Lisa stared at her, fascinated. “Milo says you’re a psychic.”
“I actually said she was a claircognizant,” Milo corrected. “It’s a more precise definition, one that doesn’t conjure up images of crystal balls and séances.”
Claire’s smile reached her eyes. “Thank you for that. Very few people make that distinction. Claircognizance—clear knowing—is a metaphysical sense in which I simply know something to be true, even though I can’t back any of it up with fact or provide an explanation as to how I know it. It’s not that the term psychic is wrong, it’s just that it’s so overused and in all the wrong ways.”
“And handling Julie’s things can trigger your awareness?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t promise you results, but, yes, that’s usually what happens.”
“Well, producing a bunch of Julie’s personal items is no problem. I have some of her photos, books, costume jewelry, and workout clothes. We wanted to make the identity switch as real as possible. So Milo collected the most significant things he could find from her apartment—along with all the tech stuff Ryan needs—right before we took off.”
“Good. Can you get all that to me with time to spare before Shannon’s arrival tomorrow evening?” Claire asked.
“Sure,” Milo said. “As soon as we get home, I’ll pack up everything I took from Julie’s apartment. Then I’ll hop an early train here first thing tomorrow morning and bring it to you while Lis is running the gym.”
“That’s not happening,” Casey replied. “We’re going to be here most of the night prepping you, not only for when Shannon shows up but for what you should do to stay safe and below the radar. No more media coverage for your gym, for example. Nothing that puts you in the public eye. I’d be willing to bet that whoever killed Julie knows exactly where you are. They’ll be keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re a good girl who started a new life far away that’s of no threat to them.”
“Do you think they know they killed the wrong woman?” Milo asked.
“It’s a definite possibility. Either way, they’re going to be vigilant.”
“Are you going to help keep us safe?” Lisa’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Absolutely. That’s part of what we need to discuss. Marc and Patrick are the go-to people for that. They’ll need to know every moment of your schedules so they can work out a system to protect you. So you’ll need to spend a chunk of tonight meeting with them. While that’s happening, Ryan will be reviewing all the material Miles just emailed him and digging even deeper. He’ll come up with more, believe me, and some of what he finds might impact how we instruct you.”
Casey turned to Emma, letting her know that she hadn’t been sidelined. “And Emma’s going to have her own agenda. She has the tightest personal connection with the two of you. She’ll think of tactics we won’t. I’ll leave that in her hands. But, any way you look at it, you’re not leaving until you’re ready for what you’re about to face and how to manage it—and extract what you need to from it. That kind of prep could mean you’ll be here till dawn. So we’ll have to find another way for Claire to get what she needs—which, incidentally is of vital importance, just like everything else I just specified.”
“I’ll go to Upper Montclair now,” Claire offered. “Just give me your address, your keys, a list of what I’m looking for, and where I can find everything.”
“That’s not happening.” Patrick was shaking his head adamantly. “I’m sure their apartment is being watched. And you have no training in this area, Claire. We have to get in and out without being spotted. I’ll drive to Upper Montclair. It’ll be faster than the train. I’ll be back in two hours. Marc can brief me on whatever I miss.”
“Okay.” Lisa handed him her apartment keys and took a pad and pen out of her handbag. “Give me two minutes. I’ll compile the list and locations of what you’ll be looking for.” She was already scribbling, with Milo peering over her shoulder and muttering add-ons.
Five minutes later, Patrick was out the door and on his way.
“Okay, you two,” Casey said to Lisa and Milo. “You’re up first with me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Burlington, Vermont
It was a cool May night in the breathtaking Green Mountains.
Max’s focus wasn’t on the panoramic view. It was on the taste of success.
He sat in his study, sipping his Hennessy Privilege V.S.O.P. He was savoring not only his cognac but the promising weekly status report he’d received, summarizing the progress of all his prospects.
Max knew exactly how to get the most out of people. He had learned from the master—his father. A military instructor in the Russian army, his father’s job was to break men’s will and turn them into soldiers. By day, the battle-hardened man would terrorize hundreds of soldiers. At night, he would terrify his children with his mere presence—all save Max. Max learned and grew from his father’s dominance, his demands for mental and physical superiority. His father loved his work and was excellent at his job. The military decoration, The Order “For Military Merit,” conferred to him by the Russian Federation, said so. Whenever Max challenged his father, his father would simply point at the coveted medal and say: “When you have a more impressive one of these, then I will listen to what you have to say.”
Max respected that immensely. And he knew his father would soon respect what he was doing here in the United States.
On that thought, he made his decision.
It was time to summon all his handpicked trainers and, from the most accomplished members of their applicant pools, to select the next wave of champions.
Leaning forward, Max pressed the intercom button to awaken all phones in the complex.
“Dmitry,” he commanded. “Report to my private study immediately.”
Five minutes later, an out-of-breath Dmitry knocked on the door of Max’s study.
Max’s clipped response came from within. “Enter.”
Swiftly, Dmitry stepped inside, sat down in his assigned seat in Max’s office, and awaited his employer’s orders.
