The Cure. Part 2

"And there's going to be a hole in his chest with no bullet in it."

Another shrug. "I can't explain that. That's the coroner's job."

"You really think everyone's just going to let it go at that?"

John's grin grew wider. "Leah, this is a small town, not New York City. A guy tried to rob the place. He fired at a cop. He got shot. He's dead. End of story. The blood will never be tested for DNA. That would be a waste of money. The witnesses won't get called in for more questioning because there won't be a trial. I'll get a medal and some time off, the department will get some great press, and the coroner, who happens to be the police chief's brother-in-law, will hardly glance twice at the autopsy results because everyone will want the case closed and done with."

"So no one's going to be questioning me about what I did?" She couldn't believe she'd be so lucky.

He shook his head. "I seriously doubt it. The guy was a repeat offender with no immediate family. No one's going to call for an investigation."

Leah sat back in her chair and allowed herself a sigh. All of the tension she'd been feeling seemed to drain away, leaving her as limp as if she'd just gotten a ma.s.sage.

"You can't imagine how good that is to hear."

One of John's eyebrows went up. She was beginning to realize he was a man of many facial expressions and body movements. His hands were always in motion, adding emphasis to his words. And his face was a neon sign for his feelings, switching from anxious to happy to confused as he spoke.

"As good as it was to hear that I wasn't hurt by a bullet to the chest?"

She took the hint. "Okay, my turn." She took a deep breath and blurted out the words she'd never said before, not even to her parents. "I did heal you. I can do that."

His eyes grew wide. "Holy s.h.i.t. For real?"

"Yes. I've been able to do it since I was a child. The first time it happened, I was nine. I was in the woods behind my house and I found this bird. It was hurt. Just lying on the ground, gasping for air. I picked it up and...it was like getting struck by lightning. The bird flew away, leaving me with a weird feeling all the way up my arms. I went home, but I didn't tell anyone what happened. I started to feel sick later that night, so my parents called the doctor. I was on the couch, and my cat, Mrs. Puff, jumped onto me. I put my hands on her and there was another shock, and then I felt all better."

Leah paused and took a breath. Even after so many years-twenty-seven, to be exact-thinking about Mrs. Puff still had the power to bring tears.

"That's fantastic."

"No, it's not. The next day, Mrs. Puff died."

"What?" John's eyes grew wide.

"The vet said it was old age. But she was only twelve. That's not old for a cat."

John shook his head. "I'm not sure I under-"

Leah spoke over him, continuing her story. She knew if she didn't get it all out now, she might never have the courage to do it.

"I forgot all about the incident, the way little kids will. A year later, my mom...my mother had a cancer scare. A lump in her breast. They did an x-ray, and when the report came back the doctor told her she had to come in for a biopsy. I was still just a kid, so I didn't understand. But she was scared. I could see that. My parents arranged for me to spend the weekend at a friend's house. Right before we left, I went to hug my mom and there was this glow, a weird green glow, around the left side of her chest. It made me feel sick and afraid just to look at it. I don't know why, but I reached out and put my hand on her breast."

"And got a shock," John said.

"Yes. But it was worse for my mother. It's always worse for the...for whoever I touch. Everyone was in a hurry, though, so my dad got us in the car and we left. They dropped me off at my friend's and went to the hospital."

"What happened then?"

Leah looked away. She didn't want to see his eyes when he figured it out. "My friend's dog died of cancer and my mom was fine."

John frowned. "I don't understand."

"I played with the dog while I was there. A day later, it was dead." She watched his eyes, but the relevance of her statement didn't register in them.

You've been able to do this since you were nine and no one's ever found out? How'd you keep it a secret?"

Leah shrugged. "If I'd known what was happening then, I probably wouldn't have. It's only looking back I've realized that's when weird things started happening. The first time I actually knew I'd Cured someone was when I was sixteen. My dad cut his arm really bad in the garage. On the way to the hospital my mom asked me to hold the bandage on it while she drove."

Leah paused, the memories of that day rushing back as if it had only been weeks ago instead of twenty years. "There was that same nasty green glow, and then that same electric shock. By the time we got to the hospital, my dad's arm was healed, but we didn't know it until later, when the ER nurse removed the bandage and there was nothing there but a thin cut."

John reached out and took her hands. "That's the most amazing thing I've ever heard. You're like a miracle worker."

