The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(82)

“Just in case we don’t see you again,” he murmurs, “you take care of yourself. We’ll be here if you need anything. Understand?” I nod against his big shoulder, clutching on to his shirt. “You’re not alone.”

I pull back with an embarrassed laugh, sort of humiliated that these people seem to be more helpful than me. His eyes are sympathetic as he looks down at me.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as if he’s been wondering for a while.

For a moment, I’m speechless. I’ve never been asked by an assignment before. They never wanted to know who I really was. “Quinlan,” I say, breaking another of Marie’s rules. It feels good being able to speak it out loud to him. He smiles.

“That’s a pretty name,” he says.

I can tell by the fading sun that it’s starting to get late in the afternoon, and I need to find Isaac and talk to him. I tell the Barnes family good-bye again, tell them I might see them later tonight. They say they hope so.

I grab my backpack on the way out and borrow the Jetta for another trip. I have to talk to Isaac.

* * *

When I get outside, I pull a hoodie from my backpack and slip my arms in, knowing the day will only get colder as the sun goes down. I’m in the middle of zipping it up as I round my car near a large set of overgrown bushes.

There’s a flurry of movement and someone grabs me from behind, one hand over my mouth, the other around my waist. I’m struck down with fear, and I try to shout for help. I kick back my foot as hard as I can, connecting with a leg and sending my attacker to the ground. I spin, chest heaving, stomach churning.

“Aaron?” I say, incredulous. I shoot a look at the Barneses’ house before kneeling down next to him to check his ankle. My sneaker scuffed off a good chunk of skin, and a thick line of red blood runs down his leg. His eyes are pained, but before he can lecture me, I stand, putting my hand on my hip. “Are you nuts?” I whisper forcefully. “Didn’t you think I’d fight back?”

“I was trying to keep you quiet so we could talk in private.”

“Uh, how about you call my name?”

“I was afraid you would run.”

“What?” I ask confused. “Aaron—I wasn’t thinking straight the other day, but I’m better now. I should have called you. I’m sorry.”

He nods as if he understands, rubbing at the skin just above the cut on his leg. “I was looking out for you,” he says, but not bitterly. “You should have known better.”

I smile, lowering myself to the ground next to him. “So you’re here to say I told you so?”

“Not hardly. I had to talk to you,” he says. “The guy—my assignment, Mitchel? He knew Catalina. They were friends.”

I furrow my brow. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen anything about him.” Although now it’s obvious that there was a lot about Catalina I didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “After Catalina died, Mitchel, he . . . he killed himself. Took something he called QuikDeath—a poison cocktail, I guess.”

I fold my legs underneath me, this revelation a punch in the gut. Two suicides so close together—this town must be reeling. And yet no one has mentioned it. The fact that Mitchel and Catalina were friends is especially troubling.

“Catalina committed suicide too,” I tell Aaron quietly, feeling like I’m betraying her by revealing this secret. “Coincidence?”

“Well, if it is,” Aaron says, “it doesn’t end there. Guess who Mitchel’s girlfriend was.”

I’m stumped at first, but then my breath catches. “Virginia Pritchard?” I ask in disbelief. Aaron nods, and I turn back to the house, wondering if I should go inside, ask for their help. But I can’t tell them about Arthur Pritchard’s connection to their daughter’s death. They’re just getting well, and this could compromise their entire recovery.

“We have to call Marie,” I say. She’s the only person I can think of who might know how to help.

“And what would we tell her?” Aaron asks. “Marie knows everything. Do you really think she didn’t know about this before sending us in? She practically runs the department.”

There’s a pit in my stomach, a hint of betrayal at the thought of Marie purposely putting us in harm’s way. I’m not sure I’m ready to believe that yet.

“Then what do you want me to do?” I ask him, unsure of a next step. “I’m almost done with my assignment. I’m ready to go home.”

“You have to find Virginia,” Aaron says. “My contract is almost up, Quinn. Sooner than you think. There is something big happening here.”

The words are ominous, and they crawl over my skin. “Meaning?”

“Mitchel left all sort of pages, scribbled notes, creepy shit. He even started drawing spirals, just carving them into his bed frame. It was . . . psychosis or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he would write about dying. About him and Catalina and Virginia, all of them dying.”

“So you think this was a suicide pact?” I ask.

“All I know,” Aaron says, his face clouding over, “is that everything got real dark, real fast.” He puts his hand on the ground and gets to his feet, hobbling slightly because of his injury. “Look,” he adds. “Marie’s already contacted me for extraction. She’s going to pick me up in a few hours. I’m not going to tell her about Virginia or the suicides; it shouldn’t be part of the debriefing. But the other stuff . . . this is on us.”