Max set down his cognac, then steepled his fingers in front of him on the desk.
“Dmitry, the results this week are extraordinary,” he said. “It’s time. Arrange for our usual meeting in St. Thomas one week from tomorrow.”
“Will that give everyone enough time to prepare?” Dmitry asked.
“If they want to win, they’ll make it enough time.”
“True.” Dmitry didn’t challenge his boss on that one—although he often expressed his opinion to Max in ways no one else was permitted to. Max trusted Dmitry, thought highly of his intellectual capabilities, and regularly elicited his thoughts. It was one of the best perks Dmitry enjoyed as the assistant to this brilliant, terrifying man.
“Tell Oskar I expect him to personally oversee all aspects of our meeting,” Max continued. “Tell him I want Maine lobsters this time—not the crap he tried to pawn off on us last time. Also, tell him I expect him to double the number of servers. They move at half the speed of normal people. I expect twice as many to make up for their shortcomings.”
Dmitry nodded. He didn’t need to write things down. He had a photographic memory, particularly when it came to Max.
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured his boss.
“Good.” Max picked up his cognac. “That will be all.”
As the door closed behind Dmitry, Max’s private cell phone rang.
“Yes?” he said in Russian.
“The Barker girl is on the move,” Slava reported, also in Russian. “She bought a train ticket and is on her way to Upper Montclair.”
“Obviously headed for Julie Forman.” Max considered that fact thoughtfully. “She probably read about Robbins’ disappearance and lost control. Speaking of which, I’m assuming you took care of all his pertin
ent files at the Apex Center.”
“Those files are now gone.”
“Good. Then Shannon Barker’s mecca to New Jersey doesn’t concern me, as long as it’s comfort she’s seeking. We’ll have to keep a close eye on her. She could become a loose cannon, if getting together with her mentor results in either one of them deciding to do some more digging. But with Robbins out of the picture, there's really nothing for them to pursue. And Forman's computer friend knows nothing. So they’ll all share one big dead end together.”
“And if they decide to push past that dead end and search for what's beyond it?”
“Then they’ll all share a grave next to Mr. Robbins.”
Upper Montclair, New Jersey
Train Station
Are you here???
Shannon was frantically messaging Julie even before the train came to a stop. The twenty-one-hour ride had given her way too much time to think. She’d checked the online Chicago newspaper sites a dozen times to see if Jim had resurfaced. He hadn’t.
Her worst fears were bubbling up inside her, and she somehow knew they were a reality.
Furtively, she checked her private messages as she walked down the platform.
She nearly sagged with relief when she saw she had a reply from Julie.
Clicking on the response, her face fell.
I was held up at the gym and am now picking up food for us. My friend, Miles Parker, who’s the best guy in the world and completely trustworthy, will be standing at the foot of the platform, waiting for you. He’s wearing an Excalibur (that’s my gym’s name) T-shirt and holding up a sign with your name on it. He’ll get you safely to my place, where we can get you settled in and talk. It’ll be okay, Shannon. And I can’t wait to see you!
The last part brightened Shannon’s mood a bit. She raised her head, scanning the area as she walked.
There.
A tall, scruffy-looking guy with a lopsided grin, wearing a chocolate-brown T-shirt with a gold-embossed logo of crossed swords and the word “Excalibur” on it, was posted in a direct path of the descending passengers. The sign he held up said, Shannon Barker.
Milo watched Shannon walk in his direction, wearing jeans and a zip-up hoodie, her wavy, light brown hair tied back in a hairband. As she slipped her iPhone into her pocket, her expression seemed to change from fearful disappointment to reluctant acceptance. Good. This was the way it had to be. Forensic Instincts was right. Whenever Lisa and Shannon had their first face-to-face, the girl’s illusions would shatter. And the fallout from that sure as hell couldn’t happen here.
“It’s going to be a traumatic and emotional event,” Casey had explained. “You want it to occur in a controlled environment—like your apartment. Not in the middle of a bustling train station. You have no idea how Shannon will react. She might freak out and try to run, or start crying and carrying on. You can’t let that happen in public, and you certainly can’t let her bolt. Keep the leverage in your hands. There’s no way Lisa can risk walking over and picking Shannon up herself. So Miles, you pick her up. Emma will be waiting in the apartment with Lisa to help defuse the situation and ease Shannon into the truth.”
Casey had gone on to outline the steps Lisa and Milo should take to pull it off.
They’d followed FI’s instructions to a tee.
Milo’s grin widened as Shannon shyly approached him, her backpack slung over one arm. “Shannon?” he verified.
She nodded.
“I’m Miles Parker.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. “I’m Julie’s right-hand guy, and her best friend. She’s said such great stuff about you. I’m glad to meet you.”
A smile lit Shannon’s eyes. “She did?”
“Yup.” Milo took her backpack. “She’s grocery shopping now. She wants you to have a home-cooked meal on your first night here.” A pause, and Milo groped in his pocket, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open. “There’s my Excalibur photo ID badge—just so you won’t worry that I’m not who I say I am.”
