Feeling a knot tightening in his stomach, Andrew nodded reluctantly.
As he turned to leave, Paul said sharply, “Andy, don’t waste any time about this. I want you to have a date lined up by noon tomorrow.”
“Is that an executive order?” Andrew asked with just a hint of frost in his voice.
Paul placed a hand on his shoulder. “If it has to be, but I’d rather make it a strong suggestion from one good friend to another.”
~*~
Crystal flipped on the restroom’s lights. As florescent bulbs buzzed to life, she leaned against the door and slid down to the cold, linoleum floor. Feeling a tear making its way down her cheek, she wiped it away with an impatient hand. There was no way she was going to face Marc with red-rimmed eyes.
The whole morning had been awful. She hadn’t slept a wink after her nightmare, and when she tried to do laundry, her washing machine had died. The stupid machine wouldn’t drain, so she closed the lid and kicked it for good measure. The nice outfit she’d been planning to wear was still sitting in a sudsy tank of water.
Most of her clothes were in a jumbled mess in the hamper, and all she had clean was a ratty t-shirt with a furniture polish stain. Out of options, she’d covered the t-shirt with a sweater. The sweater was atrocious too, but at least it looked clean.
Later, she’d burned her toast and set off the smoke alarm. Startled by the noise, she’d broken a vase that she didn’t remember putting on the counter. When she was ready to go to work, she couldn’t find her car keys. After looking everywhere, she’d finally found them in the umbrella stand—although how they’d ended up there, she had no idea.
Crystal shivered.
She could deal with stupid machines and dumb accidents, but what she couldn’t deal with was the fact that as she was pulling out of her parking space, she’d noticed a man watching her from a parked car. As she drove by, he removed his cap and blew her a kiss.
Drawing her legs up to her chest, Crystal dropped her forehead onto her knees. Her whole body trembled. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Drake…
Clenching her hands into fists, she decided not to lie to herself. “It was Drake,” she muttered. “He’s found out where I live.”
She shuddered.
When she saw Drake, she’d hit the gas and sped away, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. She’d darted madly through traffic attempting to lose a car that may, or may not, have been pursuing her. When she’d arrived at NSU, her nerves were shattered. She was jumping at sounds and flinching at shadows. She’d tried to curb her paranoia by whistling, but just as she was starting to relax, she’d heard someone running toward her.
Groaning, Crystal rocked her head back and forth on her knee.
Her first blow with the butcher paper had been intentional—she thought Drake was grabbing her, but the rest of the blows had been clumsy mistakes. She’d made an idiot of herself in front of Marc—again—and she didn’t know how she was going face him.
8
Slipping into the service entrance of the hospital, Drake pulled his red cap lower and fingered the pocket of Gerald’s jacket. He could feel the outline of his knife through the material. Putting his hand inside the pocket, he felt the sharp steel of the blade.
He grinned, thinking of Crystal’s terror when she’d spotted him. His smile grew. She was usually such a pokey driver, he had no idea she could drive so fast. He wondered if she’d received a speeding ticket. She deserved one.
Part of him had wanted to follow her and increase her terror, but he didn’t have the time. With the news report and the acquisition of Gerald’s uniform, his plans were back on track. He couldn’t believe that the doctor he’d carelessly thrown aside could provide him with the location of Phoebe. After he dealt with Phoebe, he’d track down the leaders of TEMCO. He gripped the handle of his knife. One by one, he would find them. One by one, they would fall like little tin soldiers all in a row.
~*~
Smoothing her bangs in front of the bathroom mirror, Crystal tried desperately to regain her composure.
“Stop being such an idiot,” she hissed. “Marc barely knows you’re alive. He probably isn’t wasting one iota of his brain power thinking about you.”
She winced, remembering the opera gloves and eggbeater.
“Serves you right for not cleaning out your purse.” She glared at her reflection. “Now, get out there and do your job. You’re not here to impress Marcus Kerry. You’re here to figure out Drake’s real name.”
