.

I rolled over and squirmed, but got to my feet. I imitated her arm swinging motion. No success the first time, but with more effort the second time, the tie came apart.

My voice cracked while I rubbed my wrists. “Thanks.”

She had sunk back into the corner.

My ankle ties were easier to escape. I pulled my shoes off and slipped my feet through with a little twisting and pulling.

Brooke spoke again. “Who are you?”

“My… My name’s June.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same thing you are.” I was rubbing my wrists and ankles.

She raked her eyes over my body and then relaxed some. The circles under her eyes nearly matched the dark purple bruise on her cheek.

“It’s okay, they took me too.” I tried to soothe her.

I pulled myself up against the wall and imitated Brooke’s posture, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine.” If I wanted to get us out of here, I’d need her on my side, even though there was no reason she shouldn’t be. I needed to earn her trust, and the only way I knew how to do that is to be open and honest.

Nothing but a pensive stare from her before she sunk further away from me into the wall. She was biting her lip and staring at a small hole in her pants by her knee.

“I’ll go first,” I said. “My father’s been missing for two weeks.”

Her eyes focused on mine, and her face filled with empathy. Her shoulders softened slightly, but she still stayed quiet.

“The good thing is they haven’t found a body, which means he may be alive. The men who took me said they have him, and I don’t know if I believe them or not.”

I waited for Brooke to offer her story, but she kept silent so I continued. “I didn’t feel the police were doing enough to find him, so I investigated myself and ended up here. Honestly, I don’t know if it would have mattered. I’d have ended up here either way.” I let out a nervous laugh. “It could be worse. I could be dead.” I stopped there even though there was so much more to the story. “How about you?”

She wrung her hands together and smoothed her hair. “I’m kind of embarrassed that I really don’t know what happened or what’s going on.” She looked to the wall across the room. “I had just gotten home from work and felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I spun around to see the men grab me. I didn’t even know they were behind me. Itried to fight back—” She motioned to her bruised cheek.“—but I got nowhere. They put me in the trunk of a car, and before I knew it, I was here.” She ground her teeth together and when she turned back, tears streaked her cheeks.

Carefully, with a soft voice, I asked, “What are they doing to you here?” If I knew why she was here, it would help me figure out what these people were doing with my father.

“They’ve been giving me a daily injection of something, I don’t know why, but I fear it’s related to the orphan killings.” She stopped for a few moments as a few sobs escaped her before choking out the rest. “Ever since hearing about them...I’ve been nervous…and careful… See…I was abandoned as an infant. Adopted.” She stopped and composed herself, but lost it and sunk her face into her knees again.

Seeing Brooke’s emotions gave me strength to keep mine locked away. I needed to be strong. I changed the subject. “Your name is Brooke, right? You’re from Mineral Point?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, your disappearance is all over the news. They’ll find you.” The photo I saw of the confident, loving mother on the TV was a contrast to the woman before me now.

A laugh of disbelief escaped her. “You mean the police will find me? The same police that haven’t found your father and you don’t think are doing enough?”

I took a deep breath. I wanted to tell her I had a plan, but wouldn’t say it in front of the camera. Heaviness settled over me. What if something happened to Elliot? What if he was really shot? Dead? Did the military arrest him for being AWOL? Maybe he was captured and in another room of this building. My emotions escaped the cage I had them in and blinked away tears that kept fighting their way out.

If Elliot didn’t come, I would need to figure out a backup plan. There was no time for emotions. I felt for Elliot’s knife strapped to my ankle. It was gone. Of course they searched me. I rubbed my hand over my pocket, there, in the deep bottom, was the tracking device. It was only the size of a nickel, probably not significant to my kidnappers. I let out a deep sigh.

After what felt like hours, the door to our room opened and Payton stepped in along with Bearded Man. “June, you’re coming with us.”

I debated what to do. I wanted to fight back but knew I didn’t have a chance. Despite it being another idiotic idea, my stubbornness won over my logic and the words came out. “No, I’m not. I’m just fine here.” There, I’d fight with words.

Payton definitely called the shots. “What’s the saying? There’s the easy way or the hard way, Miss Taylor. We can do this any way you like.”

I glared at her, but didn’t move, hugging my legs to my chest. Peaceful protest. I was prepared for the consequences. They needed me, so I didn’t fear for my life and was determined to suffer through whatever pain they may inflict. Okay, protesting was a stupid idea, but I didn’t want to be seen as giving in.

“Owen, bring her.”

Bearded Man, or rather Owen, stepped out from behind her with a device I guessed was a Taser, even though I had never seen one before. It had two small metal prongs on the top of a black handle. Almost on cue, Owen adjusted it in his hand and a zap of electricity jumped from one of the metal tips to the other.

He crossed the room and dug his fingers deeply into my arm, causing pain to radiate down to my fingers and throughout my spine. I reflexively stood up.

“Fine,” I huffed with my eyes on the Taser and my heart racing again. I gave in.

Owen tied my hands behind me before leading me down the hall and up a flight of stairs to another mostly empty room.

Inside were two men. My eyes immediately latched on the man tied in a chair. His head hung low, but his graying light brown hair gave him away.

My father was alive.

Relief settled in and tears flowed down my cheeks.

He lifted his head, and his eyes met mine. The color washed from his face, and he gritted his teeth. “Let her go!” he demanded.

“We told you she was here,” Owen said. His breath was hot on the top of my head.

My father struggled in his chair. The other man held his shoulders down.

“Let him go!” I commanded, though I didn’t know why. Where would this get me?

“Do you believe us now?” Payton asked my father.

My attention again went to my father when he briefly looked at me. Bright bruises were under his eyes, one was almost swollen shut, his cheek puffy with a cut across it, his lip split, and his shirt splattered with blood.

Why were they doing this to him? They needed his cooperation; I’m sure for his technological expertise.

It was at that moment that I forgave him for everything. I shouldn’t have pushed him away. He was all the family I had. He couldn’t help it that I looked like his dead wife; that I reminded him of what he lost. I was grateful he gave me the chance to live at all, since I should have never existed. Alcoholism was a sickness. Why didn’t I stand beside him and support him? Whether my leaving him caused him to stop drinking, I’d never know. I struggled with tears. Now wasn’t the time.

Payton addressed my father. “If you don’t help us, she’ll suffer.”

“Don’t do it, Dad!” I yelled, causing him to look at me. His eyes had been empty, and they cleared right in front of me, like fog lifting when the sun comes out. I had called him ‘Dad’ for the first time in my adulthood.

“I’m still not helping you,” he said, turning his focus to Payton.

Payton turned towards me and slapped my face. It stung, but I laughed out loud. “Is that the best you’ve got?” Another stupid move, but multiple emotions were overriding my logic. I was full of hatred towards Payton. She was behind the orphan murders…the killing of the clones. She had kidnapped and tortured my father. Also, I was trying to show my father I was strong.

“June, stop it!” my father commanded.

For once, I listened to him. He was right. Taunting Payton and her people was not smart. I silenced, but it was too late. The worst pain of my life jolted through me. It was more painful than the tranq dart. My body clenched before my legs gave out. I fell to the floor with a thud. My muscles locked from the electrical current and my arms were tied so I couldn’t do anything to stop the fall.

For the second time today, all the air was knocked out of my chest. The world stopped for a few seconds while I tried to get my lungs to work again. This was complicated by Owen’s foot holding me tightly to the ground.

My body slowly recovered, and I heard the scraping of a chair against the tile floor as my dad struggled to get up.

Payton spoke again, “It will be much worse than that if you don’t help us.”

I didn’t know what he was holding out on, but I knew it wasn’t any good.

“Don’t do anything!” I yelled into the floor.

Owen grunted as he pried me off the floor and carried my flailing body to my cell.

Chapter 25

I rubbed my side where the Taser had zapped me and paced the tiny room. My father and Brooke were alive, but this could change in the blink of an eye. If we all got out now, we’d have a nice happy ending. Come on, Elliot. Any time now.

If he was okay. I bit my lip and stopped pacing, leaning against the wall for support.

I figured I had been here for about three hours. Wasn’t that enough time for him to get the police, bust in, and rescue us all?

If he was alive. Closing my eyes, I tried to get a grip on my upset stomach and aching heart.

“What happened to you?” Brooke asked.

My muscles quivered from either the Taser or the combination of being scared shitless and pissed off. I rubbed my bruised wrists. At least Owen was nice enough to remove the ties before shutting the door.

I wanted to answer Brooke, but didn’t know where my voice went. Escape plans rolled around in my head while my eyes darted around the room. The walls were made of drywall. In the house I owned with James, we patched a hole once, and the flimsiness of the material surprised me. The drywall here was beat up.

I turned and knocked on the wall, assessing for a gap between studs. I could easily kick a hole in it and crawl through. The dampened thud told me the wall was solid, so I switched to an adjacent one. Still no hollow spots. I ground out the words, “We’re getting out of here.” My heart raced as I frantically knocked from one corner to the other. The whole damn room was reinforced.

“There’s no use. I already tried that over here.” Brooke pointed to a spot on the wall where the drywall was punched in and small parts of it crumbled away, revealing solid wood. The dried blood on the wall and her scabbed knuckles confirmed her attempt.

I stopped and sat back on the floor, rocking and hugging my knees. I was sure all the other prisoners had tried to escape as well. Trust Elliot. He has to be okay. My job was to figure out how to get to my father if we managed to escape.

Brooke sat down beside me while I silently sorted through many flawed ideas. Soon, my eyes drew heavy, and I was too tired to focus.

The creak of the opening door jolted me awake. I straightened and my heart rate picked up.

The bald man’s eyes focused on Brooke. “Your turn.”

Struggling to my feet, Brooke’s dark eyes met mine, and she gave her head an inconspicuous shake, warning me to stay back. My hands fisted and my jaw tensed as the man’s fingers grabbed Brooke’s arm and hauled her out of the room, Taser in hand.

What could I have done? I was half the man’s size and didn’t want any reason for them to separate me from Brooke. I slouched against the wall.

Each minute that passed, my mind filled with images of Brooke’s body on fire, screaming and crying. What if this was it for her? Her daughter would be without a mother. My insides turned, and I wiped my tears away. What emotional torture Brooke’s family must be going through right now. I tried not to think about it, but I couldn’t stop.

When the door opened, probably only half an hour later, I fought the urge to hug Brooke as she was shoved into the room. I waited until we were alone before speaking. “You okay?”

She rubbed her inner elbow. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

I relaxed some. “Before they took you, how long was I sleeping for?” I was tracking time, the best I could with no clock.

“Not long, maybe an hour.”

“Where did they take you?”

She turned the crease in her arm toward me and pulled back a piece of gauze. “Blood draw and an injection.”

“Injection of what?”

“I don’t know. It’s my third one. All I’ve noticed is my body has been really aching the last few days. I ache in my bones though I don’t know if it’s from being cooped up in this room or from whatever they’re giving me.”

I knew what she felt like. My body screamed for a run. I didn’t know what made me sore: the lack of exercise, the physical abuse, or the Taser, but not deep in my bones. Her ache had to be from the injection. “Daily injections? Tell me everything that happens to you when they take you away.”

“They draw my blood in some type of lab. The tubes of blood are put in some type of machine.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what they’re doing.”

“That’s okay. Keep going.” I gave her arm an encouraging rub.

“We wait for about a quarter of an hour before they comment about the readings, the numbers from the machine. That’s when they inject me with something they get from a refrigerator. Today, the injection was right here.” She lifted her shirt and pointed to a fine red pinhole in her abdomen. “Yesterday, it was here.” She pointed to a different, slightly red spot.

I strung everything together. Her body aches, they are checking her blood, and giving her injections of some refrigerated medication.

“What do they say about the blood levels the machine displays?”

“That they are still too low.” She appeared to think a little as she looked in the direction of the lab. “Today, they seemed pleased with the numbers. ‘Only a few more days,’ they said.”

