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Lin Wilder
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Wyatt-Makenzie Imprint
ISBN-10: 1948018063
Type: Fiction
Pages: 294
Copyright: Dec 14, 2017
ISBN-13: 9781948018067
Price: $4.00 (eBook)
Eighteen-year-old Morgan Gardner did not seem like someone who could save the world--unless you took the time to notice her eyes. And most people didn't.
Eighteen-year-old Morgan Gardner did not seem like someone who could save the world--unless you took the time to notice her eyes. And most people didn't.
Morgan's exceptional gifts were known only to her and to the animals she could understand better than people. For a long time, she told no one about her nightmares. Embarrassed and afraid that no one would believe her, Morgan waited until it was almost too late. Then she confided in her mom's best friend, Dr. Lindsey McCall.
Lindsey and her husband Rich had worked hard to reestablish their lives and careers after their last harrowing escapade. Relocated in a beautiful California home and newly reunited with Lindsey's biological daughter LJ, all seemed to be going smoothly--until an enemy from their past returned with as deadly a plan as they could imagine.
The fourth novel in Lin Wilder's popular Lindsey McCall series is her best one yet--combining the innovative medical research her readers have come to admire with a new and terrifying threat to the world's population: a biological timebomb. Vivid characters old and new rampage across the continents of Europe, Asia, and the U.S. to stop the contagion, picking up steam as they head toward a life-or-death climax in the remote Qinghai province of China.
Malthus Revisited adds a dystopian element to Wilder's evolving Lindsey McCall mystery series, and is guaranteed to captivate both her loyal fans and eager newcomers, right down to its last riveting page.
Excerpt
ALSO BY LIN WILDER
Finding the Narrow Path
The Fragrance Shed by a Violet
Do You Solemnly Swear?
A Price for Genius
Malthus Revisited
The Cup of Wrath
Lin Wilder
ISBN: 978-1-948018-06-7
Library of Congress Control Number: to come
Copyright © 2018 Lin Wilder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case
of brief quotations used in book reviews and critical articles.
Wilder Books
An Imprint of Wyatt-MacKenzie
Back before I met my husband, a former Marine
and psychologist for ex-combat veterans, I knew nothing
about veterans—specifically, Marine combat soldiers.
During the years of our marriage, I learned.
This book is dedicated to those soldiers: Most of whom we
never hear of, who do and see the unspeakable.
“They, too, will drink the wine of God’s fury, which has been
poured full strength into the cup of his wrath.”
– Revelation 14:10
“You love evil more than good,
lies more than truth.
You love the destructive word,
you tongue of deceit.”
– Psalm 52
“No one becomes depraved all at once.”
Juvenal, Satires
PROLOGUE
July 1995, Srebenica, Bosnia-Hercegovina
He lay motionless. Aware that any movement would give him away, he barely breathed, kept his eyes tightly closed. He tried not to think about the soldiers cutting the throats of his father and three brothers: Adin, who had just turned thirteen; Davud, only ten; and Hakem, his twelve-year-old twin. The laughter and their hideous expressions as they committed cold blooded murder. The blood everywhere, the blood…lakes of it. Or the screams of his mother and fifteen-year-old sister, Fatima. She was strong, fearless. The terror on her face when the leader slung her over his shoulder contorted her beautiful features but did nothing to extinguish the look of fear in her eyes.
“RUN, HIDE.”
He did. A family of Bosnian refugees had discovered him wandering in the woods outside his family’s burned Sarajevo home. A professor, his wife, and two small girls had taken him with them to Srebrenica, where they would all be safe. The United Nations was protecting the city. The professor had explained in precise language what the UN was, and the power that they had. Mile after mile, the small band of refugees walked toward the eastern coast of Bosnia, Srebenica, where they would find refuge. The teacher reassured them all that they would be safe once the exhausting trip was over. The United Nations had proclaimed that the small town they were headed for was safe from attacks or hostility.
In the war-ravaged debris of what was once Yugoslavia, the hope of a peaceful transition from Communism to a new form of multi-party democracy had been smashed into oblivion.
