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Alexander Wilson had, as Veronica promised, appeared when Wells and Shaw were turned in by the Etheridges. He was promptly arrested for conspiring to pervert the course of justice. The FBI became involved and eventually claimed jurisdiction over it all.
Theo and Gus were treated for relatively minor injuries and questioned extensively before they were allowed to talk to each other. The bullet that had passed through Mac Etheridge to kill the man dressed as a bellhop, had torn through the flesh and muscles in his side but managed to avoid any vital organs. Once the bleeding was brought under control, the police were allowed into his hospital room to interrogate him.
The Etheridges arrived in Dallas, which served to complicate matters somewhat. They were convinced that the machinations of Day Delos and Associates were not the only conspiracy at play. Sam Etheridge publicly demanded proof that Theodosia Benton was not in fact a doppelganger of some sort planted by an enemy of America. Caleb was more concerned that Theo had actually risen from the dead. Zeke Etheridge examined Mac himself to verify that the shooting had indeed taken place and was not a hoax, an elaborate ruse designed to induce them to leave the property undefended—to which end at least Nancy had remained on the Ponderosa. Mac’s reaction to their efforts on his behalf was, admittedly, less than grateful. But they were at least a distraction as he waited to be allowed to speak to Gus and Theo.
He was arguing with Zeke when Theo appeared at the door to his room.
“Do you have any idea what kind of tracking devices could have been implanted in your body when you were in surgery?”
“For God’s sake, Zeke, they’d have discharged me yesterday if you hadn’t been such a pain in the ass!”
She knocked tentatively on the frame. For a moment Mac seemed lost for words.
Zeke broke into a grin. “Well, well…”
Mac found his voice. “Theo—”
Theo smiled, suddenly a little shy. “Hello, Zeke. How are you, Mac?”
“Don’t just stand there,” Zeke boomed. “Come on in! Mac’s been going crazy wondering what they were doing to you.”
“They had a lot of questions.” Theo entered and stepped over toward the bed.
Mac sat up. “Okay, Zeke, I’ll see you later.” His eyes did not leave Theo’s face.
“But—”
“Get out, Zeke.”
Zeke Etheridge laughed. “Yeah, all right, I’m going.” He shook Theo’s hand before he left. “Welcome home, Theo. Nice speakin’ atcha.”
“Gus…?” Mac began when his brother had finally gone.
“He’s okay. We’re both okay.” She took his hand. “What about you? I…we’ve been so worried about you, but they wouldn’t let us—”
“I’m fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything important.”
“I’m so sorry, Mac. You must rue the day you ever met the Bentons. If you had any sense, you’d refuse to have anything to do with us ever again.”
He laughed, squeezing her hand as he did so. “As I said, I’m fine.”
“I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Theo.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and told him everything nevertheless, beginning with the night that Gus had been shot. The strategies used to render her emotionally and actually dependent on Day Delos and Associates—the isolation in countries where she could not speak the language, the monitoring of all her movements and communications—all under the pretext of keeping her and Gus safe. She told him about the nature of Day Delos and Associates, the compromised writers it represented and remade—fugitives from public condemnation, personal vengeance, and the law—each client living under the fear of exposure and enslaved by Day Delos and Associates in the process. The way in which those writers were used in the fabrication of narratives aimed at sowing distrust, inciting action, or merely providing distraction, so that the agency might sell such services to those who might profit from a timely scandal involving their competitors, or require some scandal to supplant their own misdeeds from the media attention, or even seek a revolution to seize power that wasn’t theirs. Day Delos controlled storytellers who wove narratives that ultimately controlled those who for whatever reason wanted to believe.
“And Murdoch?”
“Dan used to be Jack Chase until Jack was accused of an inappropriate relationship with an underage girl,” she said, confirming what Mac and Gus had suspected. A shadow flitted across her eyes, and he saw that the knowledge troubled her, that it colored the way she viewed her own decision to love Dan Murdoch. “It explains what he saw in me, I suppose.”
“What he saw in you needs no explanation,” Mac said firmly. “But it might explain why Day Delos was so concerned about his relationship with you.”
Theo nodded. “They turned him into Dan Murdoch. They feared what he might have told me, and what I might have written based on that.”
“But your manuscript had nothing to do with Day Delos.”
“No.” Theo said wistfully. “But Dan’s did. His new manuscript was about the agency, apparently. I don’t know what he was thinking…what he was trying to do. He had to know they would…” She exhaled. “When they found out what he intended to do, they killed him for it. Veronica courted my manuscript and me, just in case he had told me something, and because they had a ‘vacancy,’ I guess.”
