by Dana Cameron
“Whoa, hang on there! You’re not going anywh—”
“But I think the guy who shot—I just saw him, who I think it was!”
“The shooter? Where?”
“Out there! I just saw him!”
He took off, and came back, a moment later, shaking his head. “There was no one out there. Are you sure you just didn’t see a reflection?”
“No,” I said. “He was out there. I know, I saw him….” Finally, I was able to tell Franco what I thought had happened.
At least he’d been familiar with my story, and was convinced that I wasn’t making this up, imagining it, or anything else. I started to cry, feeling besieged by so much I couldn’t control. Franco talked with one of the nurses and then came back, serious: Nolan had been shot in the chest, had lost a lot of blood, was in surgery. He called Brian for me—I hadn’t thought to leave a message on the machine—and I found an old T-shirt in my bag to change into.
As soon as Brian came into the room, I started crying again, nearly hysterical, trying to get to him. The look of horror on his face made me wonder what I looked like before I was cleaned up.
They wouldn’t tell me anything but that Nolan was in danger and they were working on him. Then they finally persuaded me to go home.
I couldn’t do much over the weekend besides sit in my home office and stare. Nolan was still in very bad shape: Franco had told me he heard the bullet had collapsed Nolan’s lung, and was lodged near his spinal cord. They weren’t certain that he was going to make it, and if he did, if he’d ever be the same again. He was partially paralyzed now.
The outside world seemed like too much to handle, but I couldn’t stand the way the pills the doctors gave me made me feel either. I couldn’t bear to leave my house. On Monday, classes started, and I called in, probably delighting my undergraduates and confusing my graduate students by having Meg hand them their syllabi before dismissing them. I emailed or called Brian about ten times in the day, eagerly watching the IM screen to see if he signed on; that way, I could see that he was at work and all right. I know he was doing the same.
The semester beginning was almost more than I could bear to think about. I couldn’t watch television or listen to the radio for fear I’d hear more about the shooting. I watched DVDs about factual CSI cases, not so much to feed my avocational interest, but more, it felt, to inoculate me against the idea of unexplained death.
Even the mailbox seemed an awfully long way away from the house now.
Jo called me Monday night, asked me how I was doing. “We’ve been really worried about you.”
“I’ve been better,” I said, then realized how churlish I sounded. “Sorry. Who’s we?”
“The rest of the class. Look, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but we’ve been calling around, and it seems that the consensus is that we’re going to keep meeting for our classes. Until, you know. Until Nolan gets back.”
If Nolan ever gets back, I felt like saying. “I think that’s fine. But I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m thinking of taking a break, that is. I feel awful about what happened, and I don’t think I can face everyone.”
There was a long pause at the other end. “Em, it’s not like you were responsible or anything, you know. If there was anything more that could have been done, we all know you would have. From what I hear from the aerobiqueens, you did everything just right, got someone to call the ambulance, stayed with him…”
I couldn’t tell Jo what I knew and hated myself for, that the bullets were for Nolan, because of me. Why else had there been the false phone message? He’d been shot because of his connection with me. She didn’t know the whole story, and I wasn’t going to tell her now. Too many people thought I was nutty as it was. “Maybe.”
“Sure. Look, no pressure, okay? You’ve been through a lot. But you know working out will make you feel better, and the advanced people will help the newbies. And, well, you know we’re there for you.”
I felt my eyes fill up at “newbies”—it was a word that she’d gotten from Nolan. There she went again, laying a surprise move on me. But hell, my eyes filled seeing the cats playing, these days. “Okay, I’ll give it a try,” I said, already half planning to forget all about it. “Regular meeting times? Classes and drop-ins?”
“Yep, we already squared it with the gym management. See you then.” She hung up before I could change my mind.
Between Brian pushing me—out of a kind of desperation at seeing me so lost—and my own niggling guilt that I’d told Jo I would show up, I actually went. I was a little late when I showed up. I’m almost never late, but I knew I was dragging my feet and why. Maybe they wouldn’t ask me, but I would tell them all what happened the night that Nolan got shot, just once. Then the telephone game that was rumor would take the story, but at least they would have heard it from the source, just once. So while I wasn’t eager to push myself, it was possible they had news of how Nolan was doing.
By the time I made it down the hall, I could hear them warming up. Someone brought in a radio, which was a good idea; Nolan never let us have a radio, but it would be a good distraction and might improve morale. As I drew nearer, I could hear feet pounding mats as people warmed up. I stopped at the doorway, to see what was going on, and my jaw dropped. Then my workout bag hit the floor. In the middle of the sweating ring of students, puffing their way through what looked to be about six hundred jumping jacks, was the golden, the demigodling Mr. Temple.
My heart leapt, even as I gaped.
“Ah, g’day, Daniel-san! I was wondering whether you were going to join us at all. Don’t stand there playing the diva, no one’s going to roll the red carpet out for you here. In fact, since you’re so sloppy as to miss nearly three minutes of my excellent warm-up exercises, you may give me thirty and thirty, if you’d be so kind.”
