Maybe he came to change the dressing—that or drug you.
Or both.
“You don’t even understand what’s going on,” Hollister said.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
But instead of answering, Hollister just stared at the fresh blood soaking through the bandages on the sheriff’s side. “Put some pressure on that. I can’t have you dying on me before he comes back.”
“Before who comes back?”
He coughed and rubbed his neck again, but didn’t reply.
“My son’s car was at the house when you attacked me Saturday night. Is he okay? I swear to God, if you hurt him—”
“He’s fine. Maybe a little bump on the head, but that’s all.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want the world to know what happens at that institute and I want you to help me get the word out.”
What?
He went to the door and closed it.
The sheriff did not hear it lock.
Once he was alone, Sheriff Byers let out a long, painful breath.
Institute? What institute?
The only one he could think of in the area was the Traybor Institute, but they did fish management studies there and what that might have to do with Hollister was beyond him.
But he knew one thing he hadn’t known before: Hollister was not working alone.
No.
He’d mentioned someone was coming back.
And the sheriff didn’t like that prospect.
Despite the nearly debilitating pain, he managed to press his right hand against the stab wound to quell the bleeding. If Hollister’s partner was on his way, he really needed to get out of here and get to a hospital as quickly as possible.
As he repositioned himself, trying to get more comfortable, one of the springs from the cot dug into his back. He slid to the left so it wouldn’t jab him.
But then he had a thought, and turned to study the spring.
Yes. The tip looked narrow enough. If he could just uncoil it he could use it to pick the handcuffs.
Or at least, try to.
After a quick glance at the door to make sure Hollister wasn’t on his way back in, Sheriff Byers began working on removing the spring from the cot’s frame.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-ONE
5:41 P.M.
50 MINUTES LEFT
Kyle hit a patch of ice and the car skidded briefly before the tires gripped the road again.
“You okay?” Daniel said.
“I’m good.”
“Listen, we really need to figure out who tried to kill me back there on that island.”
“No kidding, but no one knew about the lighthouse or where we were going.”
“Could it have been the escaped prisoner Mr. Zacharias mentioned? Maybe the wolf poacher? What about—”
“Larry,” Kyle interrupted him.
“What?”
“Larry knew we were going out there. He also had other boats available that he could’ve used and he knew where the landing was on the other side of the island.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t have burned down the lighthouse. Besides, why would your Uncle Larry have tried to kill me?”
“I don’t know, but who else . . . Wait, what about Mr. Zacharias? Earlier, you said he knew we were going there too.”
“Yeah, I mentioned it to him when he was dropping me off at your place, but he wouldn’t have tried to kill me either. He’s on our side.”
Kyle drove in silence.
“Or at least I think he is,” Daniel muttered, suddenly unsure about anything.
“Either way,” Kyle said, “we need to find a way to get in touch with him. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to figure out what’s going on here.”
“Back up for a minute. On Saturday, Nicole asked me how the box got up there in the hayloft.”
“That’s backing up more than a minute.”
“Track with me. I looked through it when I was younger—at least we can assume I did, based on what I knew: the handwriting style I used in English class, everything.”
“You’re thinking that you’re the one who put it up there?”
“That would make the most sense. We know that the farm belongs to the Hollisters, right?”
“Sure. I mean—at least it does now.”
“Now?”
“It could have changed hands over the years.”
“Huh . . . good point.”
What matters most isn’t who owns the barn now, but who owned it back when the box was left up there.
“I think,” Daniel said, “we need to find out who owned that land back then, when I was nine, two thousand six hundred and seventy-five days ago.”
“Because of that blur of Jarvis Delacroix?”
“Yeah.”
“My mom’s a real estate agent. She could probably figure it out, maybe look up the records, find out the last time the land changed hands.”
Kyle was busy battling the icy roads so Daniel put the call through. When it rang, he handed the phone to Kyle, who spent a minute trying to explain what he needed without giving away everything that was going on, which was not easy.
When he hung up, he shook his head. “She said she would need to be at her office to check the files. Dead end.”
Daniel closed his eyes and searched through his memories, attempting to decipher the message that the blurs seemed to be trying to tell him: what had happened in that barn when he was nine years old on August twenty-eighth.
Why were you in the barn?
What did you see?
And why did you block out those memories?
Dr. Waxford had spent all day at the facility.
He still had no answers about how the subject had gotten away and no idea who would’ve called the police to report that the missing sheriff was there at the facility.
No, he hadn’t found anything in the security camera footage concerning inmate #176235’s escape, even after reviewing it dozens of times—which meant that somehow the subject had evaded all the cameras.
And that was virtually impossible.