Payton’s husband, Mike, told me the clones were made for organ harvesting. My stomach swirled when I realized the injections were preparing Brooke for this procedure. They likely needed bone marrow or stem cells from her, maybe treating someone with leukemia. For a moment, my nausea settled realizing neither of these procedures were lethal, but then, I was sure their intentions were not to let any of us survive.

All the dead orphan’s bodies had been badly burned. Was this their way of hiding whatever organs they were harvesting? The organs would be a genetic match and would buy the recipients twenty or thirty extra years of life. Current technology didn’t provide that much time.

My chest sunk, and I returned to hating my father as thoughts of why he created me filled my head.

Hours? A day? I didn’t know how much time passed. Three activities occupied me: pacing the room, watching the door, and staring at my “family” photo still tucked away in my pocket, realizing that no matter my father’s purpose for creating me, nobody deserved what was happening to us. Brooke wasn’t taken for another injection yet, so I knew a day hadn’t passed.

Where was Elliot?

Owen came for me. I wanted to be angry with him, but my emotions were numb, and I was so tired. I wondered if he had someone he was protecting or doing this for some other noble cause, but maybe this just paid his bills.

His fingers dug into the bruises he had left on my arm as he ushered me upstairs to the vacant room that had held my father. He pushed me into the chair and picked up a few zip ties from the counter. What the hell was he planning on doing to me? I struggled, kicked, twisted, and tried to bite him, but was easily overpowered. It only took moments for Owen to have me secured to the chair. I swallowed my heart in my throat.

As I continued to squirm, Owen put his hand firmly on my shoulder. “It’s no use,” came his accented voice.

I settled down. Struggling wouldn’t get me anywhere. I needed to be smarter about this. I focused on the uniTab set up on a desk with its camera facing me.

We waited there in silence for a few minutes before the uniTab announced, “Proceed.”

A frown appeared on Owen’s face before stars flashed across my vision. He took me off guard when he smacked me. My teeth pierced my tongue, and my jaw stung.

I shook it off. “What the hell are you doing?” I exploded. Warm blood filled my mouth.

Another hand to the face. I spat the blood out on the floor, not wanting to swallow it. This one didn’t seem as bad. Had my face gone numb, or did he hold back?

“Okay,” came over the uniTab. Owen pulled back, avoiding my gaze and not answering my question.

My tongue was swollen, and the words were clumsy. “What do you want from me?”

To my surprise, I got an answer. “I already told you. Your father needs to help us.”

“Treating me this way will not convince him.”

“Proceed,” came the uniTab again.

This time it wasn’t a hand, but a knife that came for me. The lights reflected off the metal blade as Owen twisted it in his hand, his face emotionless.

I turned to the uniTab and stared at my image, trying to make my face as firm as his. When the knife slashed the skin on my arm, my solid expression contorted, which I quickly rectified. I breathed deeply as the blood ran down my arms and into my hands. It dripped off the tip of my index finger.

Gritting my teeth, I focused on my image on the screen. They had to be doing this for show and I bet I knew who it was for. “Hold out, Dad! They’ll kill us all anyway.” I spit another mouthful of blood on the floor. A wave of dizziness hit me and my vision darkened. Don’t think about the blood, June. I closed my eyes to try not to pass out. It’s all in your head. You haven’t lost enough blood to make you pass out. It’s just a visceral reaction.

“Okay,” the uniTab spoke. “Shut her up.”

I opened my eyes briefly to a bandana gag. I was still dizzy and trying to ignore my bloody arms. It wasn’t helping. I felt limp, like a cooked noodle, when Owen gagged me. The good news was it gave me something to bite down on and to absorb my blood. It also stopped me from giving in and begging someone to help me. I didn’t want my father to see that.

“Proceed,” came from the tablet.

Pins and needles danced up my torso as the knife came to my face. Owen’s cuts were slow and deliberate. The sharp blade hurt, I won’t lie. How had Elliot survived all the scars he had? I focused on inhaling and exhaling to calm my rapid breaths and ignore my racing pulse.

What had Elliot told me?

Focus on a reason to live.

I thought of Thursday, of my job and my research, of my father and finding out who the baby was in the photo, and of Elliot. My mind lingered on our last kiss, of the vulnerability I felt, and my comfort with that. Hopefully, he had felt the same. Thoughts of his lopsided smile and the way he stuck with me, despite all my flaws.

I continued to focus on inhaling and exhaling, as I did during yoga, and detached my mind from my body, letting Owen do whatever he wanted. My dizziness subsided some, my eyes found the uniTab’s camera, and I didn’t flinch away. I watched Owen trace the knife up my cheek and to my temple on the screen. If I stayed strong, maybe my dad would also. I focused on my anger and did the best I could not to let my fear or pain show.

Owen was slow, but the cuts didn’t seem large, even though blood ran down my forehead, through my eyebrows, and caught in the gag. He moved the knife; it cut into the skin on my jaw, causing blood to run down my neck and pool in the fabric of my shirt. Head wounds always bled a lot, I was reasoning with myself again.

Owen needed to hold my head up from a mixture of the dizziness and exhaustion. He had cut two lines on my cheek, one on my jaw, and one across my forehead before the uniTab spoke.

“Stop. You’re done for now.”

I slumped over in the chair, unable to keep my eyes open.

As Owen carried me to my room, I only had one thought. No matter how I did it, I would take down Payton and her team one by one. What did I have to lose? Two years of my life.

But my father? Brooke? They had a lot to lose.

Owen set me down gently, then carefully untied and ungagged me.

“What did you do to her?” Brooke yelled as she rushed over. I gathered my strength and shook my head warning her to stay away.

Once the door shut, she rushed to the sink. My words were slow as they formed around my swollen tongue. “Don’t bother.” It was probably better to leave it be and scab over at this point. Hopefully, his knife was halfway clean.

She didn’t listen and struggled to rip a small piece of her shirt off and soak it in some water. Sitting next to me on the cool vinyl floor, she wiped away the streams of blood mixed with tears from my cheeks and neck. “You okay?”

If I could have, I would have laughed at that question. “Yeah…no problem…bliss.” I had given up.

“We’re not going to make it out alive, are we?” Her eyes teared up, and she stopped wiping my face. “My daughter can’t grow up without a mother.” Now her tears rushed down her cheek. She wiped them away and took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

I pulled strength from somewhere hidden inside me and slid my arm around her shoulder. “Stop thinking that way. We’ll break out of here. Enough waiting for something to happen or someone to rescue us. If they’re not gonna let us out alive anyway, let’s go out fighting.”

Brooke nodded at me. “I’m in.”

I had to do it. For her…and my father.

Sheer determination kept me going. I slid next to Brooke and whispered my words, so the camera and perhaps microphone in the room didn’t notice them. “They don’t seem to have that many resources; otherwise they wouldn’t have us in the same room. How many bad guys do you think there are?”

She shrugged and whispered, “Half a dozen?”

“There can’t be that many of them left. I shot at two and wounded them. I don’t know if Elliot got any more. They wouldn’t have Owen working so hard if they had more goons.”

“Elliot?” She had switched back to her normal voice.

I shook my head. “Long story. How many have you seen?”

“Well, the head lady, the doctor guy, Owen, and the new man from last time.” Her eyes widened at the cuts on my arms. She wiped them clean with the bloodied rag.

“Yeah, I’ve been calling him Baldy.” I counted on my fingers as I went over my past week. Besides the four people Brooke named off, I added Slim, Biker Dude, Muscle Woman, and Evan. “Eight that I know of, which sounds right because Evan said there was ten.”

“Evan?” Brooke raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah, same long story. But all eight of them can’t be here all the time, which improves our odds.”

“But, they have weapons.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” I shivered, thinking about another one on one with Owen. “We have to at least try.”

Chapter 26

In the passing minutes…hours, my eyelids were heavy and I slept off some of my exhaustion in between making escape plans.

Brooke shook my shoulder. “Wake up.”

I scrambled to sit up and focus on our plan. I blinked away the sleep in my eyes and wiped drool on my bloody shirt.

Baldy marched into the room to get Brooke for her daily injection, and my heart raced. It was time to act. With one hand, the man grasped Brooke’s arm, with the other, he held his Taser.

Brooke intentionally positioned her body so they would turn away, shielding me from Baldy’s line of sight. I needed to be quick and determined to overcome the size difference. I darted up behind him and threw an arm around his eyes. Swinging my other arm into his back for leverage, I twisted his body away from Brooke. Momentum and unpredictability worked to my advantage.

We thrashed and struggled about. I focused on the distraction so Brooke could do her part: get the Taser without being zapped.

I didn’t know how long we wiggled around, but every moment Baldy didn’t call for help was a win. I hoped nobody was watching the camera, and if someone was, they were far enough away to give us the few seconds we needed.

Once Brooke’s hands were on the Taser, I grabbed Baldy’s shoulders and swept his legs out like Elliot had done when we were attacked at the motel room. The motion was easier than I expected and Baldy, despite his size, fell forward to the ground with a thud. The element of surprise worked, and Brooke soon had the Taser pointed at the man who only lay there and scowled.

Baldy clicked a button on his watch. “Help! They’re—”

Brooke tased him.

His body locked up. I grabbed the lanyard holding his access card and removed his watch. “Let’s go,” I whispered while I backed out of the room after checking the hallway was empty.

Brooke stopped and tased him again followed by a blow to the head with the handle of the Taser. “You deserved that,” she spat before following me out and locking the door.

I stopped and listened for a moment. There were faint sounds coming from the hallway leading to the lab, which was the way we wanted to go. Instead, we turned the way neither of us had gone before. I lightened my steps, but they still made all sorts of noises. With every tap and squeak, my breath stopped and I tried to listen for someone behind us, though I wouldn’t stop moving. There was no way I’d return to the torture room.

I scanned the hallways for cameras; there were none. This hall turned and led to another. More solid doors I wouldn’t dare open for fear that Bearded Man, Biker Dude, Payton, or someone else would be behind them. What if my dad was behind one of them? It didn’t matter–I couldn’t take that chance.

The hallways led around this place in a square and now footsteps echoed from the other direction too. Every door was the same. Which one led to freedom—if any? Footsteps sped up behind us, and voices echoed down the hall. Both sounds were growing clearer.

We’d have to hide.

I ran to a door that was slightly different at the end of the hall. It had a narrow glass panel on its surface. Behind the glass was a tiny empty room and another door. I swiped Baldy’s access card, the panel flashed green, and we pushed our way inside.

I rushed to the second door, but stopped dead in my tracks. Nothing could have prepared me for the horror behind the large glass window. There were four men laying on stainless steel tables, naked. I wanted to look away, but the grotesque situation drew me in.

They were nothing but skin and bones with veins bulging through their thin layer of flesh. Each bone stuck out from the lack of muscle mass. All of them were deformed in some way. One had a leg significantly shorter than the other one, one had an odd lump growing from his shoulder, another had bumps on his face, and the other I didn’t have time to assess. Tubes filled with a milky fluid ran into their bodies through their belly buttons.

Did they grow these men?

One man’s head was turned towards me, and his facial structure brought a flash of recognition. I rolled the man’s features over and over in my mind, unable to create a match.

“There’s something wrong with them,” Brooke whispered.

Noises filtered into the room from the hallway.

We needed to hide in there, despite it being a scene from a horror movie. I jiggled the door handle. Locked. I swiped the access card. It flashed red. Denied.

We crouched down. The muffled voices and footsteps grew louder.

“Over here.” I crawled to the main door. Brooke was right beside me. We leaned our backs against it and made our bodies as small as possible. If they stopped and looked down, they’d easily be able to see us. We had to hope they didn’t look that way.

My heart was thudding wildly, my body was sweating, and my eyes kept jetting around the room, unable to focus. Sitting still was torture.

