Never Miss
Page 11
He smiled a little. “Ornery. He’d been in the navy when he was younger, and it was one of those things that stuck with him, part of his identity.”
“He’s the one who taught you how to shoot and fight.”
“I wasn’t the best student at first, better with books and equations, but he said it would help with the headaches. He was also determined to make me into a man.”
“You don’t have to be able to fight to be a man.”
He laughed under his breath. “Grandpa said if I ever wanted a girl, I needed to learn to be tough.”
“I have a feeling being tough was never hard for you,” she said. “I don’t see you as a whiny kid.”
“Not whiny, just quiet. Too much of my mother in me and not enough of my father.” He had no memories of crying as a child, except when his parents died—he hid in the attic and let himself mourn for a while, and his grandpa was kind enough to leave him alone until he was ready to come back down, which had taken over a day. “The first time he took me to the range was about a week after they died.”
She smiled a little. “He knew how to handle his grandson.”
Looking back, he did remember feeling different leaving the range, not less hurt, but like he could start to learn how to deal with it. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk. “He made me do things I didn’t want to, but he did support my interests. He tried to show the same interest my parents had, though he didn’t really get most of it. He was at every science fair, every math competition, every chess tournament.”
“You were geeky,” she said.
“I am geeky.”
“You wear it well, though.”
“Some would disagree.” He adjusted his glasses. He didn’t want to stop talking with her, which felt odd. He hadn’t talked so much with someone since his grandpa died. “Where did you go to school?”
“Homeschooled.”
“What was that like?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really know if my education was like everyone else’s or something completely different.”
“How much math did you get to do? Geometry?”
“Through trig and calculus.”
“Your father taught you that?”
“Yeah. Is that weird?”
“The average person can’t do calculus, even if they took a course in college.”
“I think he wanted me to learn as much math as I could.”
“Why is that?”
“Calculating windage compensation, temperature changes, altitude effects, up/down compensation, exit pupil and low light observation, barrel’s rate of twist, bullet length versus diameter, and Coriolis effect.”
“Coriolis effect?” The movement of the Earth in relation to the bullet. “You can shoot that far?”
“I could shoot that far when I was fifteen,” she admitted.
He leaned his head back against the wall and cursed. She had to be extraordinarily proficient in physics. “And you say I’m geeky,” he said. “So, what about the rest of your education?”
She shrugged. “I guess I learned the basics.”
“Did you ever play sports or learn an instrument?”
“We didn’t do those things.”
Something in her tone said so much. She had the interests that were dictated to her. No choices. And they’d kept her sheltered so she wouldn’t realize there were other things out there.
He glanced over at Mac sprawled out on the floor, on his back with his paws splayed to the sides, dead asleep. “You weren’t allowed pets when you were growing up, were you?”
“They were distractions.” Then she looked down at Mac and smiled. She had a different look in her eyes when she watched Mac—that wall came down a bit.
Eventually, she went over to her bed and slid under the covers. He lay down as well. Both on their sides facing each other, they talked for a while longer. He wasn’t sure who fell asleep first.
SHE WOKE BEFORE SUNRISE—she wanted to get moving early. But when she heard the shower running, she stayed in bed a few extra minutes to enjoy the rare opportunity to lie on a mattress. It’d been years. Mac snuggled closer to her side and purred, and she closed her eyes. Lyndon had left the lights off, so she had to focus on not falling back asleep.
The shower turned off, and a few minutes later, footsteps changed from tile to carpet. She slit her eyes open to see Lyndon walk in the room in jeans and nothing else.
She lay still and watched him.
seventeen
MAC JUMPED FROM KADANCE’S BED over to Lyndon’s. Kadance watched while he stroked Mac. Something about this sculpted man being so gentle fascinated her. Perhaps because she’d never known a man like that. Then her gaze drifted . . .
She was sure he had no idea what he looked like to others, no idea what kind of reaction he caused. And maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he just didn’t work that way. Maybe he didn’t feel desire or passion. Only logic.
“Have you ever been serious about anyone?” she asked.
He looked over at her, and then turned away, toward his bag on the floor. “Not really.”
“You really need to stop trying to lie.”
When he turned back to her, he took a breath. “There was someone when I was in school, but I cut it off.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. She noticed a small and simple cross necklace shining against his skin. “You haven’t been with anyone since?”
“No.” He pulled on a T-shirt, covering the cross.
“Why not?”
His jaw was tight and kept flexing. “Please don’t push this subject.”
She paused. “All right.”
He walked over to the window.
“Don’t open the curtains.” She pulled the covers back and sat up.
He peeked outside but left the curtains shut. “Are you still trying to protect me?”
“I’m being cautious.”
