Alien Heat (20 page)

Another tense night on the home front.

He knocked. Waited. Knocked again.

The door opened.

Teddy was barefooted, wearing the cutoff jeans and an oversized white shirt that hung down past the shorts. Her face was freshly scrubbed, and she wore no makeup. Her hair hung long and straight, past her shoulders, making her look very young. There were deep circles beneath her eyes, and the animation had gone from her face.

“Teddy, are you ill?”

She gave him a half smile. “I'm fine. Want to come in?”

He felt awkward. Wondered if she was unhappy to see him. If she'd notice the scent he wore. If she'd figure it out and hate him for it.

She pointed to a chair. The television wall was dark and quiet. Radio off. No book in sight.

“You sure you're all right?”

“Of course.” She sat down on the bed, put a pillow in her lap. Raised an eyebrow. “Get you a Coke or something, David? I didn't know you were coming. If I had of, I'd have put on some makeup and brushed my hair. But I didn't know.” She pulled a thread on the pillowcase, unraveling the hem.

“What is it?” There was no reason for her to confide in him, no reason for her not to shut him out. “Tell me,” he said again. Willing her to talk.

She was quiet a moment. Years of interrogation had given David a good sense of when to shut up.

She tilted her head sideways. “It's a funny thing about you, David. I knew when I met you that you were important to me.” She had the thread again. Unraveled three more inches of hem. “Knowing things, like I do—see, to me it's just a natural part of every day. It's there, David, that's all. It's in the air, it's all around you, you just tease it out. Or you can ignore it.

“Everybody has their way. Like other psychics? You always find each other—takes one to know one, believe me, it's true.”

David settled back in his chair, enjoying the sound of her voice, letting it wash over him.

“My brother's dead, happened a long time ago. And at the time, I knew it was coming, but I was a kid, and nobody believed me.”

He moved toward her, but she scooted backward on the bed. This was an area not to touch. Like his father.

She was circling, something big she hadn't said.

“See, David, the mind takes in so much, then stops. That's why psychics only get bits and pieces.” She leaned toward him. “But what I think is, it's
all
out there. Every single bit. You just have to stop being scared to go and get it. So many psychics, they're content, you know, with tiny little insights. They think that's all, they won't run with it. Because it's like taking a running jump off a cliff, and thinking, yeah, okay, you'll know how to fly once you get out there. But there's this voice in your head that says, come on, get real. People can't
fly
, what are you, nuts? I mean, David,
I
have doubts. I'm no different from any other neurotic human being. I have doubts, even when I
know
. There's always little nasty voices in your head, they say … they say, God, girl, you're such a faker. You're three bricks shy of a load. My mom used to say that to me all the time—three bricks shy of a load.”

David moved from the chair and settled on the edge of the bed. “What happened when your brother died?”

She was close to him, so close he could smell the hotel soap on her smooth, tan skin. Camay. It smelled sweet.

“He just died, David. A dumb accident, at my grandparents'. I told my mom, I told my dad, don't let him go. Nobody listened. I didn't trust my instincts then. Knowing what I know now … I wouldn't
let
him go. Still, I was just a kid, it wasn't my fault. If anybody's to blame, it's my mom and dad, for not listening. At the time I was so sure, everything was really clear. Then after it happened, I shut down.”

“What do you mean, shut down?”

She put her hand on his arm and he moved closer on the bed. “Shut down, David. The psychic stuff. It all went away.”

“How long?”

“Two years, and then some.” She squeezed his arm. “You know, this sounds stupid, but sometimes I think I meet people for a reason, because they need me in their life. I thought you needed me, David.”

Maybe I do, he thought. “What is it, Teddy? The fire?”

She was trying not to cry.

“Have you shut down, Teddy?”

“It's gone. Everything's quiet, everything's dead. There were so many people, David, and I heard them, clearly, like I was at some peak. And then that pregnant woman, in the ambulance. She died, and everything went dead. It's like I'm lost, David. I'm a long way from home and I can't find my way back.”