But the soldiers came again, and this time he could not run away. The professor’s blood saved him. This time they were in a hurry, using machine guns rather than knives. More efficient. The words of the kind, learned, and God-fearing man lying dead beside him rang in his ears as he lay waiting for a death that did not come. We have nothing to fear, the United Nations will protect us. There are UN soldiers who are commissioned to keep us safe.
Allahu Akbar.
To this day, the Srebrenica massacre is considered the worst genocide in post-second-World-War history. Despite the town’s protected status, it was attacked and captured by the Serbian Army. More than 8,000 Bosnian people were killed. An additional 20.000 civilians were expelled from the area in a process described by a tidily euphemistic phrase, ethnic cleansing.
A battalion of 450 Dutch soldiers charged with protecting the small town was routed by superior forces of better-armed Serbian soldiers. Dutch Commander Karremans pulled out his entire force when Serbian General Mladic assured him that his men were merely transporting the civilians to another city. The killing began as soon as the UN troops retreated.
CHAPTER ONE
December, 2016, Pismo Beach, California
“Why, in the vast universe of Cal Poly undergraduate majors, did I pick physics?” LJ’s voice was quivering and her intensely green eyes shone in the half-light of their laptops. There was no response from her best friend Morgan, who sat cross-legged, her own laptop open beside the huge physiology textbook she was studying. Her expression was intense, focused.
LJ groaned, loudly.
Still nothing.
“Morgan, are you even there?”
Both dogs jumped at LJ’s shout.
“Of course I’m here, where else would I be? You can see me, right?” Her brown eyes were lowered at the two dogs, now sitting at alert. “Max, baby, shhh, it’s okay,” she whispered so quietly that LJ could barely hear her. “Nothing to get upset about. It’s just LJ’s drama queen act. Gus, be still, boy. Everything is fine, just fine.”
They were a most unlikely pair, Max and Gus. Max, an eighty-five-pound pedigreed red Doberman, and Gus, a forty-one-pound mutt, a strange combination of pug and lab that miraculously worked. Max had the beautiful, almost regal look of the purebred Doberman: long legs, a lean and muscular torso, and expressive amber eyes. Gus was, well, the exact opposite. He had been rescued by Dr. Lindsey McCall and her husband Rich only two months before, after being found cowering behind a dumpster at one of the local restaurants. They had taken Max out for a look around upon finishing their dinner. After they had been walking around the Pismo pier for about ten minutes, they were heading back to the car when they heard the faint barking. Max found the little dog first. He sat down right in front of the terrified animal and lifted his paw as if to shake. Gus instantly stopped barking and began to run around in tight circles, around and around.
“Now that we have the room in the new house, you said you wanted another Dobie—maybe a rescue…” Rich watched Lindsey melt right in front of his eyes. She had bent down to say hi, and Gus had stood up on two short stubby back legs to lick her entire face.
“He’s a rescue, right? And Max really likes him.” Lindsey and Rich had agreed a while back to get no more dogs from breeders. There were too many beautiful dogs already waiting for a forever home.
Rich smiled because Lindsey had been so adamant about another Doberman, “just like Max,” but he said nothing. It was evident that this stray dog was going home with them. Max’s stubby tail was wagging furiously at the antics of this new little guy, and he was smiling at Rich and Lindsey as if to say, “Look at my new friend.”
Both dogs settled back down at the sound of Morgan’s voice. Mirroring each other’s splayed-out positions, the two now lay back-to-back, Max facing LJ and Gus’s gaze fixed on Morgan.
A pair just as unlikely as the dogs, was LJ Grayson and Morgan Gardner. LJ was the biological daughter of Dr. Lindsey McCall, and had accepted Lindsey’s offer to house her and fund her undergraduate education at California Polytechnic State University.
Adopted at birth and raised in Friendswood, Texas, by Lindsey’s best friend Julie and her husband, Ted Grayson, LJ had battled alcoholism as a preteen. The path back to sobriety had cost the young girl most of her childhood while she mined the demons of her psyche and ultimately exposed them to the light. Her given name was Lindsey, but had been shortened to LJ when she came to live with her birth mom. The elder Lindsey’s ever-practical husband Rich had nixed the idea of calling his wife either Linds or Lindsey Senior.
