Smoke & Mirrors

by Rowe, Julie

  She closed her mouth, nodded, then stuck out her hand to Terry. “Thank you.”

  They shook. “No problem, and good luck.” He turned away to work on another car.

  “I’m going back to the hospital to get those blood samples,” she said to Smoke.

  “After that?” he asked.

  “I’d like to visit the homes of the patients, check on their family members, ask more health history questions.”

  He thrust his thumb at his hog. “I’ll follow.”

  The ER waiting room had doubled its occupancy since the first time they walked through it. The crowd actually made it harder for people to ID her as the nurse from the CDC, and they made it to the bullpen without incident.

  When one of the nurses on duty informed them one of the patients with the suspected Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome had died in the time they’d been gone, Kini’s face settled into a combat stare.

  He knew what went on inside a person’s head as they prepared to enter a live firefight—wrap all their emotions and stuff them into a concrete box in their head. All that was left was cold, calm calculation on what the next offensive in the battle was going to be.

  That was all kinds of hot.

  A body didn’t develop that mind-set overnight. It was a coping mechanism some people acquired after they saw too much shit.

  What shit had she seen?

  Without speaking to him, Kini went about collecting samples from the live patients, then he followed her down to the morgue. He watched her convince the pathologist to give her a swab from deep inside the deceased’s lungs and a blood sample.

  They returned to the ER and Kini told Dr. Flett she was done and that she was going to check on the families of the patients.

  He barely acknowledged her, his attention on the stack of charts in front of him.

  When this was all over, Smoke was going to come back and have a conversation with the asshole about basic decency and politeness.

  “Tell me this town has a FedEx office,” she said as they left again.

  Smoke shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “Any courier service besides the post office?”

  “Nope.”

  “What are the chances the staff at the local USPS will keep their mouths shut?”

  “About as good as seeing a dinosaur walk down the street.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Could send it with a guy I know,” he said. “He could take it to Las Vegas now and put it on a plane to Atlanta.”

  “Vegas? How far away is that?”

  “About two hours door to door.”

  “You trust this guy?”

  “Yeah.”

  She thought about that for a second. “Okay.”

  Something was off. Her speech was clipped, and she held herself at rigid attention. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

  “How close is this friend of yours?” she asked. Too calm. Too composed. She’d put on a cloak to show the world that she was everything they expected and wanted. Underneath, her true self was fighting to get out.

  “About a ten-minute drive.”

  She swept her arm toward the road. “Lead on, Macduff.”

  Invoking Shakespeare’s Macbeth was never a good sign. Things hadn’t turned out so well for Macduff or Macbeth.

  Now wasn’t the time to find out what was going on inside her head. But soon.

  Smoke got on his bike, and she dutifully followed him in her rental car. They drove through town until they reached the opposite side and what looked like the last row of houses before the desert took over.

  He pulled into the driveway of home that looked like it should have been on the set of one of those 50s TV sitcoms where the world’s most perfect wife and mother held court in her kitchen wearing high heels and a string of pearls around her neck.

  There was a truck in the driveway and a couple of later model jeeps parked out front.

  Smoke got off his bike and waited for Kini to join him.

  She looked at the Zen rock garden that was the focus of the front yard and the white picket fence surrounding it and the house. Then she looked at the rest of the houses on the street, none of which could hold a candle to this place.

  “Your guy lives here?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, he lives with his grandparents.”

  “He’s old enough to drive, right?”

  “He’s twenty-two, and I taught him to drive myself.” Smoke opened the door and went inside. “Hello,” he called out.

  “Smoke, is that you?” his grandmother asked from deeper in the house.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The rapid pace of steps came from the left of the front door, then a gray-haired woman with skin the color of cream dressed in jeans and a western-style shirt came down the hall. “About time you showed up here, young man.”

  “Sorry,” he said, folding her into his arms.

  He’d never get tired of her hugs. They were powerful and lasted as long as they needed to.

  She didn’t seem in a hurry to let go, and he was fine with that.

  More footsteps came from the other direction, and his grandfather and cousin joined them by the door.

  “Hey,” Tommy said, giving Smoke a back-thumping hug as soon as their grandmother let him go. “Been dull around here without you.”

  “Grandson,” his grandfather said giving him a nod. “Good to have you home.”

  There were more words in his grandfather’s eyes. Questions mostly, but also love, acceptance, and welcome.

  Smoke soaked it all in. Maybe he should have come here first, but if he had, he wouldn’t have met Kini yesterday morning. That experience wasn’t something he’d ever give up.

  He turned her and said, “Kini Kerek, these are my grandparents, Harold and Maggie Smoke.”

  Chapter Seven

  Smoke had his grandmother’s eyes and his grandfather’s features, but Kini couldn’t picture either one as a courier.

  “Kini?” his grandmother asked, laughter in her gaze as she held out her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

  Kini smiled and shook the woman’s hand. “It’s good to meet you, too, Mrs. Smoke.”

