Lie.Of course it was a lie; Traynor was well aware of what Alex could do. “You should be excited,” he said, hearing his tone get darker. “Excited to see if those experiments in that Texas bunker were a success—if Evan’s pain did make my abilities stronger.”
Traynor recoiled as Alex leaned in. “I’m going to tell you in excruciating detail what Victor Nichols was doing to empaths and their siblings in Polaris,” Alex said. “And then I’m going to tell you everything that happened to Evan. Hewantedme to make him the Dead Man, do you understand? He was so broken after what happened to our parents, to me, to him in that bunker, that he never wanted to have another feeling again.”
The fear won over the fury on Traynor’s face.
“And when I think you finally understand what you and your cronies have done, I’m going to make you our sycophant the way you were for the Stones,” Alex said. “You’re going to tell us everything you know, and then, when you’re no longer useful, you’re going to die in the slowest and most painful way I can come up with. You have a lot to answer for, Director Traynor. I hope it was worth it.”
Chapter Sixteen
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From the coffee shop, Grayson drove over to Stone Solutions in Bellevue. The receptionist directed him up to the eighteenth floor, where they’d apparently set up a temporary CEO suite. He found Vivian Marist tucked away in the office area, seated behind a large desk. She was on the phone, but looked up as he walked in.
“Taye, love, I’ve got company,” she said in an undertone. Talking to her secret boyfriend, Assistant Director Jacobs of the FBI, then, and Grayson probably hadn’t been supposed to hear that.
He waited politely, gaze going to the walls. He recognized the art as some of the Washington scenery that had hung in Vanessa Whitman’s office, though Whitman hadn’t had one of the telltale television-sized monitors mounted on the wall. He stepped forward, running fingers under the edge until he found the power source.
The screen lit up with the empath tracking map, blue dots spread across North America, three red dots clustered together to the side out in the ocean. Alex, Cora and Reece. Locations unknown.
Marist set the phone on the desk and looked up at Grayson. “I hope you’re here to tell me Mr. Davies is in custody.”
His gaze darted over the blue dots. Ten of the dots should have shown today as en route to Bellingham, Washington, but St. James and Dr. Easterby’s plan had worked, and all of them were showing right at home. “I’m afraid things are a bit more complicated than I first realized.”
“Aren’t they always when it comes to you and the empaths,” Marist said flatly.
Grayson ignored it. He was here for information, not to make friends. “You got an empath tracker map installed in here?”
Marist nodded at the screen. “That one was Cedrick’s. It survived the—well, you know. The fire.”The one your brother sethung in the air between them. Her face was impassive, but there was a hint of challenge in her eyes.Whose side are you really on?she might as well have said out loud.
Grayson ignored that too, turning off the screen and back to her. “I heard Dr. Nichols was presumed dead.”
“And?” she said measuredly.
“Just wondering if you’ve heard any different.”
“Your brother destroyed Polaris afteryoutold us he was dead,” she said more sharply. “And you’re asking us to tell you about Victor?”
Grayson tilted his head. “How much did you know about Dr. Nichols’s work at Polaris?”
Her jaw tightened, her hesitation short but unmistakable. “I never asked for details.”
“But you might’ve heard a thing or two.”
“I don’t give credence to rumors,” she said, but with less conviction. “Are you asking about Victor for a reason?”
“If you’ll recall, one of my conditions for taking on the role of the Dead Man was that Dr. Nichols use Polaris’s resources to research how to reverse the corruption in empaths,” Grayson said. “I need a copy of that research.”
“Everything was destroyed when Polaris went into lockdown,” Marist said.
“I know,” Grayson said, “but I don’t believe for a moment that Dr. Nichols didn’t have backups. Who did he work with most closely outside his little empire?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“I’m sure you could try,” Grayson said.
She pursed her lips. “Holt, perhaps,” she finally said. “The three of us used to chat quite regularly, dinners and such. Victor and I have never been what you’d callfriends, but he and Holt got on very well—as well as Victor ever got on with anyone, at least. He certainly never had any shame asking Holt for EI funding or backing.”
