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Authors: Denise Golinowski
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front of the painting.
Looking around the empty waiting room, she realized she should have stayed at the hangar. She should have told someone what she saw. That she saw Patricia with Torne.
KT’s heart twisted. It was so dark and it all happened so fast. Did she really see Patricia in that car? She could have been mistaken.
The image flashed across her mind’s eye again and KT had to accept what she saw. Patricia’s oval face, dark eyes wide, generous mouth forming that little “O” of surprise, as if she recognized KT in the same moment.
What was Patricia doing in a car with Douglas Torne? Had he collected her, too? Was she a hostage?
A hostage left alone in a car outside the hanger? It didn’t make sense. Abduct someone, hold them for weeks, and then leave them unattended in a dark parking lot while you went inside? Inside a building without windows?
Unbidden, her father’s voice dropped into her mind. “Someone in the Alliance is giving the Collectors the locations of isolated weres.”
He’d told her that the night before she left for New York. It had been one comment in a long argument about her refusal to have a bodyguard or to stay at the penthouse. She’d assumed he was admitting that her fears for Patricia may have been correct, but could his comment have meant something else?
What if Patricia wasn’t a victim? What if her role was not as victim, but as corroborator? Could she? How could she?
KT sprang to her feet and began to stalk around the room as if she could outpace the horrifying concept. She could not accept it without more evidence.
Remembering the feel of plastic ties around her wrists, KT admitted Patricia could have been secured. And being Unadapted, Patricia could not shift, even if she wanted. Add a tranquilizer or sedative of some kind, and Patricia would be helpless as a kitten.
Patricia is never helpless , Andi snorted.
Andi didn’t like Patricia, didn’t trust anyone Unadapted.
KT sensed it related to survival of the fittest. There had been a time when the Unadapted did not survive puberty, either naturally or assisted. KT shuddered and her glance caught on the wall clock.
How long had it been since they disappeared with Peyton? Only an hour? What was taking so long? Was it normal? What was normal?
As the hours passed, KT began to feel more and more like a cat chasing her tail. Her thoughts circled around and around two topics—Peyton and Patricia.
At one point, a man from the Protectors came in and introduced himself as Sean Beatty. He told her he had settled everything regarding Peyton’s care and urged her to go home. She politely refused. He looked at her for a moment, and then nodded.
“Just like your father,” he said. “Your people come first. But really, Captain Allers probably won’t even come to until tomorrow. You should go home, get cleaned up, and come back later.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beatty,” she said, but did not move. He waited for a while longer, then turned, and left her alone.
She tried sitting and flipping through some of the out-of-date magazines, but tossed them aside in irritation. Reading old gossip, last season’s fashion tips, or last month’s top news stories did not hold her attention. She resolved to pay for a series of subscriptions for the hospital waiting rooms. Worried family members and friends needed distraction not frustration.
Family? Friends? Andi’s smug nudge launched KT back to her feet.
Stop it!
She paced back and forth, her ears strained for the sound of swinging doors. The movement helped release some of the tension, but it seemed as if the air in the room grew thinner and thinner the more time passed. She made a cup of coffee, but the powdered creamer tasted terrible. She made a cup of tea, tooth-aching sweet with sugar, to wash the taste of the coffee from her mouth.
She picked up the phone, changed her mind and put it down. A half-hour later, she picked it up again, only to put it back down. She knew she
Looking around the empty waiting room, she realized she should have stayed at the hangar. She should have told someone what she saw. That she saw Patricia with Torne.
KT’s heart twisted. It was so dark and it all happened so fast. Did she really see Patricia in that car? She could have been mistaken.
The image flashed across her mind’s eye again and KT had to accept what she saw. Patricia’s oval face, dark eyes wide, generous mouth forming that little “O” of surprise, as if she recognized KT in the same moment.
What was Patricia doing in a car with Douglas Torne? Had he collected her, too? Was she a hostage?
A hostage left alone in a car outside the hanger? It didn’t make sense. Abduct someone, hold them for weeks, and then leave them unattended in a dark parking lot while you went inside? Inside a building without windows?
Unbidden, her father’s voice dropped into her mind. “Someone in the Alliance is giving the Collectors the locations of isolated weres.”
He’d told her that the night before she left for New York. It had been one comment in a long argument about her refusal to have a bodyguard or to stay at the penthouse. She’d assumed he was admitting that her fears for Patricia may have been correct, but could his comment have meant something else?
What if Patricia wasn’t a victim? What if her role was not as victim, but as corroborator? Could she? How could she?
KT sprang to her feet and began to stalk around the room as if she could outpace the horrifying concept. She could not accept it without more evidence.
Remembering the feel of plastic ties around her wrists, KT admitted Patricia could have been secured. And being Unadapted, Patricia could not shift, even if she wanted. Add a tranquilizer or sedative of some kind, and Patricia would be helpless as a kitten.
Patricia is never helpless , Andi snorted.
Andi didn’t like Patricia, didn’t trust anyone Unadapted.
KT sensed it related to survival of the fittest. There had been a time when the Unadapted did not survive puberty, either naturally or assisted. KT shuddered and her glance caught on the wall clock.
How long had it been since they disappeared with Peyton? Only an hour? What was taking so long? Was it normal? What was normal?
As the hours passed, KT began to feel more and more like a cat chasing her tail. Her thoughts circled around and around two topics—Peyton and Patricia.
At one point, a man from the Protectors came in and introduced himself as Sean Beatty. He told her he had settled everything regarding Peyton’s care and urged her to go home. She politely refused. He looked at her for a moment, and then nodded.
“Just like your father,” he said. “Your people come first. But really, Captain Allers probably won’t even come to until tomorrow. You should go home, get cleaned up, and come back later.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beatty,” she said, but did not move. He waited for a while longer, then turned, and left her alone.
She tried sitting and flipping through some of the out-of-date magazines, but tossed them aside in irritation. Reading old gossip, last season’s fashion tips, or last month’s top news stories did not hold her attention. She resolved to pay for a series of subscriptions for the hospital waiting rooms. Worried family members and friends needed distraction not frustration.
Family? Friends? Andi’s smug nudge launched KT back to her feet.
Stop it!
She paced back and forth, her ears strained for the sound of swinging doors. The movement helped release some of the tension, but it seemed as if the air in the room grew thinner and thinner the more time passed. She made a cup of coffee, but the powdered creamer tasted terrible. She made a cup of tea, tooth-aching sweet with sugar, to wash the taste of the coffee from her mouth.
She picked up the phone, changed her mind and put it down. A half-hour later, she picked it up again, only to put it back down. She knew she
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