  “Please, call me Nana.” The elder woman’s smile reminded Kini of her own grandmother. “We were just about to have lunch. Join us.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

  Her lungs tightened as if wrapped in layers of barely flexible rubber. Yesterday, she could have taken the time to eat and chat. Today, every tick of the clock meant the possibility of more people getting sick and dying. “Oh, thank you, but—”

  “No buts,” Nana said, leading the way to the kitchen. “You can’t do your job if you don’t eat. You might not be a construction worker, but all that running around and talking to people takes energy, too.”

  “We’ll be quick,” Smoke said to her, his expression confident.

  All right. She turned her attention back to his grandmother. “You know what I do?”

  “Of course. Jim and Susan mentioned it when they offered their home to you.”

  Lunch was on a large round table in one corner of a massive kitchen. Two loaves of bread, a variety of sliced cheeses, deli meats, and vegetables were laid out on platters. Condiments crowded around the food like paparazzi after a celebrity salami.

  “Make your own sandwich day,” Smoke said to her.

  Kini hung back, but Smoke nudged her forward with a hand on the small of her back. She wanted to lean back and let him carry her weight for just a second. Would that be bad? Probably. She went to the table instead and made a sandwich.

  Nana Smoke was waiting for her with a beckoning hand, leading her out of the kitchen and outside onto a covered deck. An outdoor table surrounded by chairs waited for guests.

  By the time she was seated and Nana gone inside, Smoke was taking the chair on her left.

  “Holy crap,” she said when she caught sight of his sandwich. It was at least three inches thick. “Did you put one of everything on that thin
g?”

  “Two,” he said. He opened his mouth and took a monstrous bite. “Hmm.”

  Smoke’s cousin Tommy pulled out the chair on her right and sat down. His sandwich was just as large as Smoke’s.

  Kini shook her head and took a bite of her own lunch.

  It was a few moments before anyone said anything.

  Finally, Smoke glanced at Tommy and said, “Got a job for you.”

  “Yeah?” the young man sat up straighter. “What kind of job?”

  “Delivery to Las Vegas. Got to get a package to Atlanta ASAP.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “Blood samples,” Kini answered. Smoke’s grandparents joined them. “For the CDC.”

  “Whoa, the CDC? Really?”

  “Smoke works for them now.” What she didn’t know was if he’d leaned on his buddy River for the job, or if River approached him. Either way, it seemed too damned convenient. She did not need a babysitter.

  Tommy seemed surprised. “When did that happen?”

  “This morning,” Smoke said. He looked at his cousin. “Yes, you get paid.”

  Tommy’s grin was wide. “Awesome.”

  Kini glanced at Smoke and read the questions on his face. Can we tell my family anything? How much can we tell them?

  How much did they really know? A series of bad luck incidents and a single digit uptick in hospital admissions and deaths did not equal an outbreak. Not for certain, anyway.

  “May I make a suggestion?” Kini asked no one in particular.

  “Of course,” Nana Smoke said.

  “You might want to stay close to home for the next day or two.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “And stay away from mice.”

  The faces of Smoke’s family went uniformly blank.

  Smoke shifted in his seat. “We just came from the hospital.” He took another bite and chewed. “Town is full of conspiracy theorists.”

  “Well, no wonder you want Tommy to take your package into the city,” Nana Smoke said, her tone hot. “Those bitches at the post office would probably look at the package’s address and push the big red panic button they seem to think they own and scream, ‘Anthrax!’ or some other nonsense.” She shook her head. “You’d end up with the FBI, State Police, and Homeland Security here before you could blink.”

  “You’ll have to excuse Nana’s language,” Tommy said into the shocked silence at the end of her tirade. “The post office lost”—he put air quotes around the word—“a package Great Aunt Francine sent from Scotland for a whole week last month.”

  “Tommy, enough,” his grandfather said. “Don’t apologize for your grandmother. She can do that herself.”

  “Only when there’s a reason to apologize,” the woman in question said with great dignity. “And there isn’t any reason to.” She stood and patted Kini’s hand. “Tommy will take your package to where it needs to go while Harold and I watch old movies and neck like a couple of teenagers.”

  “Ew,” Tommy said, covering his ears. “Don’t say things like that in front of me.” He got up, grabbed his plate, and took a couple of steps away. He stopped and turned. “Actually, don’t say them anywhere. Don’t think them either.” He disappeared into the house.

  “He’s a lot different than your other cousin,” Kini remarked.

  “You mean Nathan?” Nana Smoke asked. “Night and day those two. Brothers. Tommy is younger by a couple of years.” She winced. “Their parents, our daughter Joyce and her husband, Roger, work for one of the international aid groups that are trying to get supplies into Syria. Nathan has his own place, but Tommy’s been staying with us.” She waved her hands at Kini and Smoke. “You two go on and get your business done.”

  “Thank you for lunch.”

  “Come back next week. You never know what you’re going to find on the table on make your own sandwich day.”

  Kini stretched her lips up into a smile. “I’ll try.” This house was a foreign country to her. A place filled with laughter and love and light. All of it no more real to her than the perfect families portrayed in sitcom television shows. Safe, secure, and sheltered.

