Nomad (24 page)

"Somebody arranged those crashes, Logan. Somebody wanted your wife to die, and he wanted it to look like an accident. Somebody who wanted to control every part of your life, your career, even who you date, and especially who you marry..."

"Uncle Henry?" Logan asked.

"You said it, not me."

"Why would he want to kill you?"

"That's not a mystery. He already disapproves of me. Poor Riley, no family, no Ivy League education, nothing at all. A wasted opportunity, when you could be marrying more wealth and power." Raven thought it over. "And Macey, with all her relentless idealism, could be a liability to your political career. Your family does some very dirty work, you know. She would be a thorn to the interests who back your father and grandfather. Maybe that's what Henry decides, anyway. He gives Macey a few more years to live than he gives me, though, probably because of her family's wealth and influence."

"Would he really just have people killed like that?" Logan asked. "People that I...people I loved?" He looked away from her quickly. "In these different futures, I mean."

"He has big plans for you, Logan. Bigger than even he knows. When the opportunity comes, you'll seize control of the government. He'll be perched right behind you, still alive and looking like a zombie robot, as your global security adviser--shaping your domestic and foreign policies, the power behind your throne."

"I don't believe it," he said, but his voice was shaky.

"Macey's death--or my death, in the new version of things--was one of the key events that made you into what you will become." Raven shook her head. "No, that's not right. We all lose people we care about. I've lost more people than I could name, seriously. It's your choices, Logan. Your choices create your future."

"How do I stop all of this?"

"You can start by cutting all ties with Henry Sheffield. Kick him out of your life."

"How? I can't make my grandfather fire him."

"Figure it out, Logan. You have to get rid of Henry, and then you have to keep making the right choices."

Logan didn't speak. He seemed to be drowning in troubled thoughts.

"As long as we're on the run, let's pay a visit to Henry," she said. "You can tell him yourself."

"What about those people trying to kill us?"

"If we change the future, the revolutionaries will disappear." As far as Raven knew, no more revolutionaries from the future were actually on their way to kill Logan, but the imaginary threat made it easier for her to control him.

"Henry's in his Virginia house this week. That'll take all night," Logan said.

"We have all night."

"You know, it's weird. He called a few hours ago and said he wanted me to come visit this weekend. He said it was very important, but he wouldn't say what it was."

"He probably wants to make sure you broke up with me," Raven said.

"Maybe. Should we call and tell him we're coming?"

"No!" Raven said, and he raised his eyebrows at her sharp tone. "I mean, no, because those revolutionaries can track your cell phone. And mine. If we call anyone, we'll give away our location."

"Shouldn't we shut our phones down, then?"

"Good idea."

As they drove through the night, Raven tried to make herself relax. Things were going as she intended. So far, Logan seemed determined to avoid the evil path, but apparently that determination would erode and vanish in the years to come.

She tried not to think about the deaths of her friends--they were too recent and too shocking, especially the brutal way she'd taken Kari's life to save her own.

A lost memory pushed its way forward again, the one she'd pushed down when she was in the crawlspace after Audra died. This time, she allowed herself to remember.

* * *

She was nine years old and her name was Rhea. She'd crept down the hall to her father's office that night to spy on her parents after her bedtime. The silent, thick tension between her parents all evening had told her that something unusual was happening.

They lived in a two-story, red brick house in Bellevue, on the Lake Washington waterfront across from Seattle. It had vaulted ceilings and high picture windows that looked out on the water and brought in enormous amounts of light. Her favorite part of the house was the oversized brick fireplace in the living room, flanked by snoozing marble dogs, which kept things cheery and warm through the long, dark winters.

Her father's office was on the second floor, five doors down from Rhea's bedroom. She moved softly on her bare feet through the dim hall, and she peered around the edge of the open office door, her heart thumping.

Her parents were facing away from her, watching a hologram just above her father's desk. Rhea couldn't see it because their bodies blocked her view.

