The Lost (22 page)

Bobbie laid a hand on her shoulder gently, but it was
enough to silence the other woman, who finally seemed to understand. “I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to imply that your dad—”

“My dad was sent to investigate those murders,” Adam replied, his tones heavy with emotion.

Bobbie eased her arm around his waist and offered him consolation. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for the connection, Adam. We just have to find it.”

He nodded and looked at Sam. “Can you help?”

Sam hunched her shoulders. “I won’t hack the NSA. Too much of a risk. Besides, there are probably all kinds of newspaper reports about the murders.”

“And we can head to a local library and connect to those sources through their computers. This way no one can track them back to us right away,” Bobbie said, looking up and meeting Adam’s troubled gaze.

Clearly unable to speak, he nodded and took a deep pent-up breath before he released it slowly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, but Sam raised her hand and said, “No charge for Dad’s friends.”

Adam smiled then, and removed a business card from his wallet. “Thanks. And if you ever want to stop being a jack-of-all-trades—”

“And master one? Too boring for me,” she teased, but took the card anyway. She popped out of her chair, slapped her thighs, and said, “I’ll walk you out. I have to get back to finishing an order of T-shirts.”

Sam led the way back out and after she opened up her shop again, Adam insisted on buying an entire rack of T-shirts. Understanding that his honor demanded that he offer compensation, Sam replied, “I’m never one to turn down a sale.”

Once she had charged him and promised to deliver them to his office, Adam and Bobbie walked out into the beauty of the spring day. Bobbie’s arm was wrapped around Adam’s waist and she offered an affectionate squeeze to reassure him that all would be all right.

He responded with a forced smile and by dropping his arm around her shoulders. “Did you have a particular library in mind?”

“My library card is for Bradley Beach. There’s a nice staff there and computers we can use to search the newspapers and other public files for information on those murders.”

With a bob of his head, he said, “Then I guess that’s where we go.”

The Bradley Beach library was a few blocks off Main Avenue on a quiet residential block. A small Federal-style brick building, it boasted a beautifully manicured lawn and landscaping. The inside was just as well-kept despite its size. A row of maple-colored carrels held computers where patrons could work beside the many bookshelves.

As they entered, the brown-haired librarian at the desk looked up and beamed a smile as she saw Bobbie. She quickly rushed forward and hugged her, and Bobbie returned the embrace.

“It’s so good to see you out and about,” the pretty young woman said.

“It’s good to see you, too, Marge,” Bobbie replied, and after a short discussion about family and mutual friends, Bobbie motioned to the computers.

“My computer died and I just needed to look up some things.”

Marge gestured to the almost-empty tables and chairs.
“It’s too early for the after-school rush, so take as long as you want.”

They sat down side by side, legs brushing in the tight quarters of the carrel. Adam laid his hands on the edges of the keyboard, and within seconds, it brought up a series of older articles about the murders. Without shifting a finger, he started flipping through them quickly until Bobbie laid a hand on his to slow him down.

“I can’t read that fast,” she said, and a flush worked across his cheekbones.

“Sorry,” he replied with chagrin. “I’m a speed-reader.”

Speed-reader couldn’t even begin to describe how quickly he worked, making her realize that Adam had a number of other abilities that were far beyond human.

Within several minutes they had a few articles, including one that contained details about the search for the man and the Texas Ranger working the case: Salvatore Bruno.

“So it seems that my father went out into the desert to the commune where this man lived. It didn’t pan out and after another couple of weeks of inquiries the murders went unsolved,” Adam finished, his tone distant, almost emotionless, but from beside her Bobbie sensed the tension in his body.

She closed her hand over his and clicked on the mouse to print the article for further review. Lacing her fingers with his, she detected the fine trembling in his body, a testament to the battle he was fighting.

“My father found me in Texas. I remember being out in the desert,” he said, voice thick with emotion. Bits of bright green were coalescing in his eyes, and where their hands were joined, a hint of blue aura was slowly emerging.

“Why don’t you ask your father, Adam?”

Adam cut her off with an abrupt chop of his free hand. “I can’t do that now. I won’t until there’s no other explanation for what’s happening.”

Sympathy flickered in Bobbie’s gaze before she schooled her features. “Then let’s shake some trees and see what else falls out.”

“Thank you,” Adam replied gratefully, and Bobbie added, “There’s more in the article. It seems as if all of the victims had some weird scorch marks.”

“Can you search for other instances of those kinds of marks while I look for more on the South Texas murders?” Adam asked, but rather distantly, as if his mind was already at work on multiple things. Then he shook his head and faced her, his attention focused on her like a laser beam, direct and unwavering. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little distracted,” he admitted.

“That’s understandable,” she replied, and smoothed her hand across his chest.

Without further discussion, Adam returned to his computer, leaving Bobbie staring at the back of his head of sun-streaked hair.

She understood his distraction as well as his probable frustration. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not know your real history or to doubt the motives of the only kin you did know. If there was one constant in her life, it was her family.

She could not comprehend what she would do if she couldn’t count on them. Because of that, when she sat down at the computer in the adjacent carrel to look for other possibly related cases, she did so with one huge hope in mind—that she could find a plausible explanation for why Salvatore Bruno was lying to his son.

H
is son was a brilliant man.