“You feel separate? Like everybody is behind glass and you can't get to them?”

“Don't want to,” she whispered.

“Welcome to the club.” He leaned close and kissed her.

It was a risk, of course, and when he thought about it afterward, he wondered how he'd found the nerve. He had never kissed another woman this way, not since he married Rose.

She could have been angry, she could have pointed out, quite accurately, that he was taking advantage of a vulnerable moment.

But she didn't. She kissed him as if she'd been waiting on him for a very long time.

He touched her throat, brushed his knuckles across the soft sweet skin. He kissed the tears that wet her cheeks, and pressed his body gently into hers, easing her backward on the bed.

“You sure?” he asked.

“I'm sure.”

He felt an acute elation, surprise that was not surprise. He put a hand beneath her shirt; it was loose and slipped easily over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were small and firm and cool. He put his mouth on one breast and squeezed the other in his hand. She made a low noise in the back of her throat and arched her back gently, saying his name three times fast.

He put his hand into the loose leg of the cutoff shorts, wondering about thong panties, and found she wore no panties at all.

“Bad girl,” he said softly, biting the edge of her ear.

She unfastened the buckle of his pants. “I'll show you bad.”

David cradled Teddy in his arm, her head in the crook of his shoulder. She ran a finger up and down his chest, and her touch made him sensitive, ticklish.

“I came to ask you about the Mind Institute,” he said.

She went tense beside him, and he was sorry he had brought it up.

“You got a funny way of asking.”

“We'll talk about it later.” He turned sideways and kissed her, sucked her tongue into his mouth. He sighed. “I have to go home.”

She nodded. Watched him while he got dressed. He went to the bathroom, looked out the tiny, frosted window. Still dark out, that much he could see.

The bathroom was still cluttered, worse than ever. David smiled and borrowed her toothbrush.

When he came out, she was sitting on the side of the bed clutching a pillow, breasts welling up over the top. He bent close and kissed her shoulder.

“David?”

“Hmmm?”

“You should know I'm not entirely what you think.”

“I know what you are, Teddy Blake. I've seen quite a lot of you.”

She grinned, rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, David. There's things about me you don't know. I'm talking about the case, the murder of Theresa Jenks. I'm talking about the Mind Institute. There's more to this than you have any idea.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not now, I can't.”

He thought about it. She watched him carefully, expectantly. She bit her bottom lip and blood welled over the soft red flesh.

“Whatever it is can wait till tomorrow, Teddy. What I know about you, I
know
. I like. You understand me?”

She nodded. Kissed him. He licked the blood off her bottom lip.

“Call you tomorrow,” he said, and walked out the door.

THIRTY-FOUR

David had the car windows down on his way home for what was left of the night. The wind was soft and humid, and he could smell fresh cut grass. The radio was turned low, the DJ's voice was pleasant and peaceful, and he smiled in the darkness as the woman promised the thirty-eighth remake of that Stone Age classic … “Unforgettable.”

He could only just hear the music over the noise of traffic, the rush of wind. He squinted into the rearview mirror, thinking how tired he looked, knowing that tonight he would not sleep.

David turned into the long gravel drive of his house, stopped halfway down and got out. He shut the door carefully, told the car to kill the engine and the lights, and stood in the darkness.

Wife and kids inside. One cat, one dog, one errant iguana. Two bunnies in the barn and a yearling cow that liked candy. A list of overdue bills in the computer.

He walked to the house, unhurried, gravel crunching beneath his feet. In the back of his mind, he planned. He would take Teddy to dinner tomorrow, he would take her to Pierre's. He checked his watch, saw it was after three-thirty. Tonight, then, since it was already tomorrow. He would wear the blue shirt, it was his favorite.

There was a light in the living room—the reading lamp, turned to the lowest setting. The petunias by the porch had crumpled and turned brown from lack of water, something he should have seen to.

