Enigma Black (41 page)

Ian nodded, a look of obvious relief overcoming his face.

****

As I lay in bed that night with the soothing visage of Niagara Falls hovering over me, it became apparent that sleep wasn’t going to take pity on me. My adrenaline levels remained elevated from the events of the past few days. Eventually, those levels would begin their descent downwards, but until they did, I would remain the definition of restless. On top of everything else, I hadn’t seen Chase since before the explosion, which made me nervous. Even though I knew he hadn’t been among the dead, I still needed the peace of mind that only seeing him alive would bring. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I got up and began the walk down the hallway to the garage when a voice from behind stopped me.

“Where are you going?”

I turned around to see Ian standing in the hall next to his room. He’d been assigned to Blake’s old room, something that didn’t set well with me.

“Out,” I replied as I turned to keep walking.

Behind me I heard Ian’s footsteps following my path, prompting me to swing back around to face him. “Ian, you really should try to get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow and, as I’m sure they’ve explained to you, tonight could be the last time you will ever have a measurable amount of sleep as long as you’re here.”

“Seriously, Celaine, do you honestly think I can sleep right now?”

“Probably not, but you should try.”

“Come on. Why so secretive? I mean, we are going to be partners, right?”

“Right. We are going to be partners. At this very moment, we aren’t partners, and even when you officially hold that title, you only embody it when we’re on assignment. Not during the off time.”

“Working with you is going to be fun.”

“It’s work; it’s not supposed to be fun.”

Ian eyed me up and down. “So, is that the fabled suit you’re wearing?”

“That it is.”

“Is mine going to be that tight? It seems like it would constrict the junk a little.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” I winked at Ian and headed back down the hall toward the garage.

****

The small beam of light from the motorcycle’s headlight was all I had to rely on to navigate me through the pitch black roadways that lead to Chase’s apartment. Upon reaching the city, I parked in the same alleyway as I had before, again scaling the fire escape, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until I came upon the one I was looking for. The light was on in Chase’s room. With Hope Memorial in shambles and it being past curfew, I figured the likelihood of him being home was probably pretty high. Not to mention, I knew him like the back of my hand. His predictability was unfaltering. I looked up to the night sky in the off chance that the clouds had broken up enough to again reveal the stars as it had done the last time I was here. No such luck. The cloud cover was unrelenting tonight.

My fingers grasped the necklace that hung around my neck as though the heart attached to it were my very own, the latter skipping a beat as a shadow in Chase’s bedroom announced his presence. There was something different about him, something that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him. It was as if a new sense of purpose had overcome him. He was…happy. Yes, that was it. He seemed far happier than he had the last time I’d seen him. A smile spread across my tear streaked face. It was everything I’d wanted for him since I left. If he could be happy without me, maybe there was a chance that I could be happy without him, too.

“Not likely,” I sighed, clutching the heart charm.

He leaned over to pick up something from his bedside table I recognized as being his cell phone. Whatever it was that was on that cell phone only made his mood that much sunnier. He hit a button on the phone to make a call, beaming when the person on the other end picked up. Whoever he was speaking with, made him happy, and even though that was what I wanted, the selfish side of me just hoped that whoever it was he was talking to wasn’t trying to fill the imprint I had made on his heart.

****

He called her. It was awkward and incredibly uncomfortable, but he called her. And he was relieved when his call went straight to voicemail. Over the last two years, he’d been bathed in the comfort of Celaine. Dating her had been so easy, so effortless. Even in the beginning, there was something about her that’d made him feel at ease. That was how he’d known she was the one for him, and that was why he’d spent the last three hours searching for her on every search engine imaginable. Not surprisingly, he’d come up empty-handed with each click of the mouse taking him from one dead end to another. He thought he knew Celaine; he thought he knew what she wanted out of life.

Her sudden departure made him rethink relationships to the point where he gave up trying to understand them completely. What feelings were normal? What feelings weren’t normal? Who was the one? Who wasn’t the one? All of that was thrown out the window. For now, he would just go where the wind took him and attempt to regain the happiness he’d lost.

He was tired, his eyes strained from having been glued to the screen of his laptop. Tomorrow, he was going to Grace University Hospital to assist with the overflow of patients from Hope Memorial. One thing he loved about pediatrics was the way his patients tended to bond with him. There’d been a near riot at Grace University when a few of them were first moved there and told that he would no longer be their physician. Their protests were so intense that he’d received a phone call a couple of days after the explosion asking him if he would be willing to donate some of his time to assure his patients that he wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time since Celaine, he finally had something in his life that’d made him smile from ear to ear.

Before going to bed, he checked his phone again. A missed call indicated that Paige had returned his call. He looked at the clock and, seeing that it wasn’t too awfully late, he decided to call her back.

“Hey!” she nearly squealed, answering his call on the first ring. “I was so excited when you called the first time that when I called you back and you didn’t answer, I thought it was some kind of fluke.”

A smile overspread his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your call. I was…working.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I completely understand. I imagine you must be pretty busy, you know, being a doctor and all.”

“Yeah, it has its days.” Guilt began to overcome him.

“I’ll bet it does. So…what’s your schedule like this week? Are you still up for that coffee?”

“Definitely. In fact, I was going to ask you what you were doing on Saturday afternoon at about one.”

“Having coffee with a very handsome doctor.”

He blushed. “Well, okay then. There’s this café that I frequent about a half mile down from Hope Memorial on Azalea St.”

“Yeah. I think I know which one you’re talking about. Meet you there at one o’clock on Saturday then?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great!” she squealed again, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear to protect his eardrums, “It’s a date, then?”