Squaring her shoulders, she left the sanctuary of the bathroom and entered TEMCO’s temporary headquarters. Marc and Zeke were talking on the other side of the room. She felt relieved when neither of them looked her way.
Her butcher paper was propped in a corner, and her spare shoes were sitting prominently on a desk. As Crystal reached for them, she noticed that Marc had rolled her socks and tucked them into the toes of her shoes. Blushing, she slipped on the shoes and tossed the socks in her purse.
Trying to push her embarrassment aside, she spotted a folder on the desk and opened it. She gasped in dismay at its contents. She’d seen pictures of Phoebe in the hospital, but she’d never seen the photographs Drake had sent TEMCO during Phoebe’s captivity. Peering down at the pictures, Crystal’s stomach lurched. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to keep her breakfast down.
In the pictures, Phoebe was a bloody mess. Crystal had been told she’d been tortured, but she’d never been able to wrap her mind around what that meant. Now that she had photographic assistance, the picture was all too clear. What Phoebe had been through was unimaginable.
Deep, black rage roared through Crystal’s veins. Fury pushed her fear of Drake away.
“I’m not only going to drag that scumbag to justice,” Crystal hissed beneath her breath, “I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp first.”
Across the room, Marc’s voice rose. “I’m telling you, Zeke, we need another person.”
Looking up, Crystal saw Zeke biting his lip.
“Maybe so,” Zeke replied. “But the staff has left for the summer.”
“I don’t care,” Marc said in an agitated voice. “If Drake manages to steal a Wave Trapper, he’ll use it. When he does, you’ll need to stay on campus to analyze changes in GAP and watch for Time Tsunamis while I follow him. And from what you’ve been telling me, that guy’s a menace. I’ll need a partner’s help.”
“I see your point, but I just don’t know who to call. Brewster’s in Canada, and Jenkinson is deep-sea fishing off the Florida Keys. They’d never get back in time.”
“What about Voynickson?” Marc asked.
“She’s down with appendicitis.” Zeke rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose. “What about Ryan Adams or Kyle Carson? Weren’t they camping with you at the lake?”
“They left a few days ago to hike the Appalachian Trail—there’s no way of contacting them. Surely, someone’s still in town.”
Looking at the photo of Phoebe in chains, Crystal said in a strong, clear voice, “What about me? I’ll volunteer to be Marc’s partner in the field.”
The room fell silent.
She set Phoebe’s photo carefully on the desk. “I’m here. I’m trained. What’s the problem?”
Zeke hesitated. “The problem is that you deserve a break. You’ve been working too hard, and—”
Crystal snorted. “No harder than you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving for your cruise?” Zeke asked. “You’ve been planning that trip for months.”
“I’m not going,” she replied. “I cashed in my cruise ticket when things started to get sticky at TEMCO.”
Zeke inhaled sharply. “You gave away your cruise ticket because of me, didn’t you? I wondered why you stayed around town rather than driving down the coastline like you’d planned.”
“It’s no big deal,” she assured him. “Your migraines were escalating, and your health is more important than some silly boat trip.”
/> “I’m sorry, Cris. Can you get your ticket back?”
“It’s too late. I used my cruise money to buy tickets to the charity ball that’s coming up.” Seeing Zeke’s concern, she said, “Look, I’ve already burned my cruise-ship bridges, but I seriously don’t mind. That glitzy charity ball sounds like oodles of fun. Honestly, Zeke, if I’d gone sailing, I probably would’ve fallen overboard. Looking for a murderer will be much safer.”
Zeke pushed at his glasses. “Regardless, you should leave town for a while. I was going to mention it to you today. You should pack up, and—”
“Why?” Crystal’s smile turned into a glare. “Because I’m a girl? Of all the macho, chauvinistic bologna. I can take care of myself. It isn’t fair of you to treat me like a child. I’m here. I’m staying. Deal with it.”
She watched as the muscles in Zeke’s jaw worked overtime. She could see emotions racing across his face. Knowing his primary concern was her safety, she walked over to him and said gently, “Let me do my job. After all, I’m awfully good at it.”
Zeke’s shoulders slumped. “I know, Cris. You’re one of the best.”