Brooke readied the Taser in her hand. I wanted to take it from her, as part of me desired control, but the way she clutched it in her fingers and held it close to her chest, I couldn’t do it. I needed to trust her with our only weapon.

Who did those men on the table remind me of? The bump on his nose was so familiar…

The realization hit me like an unexpected gust of wind. A younger, more deformed versions of Payton’s sick husband. All four were clones of him.

How long had they been growing these men?

I jumped back. One of the men turned his head towards me. A groggy smile appeared on his lips, before he stilled again. My heart raced.

The shuffling of feet and voices right outside the door interrupted my thoughts. Doors opened and closed, the clicks growing louder.

Please don’t check this one. It was access card protected, hopefully they hadn’t realized we had Baldy’s card.

The door softly vibrated. I imagined Bearded Man or Payton peering inside the room. Brooke and I hugged ourselves tighter against the door.

Don’t look down.

I had been through so much, my tears stayed away, unlike Brooke’s. The noises faded, and I loosened my grip on my hands circling my knees. Now silence from outside the door.

“Ready?” I asked.

She nodded.

Slowly we opened the door, trying to ensure it didn’t make a noise, and entered the hallway. We retraced our footsteps, heading in our original planned direction towards the lab.

Yes, I was going to leave my father behind. It was the only sensible solution. I had found him and would get help once I was outside the facility. Brooke had a family, and I wouldn’t jeopardize our opportunity to escape.

We made it down the first hallway and returned to the hall outside our tiny room. One more turn until freedom, well, at least until the parking garage.

My heart was in my throat, and I clutched Baldy’s access card. We jogged towards the exit, but halted at the lab. There were soft voices there. Two people. One was my father.

What was my dad doing in the lab? He wasn’t cooperating, was he?

I hesitated. When the other man turned away, I stepped into the entryway and waved to get father’s attention.

His eyes met mine. I pointed towards the garage exit and he shook his head no.

Why? There must be someone out there.

I sunk back to the hall, next to Brooke, and tried to think.

She clutched the Taser. We were so close. Was it worth the risk?

“We can’t go in the garage,” I whispered. Our only choice was to cut across the lab.

Breathe, June, breathe. We could take out the guy with my dad. There were three of us, and he didn’t look like the thug type.

We charged into the lab, only to find the other man slumped into the phlebotomy chair, and my father setting down a syringe.

Way to go, Dad!

“Any idea of another way out?” I called to my father, careless of my volume.

“I’m sure they have someone on all the exits. Upstairs though, I’ve seen weapons. That’ll help even out our odds.”

My dad led us through a door on the opposite wall of the lab and up a flight of stairs. He took the first entrance on the right.

The room was an office of some type, though mostly vacant. The shelves only contained a few objects: cords, small plastic totes, and a few boxes of who-knows-what. My father rushed to the desk and pulled open each of the four large deep drawers.

“Shit,” he said. “They were here.”

Of course they wouldn’t leave weapons unattended.

Now what?

Think, June, think.

This office only had one exit, the way we came in. There were no windows to break. The vents were small. I looked up, ceiling tiles. Maybe there would be an escape above them.

Noises were now outside the office.

I jumped on the desk and pushed a ceiling tile aside. It was suspended from steel beams and insulation. Nothing to climb onto and nowhere to hide that would support our weight.

“If we die, June, I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

I didn’t expect my father’s apology. “Stop it! I got myself into this dilemma.” I climbed down from the desk, peering into the empty boxes and settling for taking a cord in my hand. Maybe I’d choke them with it.

“That’s not what I mean. I understand why you didn’t want me around. I’m sorry for the years of drinking and for neglecting you.”

“Now’s not the time, Dad.”

“I’ve tried to tell you all this before, but it has never been the right time. It was just that I couldn’t cope.”

My fists clenched around the chord, and I attempted to calm myself, but with all the adrenaline running through my veins, the words rushed out. “What, that your wife died before you could grow her a new heart?” After I said it, I realized it wasn’t true. He made me well after she died.

His jaw dropped. “That was never the plan.”

“Why did you make me then?” I demanded.

“It was because I missed her.”

“So you made me to get your wife back? That’s pretty crappy. And then I reminded you so much of her you can’t even look me in the eyes?” There, I said it. After all these years.

“Shit!” he repeated. “That’s not the reason. It had nothing to do with you reminding me of her. It was because you make me realize that clones are as much human as someone born naturally.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “That wasn’t the project’s intention.”

I stared at him, then closed my mouth—I hadn’t realized it was open.

“It made me feel guilty. I have done things, June. Bad things. I struggle to live with what I did.”

Brooke interjected. “Shh. They are coming back.”

I didn’t know what to do. I rewrapped the wire around my hands. “When they open the door, we need to all rush them and get their weapons.”

“No,” my dad said. “We’ll get out of here a different way.”

“I don’t believe that!” I readied myself for an attack. I had to get out of this building. “They need us; they won’t kill us.”

When they opened the door, there were five of them. Some had Tasers, but some were holding what looked like real guns. I recognized most of them. Payton, Owen, Slim, Biker Dude, and someone new.

As much as I didn’t want to listen to my father, it was obvious rushing them wouldn’t be a good idea. One by one, Payton’s people pointed their weapons at me. I stared at the barrel of three guns and the other two, including Payton, had their Tasers ready. Not listening to his own advice, my father charged all five of them.

“Stop!” I yelled, dashing forward and dropping the wire I had in my hands.

BANG!

My father clutched his side.

“Oh my God!” I yelled.

I lunged towards him and collapsed over his body. At this point, I didn’t care if I got shot too.

Oh. My. God.

Please be a tranq dart.

I hyperventilated. My thoughts were incoherent as I pushed my hands on top of my father’s holding his side. Crimson blood oozed between our intertwined fingers.

“Why’d you shoot him?” Payton roared, turning towards Biker Dude. “I need him!”

This is all your fault, June. All your fault.

My guts churned, and I wanted to puke. Dizziness began to consume me as thick blood oozed between my fingers.

Not now, June, not now. Don’t think about it.

“Be careful, I need them all alive,” Payton yelled.

They all glanced between Payton, my bleeding father, and me.

The room silenced, waiting for a command from Payton, I assumed. Biker Dude had his gun pointed at me. I looked around. They all had their guns and weapons readied on me, ignoring Brooke.

Brooke took this distraction as an opportunity and zapped Biker Dude with the Taser. His body fell to the floor. She picked up the gun he dropped. We were armed, but it didn’t matter. No sooner did Brooke have the gun in her hand, Slim and Muscle Woman had her down to the ground and the gun pried out of her fingers.

“Against the wall,” Owen yelled towards me.

My eyes dashed around the room. My father lay incapacitated on the floor, Brooke had a gun held to her temple, and I had a gun to my back. I didn’t have a choice and retreated to the wall.

“Turn around. Put your hands against the wall,” Owen commanded.

I moved slowly, noticing the sticky blood between my hands and the drywall. I began to sweat and leaned into the wall for support, otherwise I would have fell to the floor. I rested my head on the drywall, trying to blink away the black spots from my eyes. My hands slipped in my father’s blood.

“Tie them up,” Payton demanded. Someone grabbed my arms from against the wall and twisted them behind me. My wrists were soon tightly bound, and I imagined my hands turned purple–beneath the blood.

“Stop!” It was Payton’s voice. “I need him alive.”

The room went silent except for the sound of my pounding heart.

One of Payton’s men pulled me away from the wall and turned me towards the group. Immediately, I searched for my father.

He was slumped against the wall with his shirt soaked in blood. One man was holding some type of cloth against his abdomen, trying to stop the blood. With a grimace, my dad adjusted his position against the wall. The blood on the floor around him made me swoon.

At gunpoint, the men ushered us back into the small room Brooke and I occupied before. They brought a chair in for one man to sit on, our guard, I supposed. The scientist came in, slowly, clutching his head. He pulled the shirt away from my father’s abdomen. I glanced at the bloody mess and needed to turn away.

It was on his left side. His liver was there…intestines too. Both could be fatal shots, but he was still alive…for now. This wasn’t anything like Elliot’s bullet wound. The scientist cleaned it, squirted some medication on it, and sewed it up. My father winced, but his strength impressed me. Was the bullet still inside? My vision went black at that thought.

I woke up to my father’s whispers. “June, you okay?”

I blinked and pulled my face away from the cool linoleum. I was careful to sit up, but realized my dizziness was gone and the zip ties had broken off my wrists. Baldy was sitting in a chair, clutching a Taser.

“Where’s Brooke?” I asked.

“They took her when they finished up with me,” my father said, keeping his body still and holding his side.

“How long was I out?”

“Fifteen minutes or less.”

They must be giving Brooke her injection today; we had interrupted that procedure only an hour ago or so. Back to business as usual.

“Don’t help Payton anymore,” I urged my father. I blinked my eyes to get the last bit of grogginess away. “I’d gladly be tortured and die… I’ll die in a few years anyway.”

He looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Mom died at thirty-two right?”

His confused expression disintegrated, and he began to speak, but the words didn’t come out. The pain on his face was from more than the bullet wound.

“She had a heart attack, right?” I prodded.

He shook his head and gritted his teeth when he turned to face me a little better. “June, I lied to you.”

“Well, that’d be a first!” My anger returned. Nothing about this man had been the truth.

My dad kept his eyes on me. The pain that he showed before was now clouded by focus, though he clutched his side. “June, your mom committed suicide five years before you were born. I thought if you believed she died of natural causes, she’d be more heroic rather than troubled. It was the first ‘natural cause’ that came to my mind, and I blurted it out. It was just a little lie when you were a kid. I didn’t expect you to hold it true into your adulthood.”

I let this sink in, unable to speak for a little while. I stared at Baldy, who watched us. He didn’t stop our conversation, and I had to ask the next question. “What troubled her?”

He looked at the dried blood all over his hands. “She’d been struggling with postpartum depression.”

He turned his eyes to me, almost checking if I understood. I nodded; of course, there was a baby in the photo.

“June, you had a sister. The worst part of it all was that I betrayed your mother after she died. I gave the baby up for adoption. I couldn’t raise a child without my wife.” Tears swelled in my father’s eyes, causing mine to escape as I thought about his pain. “You have to understand. It was horrible of me and I’m so…so sorry.”

A sister? Words would not form while thoughts swirled in my head.

My father continued despite this. “And she struggled with motherhood affecting her research, balancing work life and family life. Also, she struggled with the ethics of our project. She was a valuable member to the cloning experiments, but saw the creation of each clone embryo as unethical. She wanted out, but we were in too deep. We needed to see it to the end.” He wiped his tears away, leaving a smear of blood on his face. “I told her she couldn’t leave the project… I didn’t see the signs. I came home one day, and she was lying in bed, dead. She overdosed herself with a tranquilizer from the lab.”

I waited for him to compose himself some. “And what about me?” I asked.

“Five years passed, and I regretted all of it. I thought about them constantly. That’s why I created you. I couldn’t get my daughter back. I couldn’t get my wife back. It was time to start over, and I was ready, but somehow I felt creating you would make it all even. Plus, I was selfish. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. Both your mom and I froze our DNA at the start of the project to test the defrosting procedure. I couldn’t get myself to dispose of it after she died.” His eyes were growing heavy. The bullet had taken a toll on him.

I let those words sink in. Did I believe him?

“I was so happy to have you. I still am,” he said softly. “You are without a doubt the best thing I ever did.”

I still didn’t understand. “But then I got older and looked so much like mom that you had a hard time even looking at me and started drinking.”

“That’s not it at all. It wasn’t anything about how you looked that drove me that way. I expected and prepared for that. It was how much I loved you and realized how human you were. The thing that kept me going this whole time was that clones were just a creation in the lab. I had never seen one grow up and have a personality. I realized all the clones I had created were human. I had treated them like an experiment, but they were far from that. Drinking was my way of coping with what I had done.”

