Part 7 (1/2)
”I e-mailed Oonis.h.i.+ the questions,” Kim said. ”Honestly, though, I don't know how long it will be before we get the results. The others are right. He's starting to regret calling you in.”
”Nothing like getting what you asked for,” I said. ”Where are you right now?”
”I'm on campus. I just finished my lecture.”
”Lecture? You're taking cla.s.ses?”
”I'm teaching them. You don't think they'd pay a mere PhD to do full-time research, do you?” she said, and the bitterness in her voice made it clear that wasn't how it worked.
”Parasitology?”
”I wish. Cell biology. Introductory cell biology. There's only enough interest for a real parasites section every two years or so, and so far I've had to co-teach with an MD from infectious diseases. It's not really the same thing, but having a chaperone keeps me in my place. Why? Is something the matter?”
”No,” I said. ”I just thought you'd be at Grace.”
”After yesterday? Not a chance. When we know what's going on, I'll consider it.”
”Can you do that? I mean just stop showing up there and not get fired or something?”
”No, I'll get fired eventually. Unemployed is better than beaten to death.”
I laughed. I didn't expect to, it just happened. Kim might have had the coldest, least sentimental mind I'd ever met. After a solid year of Ex's weird paternalism, Chogyi Jake's studied compa.s.sion, and my little romantic roller coaster with Aubrey, just talking to her was like seeing the world through new eyes. Of course she wasn't going in. I'd a.s.sumed she was because she wasn't at the condo. I didn't know why I'd fallen so easily into the idea that on one side there was Grace Memorial, and on the other there was me and the guys with room for nothing else.
”Well, if you're ditching work and have a few spare hours, I could use some help.”
”Did something happen?” she asked.
”No. Well, yes actually. But what I really need is to get out from underfoot while the guys work through something. I'll tell you all about it when I pick you up. But the thing is I don't know the city. Where to get a vacuum cleaner. Like that. And anyway, I could use the company. If you're up to it.”
”All right,” she said. ”Come get me.”
She gave me the address of a coffee shop. I gave it to the GPS and told her it would take me fifteen minutes to get there. She told me to expect thirty with traffic. I started the car, turned up the ramp, and headed out onto the streets of Chicago with only a rea.s.suring, fake-British computer voice to guide me. Haze grayed the blue of the sky, softening the sunlight and bringing the infinite bowl of air a little closer. Traffic on the gentle left-then-right curves of the Kennedy Expressway was thick, but not as suicidally impolite as Los Angeles had been. Still, I found myself watching the other drivers carefully while the GPS told me where to go.
It almost worked. If it weren't for Bell Avenue ending about twenty feet before it hit Taylor Street and making my last turn impossible, it would have been twenty minutes. I parked on Bell and walked the rest of the way. All the buildings were brick, two stories at the least, three at the most, and crowded up against the sidewalk. A busker with a ukulele sang a Tom Waits tune as I walked past. The breeze that cooled my cheeks and brushed back my hair smelled like car exhaust.
The b.u.mp & Grind Cafe didn't live up to its lurid name; it was all fresh coffee and baking apples. A flat-screen television was showing an art film that I remembered having heard about but had never actually seen. A few computers sat around, apparently for the free use of anyone who bought a coffee and wasn't surfing for p.o.r.n. And Kim sat at a table by the window. Half of a latte rested in front of her, the film of milk on the gla.s.s matching the hazy sky. Her purse was tucked under the chair, her head bent over a book.
For the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, she didn't see me, and I caught a glimpse of who she was when she thought no one was watching. Her clothes belonged on an older woman, neat, professional earth tones. Her pale hair gave the impression of being touched by gray, though I was pretty sure it wasn't. Her gaze was focused, intent, closed. The softness at her jaw and the first, faint wrinkles at her neck reminded me of how my mother had looked when I was still a girl. And there was something else too; she had the same air of waiting for something she knew wasn't going to come.
She looked up and nodded, and the impression vanished. She was once again my familiar, hard-edged Kim.
”So what's happened and why do we need a vacuum cleaner?” she asked instead of saying h.e.l.lo.
While we walked back to the minivan, I brought her up to date, not just on the discovery of the secret rooms but on Los Angeles and the Lisbon notations-DC1 and YNTH-with our a.s.sumption that the first meant high security and the second being anyone's guess. She listened with her head canted forward, like she was leaning into my words.
”What about the image enhancement on Oonis.h.i.+'s data set?” she asked when I was done.
”Already uploaded.”
”Do we have an estimate of the time it's going to take?”
”No,” I said, pulling out onto Polk. ”We'll know when we know.”
She nodded once, but she didn't look pleased. I felt a little tightness at the back of my throat, like I'd gotten a bad grade on a paper that I'd been proud of. Maybe hanging out with her hadn't been a good idea.
”Problem?” I asked, my tone carefully neutral.
”We've got too many tests and not enough data,” she said. ”I wish we'd gotten into Eric's secret rooms before we did the work for Oonis.h.i.+. If there's anything useful in there at all, it's going to change the questionnaire.”
”It isn't like Eric left us directions.”
”G.o.d forbid,” Kim said. ”That man never let anything by if he could help it.”
”Did you love him?” I asked. I hadn't meant to. I hadn't even wondered until I saw her there in the cafe, waiting for something. ”I mean, I know you and Eric-”
Kim took a quick breath, shrugged, and answered just as if I'd had any business asking.
”No, I didn't. I don't know why I did what I did. At first, I thought it was only that we were confined in the same cabin for too long, and humans act like that. But then after, when it kept . . . happening. Well, I didn't love him. He didn't particularly like me. The s.e.x wasn't very pleasant. It was just something we did. I rationalize it now. I say that I was las.h.i.+ng out at Aubrey or I just don't have a very healthy att.i.tude toward men or it was a self-destructive moment, but I honestly don't know why I was with him.”
”You never told Aubrey,” I said.
”No.”
I turned the minivan up onto the Eisenhower Expressway, gunning the engine to bring us to speed.
”I didn't either,” I said.
”Thank you.”
The traffic slowed, the first deadening congestion of the coming rush hour. Kim leaned forward, looking up into the empty sky.
”You still in love with him?” I asked.
”I miss him. But I know why we aren't together. I don't have to like it, but I'm all right. I'm glad the two of you are together.”
”I'm sorry,” I said.
Her smile was fast and genuine and sad.
”You are too kind, Jayne,” she said. ”Really. It's a vice.”
”I'll try to be more of a s.h.i.+t,” I said. ”Any idea where we can find that vacuum?”
But before she could answer, Eric intruded.
”Hey. You've got a call.”
Kim flinched at the voice, and I pretended not to notice. I rooted through my pack one-handed, keeping the minivan in its lane with the other, trying to answer the call before Eric spoke again. The call was from Aubrey's number. I took it.
”Jayne,” he said. ”Where are you?”