Tainted (23 page)

“Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

“Honestly,” Paul’s glance skims just shy of eye contact with me, “nothing’s seemed right for a while. I thought it was the stress from the shareholders putting me on edge. And I’ve been so busy trying to regulate your fluctuations. And with Emma’s troubles…”

“That’s what I came here for.” This day has twisted so far past normal that it’s the first chance I’ve had to mention it. “Emma flipped again, Paul. She was at the Reindeer Games.”

“Oh, good God.”

An odd tone mingles with his shock, like he might not be as surprised as he wants me to believe. I plow ahead, anyway, and tell him everything from her disappearing to her odd compliant behavior. His expression darkens as he listens, and he rolls to his computer, tapping at the keys and squinting at the screen.

“I wonder…” he mutters.

“Wonder what?”

“There’ve been some odd registry issues with the system, entries and experimental chemicals going missing. It’s making me wonder… Is this all part of the Katrina thing?” He looks at the phone. It didn’t do him any good to call a few minutes ago. “We should get Emma in here to run more blood tests. This time I’ll oversee them myself.”

The distrust won’t be quiet in my head. Now, they’re screaming at me. “Is there anything else going on I should know about?”

“Other than the financial backers starting a petition to bring my tenure as interim CEO to the board for a vote?” He lets out a breath and sinks to his chair. “So much, Alex. And not what you might think. I want to save you from it all.”

He can’t though. Ascension’s infected, the pus is bubbling up through the cracks in its public façade. How deep is the abscess? Can the lab be saved?

Should I even try?

I have to for Emma’s sake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The smell of coffee, cinnamon and bacon fill the air Monday afternoon. Outside, the approaching winds of a blizzard batter the windows. Inside, an unnatural hush takes the place of Mugz-n-Chugz’s normal noisy bustle, especially odd since this is the start of our second week of break. People stare at the notice tacked to the bulletin board asking for anyone with any information on the animal attack, or the Reindeer Games to please contact the local police.

Flower wreaths, stuffed teddy bears, poems and pictures fill the booth to the far left, the unofficial memorial for Marin Rhodes. Everyone at Shelley High knows that was Marin’s favorite spot in M-n-Cs. Does Sam Ashton have a memorial somewhere? Or Trent? What about the other victims taken from this town in such a short time period?

Bree and Jason sit across the booth from Em and me. Jason’s messy brown spikes flop forward over his forehead when he slouches toward the table and picks at the collar on his coffee cup. I can’t help stealing glances at his hands, wondering how stiff they are. Bree sips her chai, and pushes around her churro bites. Emma, withdrawn and quiet, snuggles tight to my side, almost wearing me like a piece of clothing.

“I never really liked Marin,” Bree admits, gaze drifting to the collection of mementos. “But I feel really awful she died like that.”

News of the crazed dog attack had burned up the phone lines and news wires of White River. Everyone knows how Marin died – whether they wanted to or not.

“She wasn’t the only one,” Jason points out, tears the collar off his cup completely.

“And the poisonings at the Reindeer Games,” I add. Misplaced guilt maybe, but the lack of sympathy for the other victims grinds me.

A shiver runs through Em, she tightens her grip on me.

“Does anyone think,” Jason asks close to a whisper, “we should discuss why Emma went missing both times?”

“Can we not talk about me,” she says, voice dark and sulky, “like I’m not here?”

“You are here, sweetie,” Bree says, reaching over to pat her arm. Em recoils from her touch, looping her arms around me, under my sweater. “We just don’t know how you got
there
. Or why.”

“Maybe…” I start, then push Em’s hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She leans into my hand, her blue eyes focused on me. “Maybe, Paul will catch something in the new set of blood tests this morning.”

“But what will that prove?” She sounds so lost. A tear forms in her eye. I have the worst urge to pull her into my lap, try to hold the pieces of my broken doll together. “It’s only one piece to too many puzzles. The animals. The lab. The Reindeer Games. And I can’t remember any of it. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“But it’s not constant,” Bree says.

“Yeah, Em,” Jason agrees. He worries the edge of his bacon sandwich wrapper to shreds. “And we will figure this out. Even I can solve math problems when I have enough numbers.”

“And if we never get them?” She shoves out of my embrace, and rips a big bite from her bagel sandwich.

