The Vanishing Girl

  When I got to the room I was looking for, I slid the card into the crack between the door and the wall and pulled.

  Nothing happened.

  I’d done this a dozen times before; this should work.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I whipped around and glanced down the hallway. No one was there. The feeling, however, only increased the longer I stood down here.

  I tried again, and again, nothing. Frustrated, I tried jiggling the card back and forth. I heard a click, and the door swung open with a creak.

  I glanced up and down the basement hallway one more time, and when no one showed up, I entered the room.

  I clicked the light on inside and placed my sweatshirt along the bottom of the door so that the light wouldn’t seep out into the hallway.

  After giving the office a onceover, I decided to grab the key that had unlocked the filing cabinet. The two drawers I’d already seen had plenty of evidence I could carry on my person once Caden and I escaped. But I still had two more drawers to go. Chances were I’d find a few more surprises in there.

  I unlocked the file cabinet’s top drawer and stood on my tiptoes to reach in and pull out a couple of files. I laid them down next to the computer and pulled up my chair.

  I opened the first folder and stared at columns of numbers. From the looks of it, I’d found the project’s expense reports. I scanned the numbers. From what I could see, the Prometheus Project was a money pit, yet the project continued to be well funded year after year. Either we were worth it, or this was an example of the country’s famed bureaucratic inertia.

  I read over several more pages of expenses. I found nothing of importance. That was, until I moved onto the second file I’d pulled from the same drawer.

  The numbers in this report were even larger than the last, and as I skimmed over what the expenses were for, my blood chilled.

  A hefty sum of money was going into the construction of a new facility for teleporters, this one located in Montana.

  Montana. I’d teleported to an empty house weeks ago located in Montana. Had the government guided me there?

  Behind this expense report, someone had shoved images of floor plans. I saw a gym, a hospital wing, classrooms—nothing really all that surprising—until I saw a separate building marked “Pair Family Housing.”

  I rubbed my forehead as it began to pound.

  The units drawn looked like two story homes, and they were arranged around the main buildings of this facility. From what I could see of the houses’ interior layouts, they were arranged exactly like the one I’d been in.

  My eyes roved over the floor plans of the main facility again. Only now did I notice the child care facility, and the playground that had been included in the plans.

  I backtracked a few pages until I found the estimated date of completion.

  I sucked in a breath. According to this file, the Montana facility should’ve been completed three years ago, which meant that the facility might actually be up and running now.

  The house I’d visited had been empty, but that didn’t mean the other houses were.

  My heart beat faster and faster. I hadn’t heard of any teleporters in their twenties—and I knew from the files I’d flipped through that there should be some that age. Maybe that wasn’t because they’d died off. Maybe they moved facilities. Facilities that made accommodations for families—for children.

  I might’ve just figured out what happened to older teleporters.

  I had just placed the files back in the drawer when I heard the squeak of shoes against the linoleum. I froze.

  The sound grew louder. Someone was approaching, and quick. Frantically I glanced around the room. The overhead light was still on, the key was on the desk, and the top drawer was still wide open.

  I slid the drawer closed, wincing from the sound of metal hitting metal. The footsteps paused, and I held my breath.

  They picked up again, now faster than before. I ran to the door. I flipped off the light, grabbed my sweatshirt, and backtracked to the desk. My hip banged against the corner of it in the absolute dark. I bit down on my lip to muffle the curse on the tip of my tongue.

  I rounded the desk and slid under it as someone inserted a key into the doorknob. I heard the key turn and the click of metal as the door unlocked.

  The door squeaked open and the mystery person took two steps inside, flicking back on the lights.

  I shoved my sweatshirt inside my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing. My back leaned against the wood paneling that covered the front of the desk. That was the only thing that hid me from whoever stood at the doorway.

  The pause seemed to last an eternity, then the footfalls started up again, moving further into the room. My heart beat twice for every click they made against the tile, and it ceased up with every silence that followed. Whoever this was, they were trying to kill me slowly.

  The footfalls stopped just short of the desk.

  The key. Oh no, the key. I’d forgotten to grab it when I hid.

  I heard it slide against the surface of the desk as the person picked it up. The footsteps moved away from the desk. I heard a drawer open and close, and then the person came back to the desk.

  The key clinked as it hit the surface of the desk, and the footfalls moved quickly away from me. The light flicked off, the door opened, and a few seconds later it clicked close.

  When the sound of footsteps faded away down the hall, I sucked in air. I’d gotten so lucky.

  I sat in the darkness for an agonizing twenty minutes before I crawled out of my hiding place. With trembling hands I re-opened the drawers, took out the files of an expired teleporter and a pregnant one, and slipped out of the room.

  That was too close.

  I returned to my room, my mind whirring away at the new information I’d discovered. On the walk back from the room, an idea had been forming.

  An alternate route of escape.