  She got up, managing to keep the smile pinned to the corner of her lips until she was out of sight. Smoke followed her into the house.

  Tommy was waiting for them in the kitchen. “So where’s this package?”

  “I’ll get it.” She brought it in from the rental car and explained what she needed him to do. She gave him the address of the shipping company that would transport it to Atlanta, and gave him enough cash to cover gas and coffee. He’d be returning late.

  “Do not open the package,” she said, caution adding depth to her tone.

  “I won’t,” he promised. He left with an enthusiasm she couldn’t remember ever feeling, driving off in one of the jeeps parked in front of the house.

  “I don’t think I was ever that…young,” she whispered.

  “I was,” Smoke said. “I thought I was going to change the world.”

  “Did you?” she asked, afraid to look at him.

  He sighed. “Not so far.”

  She glanced at him despite herself. “Do you want to give it another try?” She held up her tablet. “I’ve got three addresses that need to be checked out.”

  He studied her for a moment. “I suppose you want to split up.”

  “We’ll cover more ground.”

  He held up a finger. “Graffiti.” He lifted a second. “T-boned.” A third. “Dogs.” A fourth. “Slashed tires.” A thumb. “Idiot.”

  Sure, bring all that up. “The law of averages says the next one will be fine.”

  He stared at her. “Bullshit.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “It’s the only way to talk to everyone before it gets too late.” She paused, then added, “Please.”

  “Well,” he said slowly. “Since you said please.”

  She blinked. “Really?”

  “No.”

  “Smoke,” she said with a sigh. “We really don’t have a choice.”

  He didn’t look happy when he held out his hand. “Phone.”

  She gave it to him and he gave her his.

  “Put your number in,” he said as he did the same with her phone. “You get into any kind of trouble, even a hint of trouble, you call me.”

  She wasn’t a moron. “I will. You do the same if you see anything suspicious. Or anyone sick. Or mice.”

  He nodded.

  “We could meet at the third address together.”

  He must have been thinking the same thing, because she got an actual, real, noncynical smile from him. It hit her right in the gut with enough power to knock the wind out of her.

  Jesus, she’d thought he was handsome before.

  Smoke took the first address and explained how to get to the second one, a little farther away.

  She got in her car and followed his bike down the road to the highway. Riding behind him had been fun once she got the hang of it. More than fun. He’d been warm against her body, his muscles firm under her hands.

  Stupid. Getting involved with a man she’d just met was stupid. She knew nothing about him, and her job kept her on the move. He also carried around more anger and fury than any other ten people combined. The thought of all that rage detonating…no, she couldn’t go there again. It would break her. A relationship deeper than the surface was absolutely out of the question.

  As she watched him ride his bike in front of her car, the desire to feel him under her hands again grew until she had to force herself to grip the steering wheel.

  She imagined him on horseback and realized if she ever saw him on one, she’d probably attack the poor man and rip his clothes off. Nope, not going there either.

  He slowed down and drew level with her car.

  Kini rolled down the window.

  “The second right will take you to your address,” he yelled. “I’ll try to meet you there or at the connection to the highway.”

  “Okay,” she yel
led back.

  Smoke decelerated and turned off. The highway looked desolate without him.

  The second right was a long, narrow gravel road that led to a valley and a small, square two-story house. A couple of older model half-ton trucks were parked out front and a variety of children’s toys were strewn across the brown grass that made up the yard.

  Kini parked the car, shut off the engine, and got out.

  The silence that greeted her seemed to coat everything in a suffocating blanket.

  She checked her notes. This was the home of a twenty-eight-year-old mother of two. She presented with early symptoms of Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome that worsened until she’d been placed on a respirator about six hours earlier.

  Kini walked to the front door and knocked. She knocked again, then when no one answered, tried the knob. The door opened.

  “Hello,” she called out. “Anyone home?”

  “Mama!” A toddler came around the corner at Mach 3 and barreled into Kini’s legs. The child grabbed hold of Kini’s pants with both hands and yanked, crying alternately for Mama and food.

  Kini picked up the little girl. “Hi, sweetie, who’s looking after you?”

  The girl stared at Kini for a long couple of seconds then poked her nose. “Not Mama.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m Kini.”

  “Ki,” the child said, then pointed imperiously toward the interior of the house.

  Kini walked around the corner and discovered why the child was so unhappy. Someone had added Velcro straps to the door and side of the refrigerator so little hands couldn’t open it.

  “Hello?” Kini called out, raising her voice. “Hello.”

  No answer.

  Where was this child’s babysitter? Family members?

  Small hands landed on either side of Kini’s face and turned it so the little girl could press her nose against hers. “Hungy.”

  It took effort not to laugh. “I get the picture.”

  Kini opened the fridge, and the girl dove for the yogurt tubes in the door. She held one out and demanded, “Open!”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  As soon as the child got the open tube, she plopped onto her diapered butt and began to eat.

  The kitchen was a mess. Dirty dishes covered the counter, sink, and small dining table.