Several minutes later, Joyce retreated down the stairs and to her car. They both sighed with relief. After a moment, her car reversed out of the drive, and down the road to disappear behind a long stand of trees.
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her now. You’re safe.”
Margot mused darkly, “Don’t count on it. She’s a good friend. If she thinks something’s wrong, she’s not likely to drop it. You have to remember this is a small town. People don’t mind their own business. They stick their noses in where they don’t belong.”
An hour later, Margot was proven correct when the phone rang. In the kitchen, Margot picked up the receiver on the second ring.
“Oh, hi, Joyce.” She watched Jake step into the room.
“Thank goodness!” Joyce said in obvious relief. “I got worried when you didn’t answer the door. I saw your car and knew you had to be home. Are you all right?” Joyce asked.
“I’m fine. I guess I was in the shower when you came by. Sorry, I missed you.”
Jake walked over and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter beside her.
“That’s okay,” Joyce said. “I’ll just come back. I want to see how you’re doing.”
“Right now wouldn’t be a good time. I’m swamped with work. How about later in the week?”
“I’d prefer to come over now. You don’t sound yourself,” Joyce said, doubt clearly in her voice.
“I don’t think tonight’s a good idea,” Margot repeated in frustration as Jake, frowning, edged closer to her.
“Well, I’ve got this book I’ve been meaning to return to you.”
“No, you don’t want to do that. It’s too late in the day. Joyce—”
At the unexpected dial tone, Margot pulled the phone from her ear and stared back at Jake in alarm.
He took the receiver from her hand and placed it in the phone’s cradle. “What happened?”
“She’s coming over. She said something about a book she had to return. What am I going to do? If I don’t talk to her, she’s going to wonder what’s going on. She’s already suspicious.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to talk to her. That’s all.”
“There’s no way she’s going to buy into my appearance. Not like this.” Margot waved a hand at her head.
Jake stepped further away, his frown deepening. “Do you have any hair color?”
“I’ve got enough for one application.”
He grabbed her hand. “Well, let’s get moving. We don’t have much time. If we’re quick enough, we just might pull it off.”
He dragged her up the stairs, and before she knew it he had her head under the sink.
Over a half hour later they were downstairs. In the kitchen, Margot snapped on the florescent light above the sink and another one above the kitchen table, and then turned to Jake.
“So what do you think? Will I do?”
“Turn around.”
She arched a brow but complied.
“Here, you’ve missed a place.” After rubbing a spot on the side of her throat, he brought a few strands of her hair forward. “That should do it. Just make sure you have your ears covered.”
“Bossy, aren’t we?”
“And, of course, you aren’t.”
She made a face and plopped down on a kitchen chair. “Why didn’t you color your hair? I’d think it would be a lot easier than a wig.”
“Survival.” When she frowned, he explained. “Any time I needed to escape a situation, I’d just take off the clothes and wig and vanish. I can’t with dyed hair."
Margot wondered how many times he’d had to do just that. To think of what a person could do...
Jake must have guessed her thoughts. “It’s not worth it. The advantages of being invisible don’t compare to the horror of it all.”
The raw emotion in Jake’s voice caught at her heart. Until now, Margot hadn’t comprehended just how invisibility crippled one’s life. Why, just the thought of seeing Joyce and hiding such a secret sent her nerves flying.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, which didn’t do a thing to ease her anxiety. “I feel like I’m at an opening for a Broadway play and I haven’t rehearsed a single line.”
Jake joined her at the table. “You’ll do fine.”
She nodded sharply and drummed her fingers impatiently against the table. “I have to. If Joyce gets wind of what’s going on, I don’t know what she’ll do. Her brother was killed because of this. She’ll go to the police. She’ll start screaming until someone hears her. She’ll do exactly the thing you don’t want. She’ll have Miracell broadcasted to the world.”
“You’re speculating. Don’t.”
The doorbell chimed.
Margot grunted. Her stomach did a crazy flip. “How the heck am I going to pull this off?
“I’ll repeat something someone told me a little while back. That someone is a person I love and admire.”
“And what’s that?”
“‘I have every confidence in you.’”
She couldn’t help but smile at how he’d repeated her own words to him. Those very words and his confidence tapped down on her spinning stomach.
“Here we go.” She rose. “Any last suggestions?”
“Just keep in the shadows, and, whatever you do, don’t smile. I don’t have an extra set of caps for your teeth.”
“Thanks,” she muttered under her breath and snapped off the florescent light above the sink. She left the other on, hoping the low wattage would create enough shadows to hide the oddness of her appearance.
Margot walked into the hall and opened the door.
Chapter 18
“Hi, Joyce.”
Her friend stepped into the foyer and closed the door. “I brought that book I mentioned on the phone. You know, the one I borrowed. I never realized I still had it until a couple of days ago. I think it’s that cookbook you’d mentioned to Mark at the Hideaway.”
Margot took the proffered book and looked down at the cover. Despite the darkness, she managed to make out the title. “Oh, yes. The dumplings. Johnny’s favorite recipe.”