Whatever else I might feel that I’d brought on the class, there was no denying that Mr. Temple seemed to lay it on just a bit thicker because I was there, his special pet. He kept announcing that he’d begun to put me on the right track, and so I would set an example for the rest of the class. He pushed us hard, and I got a couple of dirty looks, but he pushed me hardest of all, in the capacity of exemplar.
For the rest of the class, we were all on the verge of collapse. Despite that, some of the guys, and Johanna, looked like they’d just discovered their new hero. Surprisingly, Temple stopped the class early, within ten minutes of when we would usually let out.
I didn’t dare look at the clock to confirm this anomaly, already having given Mr. Temple too many of the “juiciest” when I’d fallen behind. I couldn’t wring anything else out of my poor, beaten body. It was almost as if he had something against me, and I almost thanked him for it: It was the first time I hadn’t thought about my problems in ages. Something tore in my shoulder, once, when he threw me, but I was so pumped with adrenaline that I didn’t feel it fully until we’d stopped.
“Now, I will repeat what I said at the beginning of class for the benefit of stragglers, layabouts, and our diva, Daniel-San, over there. I will be standing in for Nolan while he is recuperating. I do not say substitute, nor do I intend to replace him, as I know the old bastard, while giving the due respect to a great warrior and brother-in-arms, is milking his recovery for all it is worth, pinching the nurses, demanding sponge baths, and stealing extra pudding.”
I could see nothing to joke about and I found my anger rising. At the same time, I marveled at how quickly Temple had gotten here, and he’d left his family and classes behind in what must have been the wink of an eye to do it. That got him something, in my books. I was thankful as hell that he was here, but not if he kept teasing about Nolan.
“With that in mind, I will take the opportunity to mold you in my own shining image. I will work you hard and you will be piteously grateful, giving me all you have in return. You will leave it all on the mat, and if I suspect that you are holding out on me, I will make sure it is the second thing I report to
Nolan. The first being that I will tell him that I have taken the liberty of upgrading his cable television while he was away. Is that understood?”
“YES, SIR!” I was surprised to hear the class bellow. The man naturally elicited it, though.
“Until Thursday, then. With the exception of Daniel-san, you are all free to go forth, and sin as much as you can get away with.”
We bowed out. I grabbed my towel and followed Temple into Nolan’s office. I was grateful to the point of tears that he did not sit in Nolan’s chair behind the desk, but sat on the desk itself. He did, however, offer me water from Nolan’s stock in the little fridge.
“No doubt you are delighted to see me. I give you leave to express your pleasure—no? Perhaps just curious as to my presence. That I will grant you. I came when I heard that Nolan was in hospital. But I also decided that I could profitably spend my time keeping up his classes, keeping myself gorgeous and in condition, and perhaps, keeping an eye on you. Clearly, you’re attracting some serious trouble.”
“Um,” was all I could manage.
“I don’t expect thanks, not from you, Emma. Old Nolan would do the same for me, it’s understood. But if my worries are justified, then you will, perhaps, give me the benefit of an extra two hours of your company a week, for private sessions. Perhaps your husband would join us.”
I looked up quickly. “How did you know Brian is here, too?”
“Nolan keeps quite accurate notes on his students, including the family relationships. Elementary, Daniel-san.”
“Oh. I don’t know about Brian…he’s pretty busy at work, right now.” I could feel my face, already hot from the workout, go another shade red. I didn’t want Brian out of the house any more than necessary.
Temple looked at me sharply, but I wouldn’t say anything else. “Very well. I will discuss that when he comes into class tonight, should he chose to do so. Now then, what does your schedule allow, in terms of more fun and frolicks with Yours Truly?”
“Well, the semester’s just started, so I’m actually also going to be very busy the next week or so—”
“Of course. So we’d better make them first thing in the morning, and perhaps the hour class with the others? Surely you can manage that?”
“Um, not really, no.”
He smiled hugely. “Splendid, I thought so.”
What was with this guy pushing so hard? “No, seriously. My schedule is pure madness for the next six weeks. I can’t possibly add more on to it now.” Big points for me, I thought, for standing up to him.
Temple cocked his head, looking very serious. “I think you can manage one extra class, can’t you?”
“No, I really can’t.” There it was, polite but firm.
Except it didn’t take. We went around the block a few more times until I finally agreed to give him an extra hour a week. I should have known I was doomed from the first: Who was going to win an argument with a mountain? Except maybe Mindy. And God, how I hate early mornings…not that I’d been waiting for the dawn chorus to wake me up lately.
Time for a change of topic before he realized that if I didn’t sleep, there were about six hours a night I could train, too. “Mr. Temple? Have you seen Nolan? Do you know how he is?”
His face darkened. “They’re letting no one but family see him—”
I had no idea Nolan had any family at all.
“—but I did find out that his condition is most grave. He lost a good deal of blood. I know of six men who are waiting for me to call and tell me that I’ve found the bastard that’s done this. Then, there will be no need for any further authority involvement.”
I chewed that over, the particularity of that very specific number, the fact that Temple could speak so casually and so convincingly of murder, for that was what was in his eyes. All I could do was nod, and I felt myself getting ready to cry again.
