Crazy in Chicago (8 page)

His eyes gleamed. “Can I assume that this means you like me? At least a little?”

Roberta couldn't help it. She grinned. “I guess so. A little.”

Cody sighed dramatically and pulled her closer until her head pressed against his chest and his chin rested on her head.

“I wonder,” he said softly, “if I passed out now and fell to the ground, would you perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on me?”

Roberta stifled a giggle. “Maybe.”

“If I got so cold that I developed hypothermia, would you take off all your clothes and warm me with your body?”

“What? Give me a break!” Roberta shook his chin off her head and looked up into his eyes. Deep, dark eyes, full of laughter. And something else much more serious. Something that made her heart speed up and her throat parch. She swallowed and licked her dry lips.

“You don't give up, do you?” she whispered.

His gaze held hers. “No. Not when there's something—or someone—I want.”

Silence reigned as awareness of each other and the need simmering inside grew stronger with each passing second. Holding his gaze, Roberta teetered on the edge between what she wanted to do and what she should do.
 

Because, despite all her goals, at this exact moment she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers once more. She wanted his breath on her neck, the touch of his hands on her body. She wanted to explore the promise she could see shimmering clearly in those dark, dark eyes. She wanted—

She shut her eyes and wrenched herself away from him. What she wanted, she couldn't have. Not when her first real chance to delve into a potential alien abduction was at hand. Her chance to finally make her mark in the field of UFOs and extraterrestrials.

She bit her lip hard and opened her eyes. The tall, charming man who represented her best chance, raised his lips in the smile she knew had broken a score of hearts.

His eyes danced. “I think you've revived me. Come on, let's go.”

* * *

In the apartment five stories above, Allie nursed the baby in worried silence. The child fussed and didn't drink much. Finally she fell into a fitful sleep, and Allie settled her in her crib behind the screen at the foot of their bed.

When she returned to the living room, Erik stood staring out the window, much as he had when Cody and Bobbi arrived. Allie stopped beside him. She looked outside, but saw nothing to hold his attention. After several silent moments, she spoke. “That's the third time this week Star has screamed like that, and turned all white.”

Erik didn't respond. Allie turned towards him and covered his hand with hers. “What's going on, Erik?”

Erik regarded her solemnly. To the casual observer, his expression remained the same, but Allie knew him well enough to see the worry burning in his eyes.

“I'm not sure. I—it's too soon to be sure.”

“Sure of what? Come on, Erik. Now isn't the time to go unresponsive on me. This is our daughter we're talking about. Our baby!”

Erik's mouth tightened in a grim line. “I know. Don't think I'm not concerned. But I need more time to be sure. For all we know, maybe every baby does this. Do you know? I know I don't.”

“But what about Cody?” Allie persisted. “Why did he almost faint when he picked Star up?”

Erik shook his head.

“And you heard what Cody said,” Allie continued, unable to let it go. “He said he'd had insomnia for more than a week—for ten days. Ten days! That's when Star was born—and the first time she screamed like that and lost all her color.”

Allie paused, then asked the question she knew was bothering both of them. “Do you think Cody's insomnia and nausea and the baby's screaming are connected?”

After a long moment of silence, Erik sighed. He turned back to staring out the window. “I don't know,” he said reluctantly. “They could be.”

“Maybe we should tell him.”

Alarm flashed across Erik's face, destroying any illusion of impassivity. “Tell him what?”
 

Allie stepped back, surprised by his uncharacteristic outburst.

Immediately Erik's expression softened and regret showed in his eyes. “I'm sorry for snapping. But you know we can't tell him. Not now. Not ever. It would threaten everything. You. Me. Our life here. But most of all,” he looked significantly at the folding stand separating the main room from the bedroom, “it would threaten Star and her chance to have a normal life.”

He held Allie's hands tightly between his own. “No. At present, we have to wait. Wait and see. That's our only choice.”

“But Cody is . . .”

“Cody is a strong, resourceful man. You know it as well as I do. He'll be all right.”

 

Chapter 4

 

The insistent ringing of the phone shook Cody from the folds of the warm doze into which he'd drifted only moments before. He straightened, then blinked groggily. It took a moment or two before he realized he was at his desk in the newsroom, this morning's edition of
The Streeter
laid out before him, anchored at one corner by his untouched coffee.

Muttering, he reached for the phone. Falling asleep at his desk. It wasn't even nine-thirty in the morning. You'd think he was ninety, not thirty.

He raised the receiver. “Walker here.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah. Oh. Okay. I'll be right there to get it.”

 
It was Jack in the
Streeter
's library, or morgue as they liked to call it. Cody had asked him less than thirty minutes ago to dig up paper and computer files about alleged alien abductions and UFO sightings in the Chicago area, as well as files on SUFOW and any other local UFO groups he could find. He'd already pulled at least fifteen files, as well as a list of websites.

Cody stood up in his cubicle and stretched. Unlike the majority of general newsroom reporters and lower-rung columnists, he had a little privacy. Sure, the walls were only industrial green baffles, but it gave the illusion of privacy. He squinted up at the overhead fluorescent lighting. The lighting was just as sickly though.
 

At least it wasn't blue!

Cody frowned. Where had that thought come from? He'd seen or thought he'd seen an eerily familiar streak of blue light yesterday. More than once, too. It had bothered him. Okay, maybe it had scared him. Insomnia and nausea were bad enough. He didn't need to start seeing things, too.

