Part 7 (1/2)

Dags did stick his hand in and pulled out a tube--or rather a bunch of brown papers rolled up and tied with string. And it looked old.

Really old.

Rhonda reached down between us and grabbed the rolled papers. Dags stood first and then helped me up. My Magical Mischief maker was already unrolling the papers and looking at them.

We waited. Where was my drink?

”We need to go.” She re-rolled the papers and immediately grabbed my arm on her way by. She half pulled me out of the bar. Her panic was palpable--as well as contagious. My heart started pounding too.

”Wait--where are you--”

”Not now, Dags. We have to go now. You can stay here or come with us. But not another word until we get back.”

I pulled free and motioned him to come. Dags shrugged and followed. Both of them went down the stairs. I lingered up top and looked around. I couldn't actually see the little shadow people. But I could tell they were there.

And somehow I got the impression we'd just done what they intended us to do.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Usually I don't fear for my life when Rhonda drives--she's pretty good at it. Mom--not so much. But on this occasion, you'd have thought the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse were after us.

Or at least the Atlanta Police Department.

This woman took the changeable lanes on Roswell Road to their limits, dodging Sat.u.r.day morning traffic with uncanny ability in mom's Volvo. And I somehow got the impression the old car was loving it. I had my right hand on the oh s.h.i.+t handle--that handle up above the pa.s.senger side door? Yep--that's what that thing is called.

And by the time we finally cleared it to Interstate 400, I had both hands white-knuckling it. As she merged in with traffic I chanced a glance behind me at Dags.

My heart skipped when I didn't see anyone in the back seat.

”Okay Dags,” Rhonda said as she slowed the Volvo down from Mach 5 to Mach 4.5. ”You can get out of the floorboard.”

A dark head popped up then. He was as white as bone as he scrambled to get his seatbelt refastened. I sort of wondered if he purposefully ducked into the floorboard--or if Rhonda's driving whip-lashed him down there.

The world may never know.

”I want off,” he muttered to himself. I nodded. Me too.

But once we were a good several miles down the road Rhonda fumbled in her jacket for her phone. I wanted to protest the whole cell-phone while you're driving deal--but I was also a bit afraid if she took her eyes off the road to scream at me we would crash.

I watched her press a b.u.t.ton and then hold the thing up to her ear. After a few minutes she closed the phone and tossed it at me. I was not about to let go of my 'oh-s.h.i.+t handle' and the Nokia bounced off my thigh and into the floorboard.

She glared at me and I shook my head.

”Nona needs a cell phone.”

I couldn't agree with her more.

”Why doesn't your mom have a cell phone?” Dags asked.

Mom thinks cell phones turn your brain to goo--same as living too close to a ley-line or a power line. Won't have one and we can't talk her into one.

He nodded. ”Oh. Okay.” Then he frowned. ”Is that true? Because you know I did study up on the effects of towers placed along pastures in Texas--”

Rhonda held up her hand. ”What do you do--search the net for that kind of stuff?”

Dags nodded. ”Yes.”

We all sat quietly for a few minutes before Dags spoke up. ”So--you gonna tell us why we dashed out of there so quick and why I'll be suffering from chronic back pain for the rest of my life?”

I was waiting to hear this too. I could have let go and found my board--I could see it in the floorboard next to the phone. But I think my knuckles had vapor-locked around the handle. Owch.

Rhonda looked at me. ”Would Nona go somewhere with Mrs. Shultz to investigate Dr. Bonville? Like is there some secret archive of knowledge that you would know about?”

I shrugged and finally wrenched my hands free of the handle. Giving a silent grunt, I reached down between my legs and retrieved her phone as well as my board. Erase. Scribble. Hrm--scribble more. HEY WHY I KNOW? U 2 DOING THE OOGIE ON THE SIDE. NOT TELL ME.

She pursed her lips as she read the board by glancing back at it several times.

”Can she not do that?” Dags called from the back. ”I'd prefer she keep her eyes on the road.”

Touche.

Rhonda sighed. It was a tired sigh, and sounded like it had been filled with high emotion. She was wound tight, and about to pop. ”Look, I'm sorry. I just--when I saw the doc.u.ments and the names on them--” she shook her head. ”I think they're contracts. And with contracts always comes trouble.”

I nodded and thought of the Archer. All the trouble with him began with a contract. Once between the Phantasm and the Reverend Rollins.

Rhonda kept talking. ”We just needed to get as far away from there as possible. Oh, and Dags, I need you to call in sick tonight.”

”Call in sick? I've never called in sick.”

”Then make this a first. Otherwise I doubt you'll ever make it home alive.”

I heard him gulp. I stared at Rhonda. What the h.e.l.l was going on?

I suggested we stop by the hospital first. I wanted to see Daniel. Rhonda agreed and we arrived in one piece at Northside Hospital twenty-minutes later. Dags had gone very quiet as Rhonda parked and the three of us took the elevator up.

Tiarra was on duty when we stepped out of the elevator. She took one look at Dags and then one look at me and arched her left eyebrow up high. I gave her a don't ask shake of the head and she gave me a you're kidding look beneath her eyebrows. Then she gave me a awrigh' den sigh. ”Lieutenant Holmes is in there with him. He's such a nice man.”

I stopped in my tracks. Who? I thought Captain Cooper was staying with him. So--who was this? I pushed open the door and then stopped. There was a small short wall where the bathroom was that prevented anyone near Daniel's bed from seeing who entered the room. I heard the familiar whirl of the breathing machine first, and then the television just before a deep voice laughed. I paused, took in a deep breath and stopped in my tracks as the voice spoke.

”Yeah, it's not the greatest job--but I'm so close to retiring, Danny. I've got a good pension. Trevor's still in j.a.pan--not sure he's ever going to come home. He loves it too much. I just--I just want peace and quiet for a while. I know I didn't tell you last time I was here, but Phyllis pa.s.sed away. Breast cancer. It was so hard--and in the end it was even harder for me because I was almost relieved when she died. She was in so much pain,” he sniffed. I felt like an a.s.shole, intruding like this. There was something very right about the way he spoke--comforting. Languid vowels. ”Am I wrong to feel like that? To feel glad she died?”

I wanted to tell him no--it wasn't wrong. For me it wasn't, but then I didn't suppose I was built of the best moral fiber. After all--I wasn't exactly sure what I was anymore.

But it was also time for me to stop snooping. I opened the door again making more noise and then barreled forward.