  The facility in Montana had given me the idea. I hadn’t been let out of this facility since I arrived; however, if Caden and I were to be transferred to the facility in Montana, we might get the chance to escape en route. It’d be a whole lot easier to flee that way than it would trying to hitch a ride on a helicopter or cutting a hole in the facility’s chain link fence and slipping by the guards and cameras undetected.

  Now I just had to figure out what criteria the project would need to consider moving Caden and me.

  I changed into my pajamas, turned off my lights, and slipped into bed.

  I could already tell planning this would be tricky. If Caden and I managed to convince the project to move us, then we’d have to have a plan formulated—money, transportation, a survival pack in case we had to live off the grid. A smile began to form along my lips at the thought. Escape. Freedom. Anonymity.

  We could do it; it was what we were good at—vanishing.

  Chapter 31

  I rubbed my hands together, my breath misting in the predawn light. It was almost 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning, and I waited in the middle of the woods just off the trail to meet with Caden.

  I rubbed my eyes and yawned. It was way too early to be scheming.

  “You know, you’re awfully cute when you’re sleepy.”

  I jolted at the voice, and a hand covered my mouth just as I let out a shocked yelp.

  “Can’t have you blowing our cover now, princess,” Caden whispered into my ear, his voice low. The sound of it made me shiver. His body pressed into mine, and my thoughts turned carnal.

  I stepped away from him, mostly to keep my hormones in check. “Then try not to scare the crap out of me,” I said.

  He stepped towards me, invading my personal space, and his dimples flashed. “Chicken.”

  “Creep.”

  “Creep? Th
at’s not what you called me last night.”

  My face flushed at his words. “How did you manage to sneak up on me?”

  A sly smile bloomed along his face. “You’re going to have to win that information off of me.” He folded his arms and leaned against a tree, giving me a long, slow look just to let me know exactly what would happen if I lost.

  The look brought goose bumps to my skin. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, trying to focus on the subject of escape and not on how I wanted to slowly undress the man in front of me.

  I removed my hand from my face, remembering the file I looked through even earlier this morning. “What do you know of the Montana facility?”

  Caden hadn’t been moving, but now he stilled completely. Finally, he cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Unlike his other features, his eyes held more than just surprise; there was curiosity there as well. He was trying to figure me out. “Reconsidering escape?” he finally said.

  “No, just our method.”

  His eyes grew distant, presumably to think over my words, and then he blinked and refocused on me. “That’s actually not a bad idea at all—escaping on our way to the Montana facility.” He rubbed his chin. “We’d have to steal one of their cars and make a beeline for Mexico.”

  “I know.”

  “And they’ll undoubtedly warn the border patrol about the stolen government car and our appearance.”

  “If we need another car, we can just steal one. I know how to hotwire older models.”

  His eyebrows rose, his dimples making an appearance. “You know how to do that?” Caden didn’t even try to hide how impressed he was.

  I nodded. It was just another survival skill I’d learned.

  Caden whistled low. “Damn, that’s a turn-on.”

  I had the strangest urge to laugh. Instead I just shrugged.

  “Humble doesn’t really suit you well, princess,” he said. “I can see right through it.”

  Now I did smile.

  Caden continued. “We’d need disguises, survival equipment, and money.”

  I crossed my arms. “Done, done, and done.”

  Caden’s eyebrows nudged up further. “Oh really, you have that all covered?”

  I held up three fingers. “I have survival equipment in my room—so, check.” I brought a finger down. “Disguises we can easily buy, so check that off your list too.” I brought another finger down. “And lastly, we’re a fucking distract and extract team; we could become millionaires at pickpocketing. So check.” Not that I liked the thought of stealing anything. People were entitled to their well-earned money. But if it came down to it, I’d steal. I was also entitled to my freedom.

  A spark of excitement lit Caden’s eyes, but beneath it was some residual hesitation. He didn’t want to leave this life, he didn’t want to lose his friends, and he sure as hell didn’t want to betray the facility’s trust.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” I said softly.

  He closed the distance between the two of us and ran a hand along my neck, his thumb rubbing the edge of my jaw. “Just shut up.”

  “I was just giving you—”

  “You think I hadn’t known what that favor of yours was going to be since you first won it? I’ve had a long time to decide on this. I’m coming with you.”

  His lips descended on mine, and my heart thumped in my chest. The way he kissed me left no doubt in my mind that he’d stay by my side come hell or high water.

  He pulled away. “I think the facility in Montana is a good idea. But—” he paused, watching me, “they only send teleporters who want to be domesticated.”

  “Domesticated?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “As in, making and raising lots and lots of babies.”

  I felt my face redden.

  “Yeah, that’s how I thought you’d react,” he said, “and that’s not going to convince anyone here that you want to move to the Montana facility.”

  I wasn’t going to argue that one with him.

