Survivors of PEACE Page 25

  “It’s Cedric,” he said, but that wasn’t enough to make her understand, so he forced out the words he knew would break her. “He’s dead.”

  She shook her head. “No. We were just talking. I was only stuck in that elevator for twenty minutes. He was fine when I left. Just let me—”

  She attempted to duck under his arm, but Jared grabbed the doorknob and held it tight. “You don’t want to see him like this. Trust me. And he wouldn’t want you to.”

  Nova’s eyes filled with tears, and her nostrils flared as she looked up at him. “He was fine,” she said again.

  “I know.”

  She turned around and sobbed into her hands as quietly as she could, like she was embarrassed for him see or hear her cry.

  Jared stayed where he was and let her pretend he couldn’t.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Zira listened intently as she recorded Nova’s statement about the events leading up to Cedric’s death. She managed to keep her features impassive by forcing a numb disinterest into her heart and mind, locking away the part of herself that just wanted to scream until she could safely let it out. Right now, her team needed leadership, which meant she couldn’t allow herself to fall apart.

  They all stood around like mannequins, watching Alma direct the crime scene investigation team as they gathered whatever evidence they could find in the room where Cedric had been murdered. The coroner had come to take his body a few minutes earlier, so at least they didn’t have to look at that anymore. Jared had managed to prevent Nova from seeing him at all, which was probably for the best. Not that Zira thought she was too fragile to handle it, but those kinds of images didn’t go away, and there was no reason to subject someone to acquiring that unpleasant memory if they didn’t need it.

  “I just want to make sure we have this completely right,” she said to Nova. “For the investigation. Is it okay if we go through it one more time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. So you got that message from Tripp at about 7:00 in the morning.” She had seen the message herself just a few minutes ago. It asked Nova to come downstairs for a few minutes because Tripp had something urgent he wanted to show her and talk to her about. He hadn’t sent her any such message, but the sender had made it appear as if it had come directly from his CL.

  Nova nodded as she struggled to fight off tears. “I got in the elevator. It went down a couple floors, and then it just stopped, and I was stuck. I tried contacting Tripp, but he didn’t answer. I figured he was just busy. I never suspected anything was wrong. I just wanted to get off the elevator, so I called maintenance. When they got it running again, I came back here, and…”

  “That’s all I need,” Zira said gently. “Just go home for the rest of the day, okay? And tomorrow, if you want. Whatever time you need.”

  Nova turned away, eyes vacant, and headed for the stairs even though the elevator was much closer.

  Josefina approached Zira and watched Nova leave. “She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “You want to go with her?”

  She nodded. “I’ll take her home with me for a few days. She shouldn’t be alone, but being away from as many of us as possible for now might do her some good.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything else she needs.”

  She started after Nova with long strides. “I will.”

  Zira looked back over the report on her CL to make sure she’d entered everything correctly. As she finished up, the rest of her team gathered around as if expecting her to say something. She had nothing to say. She was still just trying to process everything herself.

  Thankfully, Tripp saved her from having to come up with anything. “I think I found the person who did this.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  He hesitated for a few seconds, glancing between them all like he was unsure of how to break the news. Finally, he said, “I traced the original source of the message Nova received. It came from Celeste’s workstation.”

  They all looked at Dodge. He clenched his jaw, crossed his arms, and shook his head. “No. Someone must have set her up, used her workstation to avoid drawing attention to themselves.”

  “I guess that’s possible,” Tripp said without any conviction. “But I really think it was her.”

  Dodge’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

  “How sure are you?” Salim asked.

  “About as sure as I can be at this point.” He seemed reluctant to even answer the question, speaking slow and casting intermittent glances at Dodge as if to gauge his reaction to each word. “She used her identification to get into the building early this morning, but no one has seen or heard from her since then. I traced her CL. It’s sitting in her desk drawer upstairs. She just left it there. And when she was in the Project, she was trained in unit A, so she has the technical expertise someone would have needed to interfere with our communications.”

  “And she was raised to believe the Project’s lies,” Jared added softly.

  Just like him. Just like Zira. Lies they were both still trying to sort through to build their own truth.

  “It all fits,” Tripp said.

  Dodge’s lips curled in revulsion. He stormed away with his fists clenched at his sides. Salim took a step forward to follow him, then seemed to think better of it, and stopped. No one else moved.

  Zira looked at each of the remaining faces in front of her and saw all the raw emotion she’d been carefully holding in reflected in their expressions. The empty air pressed against her like a wall. “I think I’m going to step out for a minute, too.”

  She headed for a door that exited out into an empty hall. Once it was safely shut behind her, she leaned against the wall, covered her mouth with one hand, and sucked in deep, shaking breaths.

  Gone. Shot in the back of the head, just like Aubreigh, and she’d been helpless to stop it.

  She sank down to the floor and put her head in her hands. She was their leader. She was responsible for them. They gave her their trust, and she was supposed to protect them, but she’d failed. Cedric was dead, Nova and Dodge would be forever changed by what had happened today, and they were still no closer to finding Ryku or stopping the PRM from hurting others.