“So you’ll let me stay?”
He grimaced. “Do I have a choice? If I said no, you’d just stay anyway. At least if you’re helping me with GAP, I can keep my eye on you.”
“You don’t need me in the lab,” she replied. “Since we’ll be using Poppa’s Wave Trapper instead of the Staging Platform, one person can easily run the show from here. Marc’s right. He needs a partner in the field.”
“That’s probably true,” Zeke said slowly, “but are you sure you’re up to fieldwork after all that’s happened?”
“I’d never respect myself if I didn’t do it,” she replied. “Besides, Drake needs to pay.”
“What about Simpkins, Zeke?” Marc said. “Isn’t Tim still in town?”
“Tim’s in New Mexico,” Crystal said in a measured voice. “I’m not.”
“How about Phillips?” Marc asked.
“Jake and June took their girls to family camp in Texas,” she replied. “I’m the logical choice.”
Marc turned to Zeke. “May I talk with you privately?”
Nodding, Zeke said, “Thank you, Cris. I appreciate your offer more than I can say.”
Going back to her desk, Crystal sat down and studied the picture of Phoebe in chains. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marc and Zeke holding a whispered conference. She ignored them. She knew she was the best choice, and she was sure that Zeke knew it as well. She was terrified at what she’d just offered to do, but at the same time, she felt peace.
If I face my fears, maybe my nightmares will stop. Maybe—
Marc’s whispered voice rose, interrupting her thoughts. She managed to make out a few words. “—can’t be considering…complete klutz… I’m worried about her…can’t walk without stumbling…bad choice…”
Feeling as if she’d been slapped, Crystal sat in stunned disbelief. A wave of humiliation washed over her, followed by a wave of sizzling fury.
Marc doesn’t think I’m qualified. Just who does he think he is?
Anger prickled down her spine. Her hands clenched into tight fists.
Marc’s whispered, hurtful words continued. “…practically killed me on the stairs…accident prone…no match for Drake…sweet girl, but I don’t want…”
Crystal’s cheeks burned red hot. The more she heard, the angrier she became.
“…she’s nice, but…two left feet…”
Black spots danced in front of her vision. A roar filled her ears. She was so furious that she started shaking. As Marc’s hurtful words kept coming, she jumped to her feet.
~*~
Giving a freakish chuckle, Drake descended a set of service stairs and walked down a dark corridor. The dusty smell of drywall hung heavily in the air. Wood shavings crunched underfoot. The hospital’s subbasement was empty. It was supposed to be used for storage and morgue overflow, but budget cuts had delayed completion. The delay made things so convenient. So handy. There were so many dark corners where nasty secrets could be tucked away from prying eyes.
He fingered his knife. It was time to discover where Phoebe was hiding.
~*~
“I’m worried, Zeke,” Marc whispered. “I don’t think Crystal can do it. She’s just a lab tech, and capturing Drake will require topnotch fieldwork. It’s too dangerous. She’s gonna get hurt. And with her clumsy tendencies, I’ll spend most of my time babysitting her rather than tracking down Drake. It’s not wise to—”
Marc felt a hand clamping his arm. Before it could register that the hand had a set of painted fingernails, he was whirled around by a furious Crystal.
“You arrogant jerk,” she spat. “Just who do you think you are, huh?”
Marc’s eyes widened. He’d seen Crystal angry before, but he’d never seen her in a flaming temper—the sight was daunting. Trying to calm her down, he smiled and leaned toward her.
Crystal pushed him back—hard.
Clutching the back of a chair, he tried to regain his balance.
“I’ll have you know that I’m extremely good at my job,” Crystal snarled. “I bring lots to the table—much more than you do. I have a photographic memory and tons of brains. Compared to me, your brain’s the size of a walnut.”
Marc studied the seething woman in front of him. Mousy Crystal—the Campus Klutz—looked like she was about to pummel him. “Cris—” he began.
