Fade To Midnight (34 page)

Kev let out a slow, silent breath. “I can't,” he said.

“Why not?” Bruno demanded. “Whatever you find, it might be a big disappointment to you! You might have parents like mine.”

That grim possibilty hung in the air while the flames took hold.

Kev finally stood up. “Two nights ago, someone held a knife to Edie's throat,” he said. “She's under suspicion for attempted murder. Her father tried to have her locked in the psych ward to keep her away from me, because I'm such a pus lowlife. Things are weird, Bruno. Now is not the time to relax, or take anything for granted. We have a long way up to crawl before we even hit flat zero.”

Bruno looked glum. “What does your past have to do with this crap?”

“Probably nothing. But I can't keep driving blind. I have to know what happened. If I want any chance for a future, for me and Edie.”

Bruno sighed. “Oh, fuck it,” he said wearily. “Whatever.”

Edie came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, wet hair combed primly back into a tight braid. She smiled and murmured a good morning. Bruno seemed oddly subdued. If Kev didn't know better, he might have actually thought that his little brother was feeling shy.

Thanks to Zia Rosa's bounty, they stuffed themselves with cholesterol-laden food for breakfast, with more than enough left over for Bruno and Edie to have for lunch later on. Kev would deal with dinner plans after he saw what was in the archives.

Time pressed, with the long drive back to the city ahead of him. Edie followed him out of the cabin, and he could think of only one more reason to procrastinate. He crouched to unbuckle the ankle holster that held his revolver. “This is a SP 101 Ruger. I'll show you how to use it, real quick. Come here.”

Her eyes went wide. “No way. I don't want to touch that thing.”

“Too bad. Get over here. Five minutes, that's all I can spare.”

Edie shook her head. “I'm not comfortable with—”

“I don't give a shit what you're comfortable with. Kidnappers out looking for your ass makes me pretty goddamn uncomfortable!”

Her mouth flattened at his tone. “I don't think five minutes is nearly enough to learn how to safely use a firearm!”

“Are you worth defending?” he demanded.

“Yes!” Her chin went up. “Jesus, Kev!”

“Then be prepared to defend yourself,” he said flatly. “And if you've got five minutes to learn how to do it, then learn fast.”

“But…but I thought…” Edie's gaze cut to Bruno.

“You thought I called him up here to defend you?” he finished. “Yeah, I did. And so? What of it?”

He gave Bruno a look. Bruno promptly rose to the occasion.

“They could kill me,” his brother said. “And then you'd be fucked. But if you're armed, you've still got a shot. Or six shots, to be exact.”

Edie looked trapped.

“You got more ammo for that around somewhere?” Bruno asked.

“In the cabin,” Kev said. “Top kitchen drawer.”

“Great.” Bruno looked cheerful at the prospect. “We'll have shooting practice this morning. Fun activities. The time will fly by.”

Good. So Bruno would do the tutorial. Kev knelt, jerked up the wide, tattered leg of her jeans. Great style for concealing an ankle holster. He buckled the thing around her slender leg, and took a moment to curl his hand around the curve of her calf. She still wore those fuzzy striped socks, which made last night's erotic escapades dance through his brain.

He rose to his feet. She stared up, furious at him for his lecturing. He grabbed her, kissed her furious face. Parted those lovely furious lips, and drank her in, until a shudder of surrender cracked her angry tension, and she softened, bending, arching back. Hanging on. The heat swelled, like a flower blooming.

Bruno cleared his throat. “I'll, uh, just give you guys a moment.”

Kev barely heard the cabin door swinging shut. He was too busy tanking up for those long, bleak hours with no Edie in them. They stretched out before him, a flinty desert of boredom and thirst.

But he couldn't tank up. He was thirsty for her the second he dragged his face away. Kissing her only made it worse.

“You be good,” he said, hoarsely. “Be careful.”

“Me? I'm just kicking my heels like an asshole.” Her words were snippy, but her voice wobbled. “You're the one who needs to be careful.”

He got into the car. “I'd call you, but I can't,” he said. “Call me from the bluff. One o'clock, on the hour. Don't make me wait. I'll be watching the minutes. OK?”

