Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (21 page)

“What do you think his TAs know?”

“I think the girl knows more than the guy.”

“Maybe they’re sleeping together.”

Dan laughed. “I don’t think that girl has gotten laid in a while.”

I grimaced. “Come on,” I said. “Every girl who’s a bitch just needs to get laid?”

Dan threw up his hands. “Whoa, I was just joking around.” Then cracking a smile, “You are acting kind of bitchy right now though… so.”

“Shut up,” I swatted at him. He swiveled his chair away laughing and apologized. Dan laid his hands back on the keys and began to type. “What about Ivan?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s say he didn’t kill Lawrence. What’s going to happen to him?”

“What do you mean?” Dan asked, turning to me.

“One of the girls who worked there, she had ligature marks on her wrists and ankles,” I said, looking over at him. When he’d gotten on that plane with Anita, she’d had those marks on her limbs. They told of much more horror than a thin bruise.

“I know,” he answered.

“Mulberry told you?”

Dan bit his lip. “Was I not supposed to tell you that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Dan. I’m not sure what I’m not supposed to know,” I said, feeling anger bubble up.

“Okay,” Dan put his hands up in the air. “Don’t get mad at me. If you want to scream at someone, call Mulberry or Malina. I wanted to tell you everything from the beginning.”

“What is everything?”

A pained expression passed over his face. “I can’t tell you.”

“What?” I said, low and dangerous.

“Seriously, Sydney. I can’t tell you Joyful Justice business.”

“This is too ridiculous,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m leaving.”

I stood up and Dan did, too. He reached out and held my bicep. “Hey, Sydney. Stop.”

I turned around and looked up into his grape-green eyes. They were pale in the computer’s glow. He blinked at me. “Dan,” I said, my voice softer than before. “I can’t just join Joyful Justice and ride off into the sunset with you all. I think it’s crazy what you’re doing. And dangerous.”

“Since when are you afraid of danger?”

“I’m not,” I said. “Not for me. But I couldn’t stand it. In fact, I can’t stand it that you are all risking… well, you’re risking everything for… I don’t even know what.”

“For justice, Joy.”

Dan had never called me Joy before. The name passed through his lips, soft and almost aching.

“That’s crazy,” I said.   

“Then I guess we’re all nuts. You included.”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not crazy,” I said.

“Sure you are. Now come on and sit down. We have more to go over. You can leave in the morning in a huff if you want but for now let’s try and do what we can to help Hugh, okay?”

“Fine,” I said, climbing back up onto the stool. “What else do you have?”

Dan and I went over cases of memory loss for another two hours until my eyelids got heavy and my head began to nod forward. “Come on,” Dan said. “Time for bed.”

#

I
followed him down the hall to his room. And when I saw the queen size bed in the middle of the space I paused in the doorway. “I’m going to take the couch,” Dan said. “I’ll probably work for a few more hours, though.” I nodded. “Here’s a towel and you can borrow a T-shirt.” He rummaged around in his drawers until he found an old white T-shirt. I took it from his hand, feeling the worn cotton against my fingers, reminding me of him, of how we used to be. When we’d run away from life together and lived like nothing else mattered.

Well, I guess in hindsight he’d still been thinking life in the larger world mattered. Apparently he’d been setting up Joyful Justice without me even knowing. I thought again about Hugh telling me that people only see what they want to see so it’s easy to hide from them. I’d used that knowledge for great effect over the years, but this was the first time I could see so clearly it applied to everyone, even those of us who knew the secret.

“The bathroom is in here,” Dan said, opening a door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked toward the exit and paused, his hand on the knob. “Sleep well.” And then he left me alone in his bedroom.

I washed my face and changed into the big white T-shirt, feeling it against my skin brought a deep sadness. A longing for something I’d lost, something it was possible had only existed in my mind. A chance at normalcy. A chance to love and be loved without the burdens and dangers of being Sydney Rye. 

