Julia reached out and touched his arm as he moved toward the stairs. “But we could—”
“No,” he said as he removed her hand from his skin. “We can’t.”
Rapidly, he climbed the steps. He needed to get Julia out of here so that he could call Ronnie back. The hacker must be going berserk by now.
As soon as they hit the landing, Julia rushed to his side. “I think—”
“Julia!” That was too harsh, but damn it, how many times had they had this exact same conversation? The woman just wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He tried to drop the harshness in his tone, but retain the unequivocal firmness. “And let’s be clear—you haven’t lived here for almost nine months.”
He picked up the box from the hallway table. “So I think it’s about time that you put in an address change.”
Julia jerked the box from his grasp. “You know, you really are being a selfish asshole!”
Usually he would have risen to his own defense, but that just led to more arguments. More time together. More time for her to convince him of the error of his ways. Why not just be honest for once?
“Yep. Probably I am.”
Julia’s lip trembled as tears glistened in her eyes. Was she finally getting it?
He tried to be gentler with this request. There was no need to hurt her much more than he already had. “And how about those keys?”
Blinking back tears, Julia slowly took the front door key off the ring. “I don’t understand what happened. Last year at this time, we were getting ready to marry. I just…I don’t understand.”
God, he felt like a jerk—what with her eyes swimming in a pool of pain. A pain he had created. But it was also a pain he couldn’t take away. He couldn’t turn back the clock, or, more accurately, wouldn’t turn it back, even if he could.
“I don’t understand it, really, either, but it has changed, and we both need to adjust.”
As she put the key into his palm, she tried to hold his hand, but he purposefully pulled it out of her grasp. Julia searched his eyes one last time. But he knew the only thing she would find there was an urgency to have her out of the house. Finally, she gulped back a sob and fled out the front door.
A year ago, he would have run after her to comfort her. A month ago, he would have waited a few minutes, and then called her to make sure she was okay. A week ago, he would have called one of her friends to let him or her know that Julia would need some support.
Tonight? Tonight, he just threw the dead bolt and raced back down the stairs to the basement. Another woman needed him tonight.
Within seconds, he fumbled with the iPod, desperate to get Ronnie back on the line. Sammy Hagar sang in his ear as he scrolled through the menu. He hit the “Look Up” option, but a message streamed across the screen.
“Unauthorized contact time. If this is an emergency, enter your override code… And this better be life or death, dude.”
More classic Ronnie. Well, this was life or death, so he rapidly began inputting the code. Or at least tried to rapidly put it in. What in the hell was Darth Vader’s first name?
“Damn it, Ronnie!” he cursed as he searched his memory.
Skywalker. Now, the last name would have been easy. Anakin! His thumb slid around the circular keypad effortlessly. The next one, he knew. Elvis Presley’s birthday. Ronnie knew his love for the King. But what in the hell was Steven Spielberg’s first feature film?
* * *
Covered in a thick terry cloth robe, Ronnie watched as the second code was confirmed. Zach called back! He hadn’t tumbled into bed with that over-plucked eyebrow wench. All was not lost. Maybe he could explain why Julia said she was still living there up to two weeks ago rather than the nine months ago Zach had told her. And what was up with the therapist ruse, anyway?
He missed the third code. Jaws? Was he crazy? You didn’t get the director’s gig to Jaws your first film out. While he tried again, Ronnie held her iPod in a death grip. For the love of God, the movie starred Goldie Hawn! How could he forget about The Sugarland Express?
Ronnie knew she shouldn’t care this much. Zach was supposed to be a fantasy. And fantasies shouldn’t churn your gut like this. But, damn it! She had to know if he lied to her. Did he have that in him? Was he playing her? Just wait until she got him on the line!
But as he keyed in the correct code, she felt her throat constrict. Choking off with emotion. Was he calling back to give her the boot? Was he calling to apologize? What would she say? Could she even say anything?
Come on, come on, come on!
“Ronnie?” Zach asked as the connection completed.
After all that preparing, all Ronnie could squeak out was a weak, “Yeah?”
Luckily, he didn’t wait for her to continue. “Look, I didn’t want our conversation to end like…Well, like it did.”
Her words came out in a rush, along with all the worry. “You mean with the fiancée you told me had been gone for over nine months was really living with you up until a few weeks ago—interrupting the very first time that we’ve ever talked about meeting for a face-to-face conversation?”
“Yeah, the one that ended like that.”
Damn it, he still hadn’t given her any indication of what had happened. Where was his head? His heart?
“First off, let me be very clear,” Zach finally said. “I broke off the engagement nine months ago.”
Again, her throat nearly shut itself off. Could it really be true?
“Why?”
“You know why.”
A sniffle was her only response. Nine months ago was the first time she had ever called him. Had he been telling the truth, or was Julia?
“Then why was she pretty adamant about only being gone for three weeks?”
“Look, having her move her stuff out had been like trying to get ticks off a good hunting dog.”
She didn’t think she loved him any more than when he brought out those down- home homilies. “You couldn’t hide the fact that you are from the Midwest if you tried, dude.”