She nodded as he slammed the door, fired up the motor, buzzed the window down. He leaned out. “I love you.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and shoved his head back into the car. “Go get this done, and come back quick. You're killing me.”

“Yeah.” He maneuvered the vehicle around and roared away without looking back, or else he'd do something unspeakable, like burst into tears. For Christ's sake, he was going to stare at computer archives, in the company of a wanker businessman and a geek neuroscientist. He was not charging up Dong Ap Bia in the battle of Hamburger Hill. He was not heading out to storm the fucking beach at Normandy. Get a grip, already.

He did the whole drive on autopilot. It was the first time he'd ever driven that road without noticing if clouds were riding the shoulders of the Cascades, or if the massive Columbia had whitecaps on its churning slate blue surface. He drove through the city, looping through the snarl of rivers, bridges and freeway ramps that divided Portland, and connected with Highway 26 toward Hillsboro, the location of the new Helix complex. Then SE Montrose Highway, an interminable strip mall, and he made the turn onto Highett and wound through green, manicured grounds. Plenty of parking in those big lots, in spite of it being Monday morning. He went to the building Marr had designated, the unfinished future seat of the Parrish Foundation, right across the grounds from the main Helix building. Two handsome six-story mirror-glass structures faced each other across a park, reflecting the silver sky.

The entrance was unlocked, and almost deserted. The lobby looked unfinished, but even so, there was a security guard behind a desk, a dour Asian man with a ponytail. He looked at Kev. “Larsen?”

“That's me,” Kev said.

The guy picked up a phone. “He's here,” he said into it. “Yeah.” He hung up. “Dr. Cheung told me to expect you. Go on up. Take the stairs. Fifth floor. Suite 5000.”

Strange place for a rendezvous to study archives, he reflected, as he ran up the stairs. They'd have had to be moved from wherever they'd been before. Why bother with that, if they were slated for disposal? He could easily have come to them. The door to Suite 5000 was open. Light flooded through the picture windows that looked out over the swathe of lush lawn, and the Helix building. Trees waved and bent in the breeze.

There was a big pile of white plastic file boxes, heaped with paper files in the middle of the otherwise empty, unfurnished office suite. Someone had hauled all this stuff in here. Twenty-five, thirty big boxes, brought up into this empty space. His what's-wrong-with-this-picture sensors were pinging, but he still had no clear idea of what the picture actually ought to feel like. He had no template for this situation.

He slid his hand into his jacket, brushing his SIG. The Glock was in the back of his jeans, harder to access.

Tik tik tik tik.
High heels against the slate-black granite floor tile, glittering with tiny mica sparkles. A woman appeared, framed artfully in the doorway, hip cocked like a fashion model. “Mr. Larsen?”

The what's-wrong-with-this-picture vibe kicked up a notch. He stared at her, bemused. This chick did not look like a neuroscientist. She looked like a high-end call girl. Not that neuroscience and feminine beauty were mutually exclusive, but what were the odds? Her face was shockingly pretty, skin flawless, full lips red and pouting, tilted eyes painted with artful charcoal smudges. Her glossy black hair was swept up in a smooth roll. Her smile of welcome was bright, like a painted doll. She wore a navy suit, flared at the waist, short skirt showing off long, perfect legs, four-inch heels. Her low-cut white silk blouse frilled out of the severe vee of the jacket, showing lots of cleavage.

“Are you Dr. Cheung?” he asked.

She held out a slender, pale hand, tipped with long, crimson nails, and shook his hand, then hung on to it. “I am.”

He pulled his hand back in the pause that followed. He sensed her waiting for some nervous schnook comment.
Ya sure don't look like a neuroscientist, heh heh heh.
“How do you do?” he said simply.

Her eyelids swept down, her smile widened. “Fine, thank you. I'm facinated to meet you. Des told me your story. What he knew of it, anyway.” Her eyes took on a shimmering glow of sympathy. “It's amazing. That you were victimized like that. Losing all your memories, too. How horrible. I can only try to imagine how you must have felt.”

