Lancelot's Lady (52 page)

Now, staring at her father
'
s picture, the overwhelming grief she had felt seven years ago came back with a vengeance.

They
'
re going to kill him, Delly.

It was past eight o
'
clock when Del reached her small house in Port Coquitlam. Parking her car under the carport, she grabbed her briefcase and went inside.

"
Honey, I
'
m ho-ome!
"

An overweight, one-eared, brown-tinged Siamese darted toward her and anxiously rubbed up against her leg, mewing mournfully at the same time.

"
Oh, Kayber! You act like I never feed you.
"

She had found the cat in her backyard five months ago. He was bruised and scratched, his right ear hanging by a piece of skin. He looked like he had been in a barroom brawl—and lost. She had adopted him on the spot.

Although, she often wondered if it weren
'
t the other way around.

Tossing her briefcase on the couch, she returned to the kitchen, poured some cat kibble into a dish and set it on the floor. Then she sat on the couch, picking at a bowl of leftover macaroni casserole and sipping vanilla tea.

Her gaze drifted over the photographs on the mantle of the brick fireplace and dozens of memories raced through her mind. Memories of good times, happy times. Times when her father was alive—before he disappeared and left a dark void in her life.

She slid the bowl of half-eaten casserole onto the coffee table and pul
led the journal from her briefcase. She leafed through the book, stopping when she came to a page filled with unfamiliar words, abbreviations, numbers and symbols.

NB…RESISTANT TO…≠

DC #02541-87654-18 PROV. BASE….BSC & SYN. CSF IN

V. SALINE…GN.

She found s
everal references to her father but couldn
'
t make out the content. A few pages in, the journal lapsed into page after page of numerical code. An hour went by and she was only one-third into it when she found an odd entry.

BIO-T CAN…KEY!

She hissed in a breath.

Bio-Tec Canada?

Her father had worked for Bio-Tec. Why was that in Schroeder
'
s notes? Other than her father, Neil Parnitski and the intern, Schroeder had never had any contact with anyone else at Bio-Tec. He was an anthropologist. Bio-Tec was a research company exploring biotechnology.

Del was baffled.

She pushed the journal aside and flicked the remote control in the direction of the CD player. As Alexia Melnychuk
'
s smooth voice filled the room, Del stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes.

Kayber, having wolfed down his food, immediately took this as an invitation and jumped up on her stomach. All twenty-two pounds of him.

"
What is it with males jumping on top of me today?
"

As she thought of Peter Cavanaugh with his Tobey Maguire-like face, a smile formed on her lips. Peter was in his first year of studies, but he had missed too many classes due to an ailing grandmother, which resulted in an
'
incomplete
'
on the regular one-year course. That was why he was taking her summer class.

Ten years younger, he was an embarrassingly shy kid, a bit of a loner—except when he was around Del. He had a severe crush on her. She knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. Half the faculty thought she was sleeping with him. But she wasn
'
t. She wasn
'
t a
cougar
. She didn
'
t go after younger men. Unlike her mother.

Del unceremoniously pushed Kayber aside, then reached for the phone and dialed her mother
'
s number. After several rings, someone picked up.

"
Yeah? Wh-who
'
s this?
"

Ken, her mother
'
s newest conquest and third husband, had been drinking again.

That
'
s what you get when you marry a nightclub owner.

"
Is my mother there?
"

"
What ya want her for?
"

"
Just put her on, Ken.
"

She listened while her mother
'
s husband stumbled through the house. He swore loudly after he dropped the phone. She swore too as the sound reverberated into her ear.

"
Hello?
"

Jesus! What
'
s taking him so long? Did he pass out?

She waited, listening to faint shuffling sounds. She was about to hang up when her mother
'
s cool voice greeted her.

"
Maureen Walton speaking.
"

"
Hi, it
'
s me.
"

"
Who?
"

"
It
'
s Delila, Mother.
"

God forbid if you forget to introduce yourself!

She couldn
'
t believe that her mother was still playing
that
game. The woman lived for formality. Proper manners and etiquette, shaking hands, addressing elders by their surnames and owning a house that was treated like a show home. It was all part of her mother
'
s attempt to become the next Miss Manners. Or, God forbid, Martha Stewart.