“Then you should know that I’m not lying.”
True, but…“You lied to Julia.”
“When?”
“Self-affirmations?”
* * *
Zach was really, really, really, hoping that Ronnie wouldn’t bring that up, but the woman had a photographic memory that rivaled no other.
“Okay, that was to protect her feelings.”
“What if she does call Dr. Webster?” Ronnie asked, then waited for an answer. But what could he say? Damn, but the hacker was quick on the uptake. “No. You’re kidding, Zach? You’re really seeing a shrink?”
“No!” was his first response, but then he had to own up to the truth. “Well, he’s not a shrink per se. He’s a licensed family counselor.”
Ronnie, of course, was all over that splitting of hairs. “Same diff,” she snorted, and then her tone transformed into true curiosity. “Why in the world would you go into therapy?”
There were so many answers to the question, but he couldn’t bring himself to articulate any of them fully. “You know why.”
“To figure out why you dumped a beautiful, in-the-flesh woman to carry on with a hoodlum?” Ronnie teased, although he wasn’t sure how fun this was anymore—to either of them.
Zach sat down hard on the carpeted floor. This was it. The talk. The talk his therapist said he was supposed to have with her for months. Of course, poor Dr. Webster thought that Ronnie was just a shy, Internet divorcée. The doctor had no idea that they were living a real-life West Side Story.
“You know, I’ve kind of adjusted to the whole hoodlum aspect,” Zach said. “It’s the lack of the in-the-flesh part that’s not so fun anymore.”
Mötley Crüe began to play as the silence stretched out, and then Ronnie gave a curt response. “I agree.”
He took a deep breath before he cast the die that might change his life forever. “The real reason I agreed to go to Skip’s party was that it would give me a good excuse
to be off American soil for the weekend.”
“Your badge is pretty much useless in Mexico.”
“Yes, it is.”
Zach could almost hear the wheels in Ronnie’s head spinning. He had a lot to lose if this meeting didn’t go well. But Ronnie? Her life was potentially on the line.
“Just because you don’t have official standing in Mexico doesn’t mean that you couldn’t coordinate with the Federales to have me arrested.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, trying to reassure her.
“You job is your life, and your job is to catch me.”
A year ago, she would have been ever so right. But now? Tonight, when he ached to see her lips turn up in a smile?
“When I’m on duty, yeah it is. But off duty?” He paused. This was so whacked out. Nothing about this made sense, yet somehow, it was about the only thing that felt right to him. “I think I’m proving right now that I can separate the two.”
Another long pause on her end. While the silence grated, there was nothing else for him to say. He had made his case. It was up to her to believe him or not.
Finally, she sighed. “Even if I believe your Kansas-honest face and we meet, what then?” she said.
Zach relaxed against the wall. This might actually work. “We talk.”
“Okay, dude, if I’m going to risk getting executed for treason, there had better be more than talking involved in this rendezvous.”
He chuckled. If his dream last night was any indication, Ronnie didn’t need to worry about the rest. “Trust me, if the talking part goes well, there will be way more going on, but we’ve got to meet face to face first.”
All playfulness vanished from her voice. He’d never heard her tone so uncertain. “I don’t know…”
Hearing her sound so vulnerable made him want to be with her even more, but that also made him that much more impatient with this phone-pseudo-romance crap.
“Is this really satisfying anymore?” he asked, then hurried on without waiting for her answer. “At first, this felt exciting and dangerous, but now…” Zach was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. “Now, it just hurts.” Was it time to be this honest? “All I want to do every night is curl up in bed with you and kiss the top of your head before we go to sleep.”
“Okay, dude, if I’m going to risk getting executed—”
“I meant after we do the other stuff,” Zach stated, just a little exasperated. Ronnie could spin a conversation about terminal cancer into a joke if she wanted to. But tonight, they needed to actually make progress.
“So?” he asked.
Again, the quiet, concerned side of Ronnie came out. “What if …Well, what if the talking doesn’t go so well?”
The answer to that question was easy. She might not like the answer, though. “Then I’ll get shit-faced at the party, sleep off the hangover on Sunday, and start hunting you again on Monday.”
Her response was a lighthearted, “Okay.”
Ugh. This had to get resolved. Zach pressed, “I mean, we’ve got to see if this connection we feel is—”
“I said, okay.”
“Damn it, Ronnie, hear me out. We’ve got to—”
* * *
“Zach!” Ronnie interrupted. When that boy climbed onto his high horse, he just didn’t want to come down. “I said okay, okay?” I’ll meet you in Ciudad Juarez.”
“Oh,” he said, and then paused. “Really?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Ronnie was certain that was the last thing he thought she was going to say. “Really.”
“Wow.”
“With a capital ‘W,’ ” she replied. God, how she wished that she had a video feed. Wait. In a few hours, she wouldn’t need one. They would be meeting in Mexico. Her stomach flipped, churning up all those butterflies.