For her part, Lindsey-the-younger absolutely loved her new name. LJ felt like a most suitable label to go with her new life as a California college student, and she’d agreed with Rich that two Lindseys in the same house would be way too confusing. Even her parents had adapted, and were growing accustomed to the new moniker.
LJ regarded her best friend—her only friend, truthfully—again immersed in the physiology textbook and once more oblivious to her presence. But this is why I feel so close to Morgan. She is never girly. Not once have I had to guess what she was thinking. So what if she often acts like I don’t exist? Such an improvement over the girls at Friendswood High, who faked everything. Especially during those bad months when it seemed as if the entire school knew...
Smiling to herself, LJ reflected on their first conversation, while standing in the long line of incoming freshmen who had waited until September 19th to register. Numerous phone calls to Cal Poly during the summer from her home in Texas had not produced the results she had hoped for. In fact, it was as if she had never spoken with any of these people at all. Deciding this was an excellent opportunity to exercise the willpower that her Texan mom Julie had instilled in her, LJ kept her cool and her head down, moving only when the pair of sandaled feet in front of her inched forward.
“Hi. I’m Morgan Gardner from Des Moines, Iowa. What’s your name and where are you from?” LJ had jumped several inches, so surprised at the voice coming from somewhere over the top of her head. When she turned back to address the person standing behind her, LJ had to look up to see the face of the skinny, dark-haired girl wearing large black-rimmed glasses. Morgan had to be over five-foot-ten. From LJ’s perspective at just five-two, she had to bend her neck back to even see Morgan’s face.
“You’re quite pretty. I bet you had a bunch of boyfriends in high school, right?”
Before LJ could reply, Morgan continued, “I know, I’m getting personal way too fast, but when I get nervous, I do that. I am now very nervous. I have ASD.”
Noting LJ’s puzzled expression, Morgan explained, “Autistic Spectrum Disorder…Aspergers…High Functioning Autism…pick one. If you don’t like any of those, I have about ten more depending on which DSM the psychologist is using.”
Laughing in delight at the complete lack of guile in this girl, LJ extended her hand and said, “I’m Lindsey Grayson, but now LJ for Lindsey Junior because my biological Mom’s name is also Lindsey. Her husband Rich decided that two Lindseys in the Pismo Beach house where I live now would be too confusing for everyone, most of all him. I’m from Friendswood Texas, and I’m an alcoholic.” And am babbling like a total idiot.
The two young women grasped hands for support as they doubled over in hilarity, sides heaving, unaware of the eyerolls all around them. They were inseparable from that moment on.
Morgan and LJ were cramming for December semi-finals in LJ’s bedroom suite at 37 Bluff Drive, the Pismo Beach house that Lindsey and Rich had bought just a few months before. LJ thought of her biological mother as “Dr. Lindsey,” because she was the antithesis of the woman who had adopted and raised her. At least that’s what she thought when she had first met her birth mother the previous June.
Julie and Ted Grayson, the people who had always been Mom and Dad to LJ, had told her she’d been adopted as soon as they believed her old enough to understand. At age seven, they sat her down and explained that they had chosen her. They had promised that one day, when it was time, LJ would meet her biological mother. When she was eighteen, that day came.
But Dr. Lindsey was a bit more than LJ had bargained for, and she was still trying to get her head around the fact that they shared DNA—that this brilliant, world-famous doctor-researcher was her biological mother! LJ was good-looking, and had known it since her preteen years, but she and her mother looked nothing alike. While Dr. Lindsey was tall and blonde, LJ was short with hair so dark it looked black. Apparently, LJ was a virtual facsimile of Dr. Lindsey’s sister, Paula, who ironically, had killed herself. Paula had been an alcoholic, just like LJ.
LJ had thought she was prepared to meet her birth mother. After all, she and her parents had been discussing the meeting for a few weeks before they had even left Texas for Pismo Beach.
“Your mother was a Chief Cardiology Fellow, and had no interest in marrying the surgeon she’d been dating when she got pregnant with you. She asked your Dad and me to adopt you, asking only that we name you Lindsey.”
