The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(83)

“What do you need me to find out?” I ask.

“I think there are others,” he says. “Suicides listed as ‘undetermined.’ Deacon’s been researching for me, but we think the grief department has been covering them up. They’ve been using us and other closers to do it. But more than anything, you have to find Virginia Pritchard. Last I checked she was in Roseburg. Quinn, you have to find her before she kills herself. Find out what she knows about all of this.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask, having no idea if I want to chase down Arthur Pritchard’s daughter.

Aaron shrugs. “Then I guess we’ll see if this is bigger than a suicide pact.”

I tighten my jaw, more worried than I want to admit to him. I understand why Aaron needs me to find Virginia. She’ll know what happened to Catalina and Mitchel; she’ll provide some background. Catalina’s life has been scrubbed clean of her intentions. I have to believe part of that is coming from Arthur Pritchard’s daughter. Who else would have known what the department would be looking for when duplicating someone’s life?

Aaron takes out his phone and looks at the time. “We’ll talk more about it after your debriefing,” he says, and steadies himself on his bad leg. I’m glad the bleeding has stopped, the gash clotting dark red. Aaron slides his phone into his pocket and pulls me into a hug. “You be careful,” he says near my ear. “I’ll be back to extract you. Okay?”

He looks at me, and although he doesn’t say it, there’s a hint of worry there. Worry that he won’t come back at all. That he’ll be sent to therapy, and then who knows when I’ll see him again.

“Yeah,” I tell him, forcing a smile. “You’d better.” A streak of paranoia runs its course, and I look around the street, checking to see if we’re being watched. There isn’t a white Lexus in sight, but the feeling doesn’t entirely abate.

Aaron says good-bye, bumping my fist, and then he limps down the driveway and disappears around the corner.

I’m unsettled, turning over all the information in my head. Putting it together with what I learned today. I get in the Jetta and take out my phone. Deacon hasn’t contacted me since I left him this morning, but I try not to let that in. This isn’t about us, I told him. That’s especially true now.

I text Marie to let her know there’s been a change in scheduling and I’m close to finishing my assignment and will be done before Friday. I don’t tell her about seeing Aaron or even Arthur Pritchard. I don’t mention suicide at all. There’s a possibility she already knows what’s going on here, and that she and the entire grief department have played us for fools. But part of me wants to believe she’s still on my side. No matter what.

Marie texts back that she’ll notify Aaron of my pending extraction—not mentioning that he’s leaving his own assignment. She doesn’t break procedure. She also doesn’t ask how I am, and that is an immediate red flag. She would have known about my meltdown yesterday, been made aware especially if Arthur Pritchard got involved. And yet she didn’t warn me he’d be here. Didn’t track me down at Deacon’s.

My advisor is hiding something. Seems we all are.

CHAPTER TEN

I WONDER HOW MANY “UNDETERMINED” deaths there have been over the past fifteen years. How deep the cover-up goes. How much my father is involved. Catalina Barnes committed suicide. She was lost in a way that was just her own, isolated and apart from everything and everybody. She didn’t reach out for help—she didn’t want it.

Catalina Barnes killed herself and no one was able to predict it. Her family wasn’t able to stop her. Suicide clusters have existed for years, one death influencing others with no other known stimulus. A ripple effect. It’s why they don’t detail suicides on the news, afraid of the public reaction. But now is that what the grief department is using closers for? To control the perception of death?

Undetermined. What a bunch of bullshit. They knew how Catalina Barnes died and they didn’t tell me. Instead they used me to help cover it up. I have to find Virginia Pritchard and find out what she knows about the suicides. If  Virginia Pritchard is even still alive. A chill runs down my back at the morbid thought, and I quickly refocus on my current situation.

Before I can go to Isaac and finish this assignment, I need to talk to Angie. She was there the night Catalina died. Maybe her sister said something to her. Or maybe Angie knows more about Virginia—maybe she can tell me about the connection.

I drive toward the school. I know Angie sometimes hangs out at Off Campus after classes. I head that way, hoping I’ll see her car and know she’s there. Getting her to actually speak to me might be a different issue altogether.

I slow as I pass the lot, relieved when I find the red SUV I recognize from her sixteenth birthday pictures parked there. Angie’s inside. I pull up next to her ride and shut off my engine. I watch the café through my window, waiting for her to leave. I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I’m startled by my eyes. They’re brown—but they’re not supposed to be.

I hold up my index finger until I feel the contact cling to it, and I take it out and drop it into the cup holder, and blink rapidly to help the stinging. I do the same with the other eye and then check my reflection again. Blue eyes. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen them.