Page 53 of Fighting His Fate
He checked his watch. “Three minutes,” he said into his comm set. “Who needs a hand?”
“I’m good,” said Trace. “Be right out.”
Razorback appeared in the laboratory doorway. “Done.”
“Let’s roll,” said Brett, meeting up with Trace as he led the way back outside. Thunder clapped, lightning illuminating the sky. The silhouette of a small, dark object some twenty feet in the sky had Brett’s head jerking back. “What the fuck was that?”
“I didn’t see anything,” said Trace.
“There was something in the sky.”
“Bat?”
“Bigger.”
“Surveillance?”
“Maybe.” The wail of sirens could be heard in the distance. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” The men ran into the woods, scaled the fence, and disappeared into the night.
29
Brett stoodin the kitchen of the main house, staring through the darkness toward the smaller cabin where Grace and the twins slept. The smell of pancakes wafted through the room, the sound of keys clicking on a laptop the only noise in the room. He had a nagging sense of unease that defied explanation. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“What kind of something?” asked Mac.
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.” Brett turned and took a seat at the table. “I saw something in a flash of lightning when we were leaving Lamont Scientific. It’s fucking bothering me. I didn’t get a good enough look at it.”
“Probably a bird.” Trace put a plate piled high with flapjacks in the center of the table. “Eat up, kids.”
Brett narrowed his eyes. “At night? In the middle of a thunderstorm?”
Razorback looked up from his laptop. “Got it. Dr. Richard E. Cage is the editor in chief of the journalNature.”
Brett pulled out his phone and opened a browser window. “Time we paid the good doctor a visit.” He Googled the other man. The word obituary jumped out at him from the results. “No, no, no…” His eyes went wide. “God fucking damn it! Cage died in a car accident three days ago.”
“Let me guess,” said Mac. “Hit-and-run?”
Brett hit the table with the palm of his hand. “Fucking Fleming got to him first.”
Razorback’s phone rang. “It’s Moto,” he said, answering it. “You’re on speaker. What’d you find out?”
“I got into Joni’s computer files at Lamont Scientific, including some files on the twins. She had them genetically tested when they were barely more than blastocysts. She knew they would have Damon’s Disorder before she had them implanted in her uterus.”
Knowing Joni was aware of the disorder beforehand made Brett feel that much better about the boys’ prospects for a healthy future. “But Fleming didn’t want anyone to know the procedure wasn’t perfect,” he chimed in. “And the boys are evidence of that.”
“Exactly,” said Moto. “I also found an email from Fleming to Joni dated just last week. He’d been contacted by the editor fromNaturefor comment on her research, and he was mad as hell, ranting and raving about investors and scandal.”
“So that’s it,” said Brett. “Fleming killed Joni and Cage in an attempt to kill the research article.” He thought of those two little boys who’d grow up without a mother, without ever knowing Luke. The futility of it all was his undoing, and the room seemed to take on a thick, unfocused haze. “I want to wring his neck. I want to squeeze it until his face turns red and all the life seeps out of his body.”
“He’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars,” said Razorback.
“That’s not good enough, damn it,” snapped Brett. “He deserves to die, and I want to be the one to pull the trigger.”
Mac cocked his head. “You okay there, Champ?”
“Fuck no, I’m not okay. Fleming killed the two most important people in my life. He killed the mother of my children. What kind of asshole would I be if I were okay right now?”
Mac stood. “Let’s go for a walk.”