Her mother was very pretty, Rhea thought, with soft golden hair and blue eyes like Rhea's. She was athletic, a dedicated tennis player, and she ran a marathon with Rhea's father every year. She worked as a cardiologist at Harborview Medical Center.

Her father was tall, dark-haired like Rhea, a smiling man in his early forties. He was an executive producer at a national news channel based in Seattle. His office was of minimalist design, including a wafer-thin desk with spindly, threadlike legs. A table with a matching design displayed his collection of vintage matchbox cars.

"If you air this, they'll come after us," her mother was saying.

"If I don't air it, then it will disappear down the memory hole," her father replied. "People risked their lives to collect this footage and bring it to me."

"What good will it do? Will it stop anything?"

"We all have to do what we can." He moved aside slightly as he gestured at the hologram, and Rhea saw what they were watching. The holograms were of a long, dim place full of cots and hungry-looking people in orange coveralls. "These people are held prisoner without trial, with no access to an attorney or anyone else. Thousands of people, snatched up and locked away for speaking against the regime."

"And what do you think they'll do to us? What will they do to Rhea?"

"Colin is coming in a few hours to take you and Rhea to a safehouse. There's an underground network that helps people on the run. Tomorrow, I'll set the video to broadcast, then I'll have two hours to get away from the studio before it goes public. I'll meet up with you."

"Maybe we shouldn't. We're giving up our lives. We're putting Rhea in danger."

"She'll never be safe in the world Carraway is creating. We all have to fight back."

"I'm so scared," her mother whispered. Her father held her close.

Rhea slipped back to her own room, feeling frightened and hoping she was just having a bad dream. She didn't understand what was happening, but she knew they were in danger if her mother was scared. Nothing ever scared her mother.

She curled up in her bed, hugged her stuffed cat, Pokeynose--so named for his wiry plastic whiskers--and pulled the blanket over her head.

Later, she heard a rumbling outside, then harsh, shouting male voices. Rhea left her bed and tiptoed down the hall to the landing, which overlooked the foyer on one side and the living room on the other, with views of the front and rear picture windows. A scramble of lights shone through the front windows--headlights, spotlights, pulsing blue lights.

Her father was below her, hurrying down the wide white stairs to the golden hardwood floor of the foyer.

"What's happening, Dad?" Rhea asked. He looked up at her, startled.

"I'm locking the doors. Go find your mother, she's looking for you."

"But what's happening--" she started to ask.

"Go now!" he shouted, and Raven turned and ran down the hall. Her mother was already running toward her from the opposite direction. She snatched Rhea up and carried her back to her room.

"What's happening, Mommy?" she asked.

"Some bad people are here." In Rhea's room, her mother set her down, then pushed aside one of Rhea's chairs, which looked like a giant stuffed teddy bear with a big lap on which Rhea could sit. Behind it was the panel in her wall that led to the crawlspace. "You need to hide in the bear cave for a while."

"Why the bear cave?" Rhea asked. It had been her word for the crawlspace in her room as long as she could remember.

"Just crawl inside," her mother said, and Rhea did as she was told. "Wait here."

Rhea heard a pounding on the front door, followed by an even louder thud. She heard a sizzling sound, one she would learn to associate with cutting lasers. She heard her father scream, and then his scream became a gurgle. She heard boots clomping across the hardwood and more of the rough, shouting voices.

Rhea opened her mouth to scream for her father, but her mother clamped her hand over Rhea's lips and pushed her back inside the crawlspace.

"Stay here!" her mother whispered. "Crawl in back behind the boxes, hide yourself, and stay quiet." She released Rhea's mouth and began to close the panel.

"What happened to Dad? They hurt Dad!" Rhea was crying now, confused and scared.

"Quiet! Don't leave this spot. Okay?"

Rhea nodded. Her mother paused, watching her, and it looked like she would cry, too. "I want you to know we love you very much, your father and I. You're the most important part of our lives." She broke down and actually did cry as she slid the panel back into place. That was the last time Rhea ever saw her mother, crying and frightened.

