The Secrets We Keep Read online

  “Yeah. Just a few blocks from here. We can take you there. You’ll be safe.”

  Michael squashed the cigarette out on the ground. “I shouldn't be talking to you. You probably have a cell phone in your pocket. They can listen to every word we say.”

  “I know that.” Carter pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and held it up. “I removed the SIM pack. We're safe.”

  Michael pulled back the sleeve of his coat to reveal a fresh looking wound about the size of a silver dollar. The flesh appeared bumpy and swollen like someone had stabbed it with a fork dozens of times. “They implanted a chip, but I got it out. Then I threw it in the river.”

  I reached into my purse for the first aid kit I always keep in case of emergency. “Please let me dress that wound before it gets infected,” I said to Michael.

  “No.” He retreated back into the sleeve of his jacket. “It doesn't hurt, anyway.”

  I was about to insist when Carter said something that rendered me speechless.

  “You know,” he said to Michael. “If they implanted a chip inside your arm, maybe there's others you don't know about.” Carter lifted his pant leg to show Michael a scar on his ankle.

  Michael gazed at it with genuine fascination. “You got it out?”

  “Sarah dug it out for me. She's not exactly qualified to perform surgery but who can trust the real doctors? They all work for big brother, right?”

  Michael nodded and asked for another cigarette.

  Carter tossed him the whole pack along with the matches. “Just do me a favor and don't set yourself on fire, okay?”

  Michael cracked a smile for the first time in response to Carter's jab. I noticed he had a set of perfect teeth; his parents had probably spent thousands on braces when he was a teenager. How long would it take for them all to fall out? I couldn't imagine he owned a toothbrush.

  “So,” Carter continued. “You wanna see the safe house or not?”

  I couldn’t believe that Carter managed to get Michael up to our hotel room. While I tended to the wound on his arm with antiseptic and Band-Aids, Carter made arrangements and booked the empty room across the hall from ours.

  “My very own safe room?” Michael said when we walked him across the hall and opened the door.

  “Yes,” Carter said. “It’s available for a few nights. You can take a shower and sleep in the bed. Looks pretty nice, right?”

  Michael stood very still. “I don’t know. Have you swept the room for bugs?” He slowly walked over to the phone on the nightstand then checked the underside. Finally he sat on the bed, seemingly satisfied.

  “We need to discuss something important now,” Carter said. “It has to do with your sister.”

  “Rachel?” His eyes grew wide. “Where is she?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us what happened to her.”

  Michael blinked a few times, clearly confused. “She said she had to go away for a while. She promised she’d come back. I just have to wait and not say anything.”

  Carter looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I knew what he was thinking. We’d half-expected this to happen. Michael couldn’t cope with the reality of his sister’s death, so his brain concocted a story to keep her alive.

  “Where is she staying?” Carter prodded gently. “Who is she staying with?”

  “I don’t know.” Michael leaned over, hands on head as if his brain were going to explode. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay, Michael. We believe you.” I couldn’t stand seeing him so confused and tortured so I put my arm across his back in an effort to calm him down. “Why don’t you lie down, put up your feet.”

  He didn’t seem to want to do that. He got up and began pacing the room, mumbling to himself again.

  I gave Carter a pleading look that said, what should we do?

  “Sarah, run down to the nearest Salvation Army and grab some new clothes. Then find a place to get a shaving kit, shampoo, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste - and mouthwash - lots of mouthwash.” He handed me a fifty dollar bill.

  “Can I speak to you out in the hall for a second?”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to Michael as we slipped out the door.

  “I'm not sure it's a great idea to indulge his warped imagination,” I said to him in private. “He’s a sick man. We may be doing more harm than good.”

  “Let me worry about it, okay? I believe Michael will inadvertently provide us with some important clues.”

  “Okay. I’m trusting you but, just for the record, I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “Understood.”

  * * *

  Salvation Army was located five blocks from our hotel. I had a hunch that Michael wouldn't care much about the latest trends in men's fashion, so I chose some basic garments like jeans and long sleeve t-shirts. I found a jacket and a pair of size ten sneakers that appeared unworn. I purchased a brand new package of socks and underwear at the drug store, along with the toiletries that Carter had suggested.

  It was fully dark out as I headed back to the hotel, and I had the same sense that I was being followed.

  With two more blocks to go, I decided to make a detour at the Starbucks on the corner. I wasn't really in the mood for coffee, but I was curious if Logan Taylor would approach me. Assuming it was him.

  The air was sharp with the aroma of fresh coffee. As I watched the blonde man entering Starbucks, I tried not to look as though I was watching him, but he headed right to me. He wasn’t wearing the blue windbreaker. Just a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

  “Sarah Woods?”

  I nearly dropped the bags in my hand, but I somehow regained composure. “Why are you following me?”

  “We need to talk. Do you know who I am?”

  I figured he wouldn’t try to harm me with all these people around, most of their faces buried in their laptops. Or listening to music on their headphones.

  “Logan Taylor,” I said. “The guy who tried to wage a war against Big Pharma. Turned out to be a Big Mistake.”