  What the hell was she even doing? What was the point of any of her efforts when the people around her got hurt anyway?

  It had been better in the Project, when she’d been a solo operative with no one to worry about but herself. Aside from the short period of time when she and Jared had been partners, she’d always worked alone, and there was something sublimely easy about not having to concern herself with other people in dangerous situations. If something happened to a fellow operative while she was in the Project, it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even tied to her at all. She’d never had to experience the crushing burden of keeping other people safe. It had made her reckless at times, but it had also made her a good operative, unattached to everything and everyone except for her loyalty to the Project.

  That was exactly what Ryku had wanted from his operatives, and in this moment, it was a small part of what Zira wanted, too. No attachments. It would have made her life so much simpler. So much emptier, too, but maybe that wasn’t an inherently bad thing.

  The door opened, and Jared came out into the hallway. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down next to her with his legs bent up and his arms resting on his knees. A part of Zira wanted to stand up and walk away, but the larger part of her found some small comfort in his presence. Besides, she didn’t have the energy to go searching for somewhere else she could be alone, so she stayed where she was.

  “This wasn’t your fault, you know,” he said.

  In her head, she knew he was right. There was nothing she could have done to prevent this. She couldn’t have seen it coming. But the sick feeling in her stomach remained, and the weight of personal responsibility continued to press in on her no matter how illogical it was. “It feels like it was.”

  “I know.”
<
br />   Her first impulse was to tell him he didn’t know anything, but it wouldn’t have been true. She’d killed three of the operatives working under him during his attempts to find and capture Tripp. And three years before that, he had been the only surviving member of a team sent to eliminate the leaders of a terrorist group in the Republic of Asia. He knew.

  Maybe she should ask him if it ever got any easier, but she doubted she would like the answer.

  “Why him?” she asked instead.

  Jared shrugged. “He wanted to make a difference. He was willing to take extra risks, like going undercover.”

  “Like Aubreigh,” Zira mumbled. Aubreigh had wanted to make a difference, too, and in her desire to do so, she’d taken risks that had ultimately led to her death.

  “They’re gone,” Jared said after a few seconds. “It’s awful, and it’s okay to miss them. But Ryku is still out there, and the PRM still has all those weapons and explosives.”

  “You mean I should stop feeling sorry for myself and get back to work.” She gave him a small smile to let him know she wasn’t offended by his candor.

  “For now, yes. There’s nothing we can do to change what happened, but we can change what happens next.”

  “That’s very deep and profound of you.”

  “I have my moments.” He stood, then reached back down to her. “Ready?”

  She wasn’t, but she didn’t have the luxury of wasting time feeling sorry for herself or mourning those who were already gone. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to pull her to her feet, and together they went to rejoin the others.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Within twenty-four hours of Cedric’s murder, all three of the other undercover agents SIO had sent to infiltrate the PRM were dead.

  The terrorists used the agents’ own CyberLinks to send recordings of the executions to SIO. Zira saw the first one. They all did, not knowing what it was initially. When the second one came in, she decided not to watch. By the third, she was no longer shocked, just raw and empty. Even the one-line message that came with it did little to rouse her dulled emotions.

  A commendable effort, but I have been playing this game a lot longer than you.

  —R

  She was sure the note was meant to be chilling, but she was so used to Ryku’s atrocities by now that she’d already withdrawn all sense of fear or anguish she might have felt and instead raised an impenetrable barrier to guard herself against such emotions. Maybe that made her cold and ruthless, but maybe cold and ruthless were just what she and the team needed to go up against a man who possessed those same traits in spades.

  Jared seemed to cope using a similar mindset, or at least he didn’t give any outward impression that the situation dismayed him. It probably said something about the both of them that they could shut their feelings off so easily, or at least give the appearance of some measure of indifference. Maybe that was what happened to all children who were raised to fight and kill from the time they were nine or ten years old. If they stopped caring, or pretended not to, it was easier to live with the things they were forced to see and do.

  But none of the others had been raised in that kind of environment, and they didn’t seem to be handling recent events well at all. Several days after Cedric’s murder, Nova still hadn’t come back to work or returned home, and Josefina wasn’t sure when she would. She’d come to his funeral, but left as soon as it was over and before anyone had a chance to talk to her. Dodge had refused to take any time off, and while he threw himself fully into his work, he jumped from one thing to another and seemed unable to maintain his usual focus. Salim tried to pick up some of his slack, leaving his own work to suffer as a result. And Tripp was going to addiction support group meetings or individual therapy sessions with Rita almost every day of the week. It was a much better alternative to using heroin, but the fact that he needed that level of support worried Zira all the same. At night, she took to sleeping on the couch in the living room so he would have to slip past her if he ever had the urge to go out and buy drugs.

  Despite it all and even though none of them were at their best, they kept trying, kept pushing forward. They all wanted justice for Cedric and the other murdered agents, and the only way to get that was to find Ryku.