His expression turned to alarm. “Now! None of that!”
I felt his hands on my shoulders; Temple gave me a shake. Then he shoved a hanky into my hand. I blew my nose gratefully.
“Sorry.”
“Now, now, you’re not going to scare me with a bit of waterworks. I’ve got a wife and children, you think I’ve never seen tears before? Ha! Old Nolan’s tough as a root, he’ll be just fine.”
“I hope so. It’s my fault he’s hurt in the first place,” I said.
Though we weren’t on the mats, I’d finally managed to stun Temple. I told him how Nolan came to be outside with me the night he was shot. He listened so carefully, that I told him the rest of the story as well.
“Hmmm. It’s quite possible that it is your Mr. Tony Markham who is responsible, in which case, he’s made a very serious mistake.” He chewed it over a bit more. “It is, however, equally possible that it has nothing at all to do with you. It could be a random event, as there are a great many evil and demented bastards out there in the world. It is also possible that it is someone from Nolan’s past—about which I will tell you no more—who is responsible. If that’s the case, then I’m sorry that you were there to see it. In any case, our six friends will also be making themselves busy in the weeks to come. You must tell me everything again.”
I did. He surprised me, taking down notes as I spoke. I wouldn’t have thought that he would believe me, care, or be so methodical about it all.
“Three things,” he said, when I’d finished.
I nodded.
“First, you really need to consider what you’ve told me about when you’ve seen this Tony person. It seems to me that while you are a sharp cookie, at least when you’re not on the mats. All of your sightings have been when you were exhausted and half asleep—in the airport—or when you had just had bad news—about your little friend Chuck—and when you were with old Nolan at the hospital.”
I nodded, shrugging. I didn’t like hearing what he said, and didn’t believe it, but had to consider it.
“Second. You know from class about being on your guard. I don’t need to tell you how important that is now. You can’t afford to feel comfortable, anywhere.”
I shrugged. That wasn’t even an issue.
“Next thing. Very important.”
I leaned in to hear it.
“Make sure, for God’s sake, you are on time when you come in tomorrow.”
Chapter 14
I SLEPT WELL THAT NIGHT, AND AFTER CLASS THE next morning, I felt so good after I showered that I realized that I was going to blow off schoolwork and indulge in the radical activity of doing some grocery shopping. We were down to gulag food—coffee but no milk, bread crusts with no butter, and canned emergency rations—and needed some fresh supplies ASAP. I felt good enough to leave the house again.
Halfway down the street, I was singing to whatever song was playing on the radio. It felt good to be silly for a change, it felt good to be able to do something proactive about the situation, no matter how slight. An extra class, a little time to myself where I wasn’t obsessing, it could only do me good.
Then I nearly drove off the road with my next thought.
Artie’s absence had allowed someone to get into the unlocked house, but how had that someone gotten into the barn? The lock was still in place when I checked with Joel, and there were two copies—one on my chain, one on the spare rack on the way out of the house.
The keys.
I pulled over and rushed into CaféNation, and sure enough, the keys I’d seen before were still there, but now they were on a shelf behind the counter. The bright red metal of the carabiner caught my eye instantly, and the twinkle of the charm stood out among the white porcelain mugs. I whipped my head around, looking for Tina. She wasn’t there.
“Shit!”
At that moment, one of the kids, Isabel, came out from the back. “It’s okay, Emma. I’ll get your coffee now. Remain calm, take deep breaths.” Her smile faded as she realized I wasn’t just jonesing.
“Sorry. It’s not that, Isabel. I was looking for Tina, is she around? It’s kind of importa
nt.”
“She’s off today. Can I help?”
“It’s…it’s going to sound strange, but can I…you remember the keys that were lost—the ones back there? Well, is it all right if I take them? I think I know who they might belong to.”
Isabel frowned for a minute as she considered. The little dumbbell in her eyebrow moved as well, an added emphasis. “I guess so,” she said as she handed them to me. “I mean, Tina knows you, right? And no one’s been in to pick them up for a long while. And we know where you live anyway,” she joked.
“I’m afraid you’re not the only ones,” I said.
“Sorry?”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m just…I’ll bring them right back, if my theory doesn’t pan out, okay?”
“Sure. Maybe give me a call if you find out, okay? Just to keep us in the loop?”
“Absolutely. I have to run.”
I went back out to my car, feeling pretty stupid, but also fairly sure I was on the right track. I paused before I hit the unlock button, and decided to follow upon my paranoid feeling. Getting down on my hands and knees, I looked under the car for anything that shouldn’t have been there. While this might have been par for the course for some of my colleagues who worked in more dangerous parts of the world, I wasn’t sure what a car bomb would look like. Of course, I’d just driven, but just on the off chance that it was something in the key that triggered it…well, just better to work with the paranoia.
I didn’t notice anything unusual, nothing new or shiny or clean that might have been the tip-off, so I got back up, and dusted myself off. I’d half convinced myself that I was really losing my mind, just as everyone kept telling me I was, but I stepped off a ways and made sure there was no one else around before I pressed the button.