Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (52 page)

Over the next two days, Tony grew stronger. His parents visited each day, as did Bethany. Even Dora stopped by again.

And Lisa. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life. Everything. Fixed. Except for Charlotte, and there was no fix for that.

Keith Lynch stopped by the day after Tony woke from recovery. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said as he slid into the guest chair. “When I heard the news, I feared the worst.”

“It won’t happen again.” Tony hoped his boss didn’t ask him how he was so sure of this.

But Keith regarded him with warm, honey-brown eyes full of concern. The same color—and shape—as Violet’s, Tony realized with a start. And Charlotte’s. “You’re one hell of a lucky guy,” he said.

“Guess so.” Tony didn’t feel lucky. He was relieved when Keith left without pressing him for answers he didn’t want to give.

He found himself thinking of Violet. A lot. He’d always liked her, enjoyed talking to her, but her almost constant presence in his thoughts now had to be because of her disquieting resemblance to Charlotte. It wasn’t just her appearance, but something more, an inner beauty, a self-acceptance that transcended the harsh reality of being an overweight woman in today’s image-conscious society. Charlotte hadn’t been heavy, but she was the same height, and she’d possessed that same inner strength, that same confidence. Violet had to be related, though since she was adopted, chances were the connection would forever remain a mystery. Maybe once he got his head straightened out, went a few months without warping, he’d ask her out—

Footsteps in the doorway, a light knock on the open door. “Tony?” A man’s voice he recognized but couldn’t quite place. More footsteps, then the face. Ubiquitous smile, black ponytail flipping behind the man’s shoulder.

“Everly. What do you want?” Tony tried to make his voice harsh, but it only sounded wheezy.

“I saw you on the news last week.” Everly took the guest chair. “Wondered if you might reconsider—”

“Go to hell.”

“I take it that means no.”

Tony glared at him and grabbed the remote, his finger poised over the nurse call button.

“A body in the river.” Everly shook his head and made a tsk tsk noise. “Jeez, Tony, first the flood, and now you go back and get tossed off a bridge. Don’t you want—”

“I jumped,” Tony said without thinking. Why did he tell Everly that?

“Christ, are you trying to kill yourself? I told you it’s for good if you do yourself in, didn’t I?”

“Better that than what Pippin would’ve done—”

Everly recoiled. “Theodore Pippin? What’s he like? I heard he was like McCarthy— oh, shit, you weren’t in his book, were you?”

Fear coursed down Tony’s spine, clamped an iron fist around his ribs. Had he endured death a third time, let Charlotte take the fall for him, only to find himself at the Society’s mercy in his own time? Was there no escape? “Get out.”

Everly didn’t move. “You—”

Tony jabbed the nurse call button on his remote.

Everly rose, held up his hands, palms out. “Chill out, Tony.” He dropped his hands. “You did something, didn’t you? Changed something.”

He
doesn’t know.
“Get out,” Tony repeated. Where was the damn nurse when you needed one?

Everly rose, his Cheshire cat smile finally gone. “Listen, Tony, I don’t know what you did, but be careful. I don’t agree with Pippin’s fanaticism or his methods, but there are others who want to return to those ways. And their numbers are growing. I have to admit, they may be right...”

Something about the knit of his brows abated Tony’s anger. “About what?”

“The effects of changing the flow of time. If you’d listened to me—”

“What?” Now Tony wanted to know.

Everly spoke slowly, deliberately. “Rips in the fabric of time, remember?”

Tony stared at the sheet over his lap, the contour of the new scar on his belly visible through his hospital gown. Had he created a new universe by saving Bethany? By leaving his calculator in 1933? By
(leaving Charlotte to die)
going back for it? No wonder the Society was so opposed to changing the past. If the fabric between universes was stretched thinner every time someone made a change, the result would be...

Utter chaos.

Everly leaned against the door frame. “Some people believe that’s what happened to Pippin’s wife.”

“That psycho was married?”

Everly shrugged. “Some say Mrs. Pippin just got tired of her husband’s jumping into the past for weeks at a time, and left him. But he wrote in his journals that she disappeared through a rift in time.”

Tony stared down while his mind tumbled around the possibilities. Killer mosquitoes. Bacteria. Viruses thought to be eradicated, that humans no longer were immune to. Larger animals, even people. How would he feel if someone else’s messing in the time stream took Bethany from him again? He lay his hands flat on his lap and looked up at Everly. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me any more. I’m through.”

“Through what?”

“Through with this time travel crap. You told me how to stop it, that’s all I wanted.”

“Don’t give it all up, Tony. It’s wonderful. Observe and learn. But be careful.” Everly moved toward the door. “Because they’re watching. Everywhere. Every
when
.”

Everly almost bumped into someone as he walked out the door. “Oh! Excuse me, ma’am.” Tony couldn’t hear the feminine acknowledgment, but he’d heard the rapid click of toenails on the tile. Seconds later, a beagle mix crossed the doorway—a pet therapy dog—with a golden-haired woman on the other end of its leash.

The dog lady? “Hey!” Tony said. She smiled at him as she walked past, but didn’t stop.

He’d gotten a closer look at her than ever before. Her blue eyes twinkled, and though no wrinkles marred her model-perfect face, he sensed she was much older than she looked.

And she was indeed the woman who’d cut him off on the way to the airport in Boston.

“Alpha?” Tony hauled himself upward and almost yanked the IV drip from his hand as he slid out of bed.