"
Delila, I haven
'
t heard from you in weeks. Why haven
'
t you come to visit us?
"

Del cringed, remembering the last time she had visited. The time Ken tried to cop a feel when she passed him in the hall.

"
I
'
ve been busy.
"

"
Too busy to visit your own mother?
"

Great! Here it comes.

"
When you were sick with the flu, was
I
too busy to bring you some magazines?
"

Her mother
'
s voice was tinged with disapproval.

"
And when you went away with Tyler or whatever his name is, was I
too busy
to feed that filthy animal?
"

Del held the receiver away from her ear and threw Kayber a rueful look.
"
She
'
s never going to forgive you for peeing in her shoes.
"

She gave her mother a few minutes to vent, then drew the phone back to her ear.

What could she possibly say that would shut the woman up?

"
Dad
'
s alive.
"

A sharp gasp on the other end was followed by silence.

"
Well, that worked,
"
she said dryly to Kayber who was busy grooming himself.

She pressed her ear against the receiver.

Dead air.

"
Are you there, Mother?
"

"
Of course, Delila. Now what
'
s this nonsense about your father?
"

"
I had a visitor today. Professor Schroeder.
"

"
Arnold? But that
'
s not possible, dear. They found a piece of his head.
"

"
His scalp.
"

"
What?
"

Del gritted her teeth.
"
They found a piece of his
scalp
, Mother. And a bit of hair. That
'
s all.
"

"
Well, whatever. He was dead and buried along with Neil, Vern and your father six years ago.
"

Del resisted the urge to correct her again. It had been
seven
years.

"
Vern?
"

"
Yes, dear. The young man, your father
'
s assistant or whatever he was. At least I think his name was Vern. Or maybe it was Victor…
"

Her mother
'
s voice dwindled away, lost in thought.

"
Professor Schroeder says that Dad is alive. He gave me a journal. It has some strange notes in it, Dad
'
s name—
"

"
Arnold always was a bit of an odd duck, Delila. I wouldn
'
t take too much that man said seriously. God only knows where he
'
s been.
"

"
I
'
m going to bring him back, Mother.
"

There was a pause on the other end.

"
Arnold?
"

"
No. I
'
m going after Dad.
"

"
You can
'
t be serious, Delila. He
'
s dead!
"

"
I
am
serious. I
'
m bringing Dad home.
"

She hung up, feeling both relieved and irritated.

Why was her mother so heartless? Her parents had been married nearly thirty years. Didn
'
t that count for anything? Didn
'
t the woman care that her husband might still be alive? Or was it that her mother didn
'
t want her perfect little life to come crashing down?

Del scowled.

She was the first to admit she certainly wasn
'
t an expert on relationships. Look how long it took her to realize that TJ was screwing around on her. He had moved into her house
and
her heart.

Then he betrayed both.

She would never forget the day she came home early, barely able to walk and yearning for her bed—only to find that it was otherwise occupied.

Her neighbor, Julie Adams, had always been asking whether the rumors about a black man
'
s libido and the size of a specific part of his anatomy were true. Now Julie knew.

Del had kicked TJ out on his ass that same day.

She shrugged off the dark mood that threatened to engulf her and gave Kayber a quick pat on the head. With the journal and briefcase in her hands, she walked to the large second bedroom that doubled as an office. She flicked on the lamp and was immediately greeted by a pile of final summer exams that screamed to be marked.

Turning a deaf ear, she nudged them aside, opened her briefcase and pulled out an empty notebook. She wrote a reminder at the top of the first page.

Find out where Schroeder is. Go see him!

Then she began to translate Schroeder
'
s journal.

An hour later, she gave up trying to make sense of the scribbled notes and strange numerical code. When she finally crawled into bed after marking the exams, it was after midnight.

She lay in the dark, the flicker of shadows moving through her room. She pictured her father as she remembered him. Tall, with golden brown hair and rich brown eyes. He was always happy, always smiling.

She closed her eyes, her lashes damp with unshed tears.

I
'
m coming for you, Dad.

Two

E
arly the next morning, Del entered UBC, greeted security and headed down the hall. At her classroom door, she juggled her briefcase and fumbled with the key.

"
Del!
"

She swiveled on one heel and was greeted by Phoebe Smythe, president of the university. Phoebe was a tall, attractive woman with hair the color of rich, dark chocolate—except for the pure white streak that sprouted from her widow
'
s peak.

