Pandora's Box (16 page)

“Law is listening to them.
 
He signed off on it.
 
He isn’t sure if you’re guilty or not, but he isn’t willing to take the chance.”

Madison
rolled her eyes.
 
She really couldn’t trust anyone.
 
The president had assured her that he thought her father was innocent.
 
What had changed his mind?

DeMarco continued, “They think you have something.
 
I don’t know the specifics.
 
But if you do have something they want, give it to me, and I’ll hide it for you.
 
Or if it’s information, then tell me what you know.”
 
He scratched his head, a habit she used to find endearing.
 
“I can’t help but feel this has something to do with your father’s last words.
 
First you said he told you he loved you.
 
Then you changed your story and confided in me that he wanted you to get something out of his safe deposit box.
 
Which is it?
 
Or is it something else altogether that you haven’t shared with me yet?”

She gazed into his eyes, saw the darkness in them.
 
Her original fear resurfaced.
 
He had been sent to charm information out of her.
 
Then he’d kill her.

She accidentally bit her tongue.
 
The taste of blood mixed with ice cream, making her nauseous.
 
Killing him would break her heart, but she would do it if she had to.

“I’m sorry,” she said.
 
“Would you like some ice cream?”

Her hand returned to the drawer.
 
Her fingers grasped the butt of her gun.
 
She maneuvered it until it was ready to pull out, aim, and fire.
 

DeMarco pulled his hands from the pockets of his jacket.
 
He laid them flat on the surface of the counter and said, “No, I don’t want any damn ice cream!
 
I want you to pack a bag and get your beautiful butt out of town before it gets shot off.”

His expression was sincere.
 
He wanted to save her life, end of story.
 
He was the last person she should suspect.

Tiny poison darts hit her heart, each one the result of guilt.
 
He would hate her if he ever found out she’d doubted him to such an extent.
 
Her lack of trust had reached an all time low.
 
It made her sick to think of how close she’d come to pulling a gun on him.
 

She nodded.
 
“Okay.
 
I’ll go underground for a while.”

He kissed her on the cheek.
 
“Good girl.”

He left without a glance back at her.
 
He missed the tears glistening in her eyes as she wondered what sort of person she’d become.
 
The job had finally turned her into a paranoid mess.

The phone rang, interrupting her pity party.
 
Tyler
wanted her to meet him at the hospital first thing in the morning.
 
She put the ice cream away before tossing a few items into a bag.
 
The least she could do for DeMarco was heed his warning.
 
She was going to disappear for a while, although she wasn’t sure where she should go.

******

“Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
Madison
asked as she followed
Tyler
down a sterile white corridor.
 
They’d met in the hospital lobby at the break of dawn.
 
She’d told him about DeMarco’s visit and her plan to leave town for a while, being
America
’s most wanted now.
 
Tyler
had merely grunted at her statement.
 

“Do I need to remind you I’m supposed to be laying low for a while?”

The taxi had dropped them at the front doors of
County
General
.
 
Madison
fumed beneath the surface.
 
She hated the feeling of being out of control, of allowing someone else to take the lead.
 
Although
Tyler
didn’t ask for her permission; he simply took over.

Tyler
rushed the hallway like a wide receiver taking the ball to the goal line.
 
He dodged hospital personnel, weaving in and out of human traffic until she grew dizzy trying to keep pace with him.

Finally, he stopped.
 

“Grainger’s wife was admitted to the hospital last night with chest pains,”
Tyler
said, gesturing to room 315.
 
“She’s in there.
 
We’re going to ask her some questions.
 
Maybe she knows who her husband sold his invention to.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”
 

Madison
hadn’t seen Betsy Grainger in years.
 
As a little girl she had visited the Grainger’s home a few times with her father.
 
Betsy had always been kind, a grandmother type even back then.
 
She’d baked cookies for
Madison
, braided her hair and read books to her while the men had their secret meetings in the cellar.
 
She’d been sort of a stand in mother for her.

The years had been kind to the woman.
 
She had to be in her eighties—at least.
 
She was at least fifteen years older than her husband.
 
Her blue eyes still twinkled with a mischievous light, and her skin was radiant.
 
It glowed.
 
Of course there were wrinkles on her face, mainly around the eyes and mouth.
 
Still, she looked incredible.
 
Madison
could only hope she looked half as good at that age.
 

When Betsy Grainger saw
Madison
, she held her hand out.
 
“Child, it’s been a long time, far too long.”

“You recognize me?”
 
Madison
carefully took Betsy’s frail hand in hers.
 
It seemed like the slightest pressure would crack the woman’s bones.
 

“Of course.
 
You look just like your mother.”
 
Betsy patted the back of
Madison
’s hand.
 
“I was sorry to hear about your father.
 
