The Origin (34 page)

Lingle’s
ears began to ring as he played the video once again.

“You son of a bitch,” he said just as Daniel Johnson froze on screen, apparently mesmerized by something at the other end of the hall. A moment later, John walked into view. The two men exchanged words and then John was on Daniel, punching wildly as if intending to make pulp of the other guy’s face. All of a sudden, John stopped and staggered backwards, staring at his hands. He shouted something as he fumbled for something at his back.

“No…” Lingle said under his breath just as John pulled out a gun and shot Johnson in the chest without hesitation. Then he was gone.

Lingle sat back in his chair, his mouth agape, unable to process what he’d just seen. He rewound the video a few seconds, and surely enough, it looked as though John’s hands had become invisible right before he ran out of view.

So it was true then, what Felton, Dane and even Olivia had said about him, and now Lingle had seen it with his very own eyes. He turned back to write something on a notepad when he saw movement onscreen out of the corner of his eyes. And to his utter amazement, for he’d admittedly forgotten all about the body in the hallway, Daniel Johnson stirred and gingerly rose from the floor.

And in his foggy, bone-tired mind, the details all reached out to one another – Daniel, the unknown DNA, the black mask – and the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place.

“Oh, holy hell!” he cried and jumped out of his seat.

* * * * *

Olivia’s urgent rapping on Daniel’s door could be heard up and down the hall during that late night, but she was beyond caring.

She knocked faster. “Answer the door!” With tears blurring her vision, she reread the ripped note one more time, hoping that it would say something, anything, else.

I can’t stay,
Liv
. For your own good,
it said.
I’ll miss you.

With renewed rage, she turned her fists to the door once more and began to pound in earnest, as if it were Daniel she was hitting instead. “Open the goddamn door!” she shouted, her punches slowing as her arms grew fatigued. “Daniel! Answer the door.”

“Miss King?”

She spun around, knowing the voice did not belong to Daniel, knowing it would never be Daniel again that took her by surprise, yet still hoping anyway.

Detective Lingle stood a few feet away from her, and behind him was a sleep-wrinkled old man in a brown cardigan with a set of keys in his hand.

“Can you keep it down, young lady? People are sleeping,” the super said before he unlocked the door and took his leave.

The detective held her by the shoulders and steered her away from the door. He put his hand on the brass knob and pulled a pistol out of his shoulder holster before pushing the door open.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find in there,” Olivia said, trying to keep her voice calm as he disappeared into the dark living room. “But you’re not going to find it.”

The light flicked on, illuminating the completely bare apartment. She followed him inside, refusing to believe that this was Daniel’s place.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said even as she stared at the dent in the wall where she and Daniel had made love just the night before. “Daniel doesn’t live here.”

Lingle checked each room then returned to the living room, his hands on his waist as he panted. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” The note slipped from her fingers as she tried to come to terms with the situation.

Lingle picked it up and examined the piece of paper. “Where did he go, Olivia?” He held the note aloft, his face a picture of exasperation.

“Why do you care?” she shouted, her voice bouncing around the room and inside her head.
Why didn’t he care?

Lingle passed the note back to Olivia’s trembling hand. “Earlier this week, I received two DNA results from the blood found at the building where you were being held. One was from John
Mathers
. The second was from an unknown person. A DNA test was also performed on the black mask that you had shown such interest in. And guess what? The two match.”

Olivia fought to conceal her gasp of shock. “So what?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “So what?” His eyes glittered ominously. “So what is that I’ve been looking at surveillance footage of that office all night. And so what is that your boyfriend appeared on that video, spilling his DNA all over that office floor.”

He came closer then, his face mere inches from hers so that she was forced to take a step back. “So I ask you Miss King, because I think you know, is Daniel Johnson the Black Hero?”

She stiffened her spine and looked him in the eye, a defiant lift to her quivering chin. “What does it matter now, Detective? He’s gone and he doesn’t intend on coming back.”

Lingle’s
gaze faltered as he stepped away. “He will. He’ll come back for you. The hero always comes back for his girl. And when he does, I’ll be waiting.”

She shook her head as the tears touched the edge of her eyes once again. “No, he won’t,” she said, turning away. But she didn’t tell him what she finally had to accept as she stood in that stark apartment: that if Daniel could leave without saying goodbye then he obviously did not care enough about her to return, hero or not.

Richard King paced around his daughter’s apartment, in front of the wall covered with mirrors, glaring down at his phone as if it were a Magic 8 Ball. He had been trying to call Olivia for over two hours, had been waiting at her apartment for one, and still his daughter was nowhere to be found.

For four days he had waited patiently for Olivia to come to him, had wanted her to work through her issues before they talked, but the well of his patience had finally dried up. He was her father and she had to answer to him.

Fifteen minutes before midnight, Olivia finally arrived, and though he was irate, he immediately noticed the puffy eyes and the bandage on her ankle, causing his fatherly instincts to kick in.

“What are you doing in here? Who let you in?” She remained standing by the door, not daring to come closer.

Richard could not take it anymore. With two steps, he stood in front his daughter and wrapped her in his arms. “Olivia, sweetheart, I am so happy you’re all right.”

Her stiff demeanor melted as she buried her face into his shirt and began to sob.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He rubbed circles on her back and made soothing noises. “
Shh
, Olivia. It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” she mumbled.

“You’re unhurt and that’s all that matters.”