Shannon glanced at it, and Milo felt a wave of pity for the poor kid. She was trembling. “I’m an idiot,” she said. “I should have asked to see that right away. I’m just not used to…” She broke off, chewing her lip in a nervous gesture.
“Hey, you’re sixteen. Cut yourself some slack. Coming all this way by yourself was a huge deal—and a brave one.” Milo gestured toward the street. “Let’s go. Julie’s probably on her way home by now. We’ll meet her there.”
Just as FI had predicted, the walk to the apartment contained some nervous questions about Milo.
“How long have you and Julie known each other?” she asked. “Do you text all the time, or have you always lived close enough to get to see each other?”
If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything. Casey had drilled Mark Twain’s quote into Milo and Lisa over and over again.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Milo supplied. “Until a few weeks ago, I lived in Chicago, too. I came to New Jersey with Julie when she ran.”
“Oh.” Shannon looked surprised. “You just quit your job and took off? Are you guys in some serious relationship or something?”
“Nope.” Milo hid his grin. Her youthful openness was kind of refreshing. “We’re very close, but it’s more like brother and sister. And I didn’t have to quit my job. I’m an online tech support guy for Dell computers, so my job is transportable. Give me an Internet connection and my laptop, and I’m in business.”
“Cool.” Shannon fell silent, obviously deep in thought as she fiddled with the zipper of her hoodie. “Did Julie tell you what’s going on?” she blurted out.
“Yes, she did.” Milo kept his demeanor calm. “She’s scared, just like you are. And she’s worried about you. But I’m the only one she’s confided in.”
Shannon nodded, looking almost relieved that someone else—a much-needed ally—was clued in.
Milo led Shannon across the street, simultaneously easing her into the next reveal: their living arrangements.
“Julie’s a better cook than I am, so you’re lucky she’s in the kitchen tonight. I’m usually holed up in my room with my computer.”
The implication registered, and Shannon angled her head toward him. She looked more concerned about where that left her than she did about a guy staying with them. “You and Julie are roommates?”
“Yup.” Milo kept it light, grateful that Shannon wasn’t so sheltered that the very thought of this would send her running. “It keeps the cost of living down. And given the circumstances, I’m glad to be around for you ladies.”
Shannon started fiddling with her zipper again. “Uh…how many rooms… I mean, how big is the apartment… I mean…”
Milo saved her from further embarrassment. “Big enough,” he assured her. “Julie’s got the master bedroom, and I’ve got the small one. But I usually camp out in the living area; it’s bigger and I can do my work there. So it was no sweat to turn the second bedroom over to you.”
“That’s great.” Shannon exhaled with visible relief. “I just feel bad that I’m putting you out.”
Milo gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m a guy. Put me anywhere and I’m happy. Just as long as my tech gear is with me, there’s no problem.”
“Thank you,” Shannon said. Seeing Miles slow down, she glanced up at the apartment building they were approaching. “Is that where you guys live?”
“Uh-huh.”
He led her up the path, swinging her backpack onto his shoulder. He wasn’t usually into the gentleman stuff—his mind just didn’t work that way—but he felt a tremendous amount of sympathy for what Shannon was about to go through. She was a naïve kid—more naïve than most sixteen-year-olds, because she’d spent her life on balance beams and parallel bars rather than experiencing a normal socialization process with other k
ids her age, growing and maturing because of it. She’d also just lost her entire Olympic future as well as her health, and had been dragged into a majorly perilous situation. As if that wasn’t enough, she was about to find out that her only trusted ally was dead, with a virtual stranger taking her place.
Not only did Milo know how essential it was to get Shannon on their side, he truly wanted to get her on their side, to make her feel like she still had friends who were there to help. Friends who, thanks to Forensic Instincts, were in a much better position to keep her safe than Julie Forman had ever been. He was relieved as hell that Emma was waiting in their apartment, ready to convince her of that.
Leading the way inside the building, Milo gestured toward the stairs, and he and Shannon trudged up the two flights to the apartment.
“Here we are,” he announced, pulling out his keys and fitting one in the lock. With one quick turn, the door opened, and they were inside.
The wonderful smell of homemade cooking wafted to their nostrils, telling them that Julie was already home.
“We’re here!” Miles called out, waiting until Shannon preceded him inside before he shut the door and turned the bolt behind him, ensuring the closed quarters they required.
“Julie?” Shannon called out in excitement.
“Hi, Shannon.” Lisa emerged from the galley kitchen, Emma coming up quietly behind her. “I’m so relieved that you’re safe.”
At first, Shannon broke into smiles. She rushed toward the person she thought was Julie, arms open and ready to give her a big hug.
Then she abruptly halted in her tracks.
“You’re not Julie.” All the blood drained from her face. “Who are you? Where’s Julie?” Shannon’s gaze darted from Lisa to Emma. “And who are you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She whipped around, saw Milo standing with his back against the door. “Oh my God, are you kidnapping me?”