"
I just heard,
"
Phoebe said, tucking the streak behind one ear.
"
Is there anything I can do?
"

"
About what? The fact that a dear friend whom we all thought was dead has returned from the grave? Or that he
'
s adamant that my dad is alive?
"

"
Oh God! I heard about Arnold, but I didn
'
t know anything about your father. Are you all right?
"

Del shrugged.
"
I will be. Once I talk to Professor Schroeder. Do you know where he is?
"

"
They took him to Riverview. He
'
s in rough shape, Del.
"

"
What did the doctors say?
"

Phoebe patted her arm.
"
He has an unusual form of Progeria.
"

"
Accelerated aging? But Progeria is usually found in children.
"

"
It
'
s a mystery. That
'
s for sure.
"

"
Well, that certainly explains why I didn
'
t recognize him. But it still doesn
'
t make sense. Even with Progeria, he shouldn
'
t look as old as he does.
"

"
They
'
re bringing a specialist in, Del. Someone from downtown. I heard Progeria, Werner Syndrome…they really don
'
t know. But what they do know is that Arnold
'
s mental capacity is irreparably diminished.
"

"
So you
'
re saying he could have made it up—about my dad?
"

Phoebe slipped her a piece of memo paper.
"
Call the hospital. Tell them you
'
re family. Arnold
'
s wife moved to London and his sons are both married and living in another province. You
'
re all he has.
"

Alone in her classroom, Del called Riverview Hospital and made arrangements to see Schroeder just before four o
'
clock.

It was going to be a very long day.

"
In review, anthropology seeks to understand the whole picture when it comes to the study of man—Homo sapiens,
"
Del told her summer class.
"
As an anthropologist, you will explore geographic space and evolutionary time so that you may understand human existence. Anthropology is a unique blend of folklore and commonplace science. It encompasses the evolution of language and the microscopic killer diseases that have wiped out entire civilizations.
"

She glanced at the clock.
"
Time
'
s up.
"

"
Mr. Cavanaugh, are you okay about yesterday?
"
she asked Peter as he scurried past.
"
About the man who was in the classroom?
"

"
I heard he
'
s a friend of yours.
"

"
He…is a friend of my dad
'
s.
"

A
lthough he looks old enough to be my grandfather.

The young man shifted the laptop and books in his arms.
"
Is he gonna be alright?
"

"
I hope so.
"

After Peter left, she peered out the window.

It was raining.

Vancouver—the city of rain.

To Del, it was perfect weather to dredge up the past. Perfect weather to revisit the dead. Or not so dead.

By the time she reached the outskirts of Riverview Hospital, an early summer storm had unleashed its fury on the entire Vancouver area, swamping the streets with water. She turned into the visitor
'
s parking lot, snatched a ticket from the dispenser and made her way to an empty stall. Dashing through the main doors of the hospital, she was caught off guard by the slippery floor. She slid across the tiled surface—straight into the arms of a very handsome stranger.

"
Well, hello,
"
he said, rewarding her with a dazzling smile.

The man who held her was dressed in a casual suit. But he could have been wearing nothing at all as far as she was concerned. His dark brown hair was slicked back, except for an errant lock over one finely sculpted brow. The man
'
s face was angular, with a strong jaw and ridiculously high cheekbones. He sported a closely shaved moustache and goatee. Kind of a seven o
'
clock shadow look.

Regardless, Del liked it. Hell, what wasn
'
t there to like?

If he lets go, I
'
ll melt to the floor.

"
Sorry. I-I…slipped.
"

"
Good thing I was here to catch you then.
"

His voice was warm and inviting, like comfort food.

"
Yeah, good thing,
"
she murmured.

"
You don
'
t look sick.
"

"
I
'
m, uh, visiting a friend.
"

"
Hmm…lucky friend.
"

Her mouth dropped.
Oh my!

He released her and she was suddenly cold.

"
Well, uh…thanks for, uh, catching me.
"

She could have kicked herself. Could she possibly sound more dim-witted?

Deep blue eyes swept over her.
"
Anytime.
"

Mesmerized, she stared as he walked away. Then she turned toward the elevator and made it inside before she caught sight of him again. He was standing at the receptionist
'
s cubicle. Before the elevator doors closed, before her raging hormones kicked into overdrive, the man turned and winked.