The only other explanation Dr. Waxford could come up with: someone had hacked into their system, and either altered the footage or found a way to loop the video preceding the escape, which, with their security measures and military-grade encrypted firewalls, seemed just as inconceivable.
But something had happened here and he needed to get to the bottom of it.
Though it was Christmas Eve, he had the private cell number he needed. He got on the phone with his contact at the Department of Defense to see what she could tell him about individuals or agencies that would have the capability of pulling something like that off.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO
5:51 P.M.
40 MINUTES LEFT
Nicole found what she was looking for.
It didn’t answer all of her questions, but it was definitely something worth looking into.
A piece of property on Waunakee Lake, near the institute, belonged to the Bells. She called the forest service’s tip line about the poaching, but no one picked up.
Not surprising. It is Christmas Eve.
She was about to hang up when a recording invited her to leave a message and she decided she might as well—who knows? Maybe someone would be checking them later tonight or tomorrow.
“Um . . . My name is Nicole Marten. I think I might have information about who’s poaching those wolves.” She left her number and hung up.
You’re assuming a lot here, Nicole.
True.
But three things were also true: (1) Ty had found one of the wolves, (2) his family owned property right in the middle of the wolf poaching sites, and (3) he could have accessed the wolf locations through his dad’s office.
No, of course, Ty’s involvement wasn’t certain, but there was enough here to make her think something was going on.
She tried texting Dan
iel at the number he’d called from earlier, but the text didn’t go through.
There were a lot of dead spots out there near the national forest where you couldn’t get a cell signal, so it didn’t surprise her.
Resend it in a few minutes.
But for some reason she suddenly didn’t like the idea of being home alone and she hoped Daniel and Kyle would make it to her house before their six-thirty ETA.
Getting the spring off the cot was proving to be harder than Sheriff Byers had expected it would be.
The way the cot was designed, while his weight was on it, there was too much pressure on the spring, making it impossible to untwist it.
To get it off, he would need to sit up and lean off the edge of the cot.
And that was not going to feel good on his wounded side.
Steeling himself, he took a deep breath, swung his legs over, and slowly sat up.
Pain shot through him, but he did his best to block it out as he edged forward to get his weight off the spring, and then started uncurling it from the cot’s frame.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
The vibrating phone interrupted Daniel’s thoughts about the barn.
A text from Nicole. It included an address, 1594 West Creek Drive, and a note that it was the Bell’s property. Could Ty b the poacher? b safe, c u soon, she typed.
He told Kyle about the text and while they were discussing it, the phone rang.
Daniel picked up.
“Hello. It’s Malcolm.”
“How did you get this number?”
“I’ve been monitoring Nicole’s calls and she spoke to someone on this line before calling the forest service.”
“The forest service?”
“Yes. She also texted you a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, I got it, but she could have been talking with anyone at this number. How’d you know it was me?”
“I’m good at what I do, Daniel. I connected the dots. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Through Kyle’s phone?”
“Yes.”
“Out of commission. We were looking into the Lost Cove Lighthouse. Someone tried to kill me.”
“What?”
“He lit the lighthouse on fire while I was inside it.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No.”
Go ahead. Just ask him.
“Was it you?”
“No, of course not.” He paused as if he were waiting for Daniel to respond, but when that didn’t happen, he continued, “If I wanted you dead, I never would have helped you escape from the hospital. I’m on your side.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying.”
“Trust me on this.”
“What’ve you been doing all day?”
“I was looking for your dad.”
“And?”
“I have a few ideas on where Brandon might have taken him.”
“Brandon?”
“Brandon Hollister. The inmate who escaped.”
“That’s the family who owns the barn,” Daniel muttered.
“What barn?” Mr. Zacharias asked.
“The one where we found the diary—but that doesn’t matter. You said you have ideas where my dad might be. Tell me.”
“In person. Meet me at the front gate outside the institute.”
“Why?”
“I don’t trust phones—it’s too easy to listen in on someone else’s calls. Meeting in person is always best.”
“But why there?”
“Dr. Waxford’s car is at the facility. He’s inside. We need to talk to him.”
Daniel weighed his options. Meeting with Mr. Zacharias might help, talking with Dr. Waxford might too, but it would mean canceling his plans with Nicole, which might not be that big of a deal, but—
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Daniel said. “You two have opposite goals? You’re trying to stop his research? Is Dr. Waxford working for the government too?”
“I never said I worked for the government.”
That caught Daniel off guard. “But you were wearing a Wisconsin state prison guard’s uniform, and then later, one from a Minnesota police officer.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But you don’t work for the government and Dr. Waxford does?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you work for then?”
“That’s something I can’t—”
“Who do you work for, Mr. Zacharias?”
