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“But . . . why . . . Raymond?”
“Yes, I know that has tormented you most over the years. Unfortunately, your brother was collateral damage. My heart still aches for that child. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But his death was for the greater good. And your death will be the same. I know it’s difficult to hear. But it’s finally time to stop babying you. Everyone looks out for little, frail Alex. Everyone treats you with kid gloves and makes sure your life is perfect. I only wish I had received a fraction of that concern from those who were supposed to be watching out for me when I was being abused as a child.”
CHAPTER 66
Wytheville, Virginia Wednesday, May 31, 2023 11:45 p.m.
ALEX BLINKED HER EYES. SHE COULDN’T TURN HER NECK TO FACE Jacqueline, but she moved her eyes as far to her left as possible and was able to see that Jacqueline was sitting in a chair next to the bed.
“I thought about doing this last night,” Jacqueline said. “I went to your condo to get it over with, but decided it was too risky. When you left the office this afternoon and headed out of DC and south on eighty-one, it dawned on me where you might be headed. Of course, the investigator Buck turned you into had you looking for answers. And you believed those answers could be found by digging into Jerry Lolland’s death at Camp Montague. This works out much better. A lonely girl takes her own life at a lonely motel in the middle of nowhere. A troubled girl succumbing to a troubled life.”
Alex kept her eyes on Jacqueline, or as far as her gaze could reach. Her legs and arms felt too heavy to even attempt to move, so she started with the fingers on her left hand, which were tucked down by her thigh. She hoped Jacqueline didn’t notice. It was too dangerous to test the fingers on her right hand, since the paralysis had caused her right arm to fall across her chest, and her hand and fingers were in clear sight.
She squeezed with all her energy and felt her left index finger poke into her thigh. After a few more attempts, she realized that physical effort was less important than mental concentration. She closed her eyes and tried again. When she fully concentrated on the fingers of her left hand, she found that she was able to move them. She was certain, in fact, that she could open and close her hand but stopped short of proving it to herself for fear that Jacqueline would notice the movement and empty another syringe into her arm.
Alex kept her eyes closed and continued to test her theory that concentration would allow her to break the drug-induced paralysis. She focused on her right foot this time and wiggled her toes. It was much easier than the fight she had put up to initially move her fingers.
“He talked me out of it anyway,” she heard Jacqueline say. “Your mentor for so many years.”
Alex opened her eyes and saw that Jacqueline was now pacing the room.
“He told me that doing this at your condo last night was a terrible idea. In fact, he thinks this is a terrible idea in general. But he doesn’t know what I know. He hasn’t seen your board. He doesn’t know how close you are to figuring it out.”
Alex tried the toes on her left foot next, with the same result.
“He was so proud that he took you under his wing. So proud of his little prize that he could never understand what I’ve always known.”
Jacqueline continued to pace back and forth. Alex attempted to move her head from left to right. This took more effort, but with focused concentration she managed. She felt as if she were on the verge of waking from a dream and that at any moment her strength and mobility would return.
“But I knew this day was coming,” Jacqueline continued. “I’ve always known it was inevitable. I’ve always known that in order to keep purging the world of predators, we’d have to tie up the only loose end we’d ever left behind.”
Alex was about to test the strength in her right arm, which lay across her chest, but Jacqueline materialized above her, looking down with a despondent expression on her face.
“You’re such a loyal follower, aren’t you? It was always your greatest weakness.”
She saw Jacqueline offer a sad smile as she turned a small glass vile upside down, stuck the syringe’s needle through the rubber stopper, and withdrew a cloudy white chemical until the chamber was full.
Then she heard a crash as the motel room door burst open.
“FBI! Put your hands in the air!”
CHAPTER 67
Wytheville, Virginia Wednesday, May 31, 2023 11:55 p.m.
ALEX TRIED TO MOVE HER HEAD TO THE RIGHT AND WAS SURPRISED when the muscles of her neck responded. Annette Packard was standing in the doorway, crouched in a shooter’s stance with both hands on a gun aimed at Jacqueline. In the confusion of the moment, the thought crossed Alex’s mind that Annette looked out of place. Alex had only known her as the sophisticated and well-dressed woman who probed into politicians’ lives, not as a true FBI agent trained in firearms. Perhaps this bias was what confused Alex and made her think something was off. But another moment of clarity told Alex that Annette was not in an FBI flak jacket or windbreaker. She was wearing a stylish outfit of tapered slacks, a white blouse, and high heels. And there were no other agents with her. No backup. No sirens. Just Annette and the gun she’d complained about having to carry at all times.
“Put your hands up!” Annette yelled.
“Annette,” Alex said in a raspy voice that startled her.
The sudden burst of adrenaline was overtaking the effects of the paralytic drug.
“Alex,” Annette said. “Come over here.”
“She can’t,” Jacqueline said.
“Alex. Come. Over. Here.”
