Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes (23 page)

She waved a jewel-less hand through the air. “So, anyway, you get the picture.”

What does all this mean?

The redness returned to Jessie’s face. “Maybe never to give up? Never look at someo—something as nothing more than—” She shrugged and picked at a nail.

Once again, Ian didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. He had to get a handle on his mental ramblings.

Jessie ran a finger in a loop on the table and sighed. Her chin lifted, cheeks brightening again. As quickly as she’d risen, she dropped her head to her arms on the table. “I’m sorry, Ian.”

“What for?”

Face muffled by the table, she said, “Seeing you here. You just … bring back a lot of memories.”

“I hope some of them are good ones.”

Jessie oh so slowly dipped her head down and back a few times before lifting up and turning her watch toward herself. “Hey, it’s way past my bedtime.” She rose and held out a hand, and Ian shook it. “I hope I don’t see you again … I mean tonight … or tomorrow. I’m off. Sorry—” Hand through hair, she took a deep breath and said, “You know what I mean, right? I hope your girl heals quickly. Don’t give up on her, Ian. Medicine is part art, part luck and part science. There’s no telling what we don’t actually know despite the amount of study we’ve had. Every person is different, and while their physiology is basically the same, what works for one person may not for another.”

“That why you already wear a lab coat and Michael doesn’t?”

Her face couldn’t have gone redder.

Michael. Unrequited love. She have a thing for him still?

Jessie angled her head down before lifting it back to face Ian. “I skipped the second and the seventh grades, Ian. When you’re frumpy, really smart and your parents don’t want you to get involved with the boy next door, and the boy next door wants nothing to do with you, the next best thing is to dive into school. I finished college at nineteen and got accepted to medical school at twenty.” Jessie stopped. She fidgeted. “Hey, you know, if you see him, tell him—well just tell him I said ‘hi’, okay?”

Still in love with the boy next door. The story only brought up those memories.
“Yeah, sure.”

“Take care, Ian.” With that, she walked away.

Ian stayed in his chair, thinking through Jessie’s story. He put what he’d learned about the design, the symbolism with his blips of memories he knew he didn’t have, Taylor’s call out of ‘John’, Michael’s revelation that Ian, as John, had killed her in their last life, too, her drowning and the bones.

It all swirled in an unintelligible mess with one big question looming.

Why did I kill her if we were together?

• • •

Fire.

Dreams.

Sounds.

Pain.

Darkness.

Water.

Cold.

Earth.

Air.

Taylor drew in a breath. Her lungs brought in cool freshness. A thought to herself suggested she let it free. Her lungs obeyed.

I’m alive.

She tried to force her eyes open, but the action revealed nothing but solid black.

Her body shivered, or so it seemed.

Tuning in for sound brought her nothing.

Am I alive?

A squeeze of her hands gave her no sense of touch.

What the hell is happening?

She tried to move her shoulders, but her arms failed to budge. Pressure built at her back.

My hands. Why are my hands tied behind me?

Taylor gasped, her breath catching in her throat, memories and thoughts jumbling together without coherence.

Ian!

At the thought of his name, her heartbeat slowed. Quiet took over until her mind no longer whirred.

He’d loved her.

Calm.

She’d loved him.

Freedom.

She’d said goodbye.

Torment.

He’d killed her.

Hate.

Neither wanted to be separated.

Desperation.

Both vowed to return.

Desire.

One failed to accept.

Insanity.

22

Feet shuffled around Ian as he stood at the counter again. A cup of toffee-flavored mocha from the hospital vending machine rested in his hand. His gaze stuck on the door to the room the doctors wouldn’t let him re-enter while they made some adjustments to Taylor’s medications.

With so many doctors, nurses and technicians going in and out, he’d stopped watching the who, just looked for any sign he could return, or that something had become worse.

A gasp and a, “Get a doctor in here!” had him tilting his head, and one of the dozen physicians who’d attended to Taylor disappeared into the room, the door not quite swinging closed behind him.

Standing at the counter left Ian with no immediate access and straining for sound.

“What’s wrong with her?” A feminine voice said with a bite as strong as whiskey on a first taste.