Joyce started to shrug out of her jacket but paused. “What’s with the sunglasses?”
“The glasses?”
“Yes, the glasses. Here. It’s dark in here.” She stepped over and flipped on the hall’s light switch.
Nothing happened. Margot hadn’t gotten around to changing the light.
“Well, shoot.” Joyce turned back to her and frowned. “Have you been drinking? Is that why you’re wearing them? Because of a hangover?”
“I might have had one or two,” Margot lied. At this point, she’d say anything to keep Joyce from suspecting the truth.
“I knew something was wrong! You were acting so strange on the phone.”
“Is that why you came over? To check on me?” She straightened and pointed the book at Joyce. “I’m a big girl—old enough to take care of myself.”
“Well, if you ask me, you haven’t been taking care of yourself for some time.” She must have sensed Margot’s irritation, because she backtracked. “Okay. Fine. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, well—you’re wearing gloves!” She grabbed Margot’s free hand and lifted it toward the kitchen light. “Why? What’s going on? The glasses and now the gloves. You’re scaring me.”
Margot snatched back her hand. “I was getting ready to go outside to see if I’d locked up the lab.”
“Since when do you start locking up around here?”
“Oh, come off it. Will you listen to yourself? You’re sounding paranoid.” Margot sighed. “And if you must know, I started doing it after the last time Malcolm showed up.”
“Oh.” Joyce’s laugh sounded awkward. “I guess I’m just worried. You haven’t been the same since Johnny’s death. Plus, you’re out here all alone.”
“I seem to remember we had this conversation before. Remember? I’ve lived out here by myself before
Johnny died. Nothing’s changed.”
Margot placed the cookbook on the mahogany table against the hall wall. When she turned back around, she found Joyce still frowning. “Will you stop worrying? I’m fine. Why don’t you take care of yourself for a change? You’ve had just as bad a time as me with your own brother’s death.” Margot started to bite her lip but stopped just in time. “They haven’t found the killer, have they?”
Joyce’s shoulders dipped. “Nothing. There just doesn’t seem to be any motive.”
“I’m really sorry. Seriously, let me know if you ever need anything. How about we talk next week? Maybe have dinner together?” If she was still around and breathing, Margot thought darkly to herself. “It’s just right now isn’t a good time. This is probably the busiest time of year for me.”
Placing an arm around Joyce’s shoulders, she urged her friend back to the front door. Margot knew she was being grossly unfair and apathetic about her friend’s loss, but she was terrified. With every passing minute together the chance of discovery escalated. One slip on her part and Joyce would have the shock of her life.
“Fine,” Joyce agreed, “but only if you promise to take care of yourself?”
“Of course.”
Suddenly, Joyce hugged her, brushing up against Margot’s hair and face. As Joyce pulled away, Margot fought off the urge to touch her cheek, and instead, pulled her hair quickly forward and prayed her foundation hadn’t smudged off.
Joyce zipped up her jacket and opened the front door. But before she left, she turned back around. “How’s your renter?”
Margot’s sigh of relief caught against the back of her throat. “I’m not sure,” she lied. “He’s been gone for the last a couple of days.”
“So I don’t get a chance to meet your mystery renter?”
“Maybe next time.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t know if she’d convinced Joyce. Shadows both had their benefits and drawbacks. “I’ll see you later in the week. Drive carefully.”
“I will.”
Then Joyce walked outside, down the steps and slipped into her Land Cruiser. When she had backed out of the drive, Margot shut and locked the door, and exhaled in relief.
Talk about nerve-wracking. Margot couldn’t handle many more of these types of encounters. Not unless she wanted to end up dead from a heart attack—that is—if the formula didn’t kill her first. Tonight, her meeting with Joyce might have gone in a completely different direction. She’d been lucky. But what of next time? Eventually she would need groceries or gas for her car. What if she came face to face with someone else during the day? She might not be so lucky then.
Margot pivoted and nearly screamed. A dark shadow, tall and massive, stood a little over three feet away from her.
“Jake! Geeze!” She slapped her hand against her chest. “Are you trying to scare me to death? I didn’t even hear you!”
“Sorry,” he said in a somewhat sheepish voice. “Habit. Keeping quiet became somewhat of a survival tactic. Half the time I don’t even know I’m doing it.”
For his sake, Margot didn’t ask why. She knew he’d been in his own hell with no one to trust or turn to, and the last thing she wanted to do was bring those memories back for him.
So instead, she asked, “So what do you think? Did I pull it off?
“You were wonderful. I couldn’t have done any better. And even if Joyce is suspicious, she’s probably way off base.”
“You’re right.” She nodded toward the cookbook on the table. “I knew she didn’t come by just because of that.”
Margot stared at the book that sat innocently on the glossy wood surface. She frowned. Maybe that innocent, little cookbook wasn’t so harmless.
“Could it be? Do you think?” Excitement bubbled into her voice. “It makes so much sense. Johnny knew about that book. He saw me use it many a time. He could have hidden the disk between the pages. While we’ve been hunting everywhere in the house, I bet it’s been there all along!”