What if Emma’s right? There are so many variables to this equation, we may never solve the problem. Worst of all, what if it’s
my
fault? Have I created a monster in my girlfriend?

The same silence infesting Mugz-n-Chugz encroaches on our table, too. A couple glances. One arched eyebrow. A shrug. We’re all lost somewhere on Emma’s downward spiral, and when that subject is closed, conversation dies.

Winter chill blows in when Scott Morgan, football player for the Shelley High Ravens walks through the left side door. His gaze sweeps the restaurant from the counter to our table. Jason and I return his nod when he gives us a silent greeting. Then his focus shifts to Marin’s memorial booth. His eyebrows sink, and he runs a hand over his hair. Em lets out a breathy noise close to a whimper and resumes her position sheltering under my arm.

The next blast of arctic chill ushers in Marin’s friend Nikki Cummings. She’s clutching a pink teddy bear, and looks like she hasn’t slept in a week. The entire establishment holds its breath, watching Nikki cross from the door to the impromptu shrine. She nestles the bear in a wreath of fake flowers, and steps back.

“I miss you, Marin,” she whispers.

Her bottom lip trembles, her mouth crumples. Nikki buries her face in her hands and bursts into tears. She’s a sobbing wreck by the time Scott settles an arm around her shoulders. Nikki turns into his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around her. After some coddling and shushing, he leads her back out the way they came.

When I wrench my focus from their misery, I see a ghost of Nikki’s sadness on Emma’s face. She pulls her knees up, spins and tucks into my side again.

“Is that my fault?” she whispers.

Possibly. A blond girl ran away from the parking lot that night. Emma was captured on video at the lab’s gates less than an hour before the animals attacked. Still, I say, “No, Em. You’re not capable of causing that.”

“How do you know?” She slides her hand inside my sweater, and twists her fingers in the neck of my T-shirt. “What if it’s all my fault? It could be. I can’t remember any of it.”

“I just know, OK?” My gut hasn’t steered me wrong since I woke up. Daniel’s become so integrated, he’s little more than a ghost in my body’s machine, but he’s been a guiding force and I’ve followed. He’s silent now. But I know Daniel would deny Em’s involvement as much as me.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jason says. “We can take the girls some place and let off some steam.”

Bree perks up. “We could go shoot some pool,” she suggests, “or walk laps in the mall.”

And drive past the scene of the animal attack? No thank you. “What about the winter Sports Complex in North Muskegon?”

“In a blizzard?” Jason scoffs and raises his eyebrows. “How about my house and some video games? Hell, board games if it makes you happy.”

Jason and I gather the wrappers and empty cups after we stand. Bree stows the tray on the rack next to the napkin dispenser. When I turn from stuffing the trash into the bin, Emma stands rigid, fists furled at her sides. I follow the angle of her face, and see a familiar Audi turn into the parking lot. Crap. There go my hopes for the day. Maybe we can still get out of here in time.

“Let’s go, Em.”

Only, Emma’s not listening. She’s frozen in place, a couple tables from Marin’s shrine, a few feet from me.

Why is Em reacting like this?

No time to muddle it over. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas Eve. One long stride covers the distance between me and Em and I grab her hand.

“Hey, Emergizer,” I plead. “Let’s get going before Jason hotwires the car…”

“He wouldn’t dare,” she says, snapping out of it. “He’s not good with electronics.”

I give her a smile and squeeze her hand. She returns them both, and follows as I lead the way to the door. Too late to escape Hailey, though. The far side door opens, a gust of wind blowing past and sucking the warmth and comfort from M-n-Cs with it.

Hailey struts in, pauses to dramatically swish her hair from her face. A fluffy black scarf frames her face, managing to make her eyes glow an icy green behind her glasses. Paper crinkles when she tucks a boutique shopping bag under her arm. Then Hailey removes her gloves with a flourish and aims a sassy wave at me and Emma.

Emma bristles. I can’t blame her. The last time she saw my ex-girlfriend was when Hailey kissed me in front of Em and her friends.

“What is she doing here?” Emma grinds out between clenched teeth.

“No clue, but I don’t think it’s buying coffee.”

After waving at us, and I believe waiting until the entire restaurant sensed something was going down, Hailey strides to Marin’s shrine.