  He cracked a smile. “Cute. So, tell me, why have you kidnapped Michael Manning? I know he’s with Carter right now at the Lincoln Motel.”

  “Kidnapped?” I choked out a laugh, not liking the fact that he knew our names. “I don’t think so. We invited him, and he came of his own free will.”

  “Michael is in no position to help you. He can't even help himself. You're wasting your time.”

  I observed Logan’s features and decided, despite his clipped tone and attitude, he was a handsome guy. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid of him. “Why do you care about Michael?”

  I could see his jaw grinding in frustration. “Trust me. You don’t want to get mixed up in this.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I already am. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Enough people have been killed,” he said. “I’d hate to see that happen to you, too.”

  Was that a threat or genuine concern for my well-being? “Do you know who killed Rachel?”

  He turned away. “Just take my advice and go back to New Hampshire.”

  And then, just like that, he turned heel and walked out. I tried to see where he was headed, but he just vanished into the night.

  When I got back to the room, Michael was in the shower. I set the bags of clothes and toiletries on the floor next to the bathroom.

  “Logan Taylor approached me.”

  Carter’s eyes grew wide with concern. “What happened?”

  “He knows who we are and why we’re here. He wants us to stay out of ...whatever the hell is going on.”

  “Did you ask him about Rachel?”

  “Of course I did. He wouldn’t give me anything. Just said that enough people had been killed, and we should go home to New Hampshire.”

  “The guy is resourceful,” he said. “Must’ve been a damned good journalist.”

  A heap of dirty clothes lay next to
the bed. I didn't want to touch them. “What shall we do with these?”

  With a tight expression, Carter began stuffing the clothes into one of the empty plastic bags. “These are going in the trash.”

  The water was still running, and we could hear Michael mumbling to himself in the bathroom. It had been over five minutes, and I had to believe the hot water would run out pretty soon.

  Carter took one of the burner phones and placed it inside one of the inner pockets of the new/used jacket I’d just purchased from Salvation Army. “There’s a GPS tracker installed on the phone,” he said. “If Michael leaves during the middle of the night, we can still locate him.”

  “Do you think his life is in danger?”

  Carter neglected to answer my question. Instead, he grabbed the clean clothes and toiletries and placed them in the bathroom.

  It was after 9:00 by the time Michael emerged from the bathroom. I barely recognized him. Clean shaven, wet hair slicked back; I could finally see his features.

  “Well, hello,” I said with a big smile. “How do you feel?”

  He immediately grabbed his cigarettes and lit one up. He sat on the edge of the bed, puffing away, as if oblivious to Carter or me. Lost in his own world.

  Carter said, “Well, buddy. Hope you sleep well tonight. We’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, okay?”

  Michael nodded, finished his cigarette in less than a minute, and stubbed it out in the palm of his hand. He lay back on the bed, hands clasped over his abdomen like a corpse, and closed his eyes.

  Back in our own room, I kicked off my shoes and flipped through the take-out menus. I hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. “Do you think Michael will stay in his room till morning?”

  “I don't know. He probably hasn't slept on a bed for months, so maybe he'll want to stay.”

  “What are we gonna do with him tomorrow?”

  Carter’s eyelids were getting heavy, and I could see how exhausted he was. He stripped off his clothes and climbed under the blankets. “I need to sleep on it. I’ll figure out a plan.”

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, I woke up at the sound of Carter’s voice. He was getting dressed. “I’m heading next door to check on Michael. Be right back.”

  I sat up in bed and checked the time. 7:15am.

  “Hold up a minute. I’m going with you.” I stepped into jeans, threw on my sweater, and worked my feet into my shoes. I didn’t bother to check my face in the mirror, just covered my head with a baseball cap.

  Entering the hallway, we knocked on Michael's door and waited for a reply.

  “Maybe he's in the bathroom,” I said.

  Since Carter had the key, he opened the door an inch and peered inside. “He's not in bed, and his clothes are gone.”

  We stepped into the room, and I called out toward the bathroom, “Michael? You in there?”

  No reply came and, upon checking the bathroom, Carter let out a groan. “Shit. He's gone.”

  “Maybe he got hungry and went to the soup kitchen for breakfast.”

  Carter shook his head in exasperation. “Let me check the GPS on his phone. He must be wearing the jacket because it’s not here in the room.”

  He let out a sigh of relief after he confirmed Michael’s whereabouts. “Looks like he's still in the building. He's probably downstairs in the lobby looking for coffee or food. Let's head down there.”

  Down in the lobby, we couldn't find Michael anywhere, so we approached the employee at the front desk. “Did you see a guy with a green jacket leave? He was here just a few seconds ago.”

  The man nodded. “Yeah, he just walked outside. I saw him get into a blue car.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “I don't know, exactly. I just saw the back passenger door open, and he got inside.”

  “Was he forced into the car?” Carter asked.

  “I don't think so. He got in all by himself. If I thought there was trouble, I would've called the police.”

  “Which way were they headed?”