A pen tapped against metal. “Honestly, Mrs. Marsh, we don’t know.”

Taylor’s mom?

“Diagnostically, she’s had a fever we could barely control, but tests show no infection.” More taps and shuffling of papers.

“That is not an acceptable diagnosis,” the woman said.

“What happened to her arm?” a deeper voice asked.

That’s not Riley. Who? Her dad?

The doctor reiterated the story that had been told and retold, by Ian, by his father—to anyone who’d asked.

“Why would she be here in New York?” the woman asked.

“There’s a gentleman who can answer that question for you.”

The click against the tile floor suggested a tapping in place versus a walk. “What’s your prognosis?” The bite of her tone wouldn’t be missed by anyone and had Ian leaning his head back against the cement wall near the door.

He caught sight of a couple nurses with eyebrows raised, leaning toward each other with conspiratorial whispers.

“Right now, we don’t know what’s going on with your daughter. We’re running through all her recent records, from her time in the detention center, the hospital in North Carolina. She could have picked up a virus.”

“A detention center … a hospital …” Derision coated the woman’s tone. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Maybe we should take this outside,” said the deep voice Ian assumed belonged to Taylor’s father.

“I agree.” Back to the doc. “We’d like to keep her the least stressed as possible.”

Sounds grew louder. Ian searched for a place that wouldn’t look obvious toward his eavesdropping if they noticed.

“She was in a jail?” The voice still came from within the room.

Had she not heard the doctor?
Ian stood with fists clenched, preparing to give the woman a few choice words.

“Honey, relax,” the man said. “Tay’s a big girl. If something happened, she doesn’t have to tell—”

“Don’t you tell me what she should and shouldn’t tell me. I’m her mother.”

Bingo.

“We’ve been down this road once before. I won’t have someone getting my daughter in trouble and—” The clicks didn’t tap but grew louder. The would-be Taylor clone stood in front of Ian. “You.”

He stared down into a petite, twenty-years-older face that matched Taylor’s. “Me?”

“What did you do to my daughter?” The set of her jaw and the pursed lips brought on a wicked witch effect.

Ian kept his hands in his pockets, hoping to stem his own irritation and not piss off the woman before him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“They told me you’ve been here with her this whole time. What did you do that would put her in here?”

“Whoa, there. I didn’t
do
anything.” His own tone ratcheted up a notch.

“That’s exactly what that other bastard said.” Her finger poked into Ian’s chest.

A man Ian presumed to be Taylor’s dad filled the frame of the doorway behind her, his eyes cast down to the ground with a shake of his head.

Ian pulled her finger away, banking down his anger.

“Janet,” a voice called from down the hall.

She shifted. The man behind her did the same, a smile growing on his face.

Ian spun to Riley walking toward them.
Son of a bitch.
Ian’s heart flip-flopped. Two men. One woman.
Riley.
Could he be the one that took their triangular existence to its end?

“Riley!” Janet ran to him, wrapped her arms around him. “Why is she here? What’s going on? Why was she in jail?”

His gaze hit Ian’s. “I’ll explain everything I know and will tell you over a cup of coffee.” His hand slipped to Janet’s. “Come with me.”

“Oh, no. I’m not leaving her here, helpless and—”

“Take a valium, Janet,” Taylor’s dad said. He ran his hand through his hair as soon as it escaped his lips. “Shit. I’m sorry. This is just—”

“Come with me,” Riley said again. “You, too, Jeff.”

“What about—” Janet pointed toward Ian.

“He’s … a friend.” Riley pushed at her shoulder and led Taylor’s parents out the double doors of the unit. He returned a second later and held out a series of papers along with Ian’s laptop bag. “I was asked to give you these.”

Ian unfolded the pages as his mind reeled with possibilities. A scan gave him enough. All charges had been dropped in the arrest of Taylor Marsh.
The forensics guys finally figured out what my brother’s team already did?
Ian flipped a page. “Taylor’s mom wasn’t even a spec in her mother’s eye when those bones were buried.” He continued to scan.

Riley ran a hand over his head. “Exactly. You can get your bond money back.”

