Page 53 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“She would be that type of bitch,” Killian’s guard grumbles, and I notice a minor cut beneath his eye.
Killian must have gotten a good swing in.
I feel hard metal wrap around my wrists before the telltale clicking of cuffs getting tighter. Killian’s guard is putting him in cuffs too, his hands in front of his body. My gaze meets Killian’s, and we exchange a look of concern.
Where are Tommy and James?
The guards lead us into the warehouse. It’s dark inside, lit only by a few hanging fluorescent bulbs that flicker and hum. Dust filters through the beams of light, making it look like I am inside a giant snow globe. The air inside is chilled, but warmer than outside simply because the wind is no longer whipping at my back, but the smell is considerably worse. Stale oil and a hint of something more pungent, like the sweet smell of decay. It makes my nose crinkle.
The guards lead us further into the building, passing steel beams and abandoned machinery. We are led down into the basement and it looks familiar. From the Shepperd crime scene photos. Victoria Shepperd was disemboweled here. The sound of our footfalls echoes off the walls and my heart matches the rhythm, but I keep my face calm and stoic.
No sign of Tommy. No sign of James. Where the fuck are they?
We are led to a heavy steel door embedded into the wall. Killian’s guard keys in a code, unlocking the door before pushing it inward with a groan.
It’s a goddamn lab.
Stainless steel counters gleam under bright white lights. I can see rows of medical type equipment, computers, and finally, Bill Roman. He sits in a chair with a wolfish grin.
I am pushed through the doorway first, followed by Killian and then the door shuts menacingly behind us. I look back and see only one guard standing in front of our only exit.
“Come. Have a seat,” Roman invites, gesturing to the set of chairs in front of him.
“You don’t want to do this. We aren’t who you think we are,” I hedge, hoping to get Roman to let us go before things can escalate further. “We’re police officers. We were working undercover.”
“I know exactly who you are,” Roman says, looking at Killian. “But, I wonder,” he says, shifting his gaze my way, “ifyouknow who you’re standing next to.”
I look at Killian, confused.
The guard moves forward, grabbing Killian and forcing him onto a chair before returning to do the same to me. He grunts when he’s finished before heading back over to guard the door.
“I was wondering when you would find your way back home, Kalon.” Roman smiles. His tone is as slick as oil. “You remember the lab, right? We spent years together in here.”
My blood runs cold.
Killian stiffens at my side but doesn’t speak.
Roman leans forward, steepling his fingers as his gaze flips between us. “Well. Are you going to tell her, or shall I?”
“Tell me what?” I look at Killian, my throat dry. He isn’t even looking at me. His gaze is set forward, staring at Roman with a look of seething hatred.
“Leave her out of this, Bill,” Killian says, his tone low and threatening.
“I wasn’t the one waltzing her aroundmypart of the city. You involved her.” Roman laughs, dark and cruel, making the hair on my arm stand. “You brought her to me. Is she the other thirteen?” Roman raises his eyebrows, looking at me with a wolfish smile.
Killian silently stares at Roman. He doesn’t turn even when I look his way. My mind can’t help but think back on the report written by Al. He was talking about type thirteens. His experiments.
Is Roman suggesting that I am one of them?
“Is this Catherine with aC?” Roman smiles, like he knows he’s correct, but my heart hammers with the truth.
Cathy. He thinks I’m Cathy.
Killian keeps his mouth shut, not bothering to correct Roman’s mistake.
“She’s prettier than the other Katherine,” Roman says, and Killian stiffens. “Poor, poor Katherine with aK.It’s a shame your father liked to name them the same. I mean, I get it from a practical standpoint. It’s much easier to swap out soulmates with the same name. But it led to some unfortunate…” Roman looks at me directly, “mistaken identities.”
“What do you mean?” I ask Roman, too entirely lost to understand the pieces of the puzzle he is trying to lay down for me.