“I’ll explain everything when we meet.”
“No. Enough of this. I want you to tell me what’s going on. Why were you waiting for me after the game on Friday night? And how did you just happen to go off the road into that snowbank right in front of our car after we left the party?”
“I wanted to meet you myself. To see if it was real.”
“If what was real?”
“What I heard about you.”
“About me being intuitive and good at piecing things together,” Daniel said, repeating what Mr. Zacharias had told him in the hospital in Duluth.
“That’s right.”
“Who told you that?”
“A source.”
Daniel was getting exasperated. “And I suppose you can’t share that name with me either?”
“Not over the phone, no.”
Of course not.
“Alright,” Daniel said, “one more thing: you told me you were trying to stop the chronobiology research. How?”
“How?”
“How are you trying to stop it? I mean, I saw you transport that prisoner to the Traybor Institute. If you’re trying to stop what they’re doing, then why were you a part of it?”
“I needed to get inside, have a look around, see if the intel my agency had about it was correct. Now, listen, I—”
“But . . .” Then it hit him. One of the puzzle pieces locked into place. “Oh.”
“What?”
Daniel hoped it wasn’t the case, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, even though he didn’t want to believe that it could possibly be true. “You helped him.”
“Who?”
“The guy who escaped—Hollister. You helped him get out of the institute.”
“Why would I—?”
“But you did, didn’t you? And then when he was free he went after my dad.”
“Right now isn’t the time to—”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you responsible for Brandon Hollister getting out of that research center?”
Daniel waited him out and finally Mr. Zacharias replied, “I didn’t know he would go after your father.”
He felt his hand tighten around the phone. “I can’t believe this. What happened to my dad—it’s your fault.”
“When I found out what they were doing there, when I saw it for myself, I couldn’t just leave Hollister inside. Listen, we can talk more in person.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“I don’t know. That’s all I can tell you right now. Meet me at the institute. We need to discuss Hollister’s known associates and who might have driven him to your house on the night he attacked your father.”
The line went dead.
“Mr. Zacharias?”
Nothing.
“Are you there?”
No reply.
Daniel smacked the car door.
“So,” Kyle said, catching the gist of the phone call, “Mr. Zacharias is the one who helped the guy escape from the institute? Seriously?”
“Yeah. Brandon Hollister. But it sounds like someone else drove him to our house Saturday night. Did you hear the call?”
“Just your side of it.”
“Mr. Zacharias wants me to meet him at the institute, to talk to Dr. Waxford . . .” Daniel noticed where they were on the road. “Listen, my house isn’t too far. Swing by there so I can pick up my car.”
“You think there’ll be cops watching your place? I mean, considering you escaped from
the hospital and they’re looking for you?”
“There aren’t a lot of extra deputies in this county so I doubt it—I’m sure they’re busy enough looking for my dad. And with the roads this bad, I’m guessing the state troopers are spread pretty thin with helping people who’ve gone into ditches. But drive past my house and we’ll see. If there are any patrol cars around, we’ll just keep going.”
“So, then, split up: You meet with Mr. Zacharias and I head over to Nicole’s?”
“Yeah, that way if we figure out where my dad is, at least one of us will be able to follow up on it. Also, I need to untangle what happened on Saturday night and I’m thinking that if I walk through our kitchen maybe it’ll help jog my memory, like being in the barn did.”
“Makes sense.”
“Turn left up ahead,” he said. “We’ll take the shortcut.”
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
6:01 P.M.
30 MINUTES LEFT
Dr. Waxford learned that in addition to a few international terror groups, there were several government agencies here in the States and a few private firms who might have the technological capabilities to get past the Traybor Institute’s firewalls.
That didn’t really narrow things down as much as he’d hoped.
However, the NSA had intel that a freelance operative named Malcolm Zacharias who specialized in asset recovery had been seen in the Twin Cities area recently.
That was just a couple of hours from Beldon.
According to Dr. Waxford’s contact, Zacharias was the most likely actor.
He could’ve helped Hollister escape, might have doctored up the footage.
Find him.
He can lead you to Hollister.
It wasn’t clear to Dr. Waxford how he might locate Zacharias, but he might as well utilize all the resources available to him.
He called his Department of Defense contact again and asked her to gather whatever she could on Zacharias. “And alert the local authorities,” he said. “Get them looking for him.”
“Under what pretense?”
“Tell them that you suspect him of abducting Sheriff Byers. That’ll get their attention.”
In the meantime, he needed to take measures to ensure the integrity of his research. He hadn’t wanted to do so before, but if Zacharias was involved, he might’ve been the one who called law enforcement earlier and told them to look for the sheriff here at the facility.