LJ guessed there was a whole lot more to the story, but decided this was enough to take in for now. Her parents explained that Dr. Lindsey was wealthy—loaded in fact—because of a drug she had created to treat heart failure. She had established a trust fund for LJ several years earlier.
At this information, LJ’s eyes widened. “How much money is in the trust fund?”
“Enough that you can go to any college you like, and more than adequate to pay for a new car when you need one.”
So, okay, this person was an incredibly generous stranger. You would expect LJ to greet her biological mother with civility, at the very least. Why on earth was the first thing that fell out of her mouth so divisive?
“Why didn’t you have an abortion?”
That question shattered the smiles on the faces of her parents. Julie’s eyes filled with tears. But Dr. Lindsey took a deep breath and narrowed the green eyes that were the exact shade of LJ’s and said, “I thought about it, Lindsey. God help me, I planned to do just that at first. In fact, I had scheduled an abortion at Planned Parenthood the very same day I spoke with your mother.”
Now LJ’s Dad had tears in his eyes as well. The air surrounding the four of them bristled with tension. They sat in one of the various furniture groupings arranged throughout the first floor of the humungous house. It was a party, Julie had explained to LJ, a housewarming party for about thirty close friends that Dr. Lindsey and Rich had thrown to celebrate their move from Texas to California. And here she was, ruining everything within seconds of meeting the woman who had decided not to kill her before she got a chance to be...anything. LJ could feel the stinging threat of tears in her eyes, tears that would come any minute.
“It’s okay, Lindsey.” Her biological mother was suddenly in front of her and holding her hand, tightly. She knew. LJ grabbed that hand as hard as she possibly could, she was experiencing such an overwhelming assault of emotion that she could do nothing but hold on, as if that hand were a life raft in the middle of an immense ocean.
There was a lull in the conversation. The heavy silence seemed to last for hours, although it had probably been less than two minutes and had muted the sounds of the other guests, making it seem as if no one else was there. Once LJ smiled at this woman kneeling quietly in front of her, and they both relaxed their grip, Dr. Lindsey studied the daughter she had not seen since her birth. After a quick glance at Julie and Ted, she asked, “Want to go meet Rich?” The sounds of multiple voices in a party atmosphere once again filled LJ’s ears.
“Yo, ladies, is anyone hungry around here?” The sound of Rich’s booming voice startled LJ from her musings. Jumping up, she ran to her closed door, opened it and shouted out into the long hallway, “Rich, Morgan and I are down here, in the back with the boys.”
By the time Rich arrived at the door of LJ’s bedroom suite, both Max and Gus were standing, mouths open, tongues hanging out, wagging their back ends crazily.
“Lindsey’s going to stay overnight in her lab, guys. Morgan, why don’t you stay here tonight if you like, and you two can keep studying after we eat?” He turned to leave, then stopped. “I hope you like steak!” Rich had only spoken to Morgan a few times, but his broad smile took up half his face at her reply.
“LJ says you grill the best steaks this side of the Yangtze. You bet I like steak, Mr. Rich.”
She sure was different, this best friend of LJ’s. Morgan had taught herself Mandarin Chinese as a preteen and spoke Spanish fluently. Either a polyglot or a savant, she had casually mentioned her intention to learn Russian next.
Rich knew next to nothing about autism, but because of this fascinating young woman, he’d read a couple of books by Temple Grandin, the well-known autistic animal researcher. That was all it took to realize that much of the superficial knowledge of ASD he had picked up was wholly and utterly wrong.
Whistling to himself, Rich left the girls to their studies. Dr. Lindsey and Mr. Rich...who’d have thunk it? I hope Morgan takes us up on our offer to move out of the dorm and live here with the three of us. Her presence here is good for LJ...and Lindsey...and me too.
Smiling as he walked to the kitchen to marinate the steaks, Rich considered Morgan’s effect on Max and Gus, the two dogs. Max remained his dog. Like most Dobermans, Max was uniquely bonded to one person, and that was Rich, his favored human. But the big dog had a connection with Morgan from the first, different than the way he was with Lindsey, LJ, or other people close to the family. Rich had never seen Max do that before. It had captivated his attention, and once again, got him thinking. She has a wealth of knowledge and a really intriguing way of looking at her world and the people in it. Morgan’s candor, her almost child-like way of relating, was charming to him. Somehow, Rich never got annoyed at her questions, which could be relentless. No subject seemed out of bounds.