“Don't,” he said.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don't try to imagine it,” he said. “You can't.”

“Can't I?” Her face locked. Freeze-frame. Then the eyelash flutters and the glowing smile started up, like she'd pushed
PLAY
again. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.”

“You didn't.” He glanced around. “Where's Marr?”

“Oh, Desmond? He'll be back around a bit later. He had to meet with Parrish this morning. Actually, his meeting is an effort to give you some time to take a look at this stuff, before we have to fork it over to old Eagle Eye.” She waved her hand at the heap of boxes. “So here it is. Des is covering for you. This afternoon, it would have been too late.”

And you are not being anywhere near appreciative enough,
was the silent accusation that Kev could feel burning against his skin.

Well, fuck him. Guilty as charged. He hadn't begged them to stick their necks out for him. So Marr wasn't here. He felt a twinge of unease about the dangerous, potentially violent stress flashbacks that could accompany his memories, if he should recover them.

He hadn't wanted Edie anywhere near him, if he should go into another fugue state, but this chick didn't deserve that kind of trouble, either. She couldn't be more than twenty-five. She was bent over her desk, digging in her purse at a ninety-degree angle that showcased a truly spectacular ass. She straightened up, smiling like a game show hostess, and he'd just won a prize. She held a jingling set of car keys.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” she asked. “Des had to run out to get to his meeting, and we weren't able to get the last couple of cases out of the car. Would you mind running down and grabbing them for me? I've been waiting because I didn't want to risk missing you. In the meantime, I can set up these laptops, and make a double workstation, so we can both scan files. It'll save us hours.”

“Hours?” He was unpleasantly surprised at the thought of being hung up for that long “How long do you think this is going to take?”

She shrugged. “Could be hours. Could be days. I took all the hard files I could find from that time period, and all the electronic files I could download. I had to convert them, too, because the software was ancient. Would you mind, getting those last two cases?”

Kev tried to analyze the prickle in his neck. What could this chick do to him, anyway? Stab her stiletto heel through his eye? Blind him with her pearly whites? She could have nothing to do with his story. She would have been a tiny child when whatever had happened to him happened. Five, six years old. Eight at most. Like Edie, who'd been eleven. And yet, so unlike Edie. He couldn't help compare Cheung to Edie, since Edie was his most important point of reference. This woman was objectively stunning, but her beauty bounced off him. Whereas Edie's grabbed him by the vital organs. Edie was wrapped around his brain, braided into muscle and nerve. Edie was the air he breathed.

He kept coming up blank. There was no danger here. The worst this woman could do to him would be to waste his time, which would still suck, because he had more serious shit to attend to. But that was not her fault. So he'd try to keep a civil tongue in his head.

Cheung's smile vanished. “I could go down myself, if you can't be bothered,” she said. “The cases are extremely heavy. But I'll manage.”

Aw, what the fuck. “I'll get them,” he said. “Where's the vehicle?”

Her face lit up. “Oh, thanks. It's a white Hummer.” She tossed him the keys. “It's parked on the south side of this building.”

Butch car, for such a feminine woman. She didn't look like the off-roading type, but you never knew. He texted a message to Bruno and Edie as he ran down the stairs. They wouldn't get it until they hiked up to the bluff, but texting made him feel closer to her. He wished he didn't have to go through Bruno's phone. It made him feel self-conscious about being as romantic as he'd like to be with her.

The Hummer was right where she said it would be. Two large metal sided suitcases were in the back. He hefted them, surprised at their dead weight, and at the absence of any sort of rattling or shifting of the contents. He tried to open them, just for the hell of it, but they had combination locks. He could have opened them, given time, but he was sure Cheung was watching the seconds tick by. And there was no point. The mystery would be revealed soon enough. He locked the car, loped back through the lobby. The security guy was gone.

Cheung turned when he walked in, and gave him a big smile. His cue to pant and wag. He did not. Her smile faded.

He set the cases down beside her desk. “Here you go.”

“Oh, thanks! Here, you sit down at this computer. I've converted the first five discs and loaded them, so you can just start scrolling through the documents. See if anything rings a bell.”