She heard the teddy bear chair thump back into place, then her mother's quick footsteps in the hall. She heard the sizzling laser sound again, and she heard her mother's final scream.

The boots tromped through her house as the men overturned furniture and broke down doors. Rhea wondered if they were searching for her. She knew who they were, the men who dressed like black-uniformed police with the scary pyramid on their sleeve. They controlled everything now.

Heavy footsteps thumped into her room. They pulled the drawers from her dresser, kicked open her toy box, and rummaged through her closet. Rhea shook with fear.

"Just kid's stuff in here," a voice said. "But where's the kid?"

"Forget it, we found what we need in the office," another voice answered. That voice became louder and belted orders to the other men. "Burn out every data system in the house. Bag and dump those bodies. Have the coroner record it as burglary-homicide, no suspects."

"Yes, sir!" a third voice replied.

Rhea lay on the floor of the crawlspace, too terrified to move, not daring to think.
My parents are--
her brain began, and she made it shut down. She was amazed at how completely she could shut her brain down when she really needed to do it.

The boots thumped around her house for a while longer, then the vehicles on her front lawn rumbled and drove away. Still, Rhea did what she was told, hiding and waiting. She had no idea what else to do, and she didn't want to go out looking for her parents, because she knew her parents were--

No
. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to believe it, refusing to think it.

Time passed. The hours felt like years. Much later, she heard more footsteps--a single set, and the sound of a man muttering softly to himself.

The footsteps echoed in the upstairs hall. They entered her room, and she heard the heavy teddy-bear chair being dragged across her carpet. The panel opened, bringing light into the crawlspace from the deck lamps outside. The pale light outlined a bearded man she recognized.

"Rhea," he said, smiling as though he'd just found lost treasure. "There you are."

She looked back at him, shivering, and couldn't say a word.

"You remember me, don't you? Colin Taggart? I've visited here for dinner parties, for Christmas..."

Raven opened her mouth, but she couldn't make words come out. Her mind roiled in shock, trying not to think about the horrors that had only just happened.

"I told your father I would get you out of here," he said. "Come on."

She didn't move, so he picked her up and pulled her out of the crawlspace. She didn't resist him. He stood her on her feet.

"You'll need warm clothes. Do you have a suitcase?" She didn't answer, but he found the little pink suitcase in her closet. She didn't help him as he grabbed clothes at random from her drawers.

He took her hand, and she walked along obediently as he rolled the suitcase down the hall. When they reached the open balcony landing, she looked down the wide white steps. The bottom three steps were streaked with blood. A smear of blood continued from there to the center of the foyer, where it stopped abruptly.

That image would stay with her forever, the dark blood on the white steps, the last traces of the father she'd lost.

She would never be sure just where in the house they'd killed her mother. Taggart hurried her down the back steps, out the back door to his waiting car.

She didn't speak again until she'd arrived at the safehouse in Portland and met Kari, the freckled girl who would be the closest friend she would ever have.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The late-night interstate was wide open, and with Logan's high-speed driving, they reached the front gate to Henry Sheffield's estate in Great Falls, Virginia, at a few minutes past one in the morning. The tall, spiked iron gate was set over the driveway between two massive pillars of black rock.

Logan touched the button on the call box. When no answer came, he pushed it twice more. Finally, Henry's angry voice burst out over the intercom.

"Who the hell is it?" he growled.

"It's me, Uncle Henry." Logan waved at the security camera mounted over the gate.

"Logan? I wasn't expecting you until Friday."

"I came early."

"Who is that in the car with you?"

"Oh, that's my girlfriend. You remember Riley from lunch?"

Henry did not speak again. The gate silently opened for them, and Logan took them up the flagstone driveway, through a stand of woods so dense and high it was like a second, inner wall. The view widened to a grassy lawn overshadowed by a Tudor-style mansion. Henry's home looked like a collection of small houses shoved together, with high, steep, dark roofs and low, narrow windows that combined to give the mansion a hooded, suspicious look.