His mouth opened to say more, but he began moving around, trying to get comfortable.

“It’s okay, Dad. You can tell me all of this when we get out of here.” I wouldn’t think the worst; we’d all get out of here safe. Though my dad was progressively looking worse. His eyes were bloodshot, face pale, and he had stiffened, trying to prevent movement.

He pulled energy from somewhere, held his eyes open, and focused on my face. “No, June. I want you to know now. I want you to know everything. We made clones as backup organ donors for people with money and a family history of a life-threatening illness. I justified it as a clone to save a human life. ‘We’re saving lives,’ I told your mother, but she saw it differently. I saw the clone’s lives as expendable. It wasn’t until I saw how different you were from your mother that I realized no matter how you were created, you were your own person. It was then I understood your mother and more grief set in. You deserved to live just as much as anyone else.”

It sunk in that all the clones had a tracking device so when they were needed, they could be located. “Why did you put a tracking device in me?”

He looked at me and the tears started again, but he turned away and gripped his side tighter. “I couldn’t lose you like I lost your mom and your sister. I wanted to make sure there would always be a way to keep you near, even if you were far away.”

What could I say to that? Was his guilt punishment enough? No, it wasn’t, but he was my father. He had finally been honest with me.

“So, how does Payton know how I was made?”

“We worked together every day at SBRI. I couldn’t go from wifeless, childless, to one day having a baby without her figuring it out. I tried to say I had adopted you, but she knew me and our research too well.”

The door beeped open and Payton entered with Owen and Muscle Woman. “Bring him.” She nodded towards my dad.

More than ever I meant what I said. “Don’t do it, Dad!”

He turned with a grimace, and when Payton and Baldy couldn’t see his face, he mouthed to me, “I have a plan.”

Chapter 27

Brooke and I collapsed against the wall while Baldy watched us. How long had I been here? Not quite two days perhaps. I discreetlyrubbed my hand over my pocket, searching for the tracking device—still there. Maybe it wasn’t working. Did these things run out of power? It couldn’t possibly take Elliot this long to get the police here, unless…

Don’t think about that, June.

I flooded those images out of my mind with different thoughts. I really missed Thursday. His soft floppy ears, compassionate eyes, and even his overzealous nudges. I hoped he was enjoying his time with Ginny.

Then, I thoughtof the baby in the photograph. A sister—I let that idea settle. Did she look like me or more like dad? Having someone else out there, connected to me, chased away some of my loneliness and made me feel more whole.

The guards switched, and it was Biker Dude’s turn to babysit. He brought us a meal bar of some type, and was gentle in handing it over. I debated eating it, but Brooke didn’t hesitate.

“I’ve had them before,” she whispered while unwrapping hers.

I examined the wrapper, turning it over in my hand. It didn’t look tampered with, but I was sure there were ways I didn’t know about. Famished and reasoning with myself that I needed to keep up my strength, I removed the wrapper and practically inhaled the thing. It was sweet, salty, and delicious–but maybe I was just starving.

Biker Dude sat silently on the chair with his eyes on Brooke and me. I wanted answers from him. I wanted answers from someone. Building some type of relationship could only help us, I hoped. What did I have to lose?

I coughed to clear my throat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Silence.

Sitting back, I stared at the cuts on my arms. They hadn’t been deep. Why had Owen held back? An uncomfortable laugh escaped my mouth, which I quickly stifled out. “I’ve been calling you Biker Dude. You look like you drive a Harley.” Not at all like Elliot’s motorcycle. More rough and tough.

Biker Dude’s lip twitched.

I continued pushing. “Tell me about yourself. What brings you here?”

He just stared.

“I mean that. I want to know. Do you have a Harley?” Nothing. “Is there a Mrs. Biker Dude at home? Little Biker Junior?”

“Quiet!” His eyes narrowed.

Okay. He didn’t want to talk. Well, I couldn’t be quiet now, could I? “No, really. I wish I knew…what drives someone to this.”

Silence. It was better than the punch I expected.

“I see glimpses of your frowning sometimes. I can tell you don’t like it.”

He didn’t shut me up.

“Are you doing it for money? I’ll pay you to let us go. I have money put away from selling my house.”

Okay, that got him. His jaws clenched and the wrinkles around his eyes grew.

“June, stop,” Brooke urged.

I disregarded her. “How much money would it take? Surely, you’d rather be paid for doing a good deed than torturing us.”

That was it; he blew. He stood up, and I flinched, expecting him to come and beat me. He had restraint and spat out, “You know nothing about me. It’s not for money.”

I shut my mouth and flattened against the wall.

He breathed heavily. “Everyone has reasons for what they do.” He shook his head and sat down. He wouldn’t give me anymore.

“Tell me those reasons?” I prodded him, but got nowhere. He calmed and put himself back in order.

He had a reason, everyone must. How else could they do this to a human, clone or not? Payton’s husband was sick. She was growing mutated clones of him. Probably needing something from them to save him. My heart went out to her briefly as I thought how much she loved him to be driven to all this. Maybe she was afraid of loneliness, like I was. The thought only lasted a moment, realizing she was insane. I clenched my fists and my stomach turned.

I looked over to Brooke. They needed her bone marrow or stem cells for something. Another experiment, or was there someone else who was sick? Someone that needed her as well.

Then there was Evan, I knew his motivation was to keep his family safe, though I didn’t know how he got tied up in all of this.

Something motivated Biker Dude too, which was obvious due to his anger. He was emotionally tied to something that kept him going.

And my father? What caused him to do it all those years ago? Money? Fear? Love?

Why did I clone? I couldn’t answer that question anymore. It had been the thrill of creating life and trying to do something to leave a legacy. Now, none of that mattered. The world was so much bigger than my little part of it. I still didn’t believe cloning was evil. It was like a knife. A knife was good for many things and functioned as a tool. Could you even imagine not having one in your kitchen? But a knife in the wrong hands could be bad as well. Cloning was the same. There were so many positive uses of cloning, such as repairing genetic defects and horticulture cloning. That a disaster like this would bring negative publicity of it turned my stomach.

Why would someone treat humans, clone or not, like they were nothing more than a bag of tissue? I examined Biker Dude. His lips pressed tight and his eyes stared at us, but not focusing.

“I’m gonna die anyway, why don’t you tell me why you do this?” I reasoned.

He didn’t seem like he needed me to convince him to tell. Did he want me to know he wasn’t truly evil? “My sister’s sick and in hospice. The doctors say she’ll die in six months. Payton says she can help, but needs me to help her first.”

Love was a powerful emotion. Slumping down, I buried my face in my hands. It all made sense now. The only reason I was alive was because Payton’s goons were not professionals. “I guess I have a sister too. I’d love to get out of here and figure out a way to meet her.”

He was stoic again. Did he regret how far he got sucked in? Like my dad did when he realized clones were as human as everyone else was? Sometimes you make a wrong decision and you need to keep making them for self-preservation.

My dad returned a few hours later. The three of us sat there, with Biker Dude still guarding us. “What’s your plan?” I whispered, though in the silent room, a whisper was like a shout. There wasn’t a way to keep it quiet.

More time passed, and the door opened. In came Owen, his Taser held on a man with his wrists bound behind his back. I gasped when I recognized the tall, muscled body wearing a green army jacket.

Elliot was alive.

My eyes teared up, and I wanted to rush into his arms. Now was not the time. My hands trembled, and I shoved them under my thighs, holding my breath. I bit my lip to stop the odd mix of tears and a grin fighting to escape.

Owen pushed Elliot into the room, and my emotions flipped, realizing my escape plan fizzled. My grin disappeared, and my chest was heavy. Bright side, June. Our numbers were a better with Elliot, and we’d have a better chance of fighting our way out of here.

Elliot’s eyes found mine. It felt like seeing a long lost friend after years, and I forgot where I was for a moment. I’d never forget the look on his face, even though I could have imagined the whole thing. His eyes widened and seemed to ask if I was okay. I nodded. He lifted his chin and smiled in a way that made me feel warm inside. He truly cared about me. I could see the sincerity with those small gestures.

It only lasted a moment though, before Elliot twisted to plant a knee in Owen’s gut, causing Owen to grunt and tumble into the wall. I struggled to stand and help, but it was too late. Biker Dude lunged at Elliot, zapping him with the Taser. Elliot locked up before thumping to the floor.

Owen recovered and held the Taser towards me. I squatted down and helped Elliot over to the wall. I hoped Owen could see the hatred in the glare I gave him. My hands brushed Elliot’s cheek, and I whispered, “I thought you were dead.” The tears came again, and I sunk down beside him, arm to arm, searching to both give and receive support.

Soon, Owen had taken Biker Dude’s place guarding us with a Taser in one hand and a gun in the other.

Elliot’s eye was swollen shut. He had a fresh cut on the edge of his older scar, and his lip was split. He visually assessed my body and shook his head. His brows wrinkled together. He then looked at my two companions.

A chuckle rose from my throat at what a sorry mess of humans we were. I had blood and cuts all over myself, Brooke had bruises, and my dad was soaked in blood. Now you added in Elliot’s current appearance and I couldn’t imagine what a few more days in here would do to us. Yeah, I could imagine. We’d all be dead.

“What did they do to you?” Elliot whispered. His jaw was tense.

I glanced down at the cuts on my arms. “They were for show. None of it is bad.”

He turned his glare to Owen. As much as I hated that man, I couldn’t confirm it was him that did it. Elliot teeth seemed to grind together.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

He turned back to me and attempted to smile, but pulled back as I was sure it hurt. “Never been better.”

“You know him?” my dad asked.

“Yeah, a good friend. He’s been helping me.”

“So, what happened?” I asked. Only one person had brought Elliot into the building, which was unlike him. He should have broken in and snapped a few necks if he needed to. “How’d you get captured?”

His eyes lit up, and I knew he would have grinned if he could. “You continue to underestimate me.”

“Then where are the police?”

He shook his head. “They’re not coming.”

Again, I had that sinking feeling. “And how am I underestimating you?”

He looked at Owen. He wasn’t going to tell me in front of the enemy. Turning towards me, he mouthed the words, “Trust me.”

A few minutes later, the lights flickered followed by Owen’s uniWatch going off. “We need you out here.” The voice was urgent. Owen stood up and hesitated, but left us alone in the room. Locked in, of course.

Moments later, Elliot had his wrists unbound, the same way Brooke had shown me, but from the backside. He grimaced; I imagine his arm still hurt from the bullet wound.

“Is this your plan?” I asked Elliot

“Well, it’s not exactly my plan. The FBI are outside. The flickering lights were the backup generator kicking in. They cut the power.” He pulled a small device from his pocket. “We have ten minutes before they cut the backup power.”

“The FBI sent you in here to tell us their plan?” The pieces didn’t fit together.

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

I crossed my arms and waited for more of the story.

“They were going to bust in with their SWAT team, but worried about this turning into a full-out hostage situation. They’d have you three to bargain with.”

“So, why would they send you in?”

“They didn’t…exactly. I kind of made that decision on my own. I needed to be on the inside if it turned hostile. The FBI were leaving you in here…” He stopped, but didn’t have to continue. The military had done the same thing to him when he was held hostage. They let the prisoners do whatever they wanted to Elliot while they waited for their plan to act itself out. They let Elliot suffer for three days.

I ground my teeth. Payton’s people could have killed Elliot.

Elliot put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay, June. Your cop friend’s helping me.”

“My cop friend?”

Elliot laughed. “Yeah, Officer Sheridan. I figured she looked the other way when you impersonated her, so she might bend the rules here a little too. She’s coordinating things with the FBI. Keeping me informed. She’s been helpful.”

I tensed thinking about Elliot’s working with Officer Sheridan, but quickly shook it away. I was thankful for any help we could get. “How did you escape after they captured me?”