She pulled away, shaking her head. "No I'm not. I'm more like a death bringer."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

This was the part she'd been dreading, trying to explain the dark side of her Power. "You haven't been listening. The dead cat. The dead dog. I didn't realize it then, either. We were still in the emergency room. The nurse was mad at my father for not being as badly hurt as he'd said he was. She made him fill out all these papers. While I was waiting, my arm started to ache. A little at first, and then really bad. I pulled my sleeve up and there was a red line running from my elbow to my wrist."

"The same place your father had been cut?"

Leah nodded. He was finally getting it. "I was going to say something, but just then the man sitting next to me started yelling at his kid to sit still, really chewing the kid out. It made me angry, and suddenly I had this feeling, this compulsion, to touch him. So I did. And all my pain went away."

"Leah, don't tell me..." John's face registered his fear of where the story was going.

"He screamed and grabbed his arm. Luckily, no one had seen me touch him. His skin split open and blood started gushing all over the place. He fell off his chair. People were shouting; nurses came running to help him. In the confusion no one, not even him, realized that I had anything to do with it."

"But you knew."

"Everything hit me all at once, one of those light bulbs that just goes off sometimes and you have perfect understanding. I could Cure people, but I had to pa.s.s the sickness on to someone else or suffer it myself."

John sat there for a moment, not saying anything, just staring at her with his chocolate-colored eyes. She tried to read his expression. Fear? Sympathy? Or maybe just trying to process the information?

Finally, he spoke. "So, when the gunman fell down, it was because you...?"

"I touched him when he grabbed me. I pa.s.sed your fatal wound to him."

There was another moment of silence before John spoke again. "What happened with your father?"

It took Leah a moment to adjust to the change in topic. "Um...my parents were confused, but they didn't say anything. After that, I saw them looking at me funny a few times, and more than once over the years it seemed like they stopped talking when I came into the room, but they never asked me about it. And I made sure I never Cured anyone or anything around them or anyone else again."

"Why? Wouldn't they have understood?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But no sixteen-year-old girl wants to be different. It's hard enough having braces or wearing the wrong style clothes. Can you imagine people knowing I could heal with a touch? I'd have been the cla.s.s freak. Maybe even gotten locked away in some government lab. So I practiced on my own whenever I could, on injured wild animals. I learned how to control the Power, rather than just have it happen every time I touched someone or something."

John got up and walked across the aisle. Taking one of her hands in both his own, he looked straight into her eyes. "You realize you were the real hero yesterday, don't you?"

"What?" His words caught her by surprise.

"By killing that man, you not only saved me and yourself, but all the other people in there he might have shot, or the police he might have fired on when they arrived."

"I never thought of that. I was just afraid he'd hurt me."

"You did good, Leah DeGarmo. And your secret is safe with me. I owe you my life. It's the least I can do."

Leah felt tears come to her eyes. Something about the man made her feel like she could trust him. And it wasn't just that he was a police officer. There was a warmth to him, a sincerity that touched her heart. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but she settled for giving his hand a squeeze before reluctantly pulling away.

"Thank you. I'm still so paranoid about it. That's why I could never work in a clinic with other vets. I couldn't let anyone know."

"You're a smart girl, Leah. Even if the government didn't try to turn you into some kind of science project, there are a lot of shady characters out there who'd love to get their hands on a weapon like you."

Leah jerked back in her chair. "Weapon? Me?"

He nodded, his soulful eyes-bedroom eyes, her grandmother would have called them-very serious. "You've only been thinking about the healing part. But there's the other side of the coin. You could kill or injure people without anyone knowing. The perfect murder: touch someone today and next week they die of cancer."

A chill ran through her body that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. "I never... I wouldn't do that."

John shrugged. "You can't say what you'd do if someone had a gun to your head or was holding your family hostage. If anything, I'd suggest you be even more careful about using your power in front of anyone."

His warning barely registered on her brain; she was still reeling from the idea of being used as an unwilling a.s.sa.s.sin.

"You're right," she whispered. "I'll try not to use it."

But in her heart she knew it was impossible. There was no way she could let animals die when they didn't need to.

From the way John was looking at her, she knew he didn't believe her any more than she believed herself.

Chapter Four.

Emilio Suarez ducked down below the window sill as the two people in the veterinary clinic stood up. He hadn't been able to hear more than a few words, but as far as he was concerned it didn't matter. He had his proof. Why else would the lady vet and the cop from the shooting be meeting if it not to talk about how she'd healed him?

From the s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation that he'd caught, it wasn't the first time she'd done something like this. Now he finally had something positive to tell Nova.

Maybe he'd even get a bonus.