Crystal’s eyes were smoldering as she talked right over him. “So I’m clumsy—big deal. You happen to be rude, conceited, and probably stupid to boot, but I’m willing to put up with you. What do you bring to the table? A handsome face? A lot of good that’s going to do!”
Marc tried to smile at her again, hoping to charm her. “Cris—”
Practically stomping with rage, Crystal lunged forward and yanked his beard.
Marc’s eyes widened in shock. Opening his mouth, he tried to speak.
“Shut up and listen, you conceited narcissist!” Crystal gave his whiskers another hard yank. “Don’t think you can smile your way out of this one. Good looks aren’t going to cut it with this job. You need someone brainy who can put the clues together—and that’s me.”
As she let go of his beard, he fingered his chin, trying to see if his whiskers were still attached. He tried desperately to get a word in edgewise. “Cris—”
Red faced and glaring, Crystal ignored his attempt to speak. “Drake tried to kill me. I have every right to get involved. I’m the logical choice, only you’re too blockheaded, bullheaded, and brainless to see it. You’ve been plain about what you think of me. Do you want to know what I think of you? Huh? Do you? I think you’re a mutton-headed, mentally deficient, muscle-bound, monosyllabic moron!”
“Cris,” Marc exclaimed in scandalized astonishment. “Cris, listen.”
What he’d been about to say died in his throat as she thrust her enraged face toward him and ground her teeth. “I take it back,” she hissed. “You don’t have a brain the size of a walnut. It’s the size of a pea.”
“Cris.”
Ignoring him, Crystal turned to Zeke. “I need some fresh air. I’m mad enough that it’ll take me a couple of hours to cool off. I’ll be back after lunch and then we can discuss our plans. By that time, even this armpit-scratching, grunting Neanderthal should be able to connect the dots and see that he needs me for his field partner. Even though the thought of working with him makes me want to gag, I’ll do it for the good of TEMCO. But when I get back, I’ll expect Marc to give me an apology.”
Whirling around, Crystal jabbed her finger into his chest. Marc fell back as she said with molten fire in her eyes, “And your apology had better be a good one.”
Spinning on her heel, Crystal stomped to the door and slammed it behind her with enough force that a framed map of seventeenth-century Europe fell off the wall with a solid thunk.
Rubbing his chest, Marc blinked. He tried to speak, but all he c
ould manage to do was open and close his mouth like a surprised trout.
Beside him, Zeke laughed.
~*~
Ducking under sheets of plastic, Drake made his way to a door. Unlocking it with his bump key, he swung it open. The room was filled with a crisscrossed network of pipes, and it was silent except for the monotonous dripping of a leaky pipe.
He flicked on the single bulb suspended from the ceiling. The sickly, pale light revealed the body of a man lying in a puddle on the cold floor. He was clad only in boxer shorts, and a gag was around his mouth. The man was chained by his feet to one pipe, stretched taut as a guitar string, and chained by his outstretched hands to another. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving.
Wondering if he were still alive, Drake kicked him in the ribs. When the man groaned, Drake smiled and pulled out his knife. Squatting down, he removed the man’s gag.
As the man moaned and opened his eyes, Drake put the knife against his neck and purred, “Dr. Ember, we have a lot to talk about. Tell me everything you remember about a patient of yours named Phoebe.”
~*~
Rubbing his chest where Crystal’s finger had stabbed him, Marc stared at the door in disbelief. After a moment, a grin pulled at his mouth. “Well, I guess she told me,” he said with a tremor in his voice.
“I guess she did.” Zeke chuckled. “But you deserved it.”
Marc’s lips twitched. “I know.” His smiled faded. Still rubbing his chest, he said gravely, “Zeke, be honest. This is too serious for us to make a mistake. Can she actually do the job?”
“Of course she can. She’s one of TEMCO’s most talented employees.”
“If she’s that good, why isn’t she in the field?”
“Do you want the truth?” Zeke asked, polishing his glasses against his shirt.
He nodded.
“Dan thinks she’s too valuable to waste on fieldwork.”
“Waste? Fieldwork is my job. You’re being insulting.”
Time Search (The Time Counselor Chronicles Book 3) Page 6