Cursing under her breath, she jabbed at the button for the third floor—the secured psychiatric wing. When she reached the main nurse
'
s station, she signed a form and was escorted through a set of locked doors.

The nurse placed a hand on her arm.
"
I
'
ll warn you, Miss Hawthorne, we had to sedate him. When he was admitted, he was hallucinating…and he
'
s in a lot of pain.
"

Del forgot all about
Mr. Tall, Dark and Oh-So-Sexy
the instant she stepped inside Schroeder
'
s room—a room lit only by a small night-light glowing in the far corner. Someone had pulled the curtains partially open but it made no difference. Outside, the raging black sky held the sun at bay and unleashed its wrath.

Schroeder was lying in the bed, one wrinkled hand strapped to the rail while the other was swathed in thick cloth bandages. An IV ran from his hand to a bag of clear liquid suspended on a pole, and near the bed, a heart monitor beeped steadily.

Del watched the heart blips.

Schroeder was still alive.

"
Professor?
"

He didn
'
t move.

Stepping closer, she stared in shock.

Arnold Schroeder
'
s face had severely aged. The skin under his chin hung in loose folds across his neck. Every inch of his spotted flesh was withered and scaly. His lips were cracked, peeling.

Yesterday, in her classroom, the man had looked about seventy.

Now he looked like he was nearing his nineties. Nearing death.

What could have happened to make him age so rapidly? Progeria?

Del reached forward and brushed the hair from Schroeder
'
s face. When she withdrew her hand, the hair went with it. Appalled, she shook the tuft into the garbage can next to the bed.

The man
'
s rheumy eyes opened slowly.

"
You
'
re in the hospital,
"
she said, stroking his arm.

"
Delly?
"

"
I
'
m here, Professor.
"

"
Aw, isn
'
t it about time you called me Arnold?
"

His question ended with a ragged coughing spell.

She picked up a glass of water that was sitting abandoned on a cafeteria tray. She brought the straw to his mouth and was shocked by the sight of his bloody gums and missing teeth.

After a few weak sips, he waved the glass away.

"
Did you find it, Delly?
"

"
The journal? Yeah.
"

"
It
'
s all in there. Everything you need to know. Follow your heart. Find the key first. But, Delly…don
'
t tell anyone! If you tell the police that you know your father
'
s alive, you
'
ll both be in danger.
"

He groaned as a spasm of pain wracked his body.

Del gripped his hand.
"
Do you want me to call a nurse?
"

"
No, it
'
s too late for me. It
'
s only a matter of time now. But you, Delly…you have to go, find the key.
"

He coughed sharply, spewing up blood.

"
Leave no stone unturned. Remember…that. Take care again—
"

Suddenly, the heart monitor raced and an alarm pierced the air.

Del watched, helpless, as every muscle in Schroeder
'
s body convulsed. The veins in his forehead and scalp protruded, his eyes rolled back into their sockets and he let out a horrific scream of agony. Then he collapsed—silent, unmoving.

A tall Asian doctor rushed into the room. She was followed closely by two men pushing a crash cart.

"
I
'
m sorry, but you
'
ll have to leave.
"

Del
'
s pulse raced as she stepped out into the hallway. She peered through the small window in the door while the doctor held the paddles over Schroeder
'
s bare chest. When his body arched in response to the electrical current, Del pulled away from the glass.

Depressed, she wandered into the small sitting area, with nothing to do but gaze at other visitors, their faces drawn in sorrow as they waited to hear news of a loved one. How she hated hospitals! She hated the smell of death and illness, the taste of decay. She abhorred the poking and prodding by doctors, nurses. And the endless tiresome tests.

Yeah, she and hospitals were intimately familiar.

She shook her head.

No time to dwell on that now. There was Schroeder to think about…and her father. Something terrible had happened to them, and she was determined to find out what.

The doctor exited the professor
'
s room and approached with an apologetic look on her face.

"
You
'
re Arnold Schroeder
'
s family?
"

Del remained silent.

"
I
'
m Dr. Wang. He
'
s stabilized at the moment but I have to tell you, I think it
'
s only a matter of time.
"