I climbed between Dan’s sheets. Blue hopped up next to me, but instead of taking his place at the foot of the bed he laid by my side, snuggling close to me. He sighed once and then lowered his head and breathed evenly. I threw an arm around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck. Inhaling his musky dog scent, I began to cry. Silent tears poured down my face and I felt a hiccup of a sob rise in my throat. I let it out, forcing the sound into Blue’s neck, hoping that Dan would not hear, but also hoping he might. That he would come back and hold me and tell me that it was all going to be all right.

I woke up and fluttered my eyelids, seeing the room in the soft light of dawn. Blue was at my feet, having crept out of my embrace at some point while I slept. The curtains were open and I could see the sunlight straining to pass through the broad leaves of a palm tree. I rolled over and saw Dan asleep in his reading chair, his feet up on the ottoman, his head cocked to one side. He looked uncomfortable and I thought he’d wake with a stiff neck.

Climbing out of bed I crossed the room toward him. I reached out to gently shake his shoulder but stopped before touching him. Taking a moment to admire his features, the way his hair was always in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. “Sydney,” he muttered, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Dan,” I said. “Come to bed. You’ll hurt yourself sleeping in that chair.”

A gentle smile crossed his face and he reached out for me, pulling me into his lap. He tucked my head under his chin and I heard his breathing steady and realized he was asleep. I laid in his arms for a moment, his arm wrapped around my waist, hand spread across my belly. I looked down at his forearm, let my fingers wander over the soft hair that grew there. I closed my eyes and let the raising and falling of his chest lull me back to sleep.

When I woke up again, I was back in the bed. I rolled over and Dan was gone. The chair stood empty, not giving up any secrets. I wondered if it had been a dream. Dressing quickly I brushed my teeth and ran my fingers through my hair. Dan was on the living room couch in his boxers, one arm thrown across his face, a sheet laying crumpled on the floor.

I took Blue into the yard and watched him inspect the bougainvillea that climbed one side of Dan’s fence. Then he went over to the canal and bent toward it, his nostrils flaring with interest. “Coffee?” Dan said behind me, making me jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, taking the steaming cup he offered me. “I was just zoning out.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you from that all important activity. I’m in the office. Come in whenever you’re ready.”

I sat on Dan’s back porch watching Blue and sipping coffee for another twenty minutes and then decided I would try my hand at breakfast. I had a sudden deep need for pancakes. I found flour, eggs and milk, a bowl and a pan. Spatula, too. Blue sat and watched me move clumsily around the kitchen. I dumped what looked like the right amount of flour into the bowl and then cracked two eggs on top. I couldn’t find a whisk so used a fork to begin mixing up my concoction. Adding milk made it easier to stir but the lumps that formed in my batter appeared to be permanent. I decided I didn’t mind and turned to the pan. Finding butter in the back of the fridge, I cut off a sizable chunk and left it to melt in the pan while I looked for a ladle for my batter. The first pancake went in and I watched its lumpy surface hoping I’d know when to turn it. Pancakes were the one thing my mother made on regular basis throughout my childhood, though hers never had lumps. Often she’d even make smiley faces with chocolate chips and whip cream.

With that in mind I turned away from my first pancake and began rifling through Dan’s cabinets on the hunt for chocolate chips. I didn’t find any but by the time I’d given up the underside of my first pancake was smoking. I flipped it over and stared at the dark brown surface wondering if I should just throw the whole thing away when I heard Blue barking. Realizing I’d left the back door open, I looked out and saw Blue posturing in front of some kind of creature. He hopped to one side and I realized it was a skunk. “Blue,” I yelled. He hopped to the other side, preventing the skunk from leaving. It began to turn as if to spray him. “Blue,” I called louder, “Come!” He turned his head and seeing me in the doorway took off full speed toward me, his tongue flapping out of his mouth with excitement. The skunk still sprayed and as Blue skittered into the kitchen I slammed the door. I ran around to all the windows and slammed them shut.

“What’s going on?” Dan asked right as the smoke alarm began to sound.

“Shit, my pancake,” I said, running to the stove and turning it off. Grabbing a hot mitt from a drawer, Dan picked up the pan and dropped it into the sink, turning on the cold water and causing steam to pour out of the smoking pan.

“Why are you closing the windows?” Dan asked. He went to open the one closest to him, to let some of the pancake smoke out, but I grabbed his arm.