“They shot at me with a tranq dart, but it hit my holster and didn’t release enough medication to take me down–enough to slow me, though. By then, people filed out of the hotel room, they grabbed you and took off.” He looked down. “I couldn’t get to you. The police almost detained me. Then I would have really been no use.” Elliot took his jacket off, blocked the gap under the door and the vent, and got back to business. “The FBI are planning on using tear gas to immobilize Payton’s team. They have a team bringing us gas masks. We just need to keep the gas out of here as long as we can.”

“What about the other clones?” I was shaking my head, unable to forget the smile one of them gave me when we had attempted to escape.

“What other clones?”

“There’s a room that way.” I pointed in the general direction. “Brooke and I saw four men on a table. They were clones of Payton’s husband.”

My dad spoke up. “She did it already then? Damn it! She said she couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know she had already tried.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“In some of my early primate research, I sped up their development using growth hormone. Payton wanted to do this with human clones, but feared it would also increase the growth of the bad cells. She wanted to make a full-size adult human in six months. I said it was impossible, but that’s why she needed me. My primates had lived to a nearly normal life expectancy, but I only sped up their growth by a few years.”

My head was turning over the six months comment… My dad had borrowed the thermocycler six months ago. He was somehow connected to those men, but we didn’t have time to explore that now.

Brooke jumped in the conversation. “Well, there’s something wrong with them all. Odd growths and deformities.”

“Yeah, and if that’s what you see on the outside, they are probably as equally messed up on the inside,” my dad said.

“They’re still human though! We need to get them out,” I insisted. If they were pulled off all the drugs and sedatives, they still had a chance of a semi-normal life.

My dad shook his head. “They are probably so underdeveloped, their brains would be like a six-month-old; worse if they’ve been sedated this whole time, maybe like a newborn. Their muscles completely non-developed. We can’t just walk them out. And if they wake up, they’ll be like a baby, flailing, screaming, and fighting. I agree we need to protect them…” He fell silent.

Those men hadn’t even had a chance at life. “They’re hooked up to machines that may be keeping them alive, at least they have to be keeping them sedated. If the FBI cut power, the machines won’t work anymore. Then they’ll wake up or die. At the very least, their first memory will be of us tear-gassing them. Maybe they’ll flail and roll off the table, pulling the wires and tubes out, maybe they’ll bleed to death. Who knows if they’ll remember it or not.”

Elliot turned the small device over in his hand. He clicked a button and spoke; I assume it was to the FBI. “We have a problem. There are more clones.”

Urgh, so the FBI now knew about cloning. I looked at my father. How could Elliot give away our secret?

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s time I faced my past. You get what you deserve in life. It’s time to stop running. I won’t tell them about you.”

I wasn’t worried about that.

Elliot interjected. “They already knew. I don’t know how, they wouldn’t tell me, but they’d been trying to get someone on the inside to figure out who was doing this. Evan’s been working with the FBI. He had to keep his connection a secret.”

“You saw Evan again?”

“Yeah. Before I reached out to Officer Sheridan, I went to the police to tell them where you were and what was going on. They wanted to come here, but needed a search warrant. They went to get one, but I got desperate and couldn’t wait. You rubbed off on me a little.” He managed a small, teasing smile. “I got to Evan again and told him you were taken. I wouldn’t let him go until he helped me get you out. He’d been trying to find this place for months, but they kept him on the outside.”

A gruff voice came from the button Elliot had, “We can’t change the plan, it’s already started.”

I wouldn’t accept that. Back and forth, I paced the room. “I need out of here. We need to get to the other clones. They deserve to live as much as we do.”

“Will this help?” My dad handed over an access card. “The scientist gave it to me. He’s on our team.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around him. “Was this your plan?”

He nodded.

“How much time do we have left yet?”

“About eight minutes.”

“That’s plenty. Tell the FBI to bring four more gas masks. Dad, you’re coming along. I need you to look at what’s going on.”

“We’re all going,” Elliot said with a steady voice.

I didn’t argue. I needed all their hands anyway; there were four semi-grown men with underdeveloped brains. Who knew what trouble that would cause when they woke up?

Carefully, we peered out the small window on our door. When the hallway appeared clear, I unlocked the door with the scientist’s access card and we silently slipped out. My dad draped his arms around Elliot and my shoulders as we helped him down the hall, around the corner, and finally slipped into the cloning room.

The access card opened the door to the four men on the stainless steel tables. The temperature of the room was warm. I looked at them. Their lack of body fat and muscle would make it impossible to keep their body temperature up otherwise.

“How long?” I asked, breathless.

Elliot looked at his device. “Six minutes.”

We looked at the men. “Do you think there could be more than this?” I asked my father.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You only can save what you know about, though.”

“June, what’s your plan?” Elliot interrupted.

“No plan. I’m winging this one as we go.”

Chapter 28

“Four minutes until the power’s cut,” Elliot said.

My father and I were fumbling with the tubes and lines going into the men’s bodies. An opaque white fluid, labeled propfol, flowed through one of the tubes into their umbilical vein. I tapped its glass vial for my dad to examine.

He leaned forward, read the label, and rubbed his temple. “Propofol’s a strong and fast acting sedative. That’s what’s keeping them asleep.”

“We’ll need to administer the compound by hand when the power goes out.” I pulled a few large syringes down from a shelf and began filling them from the bottles of propofol.

My father helped, though his jaw tightened as he slowly pulled on the syringe plunger.

I tried not to think about his pain and focused on filling syringes. “One for each man should be plenty.”

“Two minutes.” Elliot warned. He leaned against the door’s window so he could see through the small connecting room, into the hallway.

“Tell them our new location. We’re not getting out of this room.” I commanded.

Elliot whispered our change of location into the communication device.

My father and I shoved a syringe into Elliot and Brooke’s hands and assigned everyone a clone. Elliot hesitated at leaving the doorway, but took a spot beside one sleeping man. Before we could finish explaining what to do, the power went out. Unexpectedly, the pumps stayed on. The room went black except from the glow of the red and gold lights from the equipment.

“Of course…battery backup.” I was a little embarrassed I didn’t think of that.

Footsteps and voices filtered in from the hallway. One voice sounded like Payton’s, but I wasn’t sure. I was still hoping for the FBI.

My pounding heart threatened to overcome the soft clicking of the pumps.

When the door swung open, it wasn’t gas masks that greeted us. Illuminated by the bright glow of his uniWatch’s lantern feature, Owen stepped inside. He quickly yelled into the hallway, and within moments, Payton, Slim, and Biker Dude were filling the doorway; all lit up by the strong blue glow from their wrists, creating an eerie feel in the room.

Payton’s eyes widened, and then she roared, “What did you do? Step away from the clones.”

Did she think we were behind this? Maybe she didn’t know the FBI were coming. How long would it would take them to make their way to us? Could we stall? Still, Payton’s crew had weapons; we had…well…syringes of sedative.

They focused on the main threat in the room, Elliot. I hoped she still believed she needed most of us all alive. My father stood the closest to Payton’s goons, and I waited for eye contact. Once I had it, I glanced down at the syringe then jetted my eyes towards Slim. He nodded in understanding. He was holding his side and using the wall for support.

“We didn’t do anything,” I said, creating a distraction. I needed all eyes on me. Perhaps the truth would be distracting enough. “The FBI are coming in to capture you.”

“Careful,” Payton warned. “She’s up to something.”

I pushed forward. I needed to dig deep to capture their attention. “How will your husband, Mike, feel when the FBI take you out? When you spend his final days in jail, or on death row? Who’ll care for him while you’re in prison? How about the rest of you? What about your loved ones? What will they think when they discover what you’ve done?” I took a chance, assuming everyone was there for the same reason.

All Payton’s goons stared at me. My eyes had adjusted to the low light and the sag in their faces was clearly visible before they closed their gaping mouths. How many of them had loved ones too?

And when all their eyes were on me, my dad stumbled forward and stuck the needle into the artery in one goon’s neck. Medications are powerful, Calvin Sherwood had told me while Elliot slept off his tranq dart hangover. That felt like eons ago.

We all followed suit, lunging towards Payton’s crew. “You need to hit a vein!” I yelled.

The familiar clicking noise of a Taser went off, then the sound of a gunshot. I didn’t know who had a gun or who had Tasers, but saw Elliot and Brooke follow my father’s lead. I only saw a glimpse of what happened as I focused on my target.

Brooke had jabbed her syringe of medication right into Owen’s chest, throwing her body against his to push the plunger and to disorientate him. Owen threw Brooke off after shocking her with his Taser. He pulled out the half-used syringe. He slowly turned towards me, but Elliot swept his legs out.

Elliot then had Biker Dude disarmed and injected at nearly the same time; I couldn’t even absorb all of what happened. There was an arm flip, a leg sweep, and some other moves. A gun and a Taser had slid across the floor. He held the men down as their movements slowed.

This left Payton for me, who was unarmed, and I flung myself at her, sticking the needle into her neck.

“Please,” she said as I pushed the plunger. “My husband needs me. He’s out of options.”

It was at that moment I felt sorry for her. She would do anything to save the man she loved. What did that kind of love feel like? Maybe she was just trying to play me. I hesitated for a moment, but finished the injection. She struggled against my body, but she was older and weaker than I was. As she relaxed, I helped her to the floor.

Not allowing relief to rush in, I assessed who was left standing under the blue glow of the watches. Elliot, Brooke, and me. My father lay on the floor, but he was trying to straighten himself. He clutched his shoulder, shot again. I squatted down beside him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “This one doesn’t hurt as bad as the other one did.” The scowl on his face told me differently.

“You did great, Dad.” I forced a smile.

Elliot came up to me, put his hand on one of my shoulders, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Was this all over? I took my father’s hand. He was alive. We were all alive, even though this was just the beginning.

I helped my father steady himself against a wall. He reached for me with his good arm and pulled me into a hug. I returned his embrace, and the tears flowed. How long was it since he’d hugged me?

“June, I love you,” he said. “I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry that I’ve let you down and led you to believe I wasn’t happy to have you.”

I nodded into his chest, savoring his words that I had waited so long to hear.

Love comes in many different forms. Love, lies, and clones. That had been my life the past few weeks. It was time for something different.

My father’s grip loosened, and he slid sideways to the floor, leaving a blood smear on the wall behind him.

“Dad!”

His eyes rolled back. I shook him. No response. I felt for pulse. It was there, but faint. Was there another bullet wound? I straightened out his cloths and tried to find another blood spot, but there was nothing more than the shoulder shot and the old wound on his abdomen. My eyes stung. Elliot struggled to move Biker Dude and Slim’s body to barricade the door.

The tear gas was coming.

“We need to Case-Evac. We have an injury. Bring a stretcher down and have an ambulance ready,” Elliot told his communication device. He took his shirt off and stuffed it under the door like he did with his jacket in the other room. “Brooke, find something to soak in water. We can hold that over our faces until the gas masks come.”

I rubbed my burning eyes. It was too late. My breath caught in my lungs, my chest hurt, and my skin crawled. My watery eyes prevented me from seeing exactly what Brooke or Elliot were doing. A scream threatened to escape, but I couldn’t move the air.

“Hurry!” Elliot choked out. I didn’t know if he was talking to the FBI, or Brooke, or both.

Almost on cue, gas-mask wearing FBI agents were at our door. They had their weapons drawn and carefully scanned and entered, stepping over the fallen bodies. As ridiculous as it was, my hands automatically rose, showing I surrendered.

“The room’s secured,” Elliot said.

An agent helped me into a gas mask, which provided some relief. My eyes still stung, and I wanted to rub them. I blinked and rolled them around for relief. When my vision cleared, I glanced around the room. My father, Elliot, and Brooke hid behind their gas masks too, only my father lay on a stretcher. I wanted to go to him, but there were too many agents around. I sunk to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees.

