Sherrilyn Kenyon - Silent Truth

A woman who had been moved into her mother’s room answered the phone.

“May I speak to Mrs. Blanton?” Abbie asked.

“She’s gone.”

“Where?”

“To ICU. She’s not doing so good,” the lady told her.

“What happened?” Abbie clutched her throat.

“I don’t know. Your mama was gone when I came back from having an X-ray. Nurse just said she had a bad spell.” Abbie thanked her and hung up, then called the ICU desk. She inquired about her mother and found out Hannah was in with her.

When she ended the call, Hunter asked, “What’s happened?”

“Mom’s heart is beating irregularly. Her liver hasn’t gotten worse, but it’s not improving either. She had a bad night and ended up in the ICU.” Abbie lifted the phone and pressed the buttons for her brother, waiting through two rings.

This time someone answered before the third ring. A shallow male voice said, “Hello?”

“Hi.” She was so unprepared to hear a voice she didn’t know what to say. “Is your last name Royce?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

That encouraged her. “I’m Abigail Blanton. I, uh, am calling because we’re related. We have the same mother.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised and curious but pleasant.

“Do you know who your mother is?”

“Sort of. I have photos. She died when I was born.”

He’d been as lied to as Abbie had. Was their biological father some kind of heartless bastard or what? He might be worse than she suspected. “Your mother’s not dead.” Yet.

When her brother didn’t speak, Abbie rushed on. “None of us knew you existed. I just found records of your birth. You and I were born-”

Hunter touched her arm. She understood the warning to share as little as possible and nodded before going on. But she was desperate. “We were born at the same place. I never met our father. Did you?” She still didn’t hear her brother. “Are you still there?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just in shock. No, I never met my father. I was told my mother died in childbirth so I ended up in an orphanage.”

All she’d learned about her biological father from the Kore files was that his initials were S. J., but she didn’t need records to figure out she’d been lucky not to know him. That didn’t erase a bazillion questions she had for her mother. “I’m so sorry. You have family, more than you realize, and-”

“I hate to cut you off, because I’d really like to talk to you more, but I’m due to take a conference call in a few minutes. I work out of my home. I’ll be around this afternoon. If you’ll give me your number I’ll call you back.”

“Are you in Chicago at…” She gave him the street address Hunter showed her on the handheld computer.

“Yes… how did you know that and how did you find my phone number?”

“It’s a long story and I’ll be happy to answer questions if you’ll let me come by to see you.” Please say yes.

“You don’t have a cold or anything, do you? My resistance to germs is not the best, which is why I work out of my home. I have weak lungs and have to be careful not to expose myself to a lot of people.”

“No, I’m perfectly healthy.” She tried not to sound like a panicked stalker, but she had to see him today. “I can be there in thirty minutes. Just a short visit, okay?”

“I suppose that will be all right. Call when you get downstairs and I’ll clear the security so you can come up.”

Abbie hung up feeling like a huge weight was beginning to lift from her chest. Hope was taking the place of fear. She handed the phone to Hunter, so excited she wanted to hug him and hating the fact that she hesitated. “You heard. He’s going to see me when I get there.”

Hunter pocketed his phone. “I hope he agrees to help your mother.”

She knew the word “today” was at the end of that sentence in Hunter’s mind. She understood that he had an important job of some sort to do, but she had to get her brother to help.

No matter what it took to convince him.

Linette had six more steps until she could get inside her office and shut the door.

She’d been given the time for the bombing. Saturday-tomorrow-at 2200. She’d asked if that was Eastern Standard Time and Vestavia said he’d been told it was, but he hadn’t sounded convinced.

No information on the city yet, but Vestavia expected to have that in time to get his people on the ground at the bomb site. What did Vestavia want his people to do once they arrived on-site if the bombs were already set?

Would his people detonate the bombs?

Vestavia always made her feel like she had to check to see where she stepped. He kept her on edge, particularly with this project. Might just be feeling jumpy because she’d never been included at this level.

Inside her office, she locked the door and sat down at her desk, excited and terrified. She wanted to share as much as possible with her online contact, whose group had proven they put her information to good use. But if Vestavia was telling the truth, that he was only sharing certain details with each of his three lieutenants, would he be able to figure out that the information passed along had came from her?

Or would he think someone connected to Bardaric had tipped off the FBI or a domestic defense organization?

She lifted her hands to the keyboard. A movement stopped her. The doorknob turned slowly, then the door opened.

Basil walked in grinning. One cheek pooched out with the caramel candy he sucked on. “Ready to buddy up some? I’m the one in the know.”

“No thanks.”

He closed the door, then sidled across the room and leaned two hands down on her desk. His sickeningly sweet breath breezed across the short distance separating them to nauseate her. “I don’t think you realize just how unforgiving Vestavia is,” Basil said.

“I believe I know the Fra just fine.”

“I don’t think so, little girl. You’ve never seen what he’s capable of.”

She had the urge to tell Basil stories of her time with the older Fra she’d bet would turn even a strong stomach, but she sat still with her robotic mask in place, though nothing deterred him.

“When I first came into the Fratelli with eight other guys, one of them showed up a minute late for our first exercise in fieldwork. Vestavia wanted to make an example of him. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. He was stripped and stretched spread eagle over a metal grate out in the woods. Vestavia had us build a fire under the kid. He’d been gagged. I swear his eyeballs popped out of his head when we lit the flame. Not a big fire that would engulf him. No, this was a roasting pit, and he was the main dish. We had to stand back a ways when the smell got bad. He lived most of the day until it rained. Buzzards showed up and started ripping into him. He finally died, but it took a while.”

“Your point?” she asked in a nonchalant voice. Eating any cooked meat would be difficult for a while.

“Just want you to know what you’re risking if you fail him.” Basil chuckled and stood up. “I heard worse was done when he was banging Josie. That was one mean bitch.”

“I do not wish to discuss the Fra or his associates and suggest you take care what you say.”

“Boss is across town at a party schmoozing city officials who think he’s their most upstanding citizen. Why’d you think I came by now?”

Her skin quivered with a touch of fear. “Please leave.”

“Sure thing. See me to the door.” He crossed his arms, declaring he was content to wait.

Linette gritted her teeth and stood up, walking around her desk.