Chapter Eight

Vienna Barron, Juniper Memorial Hospital, 11:35 a.m.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the machines that are helping to sustain my mother’s life and monitoring her vitals have become permanently etched in my brain. I’ve been by her side in the hospital for the last three days, watching her sleep, watching numerous doctors and nurses come in to run tests, check and change her I.V. fluids and medications, clean her messes, change her sheets, go over her chart, and all the numerous other things that happen in hospitals. They say she’ll survive. They also say if she’d had even the tiniest bit more fentanyl, she wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Fentanyl. The same lethal drug that everyone has been hearing about on the news lately. When I heard that word coming out of the doctor’s mouth, I was in disbelief. My mother is an alcoholic, I’ve known that for years. But an addict? I don’t believe it. She doesn’t even like to take Tylenol. She’s never been one to see a primary care physician, get a prescription from the pharmacy for her depression, or take over-the-counter painkillers for the headaches she used to get every day. She has her own addiction, but she’s always been against big pharma and any type of street drug. So I’ve been lying awake at night on this hard, cramped hospital couch, trying to figure out why in the world my mother would have taken that.

It was last night around 2:00 in the morning when it hit me. I should have realized it before, but with everything that’s been happening, my brain had been scrambled; emotions have run amuck, logical thought had disappeared. But at that moment in the middle of the night, my thoughts were crystal clear: Someone tried to murder my mother. And they almost succeeded.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The noisy machines that at first drove me crazy are now helping to regulate my brain; the tempo is soothing, and I’m thinking more clearly. With my mother breathing on her own in the bed in front of me, asleep but not comatose, I realize I need to get out of here. Sitting here won’t help either one of us. I need to figure out what’s going on – why people are trying to kill me, why someone just tried to kill my mother… why Cameron, my best friend in the entire world, abandoned me… why Tony all but disappeared from my life right after trying to help, and what happened to the dark-haired cop who had gone missing days before showing up at my apartment. I have no one left to help me, and nowhere safe to stay. I have no job, and I dropped all of my other responsibilities, so all I have is the little bit of money that I saved up, a laptop, and a whole lot of time.

I stand up, getting off the couch for the first time in hours, and I gather my belongings – my dead cell phone, my keys, and my wallet. I stuff them all into various pockets, carrying everything like a man would, but without the deep pockets that are usually reserved for members of the dude species. I kiss my mom on the forehead before leaving the hospital room behind. I check out at the nursing station and leave the building, deciding to stop by the cafe on my way out so I can buy a really strong cup of coffee. Maybe a Shot in the Dark.

It’s almost noon, and though the hospital is busy with hospital staff and patients all buzzing around, lost in their own little worlds, the coffee shop is almost empty. I order a large hot Shot in the Dark and pay for my drink before speed-walking to the parking garage, nearly bumping into an elderly couple on the way out the door.

As soon as I’m in my car, I plug my phone into the car charger and start the ignition, idling as I wait for the phone to have enough power to turn on. It turns on after about two minutes. As expected, I get no reception in here, so instead of idly checking for text messages I begin my drive back to my apartment where hopefully nobody is waiting for me.

My phone dings the moment I am out of the parking garage. I’m a little surprised; I can’t think of anyone who would be messaging me since everyone has either abandoned me or is in the hospital. I really am a loner, I think to myself. Most people my age have a handful of friends or more; I’m usually just fine having a very tight circle, but with Cameron gone I am just now starting to realize that I truly haven’t allowed anyone else to become close to me.

At a red light, I check to see who messaged me. A four-letter name pops up on my screen – Tony. Surprised, and suddenly a little nervous, I open it.

“V. It’s Tony. Sorry for disappearing on you. I need to meet up with you, it’s urgent -“

The car behind me honks, and I look up to see that the car that was in front of me is now a couple hundred feet ahead. I hit the gas and speed through the intersection, maintaining that momentum as I realize I now need to get home as quickly as possible. I’m not sure if Tony has good news or bad, but I need to find out.

I arrive home about fifteen minutes later and run up the stairs to my apartment, open the door, and rush inside, where I plop down on the couch and re-read the text message from Tony.

“V. It’s Tony. Sorry for disappearing on you. I need to meet up with you, it’s urgent. Let me know when you get this. I’ll come to you.”