“I don’t care about that.” Ian continued to look through the paperwork, double checking that nothing remained to ruin the moment. “How did you know she was here?”

“I asked.” With that, he tipped his head as if he wore an invisible cap, spun and left.

Ian pulled out his cell and pressed ‘1’ to speed dial Tripp.

“Something up?” Tripp asked after the first ring.

“Taylor’s parents and Riley just showed up. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. They must have found out on their own.” Behind Tripp, Lexi’s voice broke through with unintelligible commentary. “Just pick up the phone. This would be that much easier,” Tripp said.

“Hey, Ian,” she said.

“Hi. So, please tell me—”

“So … Emma heard from Janine, who served dinner to Taylor’s parents last night … that the Marsh’s found out Taylor was up here. Don’t know how. Didn’t know they were heading up. I did wheedle out the back story. When Taylor was in jail the first time, her parents … well … they hadn’t … they didn’t do a very good job because they were pissed she moved to Alabama in the first place. Apparently, they thought she made it all up to get attention, like she’d done when she was little. Done what, though, is the question. But anyway, they promised Taylor that if she ever found herself in the same situation, they’d be the squeaky wheel. So, it took them two weeks to get to Alabama, and by then Taylor’d gotten herself out. She doesn’t have the best relationship with her mom because of it, so I’m guessing this is mom and dad’s way of making up for last time.”

“That’s fucked up.” Ian rested his arm against the wall. He thought back to his parents, to Grams and Michael. They’d have taken her in without question. Grams already loved her. He let out a deep sigh. “They don’t know me from shit, so I guess all they have for their only child is what happened before. Can’t blame them for that.”

“Good attitude to have,” she said. “Stay positive. I’m sure all will be fine. Just be nice to the in-laws.”

“Not until they find out I killed her in another life. I probably put those bones there.”

At Lexi’s gasp, Ian filled her and Tripp in on what he’d concluded.

• • •

Back in the bed-chair in Taylor’s room, Ian sniffed his pits. The stench permeated his shirt and made him realize just how long it had been since he’d showered. No one had mentioned it, but after day five, he should have gone back to the hotel. He had, after all, kept and paid for the room.

He just couldn’t bring himself to leave Taylor, even if the story Michael told suggested he had been responsible for her death the last time they’d been involved. Tripp and Lexi hadn’t believed it. ‘Come up with a new explanation’, they’d said. The mere thought of hurting Taylor tore at his heart. He leaned forward and touched her foot, the closest spot to him.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m going to find out.”

When she didn’t respond, he opened up his laptop, happy to have a faster tool than his phone for research.

Ian connected to the network and clicked on his email.
Distraction first, then digging.
The latest message came from Tripp.

I-

Didn’t mention this last night since you seemed to be processing in that brain of yours, but Jefferson Wiley from Alabama State Corrections called. He had some details re: Tanner. Look for them in your email if not already.

-T

Ian scrolled through his inbox, searching for Jefferson’s name, but came up with nothing. For all he knew, the guy hadn’t yet sent the info. Just in case, he checked his junk mail. Sure enough, a Mr. Jeff Wiley’s name showed up in the list, having been sent two days before.

Ian clicked the link.

Mr. Sands—

Our records indicate Tanner Joseph Meadows is deceased as of …

At the knock on the door, Ian skimmed the rest and closed the laptop.

With the second knock, he said, “Come in.”

Riley walked in.

Alone.

“What’re you doing here, man?”

“Taylor’s parents wanted me to apologize on their behalf. They’re … a little distraught right now. I left them to talk over their issues before they come back up.”

“You came all the way to New York to tell me they’re sorry?” Ian tucked his shirt into his pants on the off chance Taylor’s parents did return. For some reason, despite the lack of a fresh scent and the massive wrinkles, he wanted to make an impression—hopefully a good one.

“Actually, can we maybe go to another room for a minute?”

With a glance toward sleeping Taylor, her wires and tubes, lines and immobile form, Ian nodded. He and Riley headed toward the conference room. Once inside, Ian took the same spot where he’d sat when speaking with Jessie.