“Apparently, we have the same radar screen. It is ironic that you would draw an invisible line at legal legitimacy.”
“My point, Mr. Sparrow, is do not waste my time again. The Order has much more pressing matters. However, if Mrs. Pierce would decide to go public with a pharmaceutical, a decision that would not be in the best interest of the republic, we would notice. I suggest she use her talents in other means, such as working at your wife’s institute.”
“Fuck,” Mason whispered, ripping the ear bud from his ear. “That was a threat.”
Before I could stop him, Mason was up and opening the study doors. With his feet planted shoulder-width apart, he addressed the man across the room, “Top.”
Gray eyes came his way. “Sergeant.”
Sparrow took a step back, his displeasure at our interruption well-masked. “Of course, please join us.”
Walters looked between Sparrow and Mason and me. “Is this it or will more doors open?”
“This is it, sir,” I said. “My name is Reid Murray. My wife was the other woman kidnapped. She was physically assaulted. We have evidence that led us to the Order. It wasn’t an assumption that we warranted your attention. Our goal is to work in parallel—we could say on the fringe of perceived legality. The Order has its focus as we do our own.”
The man walked closer to me, tilting his head to the side. “You look...” He scanned me up and down. “Murray is a common name.”
I wasn’t certain where he was headed, but I had a goal. “Sir, I need answers about a soldier that fits the profile of the Order’s recruits.”
“Yes, your diction is similar.” He shook his head as a smile came to his thin lips. “May I ask your parents’ names?”
“Top, we need to know—”
Mr. Walters waved Mason’s direction. “Of course, it won’t be difficult for me to learn.”
I scanned the room. All eyes were on me. “My father’s name was Rendell and my mother was LaDonna Murray.”
Top nodded and turned to Sparrow. “Perhaps we could learn from you, Mr. Sparrow. You do surround yourself with the best, or at least the son of one of the best.”
My train of thought derailed. “You knew my father?”
“I did. Lieutenant Colonel Murray is a hero, son, a patriot in the true sense of the term. You should be proud of his dedication to the republic.”
“He was part of the Order?” I couldn’t believe I was asking this.
“Things operated a bit differently back then. Mr. Sparrow’s concern with our recruiting was different. The formula didn’t exist.”
My mind spun.
Did my father not die in the Gulf War?
Did he choose the republic over his family?
Before I could form questions, Mason drew his attention. “Top, we have recent DNA evidence that led us to a man who served in the army. According to military records, he died six years ago. His DNA was found last week. Even you must admit that sounds like a possible soldier in the Order?”
“And what is this to you, Sergeant? I understand Mr. Sparrow and Mr. Murray.” He turned back to me. “Did you ever consider serving your country?”
“Yes, sir. I did two tours in Iraq.”
“Branch?”
“Army.”
“Mr. Murray’s wife is my sister,” Mason said, returning the conversation to him. “And as Mr. Sparrow mentioned, we have every reason to believe my wife is the target.”
Walters shook his head. “This has been fascinating. Utterly fascinating.” He offered me his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Reid. Not all of our recruits come to us” —he looked at Mason— “well, as the sergeant here did. As I said, the Sovereign Order far predates the drug. If you are ever wanting more...”
“Sir, right now, I want answers to who harmed my wife.”
“Your father was a family man too.” After we shook, he turned to Sparrow and Mason. “I cannot help you. Whatever is being done to you or your wives is not from the Order. I’m certain you have a long list of enemies.” He spoke to Mason. “I suggest you rerun that DNA. Erroneous results are commonplace. Obviously, a dead man doesn’t leave DNA.
“Goodbye, gentlemen. Don’t contact—”
“The women were returned after they had received a similar drug to the one you gave me,” Mason said, interrupting. “It’s improved. Whatever they were given only blocked out a few weeks, yet they are both missing the same amount of time, and my wife has identified key components to her previous research in their toxicology screen.”
Mr. Walters stopped. “That is interesting. I would like to get my hands on that report. I’m sure our scientists would be interested.”
Sparrow stepped forward. “Is there any possibility you have another rogue soldier?”
“No one goes against the Order.”
Someone had. She’d died in Montana in the fire at Mason’s ranch.
“Is it a possibility?” Sparrow repeated.
Walter’s gaze went to Mason. “No.”
Walters started to walk away. As he did, I felt my chance at avenging Lorna slip away. “Mr. Walters.”
He turned. “Mr. Murray.”
“You said you wanted the toxicology report?”
“Yes.”
“Sir, if you could provide me with the means to reach you, I will send you what we have regarding the toxicology. I’d also like to send the DNA and name and rank of the deceased soldier.”
“There can be no record of communication,” he said.
“That won’t be a problem.”
He took a deep breath. “No offense intended, but I don’t trust anyone outside the Order. The risk is too great.”
“I used to contact you,” Mason said.
Walters turned his stare to Mason. “Activate the old address. It’s the only way I’ll agree.”
“Yes, sir. I will,” he said.
Lorna
I’d basked in my knowledge that I wasn’t raped as I tried to get on with my life. Of course, it wasn’t exactly business as usual. We were on lockdown. It made it easier that all of the women were in similar straits, including Ruby.
Everyone did their best to go on with life. Ruby continued her senior year online. Laurel had a new space on 2 that allowed her more room to do what she’d done at the institute. It wasn’t as if she could see clients of the institute or check on participants in her study, yet she could access the team she’d been able to assemble and work virtually with them.
Much to Sparrow’s chagrin, Araneae maintained her presence—albeit virtual—at both the Sparrow Institute and Sinful Threads. Her friend and co-founder of the fashion design company, Louisa, was more than willing to carry more than her weight. After all, she had been where Araneae was twice. Her little girl, Kennedy, was already four years old and her son, Dustin, had recently celebrated his first birthday. It was right before our trip to Montana. Sparrow, Araneae, and about fifty Sparrows went to Boulder for a first birthday party.
While I couldn’t imagine Sterling Sparrow enthralled with balloons and a smash cake, Araneae later said he did well. I suppose that could mean anything from he didn’t grunt or he actually enjoyed himself.