Into the Inferno - Earl Emerson [102]
Cultists lived in a fantasy world, and according to Joel I’d fallen into a fantasy world after my divorce, too, seducing and discarding women like a fisherman seducing and discarding trout in a “catch-and-release only” stream. What an incredible bastard I was. It had probably been one of my exes who’d made the anonymous call to Shad and Stevenson accusing me of blowing up Caputo’s trailer.
I was still thinking about all my exes when the front door opened behind me and Achara stepped outside. “He was like that when you saw him before?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly like that?”
“Not exactly. When we saw him, he was choking on an apple.”
“Oh, God. How many others are there?”
“Two still alive in Tennessee that we know about and two more up here. Stephanie’s sister and a woman over in the nursing home. Joel makes three. I’ll be the fourth. Karrie? The young woman at the fire station? I don’t know if you saw her. She’ll be the fifth, although I doubt she’ll talk to you about it.”
“I suppose it’s possible Joel is the way he is because of his fall?”
“It’s possible, but that’s not what happened.”
“So you expect to be . . . ?”
“By Sunday.” I dropped my hands limply, made my facial muscles go slack, and feigned brain death. It was fun to watch the look of horror in Achara’s eyes. Then, in case one of the neighbors thought I was mocking Joel, I relaxed the pose.
“That’s not funny.”
“I thought it was hilarious.” Her brown eyes held my gaze. Somehow during our explanations yesterday at Canyon View, the magnitude of the tragedy had not impressed her. For all of his scientific distance, Donovan actually seemed more attuned to the personal impact of the syndrome, perhaps because he’d seen it up close in Tennessee. I’d sensed all along that he knew my pain.
“I feel dreadful about this.”
“Join the club.”
“No, I mean . . . If there was something we could do right now, this minute. I just . . .” She was whispering now and the ringing in my ears forced me to lower my head to hear.
“What are you two conspiring about?” Donovan had opened the door without a sound.
“I was just telling Jim I’ve turned down two offers to teach at Stanford.”
“Don’t worry, Jimbo. We’ll figure this out.”
Donovan’s arrogance was almost as comforting as Achara’s deception was puzzling. Why lie to Donovan? Weren’t we all working on this together? I was beginning to wonder if she had her own agenda, if she was really committed to this quest.
“How can you say we’re going to figure this out when there’s so little time?” Achara said.
“Don’t you worry. You’re good at what you do. I’m good at what I do. Don’t forget. I went through this once before and got stumped. It’s not going to happen again.”
Gazing across the immaculate lawn at the black Suburban, I said, “Nice rig. You stop to get it washed on the way into town?”
Donovan said, “On the drive out here some idiot teenage kid threw a tomato across three lanes of freeway and just about took out our windshield. I tried to get his license, but they took the exit to Highway 18 right after that.”
When she spotted me watching her from across the cul-de-sac, Allyson jogged halfway across the quiet street and shouted, “Do we have to go now?”
“Not yet.”
She ran back to the game, laughing. I found myself looking to see whether her hands were clear, but my vision was blurred, and at this distance I would have needed binoculars even if it wasn’t. Jesus. My kids might have it. Somebody was responsible for this. I didn’t know who, but somebody had to be. Thinking about my kids getting it made me want to kill whoever was responsible.
Eight minutes later Stephanie came out of the house deep in conversation with Mary McCain, their sudden camaraderie odd, considering Stephanie was a doctor and Mary had always taken pride in the fact that she’d never visited a doctor in her life.
A few minutes later, Donovan and Carpenter were locked into a heated discussion in the Suburban, the windows rolled tight.
44. YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO MEMORIZE THIS: 7540182418630846
Positioning the vanity mirror so that I could watch