She snatched the book from the table, rushed into the kitchen with Jake right behind her, and flipped on the fluorescent light above the sink. She set the book on the counter.
“Don’t you think Joyce would have found it? A disk would be pretty hard to miss.”
“Not if she wasn’t looking for it. Plus, it might be camouflaged in some way,” she argued, not wanting to listen to reason.
Carefully, meticulously, she turned each page, mindful of the thick cardboard dividers between each food or dish category. Each separator had a front and back pocket to it for notes or loose recipes. As she checked each pocket, she felt Jake right beside her. Even though he’d sounded unconvinced, she could feel his tension just as tightly strung as her own.
“It’s got to be here,” she insisted. “This would be the only logical place for Johnny to hide it.”
But the closer she reached the end of the cookbook, the more her excitement and hope deteriorated. She flipped over the last page and turned up nothing.
“I thought for sure—” Disappointment severed the last of her words.
“Shhh,” Jake whispered against her ear, wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her back up against his chest. “We’re going to be all right. Hey, where’s that optimism of yours? You’ve been the one pulling me through. Don’t stop now. I need you right now.”
Turning within his embrace, she rested a cheek against the warm, flannel of his shirt and nodded. “You’re right. I’d just hoped... I guess it doesn’t matter. There’s always tomorrow. And you can never tell what that’ll bring. After all, miracles do happen.”
“Yes, they do.” He slid his hand along the small of her back and brushed his lips across her temple. “We just have to remember that no matter what.”
“And it just might happen real soon. You said yourself that you’re only a couple of days from perfecting the antidote. Right?”
###
“That’s right.”
But Jake failed to mention he was ahead of schedule and would probably have everything in place by tomorrow night. Only a couple of more tests remained to insure the accuracy of his equations. Then after that, he’d find out whether or not his hard work had paid off. But he didn’t plan to tell Margot that. He knew if he said anything now, she’d be right in his face with the crazy idea of having him test the formula on her, and there was no way he’d let her be some lab rat. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow it. He wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with her life.
But wasn’t he?
By going ahead and testing the antidote on himself, he in turn jeopardized Margot’s life. If his body rejected the serum and he died, he’d be leaving Margot alone to deal with her own certain death. Jake took a shuddering breath. They were screwed either way.
“It’s getting late.” He snapped off the florescent light above the kitchen counter. “We both need to get some rest. We’re going to need all our wits in the next couple of days.”
They left the cookbook on the kitchen counter and hand in hand slipped up the stairs to her room.
Tomorrow. Dread burrowed deep in his gut. It might be the beginning of a bright, promising future or no future at all.
The next day, several hours after the sun had lowered past the horizon, Jake injected the finished serum into his vein. In seconds it would mix into his blood stream, and then—then it would be anyone’s guess as to how long it would take before he saw visible results.
He’d been praying like he’d never been praying in his entire life. Jaw clenched, he watched the last drop disappear, then retracted the needle and set the syringe on the table in front of him. He grabbed a square gauze and wrapped his arm. It was done. Now he needed to wait.
He heard the soft click of the lab door behind him. Casually, he pulled his sleeve down to his wrist, hiding the bandage and tape around his arm. Just as casually, he dropped the syringe into the wastebasket beneath the table by his feet.
He turned. Margot. She’d slipped o
n a jacket and gloves. Foundation covered her neck and facial features, while sunglasses hid her eyes. Times like now, he was hard pressed to imagine Miracell running through her veins beneath all that make-up and clothing.
Damn, but he loved her. His throat tightened. This wasn’t something fleeting. What he felt for Margot was more than passion, more than a simple infatuation. It had substance. If things weren’t so messed up, he’d have asked her to marry him. Children, a house, growing old together—he’d want it all. But only with Margot. Maybe, just maybe, it might happen if God or fate had a compassionate hand. And of course, if he could convince Margot he was worth the risk.
“So?”
Jake sensed her trepidation even from where he stood. He knew exactly what she was asking, but the lie caught on his tongue.
She took a hesitant step forward. “Have you...”
“Tomorrow. I’ll know for sure tomorrow.” It was the truth.
Margot hurried over and slipped her arms around his waist and rested a cheek against his chest. “That’s fantastic!” She tightened her hold around his waist. “Oh, Jake. I knew you’d do it. I just knew it!”
“Whoa.” He pulled back and tapped his finger lightly against her nose. Her excitement, her unbelievable faith in him, made Jake feel that much more of a jerk for deceiving her. “It’s not a done deal yet.”
She backed up and tugged at his hands, urging him along with her. “Well, you’ve more than earned a break. How about you pack it in for the night, and I give you a little something for all that hard work?”
The suggestive tone and the deep, husky throb of her voice did amazing things to his body, particular one area below his belt.
“And in exchange, how about I give you a big something?” he teased, letting her lead him from the lab.
“I’m counting on it!”
He smiled. He loved her humor; he loved everything about her.
They reached the house but not without a few delays. He hadn’t been able to resist one or two deep, passionate kisses on the way. What sane man could?
Shrouded in Darkness Page 22