Elliot sat next to me. He put a comforting arm around my back, pulled me into his side, and rubbed my shoulder. I relaxed against him the best I could. Together, we watched the agents prepare my father to leave the building.

The sunlight was blinding as I stepped outside. I walked beside my father’s stretcher, clutching his still hand. Pull through, Dad! Elliot and Brooke were behind us, helping with the clones. Evan was there. He patted me on the shoulder and gave me a concerned smile. All the images I’d had in Elliot’s storage unit about the evilness in Evan’s features melted. He now looked heroic. Perspective, I guess. He let go of my shoulder and joined his brother.

The paramedics loaded my dad on an ambulance, and I followed. So did Elliot and another FBI agent. My father monopolized my attention, and I missed whatever else was going on other than Brooke being helped into another ambulance. I had just gotten my father back, and I couldn’t lose him now.

“Come with us,” one agent said.

I stared at my father and couldn’t get any words out.

Elliot and Evan both reasoned with them for me.

“He’s her father.”

“She needs to be with him.”

I didn’t know who said what. I just kept moving wherever my dad was. They had removed his shirt and one paramedic was holding pressure to his shoulder wound. The other was examining the stitched-up bullet wound in his abdomen. It was different from when I last saw it. Bulging into a dark purple lump.

The paramedics worked fast. One started an IV and the other gave one medication after another. My dad was breathing, though slowly, and his heart was still beating.

I kept quiet and stayed out of everyone’s way, pushing myself up against the wall of the ambulance. The paramedics checked and rechecked the multiple monitors, and I waited. After what felt like an eternity, I realized Elliot was holding my hand. I gripped it harder. His hand was nice, comforting and familiar; even though it was the first time I held it.

“How long was I in there?” I asked.

Elliot searched the digital displays in the ambulance. “I don’t know. About thirty hours or so.”

Only thirty hours. So much in my life had changed in that time. While there, it felt like an eternity, but now, I realized it was over in a blink of an eye.

We pulled into the ambulance bay at the emergency department, and I remembered Elliot’s aversion to hospitals. He didn’t hesitate as he was by my side when I followed my father in. Two FBI agents were right behind us, not wanting me, Elliot, or my father out of their sight.

“I’ll be right out here,” Elliot said.

I followed my dad into a room. A team of people in scrubs and lab coats worked on him. They all had a job, and I watched their intricate dance.

“Let me clean you up.”

“Huh?” I shook my head. I focused on the woman in blue scrubs with the stethoscope around her neck.

“You look like you could use some help,” she said.

I looked at my father. I wasn’t leaving him now. “No, I’m fine.”

“Can I ask you some questions then?”

I nodded, keeping my eyes glued on my dad.

“How do you know him?”

“I’m his daughter.”

She clicked on her uniTab screen. The questions continued. What happened? How long ago was he shot? What other medical conditions he has, etc. The questions went on forever, and there was no change in my father’s condition. He still lay on the table with multiple professionals probing him in some way or another.

When we finished, she had empathy in her eyes, and I realized what I must look like. I had cuts and bruises all over my face. “May I clean you up now?” she asked.

I turned toward my father again.

“Wait here. I’ll take care of you right in this room.”

“Thanks.”

She disappeared and returned with a basin and a bottle of liquid. She poured the liquid into the basin and wiped down my face with some gauze. “What happened to you?”

I chuckled. “Nothing.” Okay, a lot.

I imagined I would need to be prepared to answer that question, as I’d be asked again. I’d have some interesting scars on my face and arms.

She glued and bandaged the cuts on my face when I had refused to see a plastic surgeon. At that point, I didn’t care what I ended up looking like. I had more important things on my mind.

I followed the team as they pushed my father’s stretcher to the medical imaging department for a CT, x-rays, and whatever other tests they did.

“He needs surgery,” the doctor finally said. “Urgently. It looks like the bullet lodged in his abdomen worked its way to a major artery. It’s not completely punctured, but is slowly leaking. His abdomen is filling with blood. We’ve been giving him blood transfusions, but he lost so much already.”

“Yes. Do whatever’s needed. Please.”

The clock slowly ticked away the minutes while I waited in the surgery department’s waiting room. Beside me sat an FBI agent and a man AWOL from the military. Neither of which felt strange. What did feel strange was that despite all this seeming to be over, I still could lose my father at any moment.

Chapter 29

Beside me, the FBI agent’s uniWatch went off. “Bring Ms. Taylor now, we’re ready for her.”

Elliot and I followed the agents to an unmarked box truck parked in the employee lot behind the hospital. I wiped my sweaty palms on my filthy jeans as we walked in silence. They shuffled me into the back of the truck where I squeezed into a folding chair amongst an array of equipment. Two new FBI agents sat across the table.

Elliot stepped inside, but an agent’s outstretched arm stopped him. “You’ll need to wait outside, Mr. Roe.”

Shit. I’m in trouble.

Elliot’s eyes locked onto mine, and he gave a small nod of encouragement before the door shut on him.

“Ms. Taylor, we have a few questions to ask you,” the male FBI agent said. He had short white-blond hair and wore a navy blue t-shirt with FBI stamped on it in yellow letters. “I’m sorry about the shape your father’s in.”

I shrugged and blinked away tears. What did you say to that?

“I’m Agent Johnston and this is Agent Quigley.” He motioned to the woman beside him. Her reddish brown hair was secured tightly into a bun, making her cheeks look fuller.

Agent Quigley began the conversation. “Ms. Taylor, we’d like to take your statement on what happened. We’re recording this.” She motioned to a small device on the table.

I took a deep breath. “Didn’t Evan tell you everything already?”

“We want your side of the story.”

I spoke calmly and mustered as much sincerity as possible, despite how tired I was. “Well, my father had disappeared. I looked for him and ended up locked in that facility. How much detail do you want?”

Agent Quigley tapped a stylist on the table. “Could you explain how you ended up inside the research facility in a room full of clones?”

The way she said it made my stomach roll. I cocked my head at her, contemplating her words.

She continued. “We understand you’re an expert in cloning.”

I stared at her, puzzled. Where was this going? “I work at the university and my research is on cloning.” Things started to fall in place. “I had nothing to do with this.” A drip of sweat rolled down my neck and got lost in my loose hair.

“I’m not saying you did. We’re just trying to obtain the entire story.”

I motioned to my face, and then turned my cut up arms toward the agent. “Do I look like I had anything to do with this?” My eyelids were heavy and my words did not come out as neatly as I wanted. Maybe even having an edge of contempt.

Agent Quigley spoke in her flat voice, “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“Well, it sure sounded like you were.”

Agent Johnston gave his partner a look before taking over the interrogation. “It’s just that you’re talented in that subject matter. Let’s put that aside for now. Please start from the beginning and explain how they ended up capturing you.”

I told him what Officer Sheridan knew. How I defied police orders and went after my father anyway. Of how the whole process took too long and the quickest way to end it was by giving myself up to Payton. That they needed me to make my father cooperate.

“And why do you think they wanted your father?” asked Agent Quigley.

“He worked with cloning many years ago. I don’t know what they wanted him to do specifically. I just know there was a room of four clones hooked up to some sedative feeding concoction. What’ll you do with them?”

“I don’t think we know yet,” Agent Quigley said.

“Well, they’re human too. You need to treat them so.”

“And what do you think we should do with them?”

“Slow down their growth and let them develop. Take them off the sedatives so their mind can grow too.”

“It definitely sounds like you’re an expert.” Agent Quigley released a sly smile.

Urgh, were we back there? My lack of sleep put me on edge. “They are human! I wouldn’t do that to a human.” I took a deep breath and continued. “My dad knows more than I do.” What did they want from me?

“And why didn’t you go to the police?”

“I told you that I did go to them. Many times.” At least I did in the beginning. “They didn’t want my information and wouldn’t let me help. They said I was obstructing justice.” I looked the woman across from me in the eyes. My edginess returned. “Turns out, without me, none of you would have found any of this, Brooke may be dead by now, and maybe another orphan would be missing.”

The interrogation didn’t end there. The agents circled around and around again, asking questions about my kidnapping and my cloning expertise. Eventually, they seemed satisfied and allowed me to return to the hospital to check on my dad. If it was even possible, I was more tired than before.

Elliot spoke to the FBI for only a few minutes. I guessed he had already given them most of his story before he came to rescue me. He found me sitting in the surgery department waiting room. They were still operating on my father.

Elliot took a seat next to me, took my hand, and kissed my forehead. I leaned on his shoulder and fell asleep.

“June?”

I tried to open my eyes, but they stung.

A rough thumb stroked my cheek. “June, they say you can see him now.”

My world came into focus as I forced my stinging eyes open. Elliot squatted in front of me. He helped me up, placed a hand on the small of my back, and guided me to a nurse waiting by an open door. She escorted us to a room in the intensive care unit where my father lay sleeping. Machines and tubes were connected to almost every part of him.

The nurse spoke, “We’re keeping him sedated while he heals. He’s lucky he got here when he did. A few more minutes with that leaky artery would have killed him. Unfortunately, he’s not out of the woods yet. His condition’s critical.” Despite these words, I took a deep breath and my muscles relaxed. He was still alive.

Elliot pulled a chair up next to my father’s bed for me to sit down and disappeared somewhere behind me. I gripped my father’s cool hand. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping my tears on my soiled sleeve.

I didn’t think the time would come, but at some point, I was back at my house. The FBI had dropped me off there, as my car was still at the police impound. Elliot rode along.

“Are you going to be okay?” Elliot said, walking me to my door and rubbing my back.

Instinctively, I nodded. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be fine.” I spoke those words and forced myself not to think about them. They were what I needed to say whether they were true or not.

Elliot had done so much for me already, that I couldn’t get myself to ask him for more. He had risked his life for me, more than once. He had shared his pain and his secrets. Stood by my side when I was nothing but a pain in the ass. He came to get me and defied the police.

I stared into his chest, unable to lift my eyes to meet his or tears would come again.

Elliot seemed hesitant to leave, and when I looked up, his eyes pleaded for me to say something. Stay with me. I couldn’t get the words out.

“I’ll bring Thursday by in the morning,” he said, giving me a stiff and awkward hug. “You really need a good night sleep.” As he turned to leave, I felt my emptiness return. I wasn’t used to him leaving—he had always been so pushy to stay. I never had to ask for what I wanted. Again, the words please stay danced in my mind, but I kept my lips tight, watching Elliot get back in the car with the FBI.

I was alone in my house and alone in the world, neither of which I liked.

Peeling off my blood-soaked clothes, I took the quickest shower possible before crawling in bed and curling up in a ball. I tried counting sheep and focusing on my breathing, but as much as I tried to empty my mind, thoughts kept surfacing if I should have done something differently. If I stayed away, would my dad not be hurt? Why had I been so stubborn and not run off with him the day he appeared on my porch?

Stop it, June.

I pulled all the positive thoughts I could. I had made amends with my father. If I had ran off with him, I doubt he would have told me about Mom, why he created me, and that I had a sister. I swallowed a lump in my throat. If I had ran off with my father, I wouldn’t have met Elliot. I wouldn’t have ever shared my secret with anyone and never had the hope of loving someone again.

Eventually, I grabbed a pillow and fell asleep, wishing I was in Elliot’s arms.

At six in the morning, my intercom chirped. I was half-asleep, but welcomed company. I had no idea where my uniTab was so I had to drag myself from bed to view the digital intercom display near my front entry door.

It was Elliot; of course, he knew I was an early riser. He looked as bad as I felt, the circles under his eyes telling the story. I flung the door opened when I remembered he was bringing Thursday. A rush of happiness filled me for the first time in weeks as my tail-wagging bundle of love greeted me. Thursday was home. He couldn’t contain himself, and frankly, neither could I.

“I missed you so much!” I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around my dog’s warm body. He planted a wet kiss on my cheek. I firmly rubbed his neck, behind his ears, and his sides. He spun in circles, causing my hands to scratch his entire body.