Because of that, Salvatore had no doubt that it was only a matter of time before he and the Carrera woman connected the dots to him, if they hadn’t already done so. He had to turn that scrutiny away if his Genesis project was ever going to become a reality.

Adam was to have been the progenitor for the new race. Under other circumstances, Bobbie might have made an excellent Eve—the first woman to mate with Adam. He had some knowledge of the Carrera family, after all, knew they were smart and strong. The birth would have eventually provided them with the necessary stem cells to create even more people with Adam’s powers. People that Salvatore and his CIA group chose for enhancement as part of Genesis.

There was just one rub with that scenario. He had discovered that Bobbie was barren and his son’s emotional attachment to her could only produce complications.

He should know about how emotion created difficulties. Despite all that he had been taught, he had developed a heartfelt connection to Adam that he could not deny. Adam was his son, and at times the weight of that sentiment complicated the duties he owed to his group and to the deal he had made with Alexander Sombrosa.

But there was no way to eliminate those conflicting obligations at the moment. He hoped that maybe there was a way to balance them, to find the means to advance Genesis without losing the only family he had.

Sadly, he had no uncertainty that accomplishing that might mean sacrificing Bobbie Carrera. Or at least, his son’s relationship with the attractive young woman.

Salvatore knew just how to accomplish the schism.

Adam watched the screen as page after page flashed by on the monitor at speeds humans were unable to follow. He had raced through a number of articles on the murders, but had saved the most dangerous link for last: the one to the NSA file Sam Cunningham had located earlier.

He had copied the address for the link with a swipe of his hand before they had left Sam’s back room.

With a mental command, he fed the computer the link, but to safeguard what he was doing, he commanded a different image to appear on the monitor. In the background, however, the NSA systems were blocking access to the file. Time and time again he attempted to break the password protecting the file, but with no luck.

Frustration set in, along with the first traces of a headache along the edges of his brain. He broke the link with the computer and leaned back in his chair, beginning to experience a weird fluctuation of energy in his core.

Shooting a glance at Bobbie from the corner of his eye, he noticed her rubbing her leg and swiveled in the chair to face her.

Bobbie massaged the dull throbbing in her leg, which had been growing in direct proportion to the stress headache beating at her brain. She hated long periods of inactivity, and staring at the assortment of newspaper articles and reports on the computer for the last hour hadn’t helped her mood.

“Let me,” he said, leaning toward her, his hands outstretched to take over her massage, but she captured his hands with hers.

“I’m okay.”

He slipped one hand from her grasp and ran a finger along the deep furrow in her brow. “Doesn’t seem that way.”

With just a flick of his finger, the headache eased and he reached for her again, but she didn’t waver from her stance.

At the questioning arch of his brow, she said, “I don’t want you to think that I’m only here because of—”

“My money?” he said, deadpan.

“Adam,” she warned, but with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“My good looks?” he added, shifting his chair even closer to her. A boyish twinkle glittered in his green eyes and toyed along the edges of his lips, hinting at the playful streak buried beneath his normally staid exterior. She suspected that little boy was one who hadn’t emerged very often in his life.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Come on, Adam. You know why.”

He shifted his chair back to her carrel and his knee brushed hers, sending a jolt of power through her, making her jump from its potency.

“Sorry. It’s tough to be around you and not feel this way.”

She smiled and cradled his cheek. The force of his power greeted her palm, much more potent than before. “It seems stronger.”

In truth, Adam had sensed the difference as well. The call of the power had been growing in him again all day. It had flitted around the edges of his consciousness, but had been taking firmer root over the last few hours. Being this close to her wasn’t helping. He could sense the power trying to escape him and merge with her. Because of that, he needed distance and possibly a way to get rid of some of that excess energy before he lost control.

“I need a break. How about you?”

“I need to stretch.” She logged off her computer, grabbed the sheets of paper she had printed, and rose. “How about a walk?”

“I’m game,” he replied. He moved quickly, logging off and grabbing his papers. He placed a hand at the small of her back as they walked out of the library, pausing only to drop their materials in the car before their stroll.

But as Adam took her hand, a shock jolted her, making her pull away from him.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t had so little control in a long time.”

His unease was obvious and she tried to alleviate it. Laying her hand against his chest, she ignored what was almost a painful burn of energy pouring off him. “What can I do to help?”

As he had before, Adam experienced the expanding push of the power, wanting to escape, plus the physical pull of his human side, remembering how they had spent the night. Which reminded him of why he had kept his previous contacts to ones devoid of emotion. He stepped back from her, earning a wounded look, but knowing it was necessary. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bobbie. Right now, I’m having trouble handling my life force.”

She shuttered her upset and put on a brave face. “I understand. Maybe we should go.”

“That makes sense,” he said, and they wasted little time getting into the car to return to Adam’s home.

They were silent as they drove, but with each mile that passed, Adam took note of the energy building in a way he had not ever experienced before. His core grew as dense as lead and so hot it was as if he was burning up from the inside out.

Bobbie seemed to sense his discomfort and reached for him, but he thrust his hand up to keep her away. Shards of light shot from his fingers and Bobbie jerked back, stung by the release of his power.

“Sorry,” was all he could manage, as whatever was overtaking him was making it painful to perform even the most basic human functions. His heart raced in his chest and his head pounded in rhythm to the beat. He saw his house up ahead and was grateful, since bright swirls of light danced in his vision, almost blinding him.