  The man jabbed a thumb to the right. “Heading east.”

  “Thanks.” Carter turned to me. “Let's go. With the stop lights, we might be able to catch up to them.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “There's only one reason I can think of where Michael would willingly get into a vehicle.”

  “With somebody he trusts implicitly,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  Running out of the motel entrance, we scanned the line of cars stopped at the red light. Carter motioned for me to keep up as he took off at a fast jog. “Do you see the blue sedan with tinted windows? Second car in line from the intersection.”

  I craned my neck to get a better view. “Yeah. I see it.”

  “Get the license plate number if you can. I'm going after it.”

  Carter continued to run toward the vehicle. Once he got there, he grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but it must've been locked. He started banging on the window just as the light turned green. Before the car could take off, Carter quickly got himself in front of the vehicle, palms on the hood, staring into the windshield. I couldn't hear what he was shouting over the horns of the impatient drivers behind them.

  The blue sedan inched forward as if threatening to run Carter over, but he refused to budge.

  Once I caught up, I was able to snap off a few pictures of the license plate with my cell phone. I couldn't see inside the car with the dark tinted windows. I tried the back passenger door handle to no avail.

  At this point, a major traffic jam began to form behind us and angry drivers were either trying to get around us, or getting out of their cars to find out what the hold-up was.

  Finally, the driver of the blue sedan punched the gas, plowing right into Carter. I heard myself scream as Carter's torso smashed into the windshield and he flipped up and over the car, landing hard on the cement.

  I screamed his name as I ran over to help, praying to the heavens that he hadn't cracked his skull.

  I needn't have worried!

  Carter got to his feet and shook himself off. “I'm fine, Sarah. I might be limping for a few days but I'm fine.”

  I wrapped my arms around him. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

  A man from the sidewalk ran up to us and said, “Hey man, want me to call the police or an ambulance?”

  Carter kindly waved him away. “Thanks buddy. We're good.”

  Back on the sidewalk, Carter took a few seconds to catch his breath.

  “Did you see who was driving?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yep, it was Logan Taylor. Michael was in the back seat with his sister.”

  I gasped. “What?”

  “Rachel Manning is alive. I saw her. She probably feared that Michael was going to tell us her secret. Do me a favor and get the Buick, then pick me up.” He handed me the car keys. “Quickly.”

  I jogged over to the parking lot, my heart racing. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that Carter had seen Rachel in the back of the blue car.

  Had his eyes deceived him?

  I got in the Buick, exited the lot, and circled the block to find Carter waiting for me in front of the Motel.

  He got in, staring at his phone. “Okay, the GPS is still moving, so we have to hurry and catch up before someone realizes that Michael is being tracked.”

  I punched the gas, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Just tell me where to go.”

  Following Carter’s commands, we ended up on I-84 heading east and remained there for about thirty miles. Since this wasn’t a breezy highway with passing lanes, there was no hope of catching up to the blue sedan. “Where the heck are they going?”

  “Just stay on track,” he said. “The GPS is still in motion, about a mile ahead of us.”

  A troubling thought occurred to me. Why would Rachel abduct her brother? Although it wasn’t really abduction if he willingly got into the car with her. “They could’ve found the phone in his
pocket and thrown it into a moving dump truck, or something. We may be on a wild goose-chase.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  A few minutes later, Carter had me take a right on Hungerford Street, and we continued on that road until we hit what appeared to be a dead end. No houses around. “What now?”

  Carter said, “There should be a road on the left here. It looks overgrown with weeds. Take it anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Look.” He pointed to the tire tracks leading into the road. “They went in there.”

  “This could be an ambush,” I said, but I did as Carter instructed and turned the Buick into the road. The hidden road was basically a dirt path filled with potholes, tree branches scraping against the side of the car. I prayed we wouldn’t get a flat tire or a cracked windshield in all this mess.

  Suddenly, we came into a clearing and a lake appeared, with a half-dozen dilapidated cabins. “Looks like a campground,” he said.

  “Do you see the blue sedan anywhere?”

  Carter was too busy opening the glove box. After he retrieved his gun, he said, “Stop the car. I’m getting out.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want them to see the car. The GPS says they are less than two hundred feet away so I’m going in on foot.”

  I stopped the car, cut the engine and looked around outside, spotting the blue sedan. “Over there, six cabins down. That must be where Rachel’s been hiding out, that is, if it’s really her.”

  “Oh, it is,” he said. “I’m positive of that, and she knows I recognized her in the car.”

  When Carter got out, he slipped the gun into the waist of his jeans, under his shirt and proceeded toward the cabins. “Stay here.”

  “Like hell I will.” I exited the Buick and fell in line behind him. He didn’t try to talk me out of it. “Maybe a better idea would be to call the police and give them this location. We could tell them Michael has been abducted.”

  Carter charged up to the cabin and rapped on the door. “Come on,” he shouted out. “We know you’re in there. We just want to have a chat.” He banged again. “If you don’t let us in, we’re calling the cops. I don’t think you want that. So open up.”