The porch swing creaked as he went by. David told the front door to open locks. He went in quietly. The living room was medium neat—ice cream wrappers on the floor, licked clean by the dog, school discs on the chair, right by a backpack and one pink tennis shoe.

Rose, asleep on the couch.

He was able to look at her with an objectivity that surprised him. She was something of a beauty, his wife. Small and fine-boned, dangerous. Thick curly black hair, blue-violet eyes, the lashes dark against her cheeks. She wore nothing but a linen shirt and panties, and had wrapped herself in a blue wool blanket, like a moth inside a cocoon.

Asleep, she looked very sweet. He had seen her kill with her bare hands; she had a past in the DEA branch of the military that haunted her still; she was a hired mercenary in the fight for animal rights.

He was shocked not to feel any guilt. He had never once strayed, all the years of their marriage, but he knew what he should be feeling now, and he did not. Could they be so very alienated, that infidelity was beside the point?

Perhaps it always was.

He heard footsteps in the hall—one of his daughters. Lisa stumbled toward him, arms out, her voice small and heavy with sleep.

“Had a bad dream, Daddy.”

He pulled her close, smoothing hair out of a face so like his own, thinking how glad he was that he was home when she had a bad dream and needed him.

THIRTY-FIVE

David was dozing when the phone rang, and he picked it up on the second ring, thinking it would be her.

“Yo, David, wake you up?”

“What?”

“It's Mel. You remember me, we work together?”

“It's still dark out, Mel.”

“Yeah, well, it's almost five
A.M
, so it would be. Figured I better remind you, we're doing an early bird on Tatewood.”

“Tatewood?”

“Yeah, David, Tatewood, guy you wanted to talk to? Supper club fire, business manager, mortgages, Mind Institute.”

“I got it, Mel, I'm awake now.”

“You get anywhere with Teddy Blake last night?”

“
What
?”

“You know, the psychic. Said you were going to see what she knew about this Mind Institute. Thought you said you were awake?”

“Mel, let me get a shower. I'll meet you in front of Tatewood's place, we can talk then.”

David looked for the battered green Buick, saw it was parked four houses down from Tatewood's duplex. Mel had the seat on recline, his head turned to one side, eyes closed. His tie was loose, collar open, sport coat wadded in the backseat.

David shook his head. Early as it was, this was not a place to fall asleep with the windows open and the doors unlocked. Even in a car this old.

“What you looking at?” Mel's eyes stayed closed.

“Lipstick on the front of your shirt. Midsection, Mel, that's interesting. You sleep in your clothes?”

Mel opened one eye, then the other. “Not exactly. Somebody took my clean shirt, and to tell you the truth, I didn't sleep.”

“You should save this stuff for the weekend.”

“It is the weekend, David.”

“Miriam?”

Mel smiled.

“We have good relations with the coroner's office, Mel.”

“Relations are just getting better, David. This could work for us.”

“And it could backfire.”

“Get in, will you? I brought coffee.”

David opened the door to the passenger's seat and a red light flashed on the console.

“
Security breach
.”

“Guard off,” Mel said.

David paused, hand on the door. “You got this rigged?”

“I called it off. Go on, get in, it's safe.”

David sat down carefully, but nothing happened, and he let his breath out in a rush. He sniffed, smelling cinnamon.

“Elaki coffee?”

“Cinnamon rolls and human coffee. Bakery near Miriam's place.”

“She wouldn't give you breakfast, huh?”

“She doesn't like getting up this early.”

David opened the brown paper bag. “Me either.”

“The one on top is black, that's mine. The one with cream is on the bottom.”

It was a big cup, double order. David opened the top spout and wet steam escaped, coating his upper lip. He reached into the bag of cinnamon rolls, and Mel held out a hand. David gave him a napkin.

“Did I ask for a napkin?”

David handed him a cinnamon roll. “Where's String?”

“Gumby's meditating in a bog somewhere. He won't be in until later.”

“He's still mad about the van.”