Once I had my fill of him, since there was no way he’d ever has his fill of me, I joined Elliot in the kitchen. Thursday sat beside me with his head on my lap.

“It’s nice seeing you happy,” Elliot said. His charming smile made my heart skip a beat.

I reached across the table and took his hand. “So, now what?” No sense in small talk and avoiding the question I was sure we both had.

“I need to leave this afternoon.” He looked down at our intertwined hands. “I know this is bad timing, but I have to go.”

“Yeah, I expected that.” I rubbed my lip. Had I not let Elliot completely in because I knew he was leaving me? “What about your arm? Can you get out with an injury?”

He pulled up his t-shirt’s sleeve with one hand. There was nothing more than a fine red line. “I had it glued shut in the hospital yesterday while you were with the FBI. It was a small wound, nothing the military will worry about.”

Too bad. “Where are you going?”

“Texas for now, waiting for my next assignment. Of course, I’m being demoted, but going back prevents a full out arrest. The problem goes away.”

I nodded. I’d do the same in his situation. His commitment and responsibility were two of the reasons I was drawn to him. How could I talk him out of this?

“This is probably not the right time to bring this up, but if I would have known I would meet you, I wouldn’t have re-enlisted.” He rubbed his hand on his scar. “June, I want to be with you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. It’s just that I need to take care of this first. Once I settle in, I’ll do whatever I can…but I really don’t want you to put your life on hold for me.”

I tried to say something, but nothing came out.

Elliot shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t need an answer to that. You know I’m hard to get rid of.” He smiled again.

My tears swelled up, and I tried to blink them away. The more I thought of Elliot leaving, the harder it was to control my emotions. “How much time do you have left in the military?”

“I re-enlisted right before the incident. I have a good four years left. I can try for a medical discharge, but I don’t think I qualify. Besides, I did commit to this.”

I nodded again. There was no sense in dwelling on his decision. Thursday’s big reddish-brown eyes stared up at me, and he let out a little whine while I rubbed his head. It was still only him and me. I wiped my wet cheeks.

“June...” Elliot’s voice was soft. He stood up and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, and I settled into his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m so sorry.”

All the awkwardness dissolved. This was where I was meant to be. Four years? Could we wait for each other? They were years I hadn’t expected to live, anyway.

Elliot continued, “But I have this morning free and already have all my stuff packed up. Let’s enjoy the time we have together.” He must not have slept at all last night. “I’d be happy to take you to see your father.”

I nodded. “That’d be great.”

Once I loosened my grip on him, he pulled out of our hug and gripped my hands with both of his.

“So what’s next for you?” he asked. “When all the dust settles, what are you going to do?”

The sob I had been holding escaped. Waiting for you. He pulled me into him and leaned his cheek on the top of my head. His strong hands rubbed my back. Thursday leaned against my leg while I pulled my composure together. “I don’t know yet. Who knows if I even have my job? I’ve been a little AWOL too. Even if I do, I think I may need something different.”

Elliot spent the morning with me at the hospital. He felt like an old friend who knew all my secrets. For once, I felt at peace. I told him some of what happened to me with Payton, but when I told him some of the bad, his jaw tightened. I didn’t want to spend my last day with him depressed, so, instead, I told him of how much I had thought about him. How knowing him gave me the strength to get through those thirty hours. Of how my father and I made up.

I didn’t want the morning to end, but it had to. He walked me to my duplex’s door and when I opened it, Elliot grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him, engulfing me in his arms.

“June, I’ll think about you every day.”

I shook my head, wanting to deny it, but other words came out. “I’ll think about you too. I just—”

His lips interrupted my words. It was a small and gentle kiss, but my stomach tingled and I returned it with tenderness I didn’t realize I had. Even though this was a goodbye, it didn’t feel that way. It felt like a beginning.

“I’ll call and message you once I settle in,” he said.

“Please do that.” Again, my eyes watered, and I let the tears escape. I was done hiding how I felt, but still struggled to find the words. “I’ll miss you.”

That afternoon, after Elliot left, I went back to the hospital to visit my dad. I just sat in the room with him, watching the machine inflate and deflate his lungs. Listening to the steady clicking noises of the pump administering him fluids and medications. He was alive, and I told myself I was not alone.

When I left, heaviness settled over me when I saw the FBI agents outside his hospital room. They weren’t there to keep my dad safe. They were there to watch him. The FBI knew his involvement in human cloning, and even when he woke up from this, he was going to face his biggest fear. He was either going to prison for life or sentenced to death. I wouldn’t think about that now. He was here with me for the moment, safe.

Chapter 30

I went from deep sleep to wide awake in only a moment when the hospital called in the middle of the night. I fumbled to swipe ‘answer’ on my uniTab’s screen.

“Hi, it’s June.” I was breathless.

The nurse’s words didn’t come fast enough to calm the pins and needles pricking my skin. “Your father’s awake and off the ventilator.”

I may have cut the nurse off, but I needed to get to the hospital. I flung my uniTab down on my bed, threw on the first clothes I saw, and rushed out my door.

Within thirty minutes, I walked past the FBI agent and through the glass doors into my dad’s room. I swear his eyes literally lit up when he saw me. Mine probably did too. I grasped his trembling hand. “Hi Dad.” My world slowed down, and I wiped my watery eyes.

His expression softened when a smile emerged on his face, then he settled back into the hospital bed. How could I have chased this man away? He was my father. No matter what happened, he was family. No matter how many lies, how many bad decisions, and how thick the wall was between us, we were still connected.

His voice cracked. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t come.”

I patted his hand. “Sure you would. The FBI were figuring it out, and the police were getting close too.”

He softly shook his head. “Yeah, maybe, but I’d given up hope. I would have taken my secret with me to the grave.” He looked away from me. “In fact, I had plans to do just that.”

“Let’s not think about that. It’s over. Everything turned out better than anyone could have expected.” I searched for a quick subject change. “Thursday can’t wait until you’re out of the hospital, he’d like to get to know you better.” My throat thickened, and I stopped talking when I realized what I had said.

When my dad was out, he was going to prison. At least he was alive, I told myself. I’d visit him when I could and communicate as much as possible, which was a lot more than I had done over the past three years. I swallowed a knot; hopefully, he wouldn’t get a death sentence.

He humored me, not showing the sadness I’d expect of a man with his fate. Maybe a lie or two was not so bad. “Yeah, Thursday kind of liked me.”

I chuckled.

“June…” He looked at me in the eyes, his eyebrows relaxed, and his eyes widened. “I want you to know I had given up cloning. I had no idea what Payton was actually using the thermocycler for. She told me she wanted to work on rat DNA and its ability to withstand certain diseases. I thought she was doing something good.”

I believed him. We made small talk for the next hour. My father listened to stories of my research and my teaching job. I told him of the troubles I’d been having with the golden toad eggs.

“Let me give you some advice,” he said. “It’s not any one thing that makes cloning a success. It’s all of it. For instance, you were my only attempt at a clone of your mother. To start with, it’s not only the nutrient broth; it’s also the temperature and humidity of the room, not to mention technique.” My dad held his chin up as he went on and on, telling me all his secrets. “Obviously, I’m not writing this down. I can’t let it get in the wrong hands.”

I understood what he meant. He trusted me. He had created me from my mom’s five-year-old cells. Cloning an extinct species shouldn’t differ from that, something I had been trying to do for years. My dad was a genius, and I didn’t feel inferior at all, I felt proud. I straightened myself in the chair next to him and squeezed his hand, letting him know I was there for him.

When my father’s eyes appeared heavy and yawns snuck into his conversation, I stood to leave, but he didn’t let go of my hand. He looked me directly in the eyes and spoke with sincerity. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t know why I never told you that before.”

Tears rushed out despite biting my bottom lip. He had them too.

“I never moved on after your mother died. Please don’t be like me. Find your place in the world and embrace it, don’t recreate the past, look to the future and enjoy the present. Follow your heart with everything. Work, relationships, entertainment, everything.”

I leaned down to hug him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without thought, I placed a kiss on his cheek before leaving the room.

The next day, it was time to attempt to save my job, if that was even possible at this point. I slipped into a light blue dress shirt and a pair of black dress pants. Stepping in front of my full-length mirror, I adjusted the collar of my shirt and smoothed out some non-existent wrinkles. I nearly didn’t recognize the face peering back at me.

Why did I bother to look nice? My face looked like hell. There were six butterfly bandages on the cuts on my forehead and cheek. The bandages did nothing to conceal the gashes. One eye was black and blue—well, actually a deep shade of purple—and my lip still swollen and cracked. Maybe I could play the sympathy card. I scheduled a meeting with my boss.

Warren welcomed me into his small office on the top floor of the biology building, offering me a seat in the guest chair at his desk. I twirled my uniWatch on my wrist, waiting for him to close the door and take the seat across from me.

The perfectionism of his office, from the paintings on the wall to the balance of his file cabinet and his desk, only added to the nerves I was trying to keep under control. My eyes latched on to a photo of Warren’s family. A woman and two children. The hole inside me opened up with thoughts of Elliot. I hoped the military wasn’t too hard on him for going AWOL. Helping his brother and me had been the right thing to do.

Warren’s eyes widened as soon as he saw me. “What happened to you, Professor Taylor?”

I didn’t hesitate. The truth was probably the easiest at this point. “I was kidnapped.” Okay, this was most of the truth.

He tilted his head at me, but said nothing.

My palms were sweaty. “I know. Who gets kidnapped, right? You can check with the police or the FBI and they’ll confirm it.”

His eyebrow raised. “The FBI?”

“Yeah, they were looking for the Orphan Killer.”

“I saw they arrested nine people involved in that case. A ring of organ harvesting for the black market.”

I nodded and relaxed my posture.

He rubbed his chin and shuffled the few pieces of paper he had on his desk. “Well, this is not what I expected.”

An uncomfortable laugh escaped. “Yeah, me either.”

He stood up and moved to the front of his desk. “Well, I’ll send the Biotech Board a message explaining this. I’ll need an electronic vote from them before you could be reinstated, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

A huge amount of tension left my body. That was almost too easy, but I had truly been kidnapped. What choice did he have? The university didn’t need to know that I got myself into that mess.

Warren continued. “We really could use your cloning expertise at the university. I have a feeling that with this new technology of mixing cloning with DNA manipulation, it’s going to be big, and I’d like to be on the cutting edge.”

This was everything I ever desired, yet my stomach turned. In a flash, I recognized my problem. It wasn’t what I wanted anymore, especially loaded with all my dad’s cloning secrets. I didn’t know what I desired, just that this wasn’t it. I didn’t need to come up with a breakthrough in science. I didn’t need to make a name for myself. It was time for a change. Time to think and heal.

I stood up. “Thank you Warren, you’ve been great to work for, but I think I’m going to take a break from all of this for a while.” Maybe it was some type of PTSD, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I shook Warren’s hand and left his office before he could argue.

As I made my way through the hallways, I stumbled into Isaac and Kaitlin in the hall. They were holding hands. I rubbed my hand, thinking of the comfort Elliot’s had given me. I smiled.

They saw me and abruptly stopped.

“Oh my. What happened to you, Prof? Doctor Brandt had said your dad was injured, but never said you were too.”

“It looks worse than it is. I’m fine. My dad’s doing better too. They moved him out of ICU and to a surgical floor. Um, you can call me June. I just quit my job.”

Isaac’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”

“It’s okay. I’m in need of a change anyway.”

“A change? What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I have money saved from when I sold my house a few years ago. It gives me time to figure it all out.”

“We need to get to class, but will you meet us at the Union for drinks? Maybe you can tell us how you look like you were hit by a truck?”

The old June would have said no without a second thought. I wasn’t that woman anymore. “Tonight? I think I’m free.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Kaitlin said, “you were a fabulous teacher. You really changed my outlook on cloning.”

