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“Maybe he got interrupted and had to leave the scene.”
“Maybe.” Luke sounded doubtful.
“Do you think Clive Venner will end up down here, too?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Luke eased past some cascading foliage and stopped. Talia joined him. Together they looked at the doorway. It opened onto a large chamber illuminated with a familiar blue radiance.
There were no plants inside. A long workbench laden with lab apparatus stood in the center of the room. A table littered with a scattering of vintage scientific equipment had been pushed to one side. Faded charts and graphs hung on the walls. A collection of heavy-duty gardening tools was piled in a corner.
There was no one around, but a cot, sleeping bag, two suitcases, and some discarded energy bar wrappers occupied one corner. A white lab coat hung on a wall hook. A pair of muddy boots sat on the floor. A partially open door revealed the white porcelain tiles of a bathroom fitted with fixtures that were decades out of date.
“We now know where the Night Gardener hangs out,” Talia said. “I wonder where she is?”
When there was no response from Luke, she turned to look at him. He was standing very still, the pistol in his hand. Something about his eyes made her wonder if he had gone into a trance.
“Luke?” she said gently. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He focused on her, his gaze suddenly rapier sharp. “I know this place. This is where they tried to turn me into a monster.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The powerful emotionssweeping through Luke worried her. She reminded herself that she, too, would be in shock if the memories of her lost night suddenly returned, but they did not have time for him to process this new development right now.
She moved forward to stand directly in front of Luke. “I understand that you’ve had a jolt. This is the scene of the experiment that was designed to turn you into a psychic assassin. What you need to remember is that the experiment failed. Yes, you have a powerful psychic talent, but you are not an assassin. You did not become a rogue killer, either.”
Luke watched her. “How do you know that?”
“Assassins do it for the money. Rogue killers do it for the thrill. You don’t fit into either of those categories. Now it’s time for you to do what you do so well.”
His eyes tightened. “What is that?”
“Compartmentalize. We’ll deal with the fallout from your recovered memories later. Is that clear?”
Luke almost smiled. Almost. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Anytime. Right now we have to find Phoebe Hatch. She is somewhere nearby.”
“Yes, she is.”
Talia realized he was now focused on a point behind her. She lowered her glasses again and turned to look at the closed doors of the two offices on the far side of the room. Each had a slim opening that must have contained glass at one time.
Luke was already moving. He went around her and crossed to the offices. She hurried after him. When she passed the stainless steel workbench her attention was snagged by the one item that looked out of place among the assortment of new scientific apparatus—a vintage leather-bound notebook that was open to a yellowed page covered in faded handwriting.
“She’s here,” Luke announced. “At least, I assume the woman in there is Phoebe Hatch. She’s either asleep or else she’s been drugged.”
Talia saw that he was looking through the empty window of one of the offices. He wrapped one hand around the knob.
“The door’s locked,” he announced. He pounded on the metal panel. “She’s not responding.” He turned to take another look at the interior of the lab. “There must be something in here I can use to force it.”
He crossed the room to examine the clutter of vintage gardening tools.
Talia moved to peer through the small window. She flattened one hand on the door panel and knew with unshakable certainty that the woman on the cot inside was Phoebe Hatch.
“Phoebe,” she said. “Wake up.”
There was no response from the woman on the cot.
