Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [19]
“Don’t understand it, Edward. Just know it’s true.”
“I believe you, Anita. You’re the only person I know, except for me, that never bluffs.”
“Bernardo and Olaf bluff?” I gave it that extra little lilt, making it a question.
He shook his head and laughed. The tension that had been building eased with that laugh. “No, I’m not giving you anything on them.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because,” he said, and he almost smiled.
I looked at his careful profile. “You’re enjoying this. You’re enjoying Olaf and Bernardo meeting me.” I didn’t try and keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Just like I enjoyed you meeting Donna.”
“Even though you knew I’d be pissed,” I said.
He nodded. “The look on your face was almost worth a death threat.”
I shook my head. “You’re beginning to worry me, Edward.”
“Just beginning to worry you? I must be losing my touch.”
“Fine, don’t tell me about them. Tell me about the case.”
He pulled into a parking lot. I looked up to find a hospital looming over us. “Is this the crime scene?”
“No.” He pulled into a parking spot, and shut the engine off.
“What gives, Edward? Why are we at a hospital?”
“The survivors are here.”
My eyes widened. “What survivors?”
He looked at me. “The survivors from the attacks.” He opened his door, and I grabbed his arm, holding him in the car.
Edward turned slowly and looked at my hand on the bare skin of his arm. He looked at my hand a long time with his disapproval at the touch radiating from him, but it was a trick I’d pulled myself more than once. If the person makes it known that they don’t want to be touched, most people that don’t mean you violence will back off. I didn’t back off. I dug my fingers into his skin, not to hurt, just to let him know he wasn’t getting rid of me that easily.
“Talk to me, Edward. What survivors?”
He shifted his gaze from my hand to my face. I had an urge to snatch the sunglasses from his face but fought it. His eyes wouldn’t show me anything anyway.
“I told you there were injured people.” His voice was mild.
“No, you didn’t. You made it sound like there were no survivors.”
“My oversight,” he said.
“My ass,” I said. “I know you enjoy being mysterious, Edward, but it’s getting tedious.”
“Let go of my arm.” He said it the way you’d say, hello, or nice day, no inflection at all.
“Will you answer my questions if I do?”
“No,” he said, still with that same pleasant empty voice. “But if you make this a pissing contest, Anita, I’ll feel compelled to make you let go. You wouldn’t like that.”
The voice never changed. There was even a slight smile to his mouth. But I let go, slowly, drawing back into my seat. If Edward said I wouldn’t like it, I believed him.
“Talk to me, Edward.”
He gave me a big ol’ smile. “Call me Ted.” Then the son of a bitch got out of the car. I sat in the car, watching him walk across the parking lot. He stopped at the edge with the hospital just across a small road from him. He took off the sunglasses, slipped one of the ear pieces into his shirt front, and stared back at the car, waiting.
It would serve him right if I didn’t get out. It would serve him right if I went back to St. Louis and let him clean up his own mess. But I opened the door and got out. Why, you might ask. One, he’d asked me for a favor, and being Edward he’d reveal all in his own sadistic time. Two, I wanted to know. I wanted to know what had finally cut through all that coldness and scared him. I wanted to know. Curiosity is both a strength and a weakness. Which one this particular curiosity was wouldn’t be answered for a while. I was betting on weakness.
5
SAINT LUCIA HOSPITAL was big and one of the few buildings of any size in Albuquerque that I’d seen that didn’t have a southwest theme to it. It was just big and blocky, a generic hospital. Maybe they didn’t expect the tourists to see the hospital. Lucky tourists.
As hospitals go, it was nice, but it was still a hospital. A place I only go when things have gone wrong. The only up side this time was that it wasn’t me or anyone