“Okay, then,” Zach’s drawl coming out. “Well…”
The guy was obviously still reeling. Good. She liked surprising him. “We should both get to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, right. Okay.”
“Night, Zach,” Ronnie said as she turned off the connection. She didn’t want his freaking out to douse her buzz. How long had she wanted this? How many times, like a teenage girl swooning over a teacher, did she look at his picture and imagine kissing him? But just like that young girl, Ronnie never thought that she would live the dream.
God, did she even remember how to kiss? It had been so very long that she feared she’d screw it up. When did you part your lips? What in the hell did you do with your tongue, anyway? And even though she loved to tease him about his sexual hang-ups, she had a few concerns of her own. Not that long ago, he’d been with Miss-Julia-I’ve-Won-Every-Beauty-Contest-I’ve-Entered-And-Even-Some-I-Didn’t. How was she going to compare to that?
Why in the hell hadn’t she done crunches this morning?
* * *
Amanda walked by Henderson’s office yet again. Ever since he finished his teleconference with the president, dozens of doctors had flowed through his door—giving reports and taking orders. Six people were still knotted around his desk.
Even though she hadn’t been summoned, Amanda paced the hallways. It went against her introversion to be so bold, but she had no other option. She had to convince the director that she wasn’t a crackpot. She was trying to stop the worst epidemic that the world had ever seen. Unfortunately, it was rhetoric like that which made people skeptical.
She hovered near the director’s door as the researchers slowly melted away. Once the room cleared, Amanda still didn’t enter. Who was she to keep pestering the director? But Amanda had to know what transpired in that meeting. Had Henderson presented even a single one of her theories to the president?
“I can’t decide if you are the little chicken who thought the sky was falling, or a well-informed stalker,” the director said without even looking up from his desk.
Amanda hadn’t even thought he knew she was there. “You’re not blond,” she mumbled as she worked up the courage to step forward.
“I’m sorry?”
Oh, God, had she said that out loud? How was she going to get out of this one?
“You did respond, did you not?” the director asked as he looked up from his paperwork. The crinkle at the edge of his eyes took away any sting in his words.
Cheeks reddening, Amanda cleared her throat. “I’m partial to blonds.”
The older man chuckled and nodded, as if she had actually said something funny. “Well, glad to know that I’m safe from your obsession, but I’m afraid that makes you a doomsdayer.”
“Or I’m the only correct person on your staff,” she said before she could stop herself. Where did she get the boldness today? But while she had it, Amanda challenged, “Did you even bring up the subject of suspending incoming European flights?”
The humor left Henderson’s eyes. “Do you know how many of those flights are scheduled in the next twenty-four hours alone?”
Without hesitation, Amanda answered. “One hundred and seventy-nine planes with an average of 212 passengers, each for a grand total of 39,000 chances that the plague is on its way.”
“We are doing everything we can,” the director stated, sounding as tired as Amanda felt.
Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “So, are we turning planes back in the air? Refusing to let them land?”
“Dr. Rolph…”
She’d heard that tone before. From practically every professor she had ever had. So, she was well prepared for it. She brought props. And lots of them. Amanda pulled up map after pandemic map on her iPad, dating to the twelve hundreds.
His lips thinned to a tight line. “I might be shy of a week on this job, but I assure you I am aware of the eighty-year pandemic cycle that the planet goes through.”
“Yes, but have you ever asked yourself why?”
“Why, what?”
Amanda arranged the maps in chronological order. “Why eighty years? Why is the influenza virus so adept at changi
ng its genetic code and thereby its protein markers? So adept that last year’s vaccine is useless?”
Again, could the director sound any more tired? “Far greater men, and women, have asked that question and settled on the fact that it is natural selection.”
“Then where did this plague acquire its resistance to antibiotics? Are you trying to tell me that we were overtreating the squirrel population?”
“Dr. Rolph, what you are suggesting is—”
Amanda knew where he was going, and had to cut him off. “Is that this new plague has been genetically engineered, weaponized, and then purposefully released.”
“Yes, that suggestion,” he said, combing his thick fingers through his hair. “In certain circles, such a claim would be considered grounds for dismissal.”
Stepping closer, Amanda tried to pour every ounce of confidence into her words. “They have the medical knowledge to do this. They have the dedication—”
“Who are they?” he demanded.
“I don’t know, but…” That was the one factor missing in her theory. Who would do such a thing? But just because she didn’t know the group’s name, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. “Mark my words. By 0900, we will have our first case in the states. By noon, several clusters. By this time tomorrow? You’ll get to see what a real panic looks like.”
Henderson searched her face. “How can you be so sure?”
Amanda looked over the dozens of maps representing so many years. So many dead. So many chances to experiment without scrutiny.
“Because they’ve had centuries to practice.”
* * *
The sky was still black as Lino’s plane landed at John F. Kennedy International Airport. Even the time difference worked in his favor. Before they could even pull up to the gate, several passengers were unbuckling their seat belts and reaching for the overhead compartment. Lino grinned. These braggarts would receive the highest dose of contagion.
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