She places the shopping bag on the floor by her feet and makes a big deal of leaning in close, looking at the pictures, reading the poems. Just her presence manages to defile people’s memories. Then she has the balls to rearrange items to make room at the edge of the table. Seemingly pleased, she lifts the shopping bag and pulls something furry and dark from its depths. Her coat shields what it is and what she’s doing, until she steps back.

A large plush werewolf crouches on the table, Nikki Cumming’s pink teddy bear in its mouth.

Someone gasps. Bree mutters something foul. Jason, too.

“Let me handle this,” I say, unwinding Em’s fingers from mine.

“What?” Emma huffs. “Like you did on Christmas Eve?”

She could’ve slapped me. The words sting, root me to the spot long enough for Em to stalk up to Hailey.

“Can you be any more bitchy?” Em snaps.

Hailey’s expression makes my stomach clench and blood chill. A satisfied bitch smile, the one she uses when she’s going to get her way.

“Possibly,” Hailey says, all nonchalant. She pulls her smart phone from her purse, captures a picture of her handiwork, then tucks the phone in the breast pocket of her coat. “Why? would you like me to?”

“This,” Emma says, snatching up the horrid stuffed animal, “is bad enough. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Just showing my respect.” Hailey’s smirk never fades as Emma removes the teddy bear from its jaws, and replaces it on the table. She crosses her arms and tips her weight back on one hip while Emma rams the werewolf toy into the paper bag on the floor, then shoves it at Hailey’s feet.

“Respect?” Em’s temper’s rising; she broadcasts it in her stance, the way she leans closer to what’s making her angry. A muscle feathers and ticks on her jaw. “That is disrespect!”

“Em,” I say, stepping in to diffuse the situation. “She’s not worth it.”

“No,” Em agrees with a shake of the head, “no, she’s not. Hailey, you need to leave.”

Hailey spreads her arms and says, “This is a public place. I have every right to be here. Unless the owner asks me to leave.”

I settle a hand on Emma’s shoulder, ready to grab her if I need to. She’s punched people, and God knows Hailey would probably use something like that to sue her.

“You,” Emma jabs a finger at Hailey’s face, “are only here to see who you can piss off. Well, congratulations, you win. I’m pissed.”

Hailey taps Emma’s hand with a glove. “Don’t point your fingers at me.”

“Or what?”

“She’ll cause you a lot of trouble,” I say and tighten my grip on Em’s shoulder.

Em executes a perfect spin under my hand and evades me. She kicks the bag with the monster toy to the door, and stops less than an inch from Hailey.

Nose to nose with my manipulative ex-girlfriend, Emma growls, “Or what? You’ll kiss my boyfriend again?”

“
Your
boyfriend?” Hailey’s voice drips disdain. “He was mine and will be again. You want to talk about worth? You’re not worthy of him.”

“Take. That. Back.” Em stresses every word.

“Or what?” Hailey bumps Em’s nose and pushes her.

I have long enough to think, oh God, here we go, and make a grab for Emma that she avoids. Em doesn’t answer, verbally. She smacks Hailey hard cross the right cheek.

“You hit me!” Hailey gasps.

“Maybe next time I’ll do worse,” Emma growls. “Quit messing with us.”

“What are you going to do?” Hailey says in a perfect imitation of fear.

“You’ll find out.” Emma’s answer is fire and ice. “Take your damn animal and get out!”

If possible, Hailey’s grin cuts deeper into her cheeks. She tips her head, holds Em in a long gaze then nods slightly. Coddling her struck cheek, Hailey walks toward the door. She pauses there and back kicks the shopping bag to the memorial. Without looking back, she pulls on her gloves and then disappears into the snow blowing past the windows.

“Bitch,” Em says. She strides to the rumpled bag, nabs it from the floor and then shoves it into a trash bin. “I didn’t like Marin, but that was just wrong.”

“It was,” I say and hold my arm out for Emma to tuck under. Too many people saw their fight. I can’t help thinking Emma’s feisty, throw-a-punch side chose the wrong time to come out. Even if everyone here believes Hailey deserved it.

Jason and Bree stand by the opposite door, both looking at Em with masked expressions. I can only guess what’s going on beneath their careful composure. Jason’s probably wondering what set Emma off, if it’s part of her reoccurring fits of memory lapses and disappearances. I’m betting Bree’s part pleased that Emma cuffed Hailey, part worried it will come back to bite her in the butt.

I’m worried about it, too.