He wasn’t sure if that last sentence was a question or a statement. “It’s a date. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He set the phone back down on the nightstand and sat on the corner of his bed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, a sick feeling overtaking his stomach.

I’m sorry, Celaine
, he thought.

****

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Ian, holding his hand as he laid on the operating table.
As if you really have a choice
.

“I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never had surgery of any kind before.”

“It will be all right. I promise, you’re in good hands.”

“Were you even the slightest bit nervous? You know…after they told you that you could die?”

“Of course I was, but you just have to remember why and who you’re here for and the fear drains away.”

“I’ve thought of nothing else but him since I’ve been here.”

I smiled. “Well, there you go. Just imagine him here, sitting next to you as you drift off, giving you a huge thumbs up for your bravery.”

“He used to do that all the time. When I would bring home an ‘A’ on a science project or score a home run. He’d be there to greet me with his big grin and both thumbs reaching for the sky.”

“I kind of figured. I saw the pictures in your apartment, remember?”

“I brought a couple of those with me.”

“Good. You needed to bring them. Those pictures will be just about the only thing that will enable you to maintain your sanity from now on.”

“Celaine,” Dr. Harris spoke softly, “we’re ready now.”

“Good luck,” I said, letting go of Ian’s hand.

“Are you going to stay in the viewing room?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” He seemed slightly relieved. “To think, when I wake up, I’ll be a superhero.”

“Yeah,” I smiled at him, quickly turning around as its fakeness was starting to wear on me. There was nothing super about what was happening to him, and the guilt I felt for allowing him to believe otherwise weighed heavily on my soul. I’d lead the lamb to the slaughter and, in a sense, was no better than a murderer. This was, in essence, the changing of the guards. I’d taken over Blake’s shift and Ian, mine. As a seasoned veteran, I was now the cynical one while he was the hopeful one who still believed anything was possible.

Opening the door to the viewing room, I took a seat facing Ian. Dr. Harris turned a valve and placed the anesthesia-filled mask over his face. Before drifting off, he took one last look at me, sleepily putting his thumb up into the air.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Assassination

Lucy Pierce returned home, promptly throwing her keys at—and effectively missing—the kitchen counter as she slumped down in her dining room chair. “Oy,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples. Since the day Celaine disappeared, she’d been pulling double duty, thriving as the harried psychiatrist by day, and the tireless private investigator at night. This night her best efforts at maintaining two full-time pursuits were losing out to utter exhaustion, exhaustion that wore thin on her gaunt face; exhaustion that caused her to fall asleep while in consult with patients; exhaustion that persistently told her to give up on finding her wayward friend.

Giving up was not an option she was willing to accept. In her heart she knew there had to be something more to Celaine’s sudden departure. Reaching across the dining room table, she made contact with the stack of remaining flyers she’d made for Celaine and, with her fingertips, pulled them over to where she sat. She’d read countless materials online about others who’d gone missing under similar circumstances. None of them had ever been found.

On the street, gossip circulated around a group of rebels comprised of everyday citizens of society who moonlighted as members of a secret rebellion committed to overthrowing President Brooks. Evidence of their participation in this rebellion had been found in the homes of several of those members who’d wound up missing over the years, leading Lucy to wonder whether Celaine had been leading a double life too. Lucy sighed as she set the flyers back down on the table. It had been a long several weeks, the longest of her life, and it felt as though she’d aged by years instead of by only a matter of days.

Standing up, she shuffled to the bathroom to wash the day away. As she turned on the light, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, revealing a startling visage. Dark circles had invaded the crevices beneath her eyes; once pristine skin had grown pale, appearing sickly. Her hair, normally meticulous without a stray strand in sight, hung haphazardly from her disheveled bun. Turning on the water, she stared transfixed at her unrecognizable profile until her hands splashed her face with cold water, bringing her back down to reality.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t yet eaten. She usually ignored her hunger pains, but she knew the discomfort would keep her from falling asleep, only making matters worse. Turning the bathroom light off, she headed back to the kitchen. After rummaging through her cabinets, she settled on a bowl of cereal and took it into the living room, turning on the television. The nightly news was on. No longer live because of the curfew, it was taped at nine o’clock in the evening and timed to air a couple of hours later.

Lucy tiredly scraped a spoonful of Cheerios into her mouth, balancing the bowl on her knees. With her eyelids growing increasingly heavy, she leaned her head back on the couch, completely unaware of the danger lurking behind her.

****

Concealed by darkness, the young sniper waited for her target. She’d received her orders for this assignment—her first ever—a couple of weeks ago, and it was all she could do to contain her enthusiasm until the big day arrived. Hours were spent in target practice in preparation, in tracking down the ordered target. Hours that turned into days and days that turned into weeks until the arrival of this very second. With her target in sight, the assassin raised herself up to her feet, grabbing the gun from its holster. Excitedly, she placed her finger on the trigger.

“Stay still, damn you,” she scowled as the target bounced around from one room to another. The gun weighed heavy in her hand, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Steadying her now trembling arm, she took a deep breath. “She’s dangerous,” she repeated, assuring herself. “She needs to be dealt with before it’s too late. The rebellion must be stopped.”

The target reappeared from the kitchen, bowl in hand, and sat down on the couch.

“Finally,” she sighed.

Her victim was finally still enough for her to take aim. Looking into her sight, she lined up the perfect shot. A shot straight through the back of the head, the perfect kill shot. They would be pleased with her back at the bureau.

“One…,” she counted softly, “two…three.”

She applied pressure on the trigger, setting the gun off, waking the deadly assault from its slumber. With the silencer on the gun quieting the chaos to those within earshot, the only evidence of her sinister attack was the sound of a window shattering and a bowl breaking to pieces as it fell to the floor.