Page 120 of The Lost Zone
“It’s a nasty bruise. He might have a concussion, but he’s okay,” she said, pacing the room. “Who did this?”
“Someone desperate to get their hands on Alex,” Josiah replied grimly.
“Tyler?”
“Possible but unlikely. Getting custody of Alex won’t help him right now and might make things worse.”
“Who else could it be?”
“I have an idea.” It could surely only be Neil. He was convinced it had been Neil he’d seen in the garden, staking out the house. Neil, enraged by the fact Alex was living with – sleeping with – Josiah, had been checking out the building, biding his time, waiting for his chance. Then Josiah had gone to his house this morning and spooked him. It was likely that Neil had always intended to abduct Alex. Josiah’s visit had merely accelerated his plans.
“Listen, Sofie. I’ve called Big Jen. She’ll take Sem to her place. I have to tell Esther that Alex has been taken, and I don’t want you or Sem implicated. You understand that we have to move him, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” Her eyes radiated her worry all the same.
“Before he goes…” Josiah sat on the bed beside Sem and shook him gently awake. “Sem – I know your head is hurting,and you can’t see straight, but is this the man who took Alex?” He pinged up a holopic of Neil.
Sem stared at the image hovering in the air in front of him. His eyes glazed over, then his eyelids fluttered shut.
Josiah squeezed his shoulder. “Sem, is this the man who took Alex?”
Sem’s eyes flickered open again, and he squinted at the holopic.
“Is this him?” Josiah demanded.
“Joe! Go easy on him,” Sofie remonstrated.
“I have to know. Sem! Look at this photo – is this the man?”
Sem gathered every last ounce of his concentration to focus on the picture. “Yes,” he said at last. “That’s him.”
Chapter Twenty
NOVEMBER 2089
Alex
The morning after his encounter with Harper, Alex found Frances in the kitchen with a tray of delicious-smelling muffins.
“My apologies for the state of the dining room,” he said as he took his seat at the breakfast bar. “I did try to clear up.”
“Don’t worry. That’s not your job.” She patted his shoulder, and he saw the pity in her eyes. It was so unexpected, so real and raw, that his mask almost faltered. He’d been so pleased with how he’d survived last night that he’d suppressed the fact that he’d also endured it. He took a long drink of orange juice to compose himself. When he’d finished, he smiled at her.
“I’ve been thinking. I learned a lot about making meals at Belvedere and I don’t want to lose that skill. Perhaps you could teach me a few new dishes, so I can improve myself?”
Frances beamed at him. “I’d have to check, but as long as it doesn’t take you away from your, um… duties, then I don’t have a problem with that.”
Alex was pleased. It might relieve some of the boredom of his existence here. He was tired of the sheer tedium, and if he didn’t find ways to challenge himself soon, he was worried that his mask would begin to slip.
He performed his workout a little more slowly than usual. Jack, who’d been impressed by his dedication thus far, was concerned rather than angry.
“Rough night?” he asked, and there it was again, that same expression of pity, combined, in Jack’s case, with a hint of disgust.
“It was a little painful, but that’s not important,” Alex said firmly.
“If your physical condition ever changes, I need to know,” Jack said gruffly.
Alex blinked several times, trying to compose himself. Concern for his welfare was a far greater threat to his mask than anger or indifference.