And if not, well, there were other people who'd be interested in this as well. People who might have a different idea of what to do with Dr. DeGarmo.

Staying in a crouch, he moved around to the back of the building so he could use his cell phone without being heard.

"It's me." He knew better than to use names. "I heard her telling that cop what she did. It's for real, man. I think she's 'splaining to him how it works, but I can't hear nuthin' through the gla.s.s. What you want me to do?"

Secretly, he was hoping Nova would tell him to grab the girl and force the information out of her. Questioning her would have some serious side benefits. He'd never seen a vet that fine when he was growing up in Brooklyn; in his opinion she should have been dancing on a pole instead of sticking thermometers up dogs' a.s.ses.

So it was a disappointment when Nova instructed him to do nothing.

"Continue to watch her. If it looks like she's going to talk to someone from the press, make the person disappear, but under no circ.u.mstances reveal yourself to the doctor or harm her in any way."

"You got it." No matter what his feelings, he knew better than to disobey Tal Nova. No one did that.

Not if they wanted to live.

Still staying below eye level, he returned to his car to wait for the lady vet to leave.

As he watched her through his binoculars, he slowly rubbed his crotch with his free hand and wondered how she'd look nailed to a cross.

Leonard Marsh leaned back in his oversized leather chair and looked out the window. The wide, bullet- and soundproof gla.s.s panes of his twenty-fifth floor office offered a panoramic view of the Hudson River from Eightieth Street to Fifty-Sixth. In the last rays of the setting sun, the river resembled a fresh watercolor on a heavy canvas, the pastel reds, oranges, purples and golds melting together at the edges, each ripple frozen in mid-crest by the artist's brush.

"So, what do you want to do with her?" Tal Nova's deep voice broke the silence.

Marsh swiveled the chair around so he was facing the other occupant in his office. Tal Nova stood six feet four and weighed just over two hundred forty pounds. Looking at him, it wasn't hard to believe he'd been a star football player in college. What would be difficult to understand was why he'd turned down a career with the Arizona Cardinals after being drafted in the first round.

Leonard Marsh was one of only four people in the world who'd ever found out the answer to that question; he was one of only two still alive.

"You know me well, my friend," Marsh said to his Vice President of Business Affairs.

"Well enough to know you don't sit back and watch things happen." Tal took a seat on the other side of Marsh's wide mahogany desk and opened a fresh stick of cinnamon gum. Since quitting smoking three years earlier, he'd become as addicted to the sharp burn of the gum as he'd been to the bitter taste of the tobacco.

Marsh allowed himself a chuckle. "Quite right. You don't get anywhere in life by watching the world go by. You've got to grab what you want and make it yours." He punctuated his words by s.n.a.t.c.hing an imaginary prize from the air. "My father taught me that."

"And you had him killed."

"He just happened to be in the way of what I wanted." Marsh spread his arms, indicating the expansive office. "What can I say? I learned my lessons well."

"So what do you want this time?" Tal asked, the bemused expression on his dark-as-night face evidence that his question was a rhetorical one. His smooth-shaved head reflected the soft lights in the room as he leaned forward.

"I want the girl, obviously," Marsh said. "But I can't take the word of a low-level thief. I need hard evidence before I act."

"I presume that's where I come in."

Marsh pointed a finger at his a.s.sociate. "Right again. It's your job to provide me with facts. I want to see this 'miracle worker' in action before I get my hopes up."

Tal stood up, his wide, muscular frame impressive and threatening, even in the custom-tailored charcoal suit he wore like a second skin, as comfortable in the expensive clothes as he'd ever been in a football uniform.

"No problem, boss. I'll take care of it." With a flick of his fingers he tossed his empty gum wrapper into the small garbage can next to the minibar and exited through the door that led to his adjoining office.

Leonard Marsh returned to his contemplation of the evening view. White and green lights moved up the river as a private yacht returned from its travels farther up the Hudson. On the far side of the water, the lights of New Jersey sparkled like captured stars.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window and frowned. Even the semitransparent reflection couldn't hide the growing signs of his illness: the sallow complexion, the dark smudges and baggy flesh under his eyes. In the two months since being diagnosed, it looked like he'd aged ten years beyond his previously healthy sixty.

And what his reflection revealed was just the tip of the iceberg; deep inside him even more radical changes were occurring as his body succ.u.mbed to the onslaught of the invading cells.

Hepatocellular carcinoma. He could still hear the doctor's words, delivered so matter-of-factly. He'd gone to the specialist after his internist had diagnosed his sore back as an inflamed liver.