He rolled his shoulders and groaned, then headed out of his cubicle into the main newsroom. With so little sleep, each day he felt more off kilter than the day before. Today had been the worst. He usually drove to work, but this morning he hadn't been able to bring himself to unlock the car and get in. Each time he'd started towards it, something had stopped him. He couldn't explain it. He just knew he couldn't get into the car. He'd ended up taking an el train, stuffed in between scores of commuters, and had arrived at work late. None of that had helped his equilibrium.

He lumbered through the newsroom, half-heartedly nodding and responding to the greetings and quips thrown his way.

“Hi, Cody. How's it going?”

“Hey, Cody. Seen any flying saucers lately?”

“Mornin', Cody. Found a cute alien to date yet?”

It hadn't taken long for the news that he was writing about UFOs and extraterrestrials to hit the grapevine. Skeptical staff members had made him the butt of jokes, sarcasm and witticisms for the last week. It didn't matter how many times he pointed out that this was just a story, one he neither believed nor disbelieved. And he just wasn't up to his usual witty comebacks.

He thought of Roberta and smiled. Roberta who was as much an enigma as the question of whether aliens did or did not exist. She was cute, and warm, with a practical, fresh charm that made him think she'd come from outside Chicago. How did someone like her end up working for a fringe group like SUFOW, and worse, for that distasteful man, Garnet Jones? Was it the pay, or was it her strong interest in the subject, an interest sparked in college?

Like last night. Cody frowned. Roberta had driven them home from Allie and Erik's apartment. Though Cody hadn't suffered another nausea attack, the thought of driving his Corvette had made his stomach turn. During the rather jerky drive home, Roberta had suggested, first cautiously and then more insistently, that perhaps his insomnia and nausea attacks were related to his disappearance a year ago.

Cody had rubbed his head and sighed. “I don't see how that's possible,” he'd countered. “Except for amnesia, I had no real ill effects from the disappearance. Why would I start having insomnia and nausea now?”

“Well, sometimes people have delayed reactions to events, especially if they're traumatic,” Roberta had argued. “Look at rape victims, or childhood abuse victims. Sometimes they don't even remember what happened until years later. And then, only after months or years of stress-related symptoms, including sleeplessness and other nervous behavior.”

She paused. “I think you should go back over everything that happened to you before and after your disappearance. Look at the news stories. Talk to the police. Talk to Allie. Now that some time has elapsed, you might notice something you didn't then, something important that would jog your memory.”

“I've done that already.” Cody didn't like to admit the extent of his reticence. Besides, he'd pored over the news stories and police files for weeks to no avail. What could he possibly find out now that he didn't already know?
 

And something more important. “Even if I did find out more about what happened to me, how would that help my insomnia and nausea attacks?”

“Don't you see?” As Roberta had grown more animated, more adamant, her foot had pressed down harder on the gas pedal, sending them speeding over the limit. “Something's eating at you. You just don't know what it is. Like you said the other night, you realize now how much you resent having lost those six weeks of your life. Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something. The insomnia and nausea are just the physical effects of the turmoil inside. Maybe even the blue light you saw, too.”

Walking down the hall to the morgue, Cody grimaced at the recollection. Something else to plague him. He didn't like talking about his missing six weeks. Why would he want to delve into them in minute detail, something he'd already done for far too long in the first months after his return?

He shook his head. His and Roberta's parting had been strained after he'd made it clear he had no intention of revisiting the events of a year ago again. He'd told her he was certain he would sleep better that night.

He suppressed another yawn. If only he'd been right. He certainly needed the sleep. But here he was, another day after less than two hours of shut-eye.

Thoughtfully he entered the library and approached the counter. Could Roberta be right? He hated to think that stubbornness and an uncharacteristic reluctance to investigate on his part might be the only thing between him and resolving his current problems. Perhaps there was a connection. Perhaps yet another look at his disappearance was warranted.

A bearded man leapt up from his desk and gestured to a foot-high pile of files. “That's everything you requested. I may have a few more related files for you later today.”

Cody reached over to pick up the files. He paused, considered, then slowly lowered his hands to the counter.

“Thanks a lot. Before I go, I'd like you to get me another file.”

“Yes?”

Cody nodded. Apprehension rose in his throat, but he forced the words out anyway.

“I'd like the file on my disappearance last summer.”

* * *

Cody closed the file and tossed it onto the metal garden table. “Well, that's that. Another big zero.”

He slumped into his chair and rubbed his eyes. Early evening shadows darkened Roberta's patio, but it was still bright enough to read.

Roberta put down the photocopied news clipping she'd been reading. Cody, unaware she had her own set of clippings on his disappearance, had kindly provided her with photocopies of everything.

She studied Cody with concern. Despite his claims to the contrary, she knew he hadn't slept last night. Likely he'd suffered at least one or two nausea attacks today, too. The lack of sleep definitely showed, and not just in the deep circles under his eyes. In contrast to the good humor and charm she'd come to expect, he had snapped at her several times in the last hour.

Cody rubbed his temples and shut his eyes. An urge to reach out to him, to stroke his aching head and his weary body, to offer the physical comfort that only another warm human being can offer, came over her.

She bit her lip. That was a bad idea. She'd already slipped once in her resolution to remain friends only with Cody. She had no intention of doing it again. Male/female physical comforting might be the answer for him, but she knew what it would do to her: destroy her objectivity and her best chance yet to uncover a true alien abduction case. She couldn't, and wouldn't, let that happen.