She looked up at him with damp cheeks and shook her head. But no matter how much he silently urged her to speak, to reveal to him her fears and secrets, she would not say a word.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Smith didn’t tell me how traumatized you were about the kidnapping.” But then, he surmised, she probably just needed this hug from her dad. “Why haven’t you come to see me?” he said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. He had waited patiently, then impatiently, then had turned to those closest to her, but nothing had worked.

She pushed away from his chest and wiped her face, then took off her coat and hung it carefully on the rack, all the while refusing to meet his eyes.

“Olivia Mei,” he said more sternly. He would pull the fatherly voice out of storage if need be. Hell, he would count her down to three if that’s what it took to get his daughter back. “I asked you a question.”

After several long moments, she finally met his gaze. “Because you treat me as if I’m still a child.” She shook her head as she sniffled.

“I can’t help it, sweetheart,” he said more gently. “You’ll always be a little girl to me.”

“Call off Smith.” The ferocity in her voice took him by surprise and he searched her face only to find stark determination. “I mean it.”

“I can’t do that. Not until John
Mathers
is safely in jail.”

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. “Then we have nothing else to talk about,” she said, reminding him strongly of her mother. He couldn’t remember how many times Sarah had shut him out with such a simple gesture.

“We’re done when we say we are,” he said through gritted teeth.

She shot him a scathing look. “I don’t think so. Not under my roof.” She walked to the door and held it open.

“Don’t forget who saved you, Olivia,” he warned.

“From what I recall, a man named Smith saved me. And only after I was already molested, beaten and shot at. So Dad? Thanks, but no, you don’t get off that easily. Not until you can give me my privacy back.”

He seethed as he walked to the door. “Safety, not privacy, is my main concern, daughter mine. I would do anything to keep you safe. I hope one day you come to respect that.”

“Respect is a two-way street,
father,”
she said before slamming the door in his face.

* * * * *

Daniel slammed the door to the motel room and rushed to the bathroom where he immediately heaved into the rust-stained sink. He examined his reflection in the mirror, no longer recognizing the man staring back. It was impossible to deny that he was no longer that same impassive guy who worked as a bank security guard, who held the world away at an arm’s distance even as he fought to help its citizens. As it turned out, he was a far more destructive being than he could have even imagined, and he was killing Olivia slowly with each touch. As much as he hated the thought of leaving her behind, he realized he was left with no other choice. He was no stranger to death, but he was not about to stand by and watch as his cancer-inducing touches ate away at the only important person in his life.

Still, he knew he’d been a coward at the ballet, had known that if he looked at her one more time he would never have found the strength to leave. He wanted to leave her a longer message – had spent the rest of the night drinking and walking around aimlessly as he composed a proper farewell letter in his head – but in the end, he hadn’t been able to bring pen to paper. A few measly words on a page could not possibly ease the sting of abandonment from someone who promised never to leave her side. He just hoped that he is not immediately cast down into hell when he stands before God in the end. He had, after all, sacrificed his happiness and his own well-being for the greater good. And though he had taken lives, he hoped that he could at least be forgiven for trying to do the right thing by Olivia. He could only hope that, in time, she would understand and maybe even come to remember him fondly.

I’m sorry,
Liv
,
he thought for the hundredth time as he took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and picked up the phone book.
I’m sorry I have to leave so soon. I’m sorry I can’t be a normal man for you.

Daniel slumped on the bed as he talked to a ticket agent on the line, asking for the cheapest one-way flight to Alaska with the intention of burying himself deep into the wilderness. Out there, in the craggy mountain ranges of the Final Frontier, he could disappear and never even have to encounter another soul if he so chose. And if no suitable jobs were available, he was prepared to live off the land, eating fish, moose, bear, moss, whatever the hell it took.

After he hung up the phone, he was scribbling down the flight information when a sharp pain exploded on the back of his head and he tumbled off the bed and onto his knees. Before he could turn around, he felt another blow at the base of his skull and he fell face first into the dingy green-brown carpet, momentarily blinded by pain.

A heavy weight landed on Daniel’s back and the unknown assailant pulled his head back at a painful angle. “What did you do to me?” Daniel heard the familiar cold voice boom against his hear. “Tell me what you injected into me!”

“John,” Daniel whispered, his eyesight still littered with white spots even as he craned his head to catch a glimpse of his attacker, seeing nothing but a thick metal pipe laying a few feet away.

“Tell me what you injected into me!” John roared, pulling Daniel’s head back further then brutally slamming it down to the floor. “Tell me!”

Daniel heard, or rather, felt a crack and then the warm blood gushing out of his nose. “I didn’t inject you with anything.”

“Bullshit! You did something to make me invisible. Now tell me how to reverse it!” He pressed what felt like the barrel of a gun into Daniel’s throbbing head.

Daniel opened his mouth for another denial but knew his words would be wasted. The rational part of John’s brain was obviously not engaged; all the guy wanted was someone to bear the brunt of his rage, and unfortunately for Daniel, it looked like it was his turn once again. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but frankly, he didn’t much feel like getting shot once again.

Daniel exploded up off the floor, catapulting John off his back. A moment later, the invisible lunatic hit the wall across the room, leaving a huge crack in the fake wood paneling. “I didn’t inject you with anything. But you did get infected. And I’m sorry,” he said, scanning the room for any signs of John’s whereabouts. But the man was inexplicably stealthy for someone his size.