Part 5 (1/2)
”That long?” Pleased to hear it, my reply came out more enthusiastic than I'd intended. ”Did you keep in touch? Letters? Phone calls?”
”Not so much. Not until he e-mailed me about you coming back. He sent it to my station address. It was all business, you know? He wanted to know if I'd be covering your speech at the high school. Which reminds me . . .”
Reaching across the table, she squeezed my hands and smiled one of her patented Jana smiles-an array of white pearls set between a parentheses of adorable dimples. It was the kind of smile that could stop a battalion of marines.
”I haven't congratulated you properly for your achievement! I'm so proud of you, I could bust! I've told everyone I know that I went to school with a Pulitzer Prizewinning author!”
She was more gorgeous than I'd remembered. Had her praise been a drug, I'd be an addict. The only thing that could have possibly made the moment sweeter would be if Myles Shepherd had been here to hear it.
”Was Myles excited about your achievement?” she asked.
”You know Myles. He congratulated me in his own way.”
Jana laughed. ”He was a man of few compliments, wasn't he? Sometimes you never knew if he was praising you or mocking you.”
”Yeah, Myles could be strange at times.” Here was the opening I'd been waiting for. ”Speaking of which, when you were going out with him, did you notice anything . . . you know, out of the ordinary? Weird? Strange?”
Jana's smile melted faster than b.u.t.ter on a hot skillet. She pulled her hands away. ”Please don't do that, Grant. Not now.” She sat back and stared sullenly at her tea, then took a long sip as though she could swallow the uncomfortable moment and it would be gone.
But I couldn't let it go that easily. I had to know what she knew about Myles Shepherd after high school. ”In college, did Myles ever do anything that was . . . well, off the deep end? Possibly involve himself with a radical fringe group? Did he experiment with drugs?”
Her teacup clanked angrily against the saucer. ”Why do you do that?”
”Do what?”
”That thing you do with Myles. Everything has to be a compet.i.tion between you.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. ”Well, it can stop now, Grant. Myles is no longer a threat to you. He's dead.”
”No, Jana, it's not what you think.” I reached across the table with open hands. They remained empty. ”Something happened yesterday with Myles that I can't explain. That's why I was going to see him this morning. I was hoping to clear it up. It's not personal . . . well, that's not exactly true . . . there is a personal element involved . . . but it's not what you think.”
My eloquent argument failed to convince her.
”Exactly what happened yesterday?” she asked.
Of all the words in the English language, why did she have to choose those four? What was I supposed to tell her? That Myles glued my feet to the floor? That I saw him magically strip colors and t.i.tles from things in his office? That he had malevolent gargoyles living on his ceiling?
A warning alarm sounded in my mind. Neither could I tell her about Myles's possible involvement in an a.s.sa.s.sination plot against the president. She might be a friend, but she was also a news reporter for a television station.
”Well? Are you going to tell me?”
My internal waffling had raised her suspicions. ”I can't,” I said.
She took it personally. Gone were her happy-reunion eyes. She was hurt.
”Jana, I want to tell you,” I insisted. ”It's just that . . .” My cell phone rang. ”Hail to the Chief.”
My eyes on Jana, I made no move to answer it.
”Answer your phone,” she said angrily.
”Hail to the Chief” began attracting the attention of the other patrons.
”I've got to take this,” I said.
She turned her head, staring out the window at the parking lot so I wouldn't see how upset she was. She couldn't hide the reflection in the window.
I flipped open my cell phone. ”Christina-” I said.
”Grant Austin, where have you been? First, you broadcast emergency messages all over Capitol Hill, then you go into hiding! What's going on?” She spoke in hushed tones, as though she was afraid someone might overhear her.
”Christina, we have to talk.”
Jana's eyebrows rose.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
”All right. But make it quick.” I heard panic in her voice. Christina never panicked. I've seen her stand in front of a roomful of heads of state and show no fear.
”I can't talk now,” I said, glancing at Jana.
Jana's brow furrowed. She began gathering her things. ”Don't let me get in your way,” she huffed.
She slid out of the booth.
”Who's there with you?”
”Jana . . . please don't go,” I begged. ”This isn't what you think it is.”
”Who's Jana?”
I reached for Jana as she pa.s.sed. She dodged my hand. ”Jana, please! Christina, can you hold on just a second?”
Jana walked up to Alida, the waitress. ”Can you help me out? I need a cab.”
”You got it, dear,” Alida said, diving beneath the counter and pulling out a phonebook like she was on some kind of mission for the holy sisterhood.
Jana continued toward the door, pulling her cell phone from her purse.
”Christina, I need to call you back,” I said, climbing out of the booth.
”Grant, no! You don't know what's going on here! Don't call me back. Do you understand? Under no circ.u.mstances are you to call me!”
I've never heard Christina so shaken. ”What's going on there?” I asked.
Silence. The display on my cell indicated the call had ended. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I went after Jana.
”Hold on there, buddy,” Alida said, blocking my path. ”Somebody's got to pay the tab.”