  One gray Saturday several days later, Zira decided to pay Nova a visit at Josefina’s house. She invited Tripp and Jared to come along and sent a message to let Josefina know they were coming. Tripp insisted on baking a batch of cookies to bring with them before they left, so it was midafternoon by the time they arrived.

  Zira knocked on the door of the modest-sized yellow house, and a wispy young girl with Josefina’s jet-black hair and high cheekbones answered. She stared up at the three of them for a moment before offering a shy greeting. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Tripp said brightly.

  Josefina appeared behind the girl a moment later. “Don’t be shy, mija. Invítalos adentro.”

  “Come in,” said the girl, and they filed inside one by one.

  “This is my daughter, Mariana,” said Josefina, placing both hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Her brother Miguel is around here somewhere, and Nova is probably in the basement. She’s been staying in Mariana’s room this week. It’s the purple one. She can show you when you’re ready. Just make yourselves at home.”

  She turned and went back down the hall. Zira, Tripp, and Jared followed her into a small but cozy kitchen, where she lifted the lid from a large pot on the stove and stirred its contents. Steam wafted up over the top, carrying with it a rich, warm scent laced with cumin, oregano, and various other spices Zira couldn’t quite identify. Just the smell of it warmed her down to her core.

  “You’re all staying for dinner,” Josefina said. It wasn’t a question or even a request. “Someone has to eat all this pozole, and having company will do Nova some good. She hasn’t been coming upstairs to eat much, but with all of you here, maybe she’ll have a harder time making excuses.”

  Tripp set down his mountainous plate of cookies and leaned against a nearby wall. “How is she?”

  She returned the lid to the pot and moved to the other side of the counter to chop some cabbage. “Not very good, but that’s to be expected. I’ve tried to give her space and let her grieve in her own way, but she just holes herself up in that room. She won’t talk, she barely eats.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I don’t think she appreciates me trying to mother her, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  Zira glanced back at the stairs that led down to the basement. “You said the purple room?”

  Josefina nodded and called out to her daughter. “Mariana?”

  The girl came bounding around a corner and skidded to a stop in her socks on the hardwood floor. “What?”

  “Show our guests where you room is, please.”

  Mariana headed for the stairs.

  Zira turned to Jared and Tripp. “Maybe I should just go down myself first.” Given Nova’s reclusive nature, she probably wouldn’t appreciate having her space invaded by three concerned, prying friends all at once, no matter how comfortable she was with each of them.

  “Sure,” Tripp said. “We can help finish dinner, and Josefina can teach me her recipe.”

  Jared nodded in agreement, and Josefina began giving them instructions as Zira followed Mariana down the stairs.

  The girl paused when she reached the bottom and turned to Zira. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Who? Nova?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I hear her crying at night. It makes me feel sad for her.”

  Zira recalled her own sleepless nights spent crying—or trying not to cry—in the days and weeks after Aubreigh’s death. She couldn’t remember exactly when it had stopped, but she didn’t cry anymore. Somehow with the passage of time, the pain had become easier to carry.

  She looked down at Mariana and shrugged. “It’s going to take some time, but yeah. She’ll be okay.”

  The girl nodded, then led her down
the hall to a closed door. “She’s in there.”

  “Thanks.” As Mariana scurried back to the stairs, Zira knocked. “Hey, Nova. Can I come in?”

  She didn’t respond right away, but eventually a soft, muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “I guess.”

  Zira stepped into an extremely purple room perfectly fitting for an eight-year-old girl. Pictures of violet butterflies hung on pale lilac walls, and the bed Nova sat on was covered with a handmade lavender quilt. Even the plush bear sitting on a tiny stool in one corner wore a glittering purple bow.

  Nova’s hands tightened around the fabric of the quilt beneath her. In the brief second she glanced up, Zira saw red-rimmed eyes and a pale, freckled face that seemed even whiter than usual. “Hey,” she muttered.

  “Hey.” Zira looked around the room for somewhere to sit. She eventually opted for the other corner of the bed, far enough away from Nova that she wouldn’t be intruding on her personal space, but near enough to convey some sense of comfort and closeness. Or that was the idea, at least.

  Nova continued to stare down at her lap. “Josefina asked you to come check on me?”

  “We wanted to come—me and Jared and Tripp.” Something pricked at her conscience, and she clasped her hands together in front of her. “I should have come sooner. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Zira shook her head. None of this was fine. And what was she supposed to do about it? Offer some kind but ultimately useless words about Cedric’s sacrifice and dedication to the Republic? Such sentiments hadn’t done anything for her when Aubreigh had died, and she doubted they would do anything for Nova now.

  Instead, she asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Nova shook her head.

  Maybe she didn’t want company. “I can go, if you’d rather be alone.”

  Again, Nova shook her head.

  “Okay.”

  They sat and listened as rain began to fall outside. It pattered against the roof and walls of the house, slow and staccato at first, then racing at a steady pour. Minutes passed before Nova spoke again. “How’s Dodge?”