“A skunk,” I said.

And then the smell hit us. The scent of the skunk spray combined with burnt-pancake smoke made us both start to cough. I took Dan’s hand and ran out of the kitchen, through the house, and to the front door. Pushing it open I pulled Dan down into his driveway where the air was still fresh, though I figured the skunk spray would get there eventually. “Maybe we should go out for breakfast,” I suggested.

Dan looked over at me and began to laugh. Soon his hands were on his knees and tears ran down his face as he kept laughing. “What?” I asked. He waved a hand at me.

“It’s just so funny,” he said.

I put a hand on my hip. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he said, wiping the tears off his face. “Trying to make pancakes.”

“What? I can’t make pancakes?”

“Apparently not,” Dan said, the laughter starting all over again.

“Come on,” I said, pushing him toward my car, Blue by my side. “Get in, I’m buying.”

After breakfast I dropped Dan at his place and headed back toward Miami. Mulberry called as I drove over the 7 Mile Bridge, aqua water stretching all around me, the hum of my tires almost silent.

“How did it go?” Mulberry asked.

“Lots of good stuff,” I said. “We can talk when I get back.”

“Great,” Mulberry said, but I could hear a nervousness in his voice. “I talked with Dan. We’re checking on blood samples for the victims who last remember being at Ivan’s clubs.”

“That will help, right?”

“While evidence of datura in their systems is a great first step, without any proof of where it’s coming from or what exactly is in it besides datura, we don’t really have a leg to stand on, legally that is. Like I told you before, this would be a brand new defense.”

“Did Dan tell you his theory about the professor’s records? How they are all in one place, safe from prying internet eyes?”

“Yeah,” Mulberry said.

“Do you think he keeps them with him? Or locked up?” Mulberry didn’t answer right away so I kept thinking aloud. “If I was him, and I’m obsessive about protecting this stuff, I think I’d keep those documents close to my research and locked up. You wouldn’t want to drive around with them, what if you got into an accident?”

“I guess,” Mulberry said, his voice wary. “When will you be back?”

I looked at the GPS. It predicted my arrival in Miami Beach in a little over two hours. “Not sure,” I said. “I’ll give you a call in a bit.”

“Where are you going?” Mulberry asked.

“I’ll call you later,” I said and hung up, then pushed my foot onto the gas pedal sending the little Audi shooting forward and causing Blue to lose his balance, falling back against the seat. He gave me a disapproving look and repositioned himself. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

A
plan was an exaggeration of what I had. What I had was an idea to go over to Professor Nablestone’s research facility in the Everglades and see what I could see.

The turnoff was not marked and I passed it twice before discovering the narrow driveway. The road was a mix of sand and shells, perhaps imported from the nearby beaches. A chain blocked the driveway about forty yards from the main road.

I got out and, finding it padlocked, left the car, continuing on foot with Blue. The day was hot and the Everglades still. The driveway was exposed to the sun, lined on both sides by tall grasses that swayed ever so slightly, apparently catching a breeze that refused to find me. The vibrations of crickets emerged from the grasses, the sounds rising and falling rhythmically.

A ten minute walk down the road and I began to doubt if I was going the right way. This facility had received millions of dollars in funding, you’d think they could afford a paved drive and an actual guard with a gatehouse. Every tiny little island in Miami seemed to have one. Maybe there was nothing here. Then again, maybe that’s just what they wanted people to think.

Moments later, I spotted the roof of a structure beyond the grasses. It came fully into view when the driveway opened into a parking lot. The building was on our right. It was two stories tall, fronting on the water with no windows on its back or the side wall facing me. It would have looked like a blank box except for the single door that lead out to the parking lot.

Cars were parked in the lot, their noses facing the water, bodies parallel to the building. Two Hondas, a Volvo, and a Corolla. I recognized the Volvo from the college’s parking lot. It belonged to Dr. Nablestone’s female TA. I walked up to it and peered into the driver’s seat. She kept it neat and tidy.

Looking up at the building from this close to the water, I could see that large glass doors on both levels faced the Everglades. There was a balcony on the second floor that shaded several boat slips below. I heard a door open and a man stepped out onto the balcony.