He was a good man.
 
I always thought so.”

“Thank you.”

Madison
’s gaze drifted to the large bouquet of red roses on the corner table.
 
Those had to be from Betsy’s missing husband.
 
She casually drifted closer to them.
 
No card.
 
Damn.
 
She’d been so sure there would be some sort of note, a clue as to where they could find him.

Tyler
stepped forward and said, “Mrs. Grainger, I’m Agent Law.
 
I work for the CIA and I’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband if you don’t mind.”

The woman’s eyes widened with obvious fear, but
Madison
assured her it was okay.
 
She told Betsy that
Tyler
was with her, helping her to clear her father’s name.
 
She promised Betsy that
Tyler
could be trusted.
 

Betsy finally nodded and gestured for
Tyler
to ask his questions.

“Do you know who your husband sold his microchip idea to?”

“No one.
 
Elias would never sell it.
 
He created the microchips to save people from Alzheimer’s.
  
He told me there were people who wanted to use it for evil purposes, so Elias went into hiding to keep it out of their hands.
 
First the CIA wanted it.
 
But it’s gone way beyond that now.
 
Foreign governments are involved.”

“Are you saying you don’t know where he is?”
 
Tyler
’s clipped tone warned the woman he didn’t believe it even before she answered the question.

“That’s right.”
 
Betsy’s eyes narrowed on him, daring him to argue the point.
 
“He warned me he wouldn’t be in touch, said it was too dangerous.
 
Apparently he thought people would come looking for him.”

A blanket of tension settled over the room.
 
Tyler
’s jaw tightened,and Betsy’s lips looked like a thin slash of red.
 
Neither of them seemed ready or willing to back down, so
Madison
intervened, changing the subject.
 
For years she’d been curious about something.

“Why did you stop visiting us when I was a child?
 
Did your husband and my father have a falling out?”

“I don’t know what happened.”
 
Betsy shrugged thin shoulders.
 
“One day the four men were friends and the next, Elias seemed afraid to even mention their names.
 
He wanted nothing to do with them, any of them.
 
I thought the whole thing was silly.
 
I wanted to visit you still and I didn’t see why I should stop just because he wasn’t getting along with the others, but he insisted I stay away.”

Madison
forced herself to listen objectively.
 
Thinking about how much Betsy Grainger’s vanishing act had hurt the little girl she’d been would only muddy the issue and distract her from the important task at hand: clearing her father’s name and getting herself out of trouble.

Betsy went on.
 
“It broke my heart, not seeing you again.
 
You know Elias and I couldn’t have children.
 
You were the closest I ever came to having a daughter.
 
After you’re mother died, I felt sort of responsible for you.
 
It killed me to stay away, but Elias put his foot down, and he wasn’t the sort of man to do that.
 
I’d never seen him so scared and angry, so I listened.”
 
Tears filled her eyes.
 
“I’m sorry.”

Madison
smiled softly and nodded.
 
“I’m sorry too.
 
I enjoyed your visits.”

Before either of them could say more,
Tyler
stepped forward with more questions.
 
“When was the last time you saw your husband?
 
Has he called you?
 
Is there an emergency number?
 
Surely he didn’t leave you without any way of contacting him.”

While Betsy defended her position,
Madison
’s gaze fell on a gum wrapper.
 
It had been carefully folded and placed next to the Get Well cards.
 
Grainger loved to write on scraps, whatever he could find.
 
Madison
felt like she’d struck gold.
 
The wrapped had to be from Grainger.
 
Otherwise it would be in the trash.

Madison
took advantage of the argument taking place between Tyler and Betsy.
 
She quickly swiped the wrapper off the table.
 
It vanished into her palm.
 
Her other uncle, Boracci, had taught her a few little magic tricks.
 
Fortunately she still remembered them.
 
She slid the wrapped into her pocket.
 
If Betsy wouldn’t tell them the truth, perhaps Grainger’s obsessive habit of writing on scraps would.
 

She looked up and froze.
 
A small television set hung in the corner of the room high up on the wall.
 
Her eyes would have continued on if it hadn’t been for her picture hanging over the news anchor’s shoulder.
 
She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.

“…father, Duncan Grey was shot by the Secret Service on Friday night when he tried to assassinate the president at a charity event.
 
Madison Grey is believed to be a threat to national security.
 
If you see this woman, please call authorities immediately.
 
Do not try to apprehend her on your own.
 
She may be armed and is considered dangerous.”

A few other things were said about her, including the word ‘terrorist,’ but she barely heard any of them.
 
Her mind reeled from the implications.
 
She was traveling with the president’s son.
 
Why would President Law allow her to be painted as a terrorist?
 
She’d just been with him at the White House.
 
If they’d wanted to arrest her, they should have done it then.