I read that over a few times, wondering why he had to leave so quickly when I had met him at the park, where he went, and why he’s back now. I have no reason not to trust him, but something in the back of my head is nagging at me. I sigh and push the nagging thoughts to the back of my head – he was my mom’s boyfriend, after all, and he never struck me as untrustworthy. Even though I didn’t see him much, when I did see him he seemed to be a man of integrity and he treated my mom well, though she did not do the same for him.

I decide to text him back. “I’m home.”

Now I just need to wait and see if he replies. I’m not sure how long that will take, so I toss my phone onto the couch and get up to take a much-needed shower.

When I return to the living room thirty minutes later, I have two texts waiting for me, both of which are from him. One was sent twenty-five minutes ago and simply says, “Don’t use your ability”. That should be easy, since the majority of the time I have to actually put some effort into it. The second text was sent seven minutes after that and says “I’m on my way, expect me there around 1:20.” I look at the time: it’s 1:15. He should be here any minute, if he actually follows through this time. I need to get answers from him.

The knock comes just a couple minutes later. I rush to answer it, but not without checking the peep hole first to make sure it’s him and not someone coming to kill me. Seeing that it’s Tony, I answer the door and quietly usher him inside.

Without saying a word, he heads straight for the kitchen table, which is cluttered with books and junk mail. It is, however, the farthest place from a window, which I assume is the reason he is choosing to sit there.

He looks nervous; there’s a slight tremble in his hands, which I have never seen with him before. I wonder to myself how much it actually takes to make a cop nervous. At this point I’m not expecting good news.

“Vienna,” he says. Although his hands are trembling, his voice is steady. “I’m really sorry I had to leave so suddenly at the park that day. Something came up at work. I can’t stay long, but I do have some good news for you.”

“Yeah, about that, Tony,” I say, “What’s been going on? Why didn’t you get back to me? You were going to tell me what happened with Susan….”

“Shh! I can’t talk about that right now, Vi, I’m really sorry. Please keep your voice down, I’m not sure if I’m being followed.”

“Followed? By who? What’s going on, Tony? You were going to help, and you just up and disappeared, just like Cameron, and then someone tried to kill my mom….”

“What?” he said, not able to hide the shock on his face. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s alive, but barely. I can’t prove anything, but they say she overdosed on fentanyl and I think someone put it in her drink or something.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s still at the hospital. I saw her just a little bit ago. She’ll be fine, but I need to find out what’s going on and why someone is trying to kill us before one of us ends up dead. And I need as much information from you as I can get.”

“Fuck, Vienna. I’m not sure how much I can help you right now. They’ve already been asking a lot of questions at work and I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?”

“Look,” Tony whispers, “I already told you more than I should have about that cop, Susan. Apparently anything having to do with her disappearance and death is strictly confidential. And I was going to tell you more. They let me off the hook this time, but I don’t think they’ll be so lenient the next time. I really can’t tell you anything.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask. I can feel my face flushing; I’m starting to get pissed, and he can tell.

“I came to give you some news. I was able to secure some protection for you. A bodyguard. Ex-military, special forces, all that. He was recommended by a good friend of mine, someone I trust. Background check came back clear, and I met the guy. Wanted to make sure I got a good feel for him, you know, have him pass my gut-check. He’s good, Vi. Nice enough guy, but tough enough to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want a bodyguard.”

“You need one, Vienna. Someone’s already tried to kill you and now, if you’re correct, they’re going for your mother too. You can have him check up on her every once in a while if you’d like. He’ll have to go wherever you go, but he can keep his distance and make sure you have some level of privacy. He’ll set up camp in his van at night – we purchased a parking permit so he can remain close to your apartment at night. And hell, if you hate him we can find someone else. But you need protection. You won’t get lucky again if someone comes after you. You don’t even own a weapon and I know you can’t fight.”

“Fine. But answer one question for me.”

“Which is…?”

“How do you know about my ability? You told me not to use it. I don’t remember ever telling you that I can read minds.”

“Your mother has the same ability. She told me when we were together that she suspected that she passed that down to you. I didn’t know if that suspicion was ever confirmed, but when a well-known psychic turned up dead earlier this week, I remembered that conversation between your mother and me, and I became worried. I think it is best to keep your power a secret until we know more about what’s going on. The best way to do that is to not use it for now.”