  “So,” he continued, “I’ll take care of the convincing. They’ll probably still want to talk to you before they finalize their decision, so work on what you’re going to say—and try to stick to the truth where possible. They’ll try to trip you up. If this idea doesn’t go anywhere, then we’ll have to plan an escape from this facility.”

  I nodded. I could do that.

  He glanced at the lightening sky. “Let’s meet here a week from tomorrow—same time. Until then, I’ll begin convincing the project directors to consider this,” he continued. “You, meanwhile, should try to figure out some of the logistics of our escape.”

  “Done.”

  Caden backed away from me. As he did so, I remembered what he told me of the teleporters who tried to defect. We were going to have to execute our escape perfectly, because we had one chance and one chance only.

  That Monday I walked into the gym. I took one look at the equipment sitting next to the ring and suppressed a groan. Sparring. Even though I’d gotten better at it, I didn’t feel confident enough to perform well with an audience.

  My classmates had already started to pair off.

  I turned to look for Caden and watched as he walked in right after I did. I couldn’t help but notice the way his T-shirt hugged his sculpted chest and upper arms. My eyes ran up his torso before they met his gaze. His eyes twinkled; he’d caught me checking him out.

  “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Caden said, coming up to me. He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead he cupped my face and kissed me.

  When he pulled away, he smiled, his dimples coming out. “Want to practice a little before you begin?”

  “Definitely.” The thought of sparring with someone other than him made me anxious; I wanted the moves fresh in my mind.

  For the next half hour we warmed up together. As I dipped and lunged, evading and attacking Caden, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of power. I’d become formidable over the course of only a few weeks. Now I not only knew how to survive, I knew how to fight.

  “Pierce!” My head snapped up when Coach Painter called my name. He had a sly smile on his face. “Why don’t we pair you with Payne again?” That sneaky bastard.

  I wiped the sheen of sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand. My muscles felt loose and warm. I was ready to do this.

  Caden grabbed my wrist, his eyes trained on mine. “Remember all you’ve learned. Don’t underestimate your opponent, remember your own inner strength, and let your body follow your brain,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “I’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines.” He loosened his hold and let my fingers slide through his.

  I pulled away from him and approached the ring, where Desiree waited. Her eyes had a hard, angry look to them, but her mouth curved up. She thought this would be her opportunity to cut me in two. That, more than anything, fueled my determination to do well.

  Coach Painter handed me the foam helmet and gloves. Like last time, Desiree wrapped her hands before she put her gloves on. This time I didn’t let it get to me.

  We walked into the ring and tapped gloves. I watched her shift her weight back and forth, her arms held in front of her. Her left hand was held a little low. I couldn’t tell if the opening was intentional or not. Only one way to find out.

  Coach blew the whistle, and I didn’t hesitate. I moved into Desiree’s space and slammed my fist into the exposed section of her torso. She blocked it, and I used her block to deliver a punch low to her stomach, this time not worrying about whether I hurt her or not. I knew she wouldn’t hold back if given the chance.

  I connected with the soft tissue of her stomach. The hit wasn’t hard, but she stumbled back and leaned over herself protectively. I followed her and delivered thr
ee more punches, all which she blocked.

  “Bitch,” I heard her say under her breath. Her anger glittered in her eyes, and I barely had enough time to lift my arms when she slammed her fist at my face. My arms blocked the blow, but she threw so much force into it that I staggered back before I regained my footing.

  The coach blew the whistle. “Payne, that’s a foul.”

  She ignored our coach and advanced on me. Her arms were held high, exposing her lower stomach. I aimed low and hit her just below her solar plexus. Just as I did so, her fist smashed into my cheek. My head snapped back and I stumbled.

  Coach Painter blew the whistle again. “Payne! Back off of Pierce.”

  Ignoring him again, Payne began raining punches down on me, all aimed at my head. The attack forced me to cover my face rather than try to hit her back.

  “Goddamnit Payne, stop!” Coach yelled.

  Her anger fueled my own. She was too busy seeing red to think strategically. So I brought my leg up and kicked her square in the chest. The impact flung her back, and she hit the mat.

  Coach was blowing the whistle like crazy. “Pierce, that’s enough. Payne, you’re disqualified.”

  Desiree’s gaze shot to Coach Painter. “Coach, no,” she pleaded.

  Coach shook his head, his hands propped on his waist. “You know the rules Payne. Now go practice your technique for the rest of the class, or get the hell out of here.”

  I glanced at Caden, who stood on the outskirts of the ring, arms folded. His jaw was set hard, like the fight had been difficult for him to watch, but his eyes looked proud. We both knew I’d been the better fighter that round; I laid more accurate blows and managed to contain my emotions.

  Carefully Desiree pushed herself to her feet and took off her helmet. She flashed me a parting glance, and what I saw in her eyes made my skin feel clammy. The hot anger I’d seen just moments ago was gone, replaced by something far more sinister. Her expression was cold and calculating.