My face had to be plastered with a goofy smile as I left the biology building. My goal of teaching was always to touch someone’s life in one way or another. I supposed I had done that with Kaitlin. Maybe, in some way, I had with all of my students.

Once I was outside, I took a deep breath of the fresh air and closed my eyes, allowing the sun to warm my skin. The traffic hummed, crowds shuffled on the sidewalk, and a pigeon cooed. The pressure weighing me down lifted. I was free to be myself. I had nothing to prove and nobody to impress. My future was uncertain, but I had time. Lots of time.

I rushed to answer my uniTab when Ginny called. She missed Thursday, so I insisted on bringing him over to her house for a visit.

Her door opened and Thursday pushed his way inside. Ginny squatted down and gave him a hug. I didn’t know which one of them was more excited.

“It’s been too long!” Ginny’s charming southern accent put me at ease. She called back into the house. “Evan, June’s here!”

Evan strolled out of the kitchen and joined her at the door.

“Please, come in.” Ginny moved away from the door. Her hands ruffled the fur on Thursday’s back while he pushed his body into hers, demanding more.

I locked my eyes to Evan and said in my most sincere voice. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

Evan’s smile lit up his face. “Thank you for keeping my brother safe.”

I laughed. “Trust me, it went the other way.”

“Well, he said you shot more of them than he did.”

I sunk away and looked down at their beige carpet. “Yeah, I was a little trigger happy. Have you heard from him?” My heart hammered in my chest and my palms sweated with anticipation.

“I’m sorry, but not in the past week. I’m sure he’s busy explaining his absence…and probably taking some punishment for it.”

I cringed and changed the subject, not wanting to think about that. “So, what are you up to now? Or is it classified?”

Evan chuckled. “No, I’m not working for the FBI. I was only helping them out. That life isn’t for us.” He put his hand on Ginny’s shoulder and kissed her on the top of her head—in a way that reminded me of Elliot. “I’m going back to SBRI’s security department. That’s a little more my speed.”

“Do you have any updates on Payton and the rest of them? On SBRI?”

“I don’t know everything, as a lot of it is classified, but I know that SBRI was innocent. Their entire business was legit. Twenty years ago, they may have performed illegal activity, but the company had been sold a few times since then and management is completely different. Payton and those working for her are in custody. I don’t know what they’ll do with them.”

I held my breath as I asked the next question. “And Payton’s husband, Mike?”

Evan pulled Ginny closer to him. “He is sick. Dying. He didn’t know any of this was going on.”

Once again, my heart slowly sunk. Was there a way those four cloned men could save his life without anyone having to die?

Evan noticed my hesitation. “You can’t save everyone. Sometimes, you need to let nature take its course.”

Chapter 31

The next few weeks went by, and I was settling into my new life, enjoying doing, well, nothing for a while. I had always worked so hard that a break was something I needed. Again, I felt myself waiting for Elliot. This time, I wasn’t waiting for him to come and save me, I was waiting for him to call, to message me, to do something. Maybe it was my turn to hunt him down.

The hospital discharged my father, and the authorities held him for his crimes. I hadn’t told them about my father’s involvement in human cloning, but my dad confessed to it. It was another thing making me proud of him. Whether he told the FBI that I was a clone, I didn’t know, but I imagined it wouldn’t take them much effort to figure out.

I thought the whole FBI/police fiasco would push human cloning public. I expected to open my door one morning to a hundred reporters, but it didn’t happen. The FBI made us swear to keep it a secret, telling us the public wasn’t ready to know about it. Which piqued my interest more than any lecture, DNA insertion, or cloning experiment could.

I invited Brooke out for Mexican food. I had been thinking about her a lot and wanted to see how she was doing. She had laughed at the invite and said, “It can be the first meeting of our secret human cloning club!”

For some reason, my palms were sweaty and I felt shaky when I walked into the eatery on the west side of town, but when Brooke smiled that all melted away. She was sitting at a small table along the wall with a few sombreros’ hanging above her head, digging into a margarita.

“It’s happy hour,” she said. “Two-for-one drink specials.”

Though I didn’t typically drink, I made an exception for her. With what we had been through, I was celebrating life.

“I’m happy your dad pulled through.” She picked up a blue corn chip and dipped it in salsa. I could smell the mix of cilantro and fresh tomato.

“Thanks. Me too.” I sunk into the vinyl booth. “I wish I could relive the last three years and have more time with him.”

She sighed. “Well, you can’t predict the future.”

So true. And if I did know the future, it would have consumed me, like how I had been consumed thinking I’d die at thirty-two.

Brooke circled her straw in the large cactus margarita glass. “I have a dilemma, and maybe you could help me with it.”

“I’m all ears.” I dived into the chips and salsa while I waited for her to speak.

“Well, I know I was only created as a backup plan for the person who donated their cells to me.” Her eyes focused on her glass.

As morbid and crude as that thought was, I nodded. There was no sense arguing the truth.

“I understand the FBI looked into these people who had clones made of themselves. It appears they had no idea they were involved in illegal activity. They had purchased ‘a backup organ program’ where they thought they were just buying a storage vault of their DNA to be ready if they needed it. They paid big money when they actually needed an organ or other part.”

My churning stomach made me put my chip down.

Brooke continued, “Yeah. They thought that’s when their organ would be grown. Payton had been cashing in on this to fund her other cloning experiment. Well, I really feel I owe it to the woman I was created from to help in any way I can. I understand she’s dying.”

My mouth must have fallen open. “Are you gonna donate your bone marrow to her?”

“Yeah, I think I am. I have an appointment at SBRI tomorrow. They said they’d help me with this, if I chose to donate.”

“You don’t owe it to your cell donor.”

“No, but I owe it as a human. If I can save a life, how can I live with myself if I don’t try?”

Brooke made me want to be a better person. “Well, then I think you should do what is right. If I had a chance to give something of mine to my mother, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

I finally took a deep breath and put a smile on my face to change the grim mood. “What grade’s your daughter in?”

Her grin radiated pride as she told me about her daughter. I leaned forward and listened all about her, happy I had another friend.

One sunny morning, I was getting ready for my run when my intercom chirped. I fought back a huge grin, thinking it could actually be for me. A few months ago, I was certain nobody would visit me. Then my father showed up.

Honestly, my heart skipped a beat when I opened the door to Elliot. His smile, his puckered scar, his welcoming green eyes pulled me in. I flung my arms around him, and he engulfed me in his embrace, picking me up off the ground.

Thursday’s tail was wagging as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Honestly, if I had a tail, it would have been wagging too.

He set me down. “May I come in?”

I stepped away and pushed the absurd smile off my face. “Of course.” Once he was inside, I couldn’t wait. “How’d you get away?”

His eyes twinkled. “I got a new job.”

“I thought you were stuck for four years.”

“Well, I knew someone that pulled a few strings for me with a certain government agency.”

I leaned back in the kitchen chair. “Evan got you into the FBI?”

He nodded. “It wasn’t quite that easy, but they say they could use my military background, plus only a few people know about cloning.”

I let out a small chuckle. “So they hired you to keep you quiet?”

“Pretty much. A bit of them policing up.” He smiled, seeming to realize he was using military lingo again. “Cleaning up and correcting the cloning drama.”

“So, what brings you to my doorstep?” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and my smile matched Elliot’s.

“I have a job offer for you.”

“Really? That’s what brought you here?” The butterflies escaped, and my heart sank. “I guess the FBI needs to keep me quiet too, huh?”

He laughed. “I don’t think that’s their only reason. The FBI is looking for someone with an eye for adventure. Someone who can work with clones and who wants to make a difference. Someone who cares about them and most of all, someone that works well with me.”

I stared at him. The thought of other cloning projects made me cringe, but if the FBI was forming a team, there was more going on in the world than my little part. I couldn’t fight all the battles, could I? “I gave up cloning.”

Elliot continued. “Oh, it’s not creating new clones. It turns out there are four clones in need of a genetic expert to help get them functional enough to integrate with society. You did say, ‘they deserve to live,’ didn’t you?”

Yeah, I did and still stood behind those words. “Those four are still alive then?”

Elliot nodded. “Yes, they’re still sedated until a team can be formed. Your dad’s been giving them some information and tips, but the FBI doesn’t like to work with felons. I think he’ll get a plea bargain out of it, though.”

A huge pressure fled my body; a plea bargain would mean my dad would avoid the death penalty.

Elliot continued, “I understand the issue is bigger than expected. They identified you, completely separate from the fiasco we were in, to be the genetic scientist. I begged for the privilege to present this information to you.”

“So you’d be my bodyguard?” I teased him, avoiding the decision. He playfully shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll need one. Besides, I gave that up. I’m more of a white collar guy.” His smile made me remember my words from what seemed like so long ago.

“I was building my life here. I don’t know if I can abandon it now.” My stomach turned.

“Madison can be our home base. They haven’t set the facilities up yet. We’ll have to travel some, but we can come home here when time permits.”

I crossed my arms and dwelled on the words ‘our’ and ‘we.’ “I see, and how long do I have to decide?”

“Two weeks or so. They are still forming the team. The sooner you let them know, the better though.”

I stood up, and he followed suit. “So you’re here for a little while?” I let out my most playful smile and took a few steps towards him.

“I have a confession to make.” Elliot’s face turned serious.

I stopped in my tracks—all my playfulness gone. “A confession?”

He reached over and took my hand. “Over these past few weeks, I can’t get you out of my head. I had always seen strength in you, but now, with what you’ve gone through, you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You may have trouble trusting people, but once you let them in, you are the most loyal person I know.”

I shook my head but couldn’t form an argument.

“It’s true, don’t deny it,” Elliot continued, “Evan mentioned the FBI’s interest in you, and I begged him for a contact in their organization. I’ve been working my butt off the past few weeks coordinating all this. The job offer was just an excuse to come and see you. I think you were right from the beginning. I am stalking you. June, I don’t want to be without you. I hope you can take the chance on me.”

I smiled, despite my blurring vision. “You’ve been in my head too. I was going to hunt you down and do a little stalking of my own. You talk about my loyalty, but I think you’re something more special. You repeatedly risked your life for me…and you didn’t even know me. Plus, I’m not an easy person to like.” I dropped Elliot’s hands and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“Stop it. That’s so not true,” Elliot said. “You’ve got a charisma around you. There’s something magical in your eyes—the way you look at people made me want to break down your wall. I could see your pain. Your loneliness. I had it too and knew, from the first time I saw you that we’d be good for each other.”

“You didn’t answer me before. How long do we have together now?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Did you have something in mind for us to do?”

I didn’t need to think about this. I pulled him against me, wrapped my arms around his neck, and looked into his eyes. “I could think of a few things.” My lips brushed against his, lingering for just a moment before I pulled away. “I’d love to get to know you when nobody is trying to kill or kidnap us.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.”

I gave him a teasing smile. “And I’d like to find my sister, and you said you make a great partner.”

He smiled and kissed me again.

I pulled away for a moment. “I guess finding my sister can wait until tomorrow.” For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. It was in his arms, no matter where we ended up or how long it lasted.

THE END

THANK YOU

I wanted to end with a thank you. Thank you for staying with me all the way to the end.

If you enjoyed this book, I’d really appreciate knowing–since I write specifically to provide you with entertainment. You can send me an email, post on my Facebook page, comment on Twitter, or (my favorite way) leave a review on Amazon or GoodReads.

Stay tuned.

More stories to come.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joynell Schultz's passion for writing was overshadowed by obtaining a doctorate degree in pharmacy from the University of Wisconsin – Madison, a "reliable profession." Working as a veterinary pharmacist pays the bills, but is not nearly as exciting as creating alternative worlds writing speculative fiction. While shivering through the long northern Wisconsin winters with her husband, two children, and numerous pets, she enjoys reading, writing, and planning her next vacation.

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