“My mom, right before she almost died, said something strange to me. Something like ‘they can only hunt you if you listen.’ Do you think she meant that if I use my ability, they can find me?”

“I’m not sure, but don’t risk it. Keep your head down, and stay here until I return with your bodyguard. His name is Ryan. I’ll return with him tomorrow at 7 a.m., I’ll make sure you approve of him, and I’ll familiarize him with the territory. After that, please refrain from contacting me except in emergencies, and by ’emergencies’ I mean only if Ryan has been killed and can no longer protect you. Otherwise he will be your only point of contact.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I wish I could help you more, but I hope this will make up for my sudden departure at the park. I want to keep you safe.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you here at 7 then.” I’m angry with Tony and I want answers, but I know that asking won’t get me anywhere. I don’t want a bodyguard, but I don’t have a good reason to refuse one. I’ll just make Ryan keep his distance while I do my own investigating.

“Alright. I need to go now. Watch your back tonight, but I think you’ll be fine until morning. Tell your mother that I wish her well.” Tony stands up and walks towards the door, and I notice his hands are no longer shaking as he turns the knob. He shuts the door quickly behind him, and I sigh and head back to my couch to decompress and process what’s happening.

______________

William Volkov a.k.a. The Bear, The Crane residence, 8:15 p.m.

I’m not one to regret a kill. Killing is something I have been trained to do my entire life, ever since I was a small child. I’m used to it. I’m good at it. Sometimes I enjoy it. I’ve known no other lifestyle but this one, and having regrets would only interfere with the job. There is no happiness in this line of work, but sometimes there is excitement. Certain kills are thrilling, which is a fact that most other humans will never understand.

This kill was not thrilling. I did not enjoy it. For the first time in my life, I am horrified by my own actions.

I look down at the blood dripping from my hands and at the knife still clenched in my fist. Some of that blood belonged to my target. To Jeannine Crane. That’s fine. She’s the rich wife of a rich bastard named Stellan, and she did something unforgiveable. At least according to Declan Wolfe.

But some of the blood belonged to her twelve year old son, Jack, who was innocent.

He wasn’t supposed to be home. He was not a target. He had snuck up behind me and tried to hit me with his baseball bat in an attempt to protect his mom. I was in my zone, focused on one task – killing – and I simply reacted.

I don’t know if a cleanup crew is coming. I don’t know if the police are on their way, or if Declan had a plan to hide Jeannine’s body. It’s not part of my job to know. But they’re going to find a second body, and I don’t know how they will react.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I have another job that needs to get done, and no matter how much guilt I feel, I need to get put this kill behind me and focus completely on the next task. Killing a girl named Vienna Barron.

_____________

Vienna Barron, 10:55 p.m.

A loud knock on my door pulls me out of a restless sleep. I’m groggy from spending the last few nights in the hospital, having barely slept at all during that time. For a moment, I’m confused – I wonder if it’s already 7:00 a.m. the next morning and if Tony is at the door with that guy… Ryan, I think? But then I realize it’s still the same day, and I haven’t been expecting anybody. My heart starts beating a little faster and I rub the sleep from my eyes and do a zombie walk to the door.

I see a hooded figure through the peephole. It’s dark and hard to tell, but it appears that the person at my door is a man wearing a black jacket. I can see a few blonde strands of hair sticking out from under his hood, but he’s looking towards the ground so I can’t make out the rest of his face.

He knocks again. This time, I can hear a voice coming from the other side of the door, but his voice is hushed as if he wants to yell, but needs to whisper.

“Vienna, it’s me, please open the door!”

That sounds a lot like…. Cameron?!

I open the door about a foot, and two big blue eyes meet mine. The eyes of my best friend who left me.

His eyes are intense in a way that I’ve never seen them before. He speaks quickly in a frantic whisper. “Vienna, I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me. If you let me in I’ll explain everything to you. Please.”

I say nothing, knowing that I’ll break down the moment I speak, but I open the door for him and let him rush inside.

The moment the door closes, I’m being smothered by a bear hug. He’s crying, I think. Yeah, definitely crying. I can feel his chest heaving and his tears dripping on my shoulder. I’m pretty sure I’m crying too.

“Vienna, they forced me to stay silent. They were going to kill my entire family if I saw or spoke to you again. I know they tried to kill you too. I’m so glad they didn’t. Vi, I have evidence. We need to share what I know to the world. We need to stop them.”