“Would that funding or backing have led Dr. Nichols to send Director Traynor a copy of his research?”
“It’s possible.” Marist drummed her nails on the desk, her expression pensive. “Victor doesn’t have much trust in the cloud. If he did make a copy of his research for Holt, he likely sent it on an external drive.”
Like the one Grayson and Reece had found in her office, hidden behind one of her photographs.
But then she surprised him. “And you deserve to know: Nichols had an external drive with quite a lot onyou. I have a copy in my office in Vancouver.”
Not anymore, she didn’t, not after Reece had stolen it. There was a hint of distaste on her face. She didn’t seem to be Nichols’s biggest fan; maybe she didn’t look at the drive oftenand hadn’t realized it was gone yet. “A number of folks have wanted to study the Dead Man,” Grayson said. “And it’s not like I’ve got feelings about that.”
Marist’s gaze flicked over him. “He was obsessed with the idea of trying to duplicate you.”
“I’m a pretty good empathy defense,” Grayson said. “I’d think all of Stone Solutions would want the same.”
“Not all of us,” she said more tightly. “I may not be one of your empaths, but I am capable of empathy. What happened to you should never be duplicated.”
“I’d say thank you,” he said, “but I know you don’t just mean what happened in that bunker. You think Alex shouldn’t’ve changed me. You think he’s a parasite.”
She met his eyes, her own cool and blue. “If he is and you’re his victim, you’re not exactly going to be able to see that yourself, are you?”
Grayson leaned against the window. “Alex has his issues these days,” he admitted. “But growing up, he was the kindest kid brother anyone could ask for. So if you’re looking for a monster, find out who had our parents murdered to change Alex into what he is now.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.
“Would you like me to have someone check if Holt received a package from British Columbia at his DC office recently?” Marist finally said.
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’ll start my search here,” he said, “with EI’s Seattle office.”
Maybe Reece hadn’t committed the murders he was being blamed for, but he was dangerously close to initiating a murder spree that started with Holt Traynor.
He leaned against the kitchen wall, narrow-eyed gaze on Traynor where he stood by the built-in dinette in the kitchen.Alex and Cora sat at the table themselves, across from each other like adorable bookends, belying that they were dangerous murderers themselves. Cora had sent the thralled Officer Kosler out to the yard, ostensibly to patrol for danger but probably to keep some distance from Reece’s hair-trigger projections. Reece couldn’t blame her.
“Where has Vanessa Whitman been since November?” Alex asked Traynor.
“A private Stone Solutions hospital in Kirkland.” Traynor was bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eagerness to answer Alex’s questions. “That’s where they take anyone injured in empathy-related incidents.”
“So is Cedrick Stone at this hospital?” Reece barely recognized his own voice with its dark, gravelly edge.
Traynor looked at Alex. “You owe Reece and Cora too,” Alex said coolly. “Do whatever they say and answer anything they ask.”
Traynor turned to Reece, who had to tighten his jaw to squash the flare of anger. Last time he’d met Traynor’s eyes, it had been at a warehouse in Vancouver, where Reece had been uncovering his involvement in plans for Evan Grayson’s death. “Cedrick isn’t in Kirkland,” said Traynor. “He’s being treated at Orion.”
“What’s that?” Cora asked.
“Stone Solutions’ corporate lodge,” Traynor said. “It’s where leadership goes on retreats and for their anti-empathy training. It’sverynice.”
“You’ve been?” Reece said.
“Oh yes,” said Traynor. “Stone Solutions spends a lot of money on me so that I’ll keeptheirmoney flowing in.”
Reece took a breath through his nose. Being reminded that the American government was in bed with corporate America wasn’t going to help his temper.
“Where’s this Orion Lodge?” Alex asked.
“British Columbia,” Traynor said. “I don’t know exactly where—they always took us by helicopter—but it has spectacular mountain views and was close enough for day trips to Whistler.”
Cora propped her chin in her hand. “You wereskiingwhile Cedrick Stone was having my fiancé tortured to death and Victor Nichols was experimenting on the empaths in Polaris.” She looked at Alex. “Why is this asshole alive again?”
“I would like to know the same thing,” Reece said tightly.