Another detail snapped into memory. The time when he was ten, he hadn’t just climbed into a car with a stranger, she’d pulled a knife on him. A polished silver knife, with an image of the planet Saturn engraved in its handle. “My God,” Tony breathed. Did he have a guardian angel? From the Saturn Society, of all places?

Pulling the IV stand behind him, he hobbled to the door, no easy task with his energy still low. Recovery with a life-threatening injury must be more draining. But when he got there, the dog lady was nowhere in sight. “Excuse me,” he called to a passing nurse. “Is there a pet therapy person around here?”

“We don’t have anyone scheduled for today.” The nurse frowned. “And you have no business being out of bed, Mr. Solomon.”

“Please...” The energy he’d expended getting up was almost all he had. “I need to talk to her. Did she go into another room?”

The nurse gave him a stern look but stepped inside each nearby room to look while Tony leaned against the wall. “There’s no one here, Mr. Solomon. Now let’s get you back into bed.”

“If you see her, come get me.” His energy spent and hope gone, Tony let the nurse help him back to his room. “Tall, thin but not skinny, blond hair... and usually with a dog.” The nurse assured him she would, but Tony suspected she was patronizing him.

He’d find that dog lady. Somehow, he’d find out where the hell his guardian angel came from—and when.

Oily smells. Chemicals of some sort. Metal beneath her hand. She rubbed it, yawned, looked around. Where was she?

She squinted, and her eyes gradually focused. Light filtered in through narrow, grimy windows. She was lying in... she patted the ridged metal again, gazed around. A metal trough, with a windowed enclosure at one end. She was in the back of a truck. In someone’s garage. How had she gotten there?

Something rumbled overhead. She looked up. A motor, with a belt. The garage grew brighter. Her head whipped around. The motor was making the door go up.

“...dang pipe wrench! Gotta be in the truck.” A man’s voice, each word carefully enunciated. Footsteps on concrete as the voice grew louder. “Ain’t in the house. Ain’t in the shed, done looked all over.” She sat up, her energy returning, when the footsteps came around the truck.
Please don’t let him hurt me,
she prayed. She saw him first, a skinny fellow with horn-rimmed glasses. His eyes lit on her and he jumped back. “Whoa! Wh- who are you?”

“I’m...” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. So dry... how long had it been since she’d had a drink? “I’m...” Terror crushed the air from her lungs.
Good heavens, who am I?
No name came to mind. No idea where she might have come from. “I’m...” She spied a pipe wrench lying in the truck bed. “Is this what you were looking for?” She held it up.

The man’s eyebrows went up, then a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, that’s it!” She crawled toward the tailgate and handed it to him. “Thanks,” he said. “Vince’ll be madder’n a hornet if I don’t get that leak under the sink fixed afore he gets home.” He started to turn around.

“Um, sir!” He stopped and cocked his head at her. “Please,” she asked, “could I have a drink of water? And perhaps... use the necessary?”

His face went blank. “Necessary what?”

The fellow wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “The toilet.”

“Oh! Sure.” He waited while she scooted to the truck’s tail. His eyes riveted on her dress as she stood. “Wow, that’s a doozy of a stain.”

She looked down, bit off a scream. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Blood. Lots of it. Dried, crusty, brown. All down the front of her dress. Not hers. She was tired, hungry, stiff from sleeping—for days, it seemed—in the back of the truck. Where had the blood come from? So much, she must have killed someone...

“Hey,” the man said. “Did you have one of them double fudge sundaes from Freezy Delight? Man, they’re good, ain’t they? I always wear a bit of mine, but you must’ve spilt the whole thing. That sucks.”

“Um... yes.” Definitely a bit slow. But kindness filled his eyes as he held out his hand, so she took it and hopped down from the truck.

He went to a couple of big, shiny black bags by the garage door, tore one open, and started rummaging through it. “That dress is ruined. Maybe there’s something in here you can wear...” He pulled out a shirt, shook it, and held it up. “Here, try this...”

She put her hand to her chest. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“It’s all right, Stephanie’s just gonna give all this stuff away anyhow.” She took the shirt while he continued pawing through the bag. “There’s gotta be some sweats in here too...”

She held up the shirt. A white undershirt, with words printed on it. Dayton Daily News 10K Run. Well, at least she knew what the
Dayton Daily News
was, if not a 10K Run. “Thank you,” she said as he thrust a navy blue wad of clothing at her.

Pants. Cotton knit, with a drawstring waist. Pajamas?

She didn’t normally wear pants, she realized. But if anyone saw her in that bloodstained dress, they’d ask questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. She had killed someone, she felt the certainty down to the marrow of her bones. But who? And more important, why? “I’d... could I change now, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh. Oh, sure! Just come on in the house when you’re done.” After he left she slipped out of her dress, but as she dropped it onto the truck bed, something small and flat fell out of the pocket.

She picked it up, staring at the little, numbered squares...
Calculator.
That was what the device was called. One of the red chips that absorbed the sunlight was missing, and the metal case was scratched and crimped in places, as if someone had taken it apart, then hastily reassembled it.

A sense of ill flooded her, and she almost dropped the device again.

She had to get rid of it. Something terrible would happen if she didn’t. She didn’t know what, or how she knew it, but the certainty was so strong she was barely able to lay it aside long enough to put on the clothes the man had given her. They felt funny, but comfortable.

Better to be seen in pajamas than look like a murderer.

I killed someone.
Whoever it was, he had to be dead after losing so much blood. And the calculator, strange as it seemed, had something to do with it.