“That’s why you suggested sharing a room. So you could be here and make sure no one attacked. We’re thousands of miles from anything familiar. I doubt anyone will find me in this random motel.”
“It’s habit.” She walked into the bathroom.
She showered quickly, brushed her teeth, braided her hair, put on clean jeans and shirt, and sheathed her knife on her belt.
When she came back out, Lyndon was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
He looked up and stood. “Ready?” His eyes unfocused, as if he was dizzy, but then he quickly refocused.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What has your mind spinning? Concerns about today?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“I need to understand where your head is before we go anywhere.”
“It’s nothing to do with what we’re doing today.”
“But something has your mind in overdrive.”
“Yes. But I’m fine.”
“You’re in pain.” She looked at him more closely and could see the pain he was struggling to hide.
“I’m used to it. I’m fine.”
She crossed her arms.
“It’s not something I’m comfortable talking about,” he said. “I’ll be fine once I’m focused on the task at hand.”
“Is it something that’s going to stop you from focusing on the task at hand?”
“I can get past it. I always do.” He added more quietly, “Please.”
Something to do with that past relationship—she was sure that was it. She didn’t want to discuss James any more than Lyndon wanted to discuss this. She understood. She just didn’t like going to the CDC when his head wasn’t completely in the game.
“Today hinges on me,” he said. “You don’t have a lot of control over the outcome. I understand how uncomfortable that makes you. But you have my word that I’m able to function through this.” Then he added, “But I would really appreciate it if you talked with me some more. It helps.”
“How often do you have these headaches? Does your work make it worse?”
So, something about that past relationship was unresolved. “Can you talk to her? That old girlfriend. And come to terms with whatever happened?”
“Please,” he said. “Please talk to me about something else.”
She uncrossed her arms. “All right.”
“Talking with you helps,” he said.
She wanted to ask about the cross necklace he wore under his shirt. It seemed at odds with his nature—scientific, ultra-logical. But she decided that might be another complicated subject. “What’s your plan for today? Should we buy you a suit so they take you more seriously?”
“I think being underdressed might work to my advantage.”
“With your former classmate?”
He nodded.
“So, you think he’ll be more likely to talk if he feels superior. You’re going to goad him into showing off.”
“That’s my plan.”
“Just don’t lie. You really stink at lying.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “So I’ve been told.” Then he added, “To be fair, I’ve never had to prove my deception skills against a human lie-detector before.”
“You don’t have any deception skills.”
The corner of his mouth twitched even more. “But I can recite anything I’ve ever read or heard. That has to be worth something.”
“Okay, recite the commencement speech at your second medical school graduation.”
“Dr. Veda de Athia: I am honored to deliver this commencement speech for the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine graduating class. When I graduated from this esteemed university way back in 1970, we thought we were cutting edge, but you have so many more advantages—”
“You can’t be serious. You’re making it up.”
“I stink at lying, remember?”
“Okay, okay. Show off.”
He picked up her car key off the dresser.
She snatched it out of his hand and turned for the door. She relaxed at seeing his grin.
She insisted on stopping for a quick breakfast to make sure his head was completely in the game. He seemed fine, so she drove toward the CDC.
She hated leaving Mac in the car so much, but she decided this wasn’t the time to push the limits. Just getting onto the property took some creativity.
They walked into the lobby of the building Lyndon said they needed, and Kadance reminded herself to let Lyndon take the lead.
“Hello,” he said to the receptionist. His usually bland, even stoic expression blossomed into a small but stunning smile.
The receptionist leaned closer with her elbows on her desk. “How may I help you?”
Kadance stayed back and just watched. She wondered if he never let this charming side show as a protection mechanism, so he didn’t have to deal with relationships. Or maybe her first instinct was more correct—he had no idea what kind of effect he had on people, specifically women. Maybe it never occurred to him to care.
“An old friend of mine is a director,” Lyndon said. “Dr. Spallings.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, and his biceps flexed and stretched his T-shirt sleeves.
The receptionist’s gaze flickered. “Yes, Dr. Spallings is a director.”
“Would you mind telling him Dr. Lyndon Vaile is here and would like to see him for just a few minutes?”
She smiled. “Sure.” She picked up her phone.
While she talked to what sounded like an assistant on the phone, Lyndon straightened and glanced over at Kadance.
“It’ll be just a few minutes,” the receptionist said.
“Thank you.”
Lyndon stepped back from her desk and looked around the grand glass lobby. He didn’t engage with Kadance, and she didn’t engage with him, figuring she would appear to be an assistant or similar. She wasn’t dressed professionally, but then neither was Lyndon. The receptionist kept glancing at him.
Several minutes passed.
At about ten minutes, Lyndon walked over to one of the small seating areas scattered about the huge lobby. Kadance followed.
After twenty minutes, Kadance was tempted to ask him if he should ask the receptionist to call again.