Of course, LJ was no slouch either. Her physical resemblance to Lindsey’s dead sister Paula was initially shocking for Linds, but the better I get to know LJ, the more I see the presence of Lindsey’s DNA within.
Rich had met LJ about two-and-a-half years earlier, while still working as Chief Warden over the Huntsville Prisons in Texas. He had risked his job, reputation, and bar license when he agreed to help his former law partner, Todd Kensington, file an appeal to overturn the murder conviction of Dr. Lindsey McCall. Lindsey had been convicted of intentional murder for using an unapproved cardiac drug of her own invention on her mother. Rich’s mind wandered back to that first meeting with LJ’s mother, Julie Grayson.
“I want to thank you again for making the trek out here from Huntsville; it’s a long drive, and you’ve still got to get back home, so I’d suggest we get started.” Her eyes darted outside as she did what looked like a quick body count of kids, then turned back to Rich, fixing two slightly down-turned almond-shaped brown eyes on his face. Smiling again, Julie suggested in her lilting Texas drawl, “Why don’t I tell you about Lindsey and me?”
Thirty minutes later, Julie had covered her close friendship with Lindsey since first grade, a relationship that had continued through college at Rice, but began to fade when Lindsey entered medical school. Julie seemed matter of fact about the way the two had drifted apart as life took them in different directions, but she made it obvious that Lindsey had always been important in her life.
At one point, Julie picked up a thick, leather-bound book and handed it to Rich. “I started this when Lindsey and I graduated from Rice. I followed everything she did in med school and everything else I could find, which, as you can see, was a whole lot.” Her grin could not have been more genuine nor more loving had she been talking about one of her children. “Lindsey McCall is a remarkable woman, and I am”—the soft voice choked for a moment and Julie swallowed, then took a sip of her wine to stem the tidal surge of love and sorrow she felt for her best friend—“proud to be her friend.”
“Julie, thank you very much for lending me this material. I cannot imagine the hours that you must have spent finding and copying all of this.” Rich was overwhelmed by the span of time covered in the book; Julie had been maintaining this tribute to her friend for almost twenty-five years. Each page was numbered and protected by a plastic page cover. Looking up again, he met Julie’s gaze as she was openly scrutinizing him. Rich had been waiting for the question, but was surprised it had taken Julie over an hour to ask it.
“Why are you doing this, Rich?” Julie’s soft brown eyes were darker, and the expression on her face was one of deep concentration, the way she must look when grading calculus finals or determining whether one of her kids was lying. She sat motionless through his ten-minute account of the events of the week, then softly repeated her question, “But why are you doing this?”
Rich laughed. Julie Grayson would be one hell of a lawyer, he thought fleetingly, and felt exactly as he had at the age of eight, after taking the dare of his friend Timmy to dive off the high diving board. The water of the sparkling blue swimming pool had looked as if it were twenty miles below.
“Because I can’t let Lindsey remain in prison.” This was the first time Rich had admitted he believed in Lindsey’s innocence—even to himself. His legal training, plus his years as a cop, had shaped a man who believed in the rule of law and he was loath to push those boundaries. Of course, there were countless situations where he had been forced to think outside the box; that was implicit in any life, but particularly that of a soldier, a cop, or a lawyer. The difference was that almost all of those situations were circumstances where lives were in danger, either his own or those for whom he was responsible.
This situation was unique in Rich’s experience. There was no time crisis here, no imperative to act; the crises were over and the judicial system had been followed. It was an imperfect system, Rich knew, but arguably the best in the world. This was dangerous territory for him—hazardous on many levels. Rich’s eyes found Julie’s as he calmly and quietly stated, “I am certain that she did nothing to warrant an indictment for murder.”
A burst of two and four-footed creatures appearing on the deck jolted him out of his reverie and back to the present. Rich was surprised at the joy these two young girls evoked in him. Their zest for life was infectious and he tended to laugh a lot more with them around.
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