Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [65]
“You’re right, we could have. But the way I see it, a few weeks ago I was home writing a grant proposal. Now I’m on the other side of the world, in a nine-hundred-year-old rock church, and I have no idea where my shoes are.”
“I see your point,” I say with a smile. Before I can say anything else, another person enters Bete Maryam and I turn, expecting to see a small group being led about by a private tour guide. Instead, I spot Sarah, who sees us at the same time. When she reaches us, she is almost out of breath.
“I knew you were in this section but I didn’t know which church,” she says.
“How did you know we weren’t over on the eastern side?” Espy asks, her tone frosty.
“Because we’re on the eastern side,” Sarah answers. “Besides, I saw your shoes outside. Cole Haan Air Gabis? You were wearing them last night. Very nice.”
Espy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Thanks. You know, I almost didn’t buy them. They just seemed too extravagant.”
“I know, but they’re comfortable, aren’t they?”
“Excuse me, ladies . . .” It’s fine if they want to chitchat about fashion, but Sarah has sought me out for a reason.
She gives Espy an apologetic shrug.
“I just wanted to tell you that a man named Gregory Hardy arrived thirty minutes ago. He works for Reese.”
I nod. “We’ve met.”
“Brown told him you were here and—” She stops, appearing unsure where to take this. “Look, Jack, I don’t trust him. He’s a lot more dangerous than he lets on.”
I exchange looks with Espy, who gives me a grim smile.
I release a sigh, thankful that Sarah cared enough to warn me, yet irritated that we might have another obstacle to contend with before we’re finished here.
“You’re right. He is dangerous.” I put my hand on her shoulder and lean in closer, locking eyes. “But he’s not here for you. Or Brown. So go back and do your job and be careful. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she says. “It’s you I’m worried about. When Hardy heard that you’re here, he didn’t seem happy about it. And he does carry a gun.”
“Thanks for the warning, Sarah,” I say. “I’ll be careful, too.”
She nods, and then a smile touches her eyes. “Just so you know, Brown is bothered enough about your being here that it might be him, and not Hardy, that you need to watch out for.”
That prompts a laugh. I give her shoulder a squeeze and then, with as charming a smile as I can muster, ask, “Since we’re being forthcoming, can you tell me why Miles is here?”
“Nice try, Dr. Hawthorne,” she says with a chuckle. There’s something in her expression that is new—that I would not have seen had this conversation taken place five years ago. It’s open competition, a fierce desire, a need to win. It’s unfortunate we’re no longer working together, because I like this version a lot more.
“You can’t blame me for trying.”
“It’ll be more fun if you earn it,” she says. Suddenly she turns serious, looks down at her feet, then back up, and her eyes are glistening. “I never told you how sorry I was about Will.”
She leans in and leaves a kiss on my cheek, and then she’s gone.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, how many ticks pass before I can think a coherent thought. When I finally reengage, I find that Espy is watching me, and there is nothing there but muted grief, something we didn’t get the chance to bear together.
Oddly enough, I don’t feel like sprinting away; a brisk walk will do. I think that might be progress. It’s as I’m searching for something to say that will extract me from the present moment that suddenly Esperanza slaps herself in the head.
“I’m an idiot,” she says with a vehemence usually reserved for pointing out my failings.
At my questioning look she says, “Alem’nesh said to look for the dragon, right?”
“Right.”
“I don’t think we’re looking for a dragon so much as we’re looking for a saint.” At my blank expression she continues, “See, that’s why you should have been raised Catholic. At least then you’d know your saints.”
“And I would have had real wine at church. I still don’t follow.”
“Alex, I’ll take saints who are popular in Ethiopia