Thirty-one minutes had passed when a young man in a lab coat walked out into the lobby. “Lyndon Vaile?”
Lyndon stood. “Yes.”
Kadance noted that, though Lyndon had used his title when introducing himself and the receptionist had also used the title on the phone, the man had dropped “Dr.” off Lyndon’s name.
“Follow me please.” The man seemed very young, perhaps not even in need of a daily shave. He walked with his back rigidly straight and made no small talk, didn’t even look back at them.
Kadance walked behind Lyndon. They went through enough security that she should relax, but she continued to note as much as she could about her surroundings. It was a habit she would surely never be able to break at this point.
They stopped at a small waiting area with just a few chairs and a TV on the wall.
“Wait here, please.” Without waiting for a response, the young man walked away.
“That kid has something stuck up his butt,” Kadance muttered.
“He’s probably an intern.” Lyndon sat in one of the chairs.
Kadance took the seat next to him. “You’d think he’d wait until he had his doctorate. He has his whole life ahead of him to act like a snot.”
Lyndon shrugged. “It’s not uncommon.”
“Why don’t you act like a snot?”
“Because my grandfather, not to mention my mother, would come back from the grave and beat me.”
Kadance nodded. “Good reason.” Then she added, “Do you think they’ll make us wait some more?”
“Probably.”
She stood. “Then I’m using the restroom.”
“You know where one is?”
She looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. Did he really think she hadn’t cataloged every single hall and door they’d passed?
“Right. Silly question.”
She headed down the hall, back the direction they’d come.
LYNDON WATCHED KADANCE walk away but then forced his attention from her.
He tried to use the time to reanalyze everything he’d read about State of the Union security, while part of his mind vaguely listened to the television.
Then he noticed the channels start flipping. He glanced around —no one was within view or earshot. He lifted out of the chair to make sure he hadn’t sat on a remote. Nothing.
“Come,” someone on a commercial said. Then the channel flipped again to another commercial. “Find the best—” Flip. “Come to me.” Flip. “—best experience of your life—” Flip. “Come find me—” Flip. “Our paths—” Flip. “Cross—” Flip. “—and will converge.”
Lyndon stood and stared at the television.
Kadance walked back down the hall. She murmured, “Is something wrong?”
He kept staring at the television, ready to show her, but it’d stopped flipping channels and had settled on a news station.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The channels kept flipping.” He paused. “I think a message was hidden in all the phrases.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“The channels kept flipping, and it pieced together bits of phrases.”
“What’d it say?”
“Come find me. Our paths cross and will converge.”
She lifted her brows in skepticism, but also looked around carefully. She turned back to him and spoke under her breath. “This is the CDC, probably one of the most secure buildings in the country. How could someone hack a TV here, and why would they want to?”
“It would take a lot of skill. Similar to creating a super-virus and releasing it at the State of the Union.”
“But why is still the question.” He sat back down.
“Lyndon Vaile?” A middle-aged, dark-skinned woman approached. She wore glasses and her black hair pulled back in a bun.
“DR. VAILE,” KADANCE CORRECTED.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Spallings didn’t mention your title. I’m Dr. Terry. Dr. Spallings asked me to come speak with you. He’s tied up at the moment.” She held a clipboard against her chest. While she didn’t offer to shake hands, Kadance didn’t think it was due to arrogance. If she had to guess, she’d say the woman was a bit of a germaphobe. She couldn’t decide if that was humorous or inevitable.
“I have some information I’d like to share with him,” Lyndon said. “It’s of a highly sensitive manner.”
“I’m a senior researcher. I can pass any pertinent information on to Dr. Spallings.”
“I’m sure you’re immensely qualified,” Lyndon said. “But I’d prefer to speak with him.”
“Okay. If you tell me what this is about, perhaps he’ll be persuaded to break away.”
Lyndon took a breath. “I suspect an Ebola attack is being planned. I want to make sure the CDC is prepared.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot share sensitive information with the general public, but I can assure you we are as prepared as possible for any eventuality.”
“I fear you may not be prepared for this eventuality. I would simply like to tell him what I know so that he can take the steps he deems appropriate.”
“What you know or what you suspect? Or what you speculate?”
“He knows enough about me to know I’m not a lunatic. And he can’t possibly still be angry at me for beating him out for valedictorian at Harvard Medical.”
She pressed her lips together, probably trying to look severe, but Kadance spied a hint of mirth in her eyes.
“Please wait here.” She turned and walked away.
Lyndon crossed his arms.
“I don’t think they’re going to take us seriously,” Kadance said.
“That crack about Harvard will get him out here.”
“You think she’ll tell him?”
“He’ll make her repeat the conversation word for word. If there’s one thing I can count on him for, it’s thoroughness.”