Sweet Poison (11 page)

While they continued to talk, Luke got up and stepped outside his door. “Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“Charity’s talking to that guy I told you about. Corey Hodge.” They looked so cozy that Luke wished he’d remembered to tell her about him. But the truth was, after Hodge had stomped out of his office the other day, he never expected to see him again. “She really attracts the nutcases.”

“She’s easy to talk to. Who’d think being kind could get you in trouble?”

Luke continued to study Hodge. “I suppose if you were desperate, you might think he was good-looking. He bounces around a lot, kind of like a boxer. And he wears these tight muscle Ts to show off his pecs.” He laughed. “Maybe he’s a muscle queen.” The fact was, he reminded Luke of a coiled spring.

“You better have a conversation with Charity about him,” said Christopher. “She needs to know who he is, just in case he’s putting the moves on her.”

“I will.”

“Or I can call her. Why don’t you let me do that?”

“Go ahead. But I think I should say something, too. I know she’s your friend, but sometimes she’s as thick as a brick.”

“Don’t be angry with her.”

“How the hell can I not be angry? Sure, you came out to the church all on your own, but she was the one who let it drop that you had a partner. And that’s what really put you in hot water, according to the Methodist handbook of mortal sins.”

“She wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s her main problem,” said Luke, “she doesn’t think. But hey, I don’t want to argue, especially not about her. Actually, I need to get going. We’ve got another virus. I’m sorry I have to put in so many late hours.”

“It won’t last much longer.”

“Can’t say exactly when I’ll get home.”

“I may be in bed.”

Years ago, that would have been a come-on. Now it meant that
Luke shouldn’t wake him up if he was sleeping. “Love you,” he whispered.

Hodge and Charity were still deep in conversation. He was about to head over and pull her away, give her a good talking to, when he spotted Gail Chamberlain, his supervisor, making straight for him.

“Oh shit,” he said under his breath. The sight of her always made his mood go sour.

“Luke,” she called, motioning him into his office. “That link is broken again, the one you worked on the other day. And so is the link that takes people to our video page. Drop everything else you’re working on and figure out what’s wrong.”

“I’m on it.”

“I’ve never worked on a campaign before where we had so many problems with the Web site.”

“I didn’t design the thing. Whoever did, in my opinion, did a crappy job. I can redesign it if you want, but it will take time.”

“No, just keep fixing it when it breaks.”

Luke spent the next few hours repairing the malfunctioning links. When he finally did get up to go talk to Charity, he discovered that both she and Hodge were gone.

With Charity behind him on the cycle, her arms around his stomach, her body pressed against his back, Corey sped down University all the way to Dinkytown, then cut over the 10th Avenue bridge to Cedar. He gunned the motor each time they came to a light, impatient to get to the West River Road, where there would be fewer cars. He’d packed a pint of Beam and a blanket in his leather saddlebags for when they stopped.

By ten-fifteen, they were sitting under the stars, passing the bottle back and forth.

“I’ve never been out with a cop before,” said Charity, clearly impressed with her good luck.

Corey regretted now that he hadn’t told her the truth back at the campaign office, but if he had, he was pretty sure she never would
have gone for a ride with him. And now, if he fessed up and she freaked out and ran off on him, it could snowball into an even bigger problem. If they had sex and he told her later, she’d feel like he’d used the cop thing to get into her pants. It was a no-win situation, unless they didn’t have sex. But that was like asking a starving man not to eat.

“I like you a lot,” said Corey, turning to her, putting his arm around her waist. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“No, I like it.”

“That guy I met the other day. Gabriel?” At the sound of his name, he could feel her body tense.

“What about him?”

“How long did you two date?”

“A year or so.”

“Was it serious?”

She took a sip from the bottle of Jim Beam. “Yeah.”

“Why’d you break it off? I mean, he looked like a successful guy.”

“His parents are superwealthy.”

“Does he have a job?”

“He’s a headhunter.”

“A what?”

She laughed. “He works at his dad’s company. It’s an executive-recruiting firm.”

“What the hell does a headhunter do?”

“Look for people to steal away from one company to place at another company for more money. It’s legal, and highly lucrative, but it can be sleazy. Technically, Gabe screens, interviews, and then recommends people for executive or senior management positions. He’s got a business degree, but he hates business. He was just doing what his father wanted. He liked the job at first, but now he thinks his dad is dishonest. He wants to go back to school, maybe get a degree in art. We used to go to the Art Institute at least once a week. But he’s had a lot of trouble with depression. Sometimes he has a hard time even getting out of bed.”

“Any reason?” He handed her the bottle again, but she shook her head.

“He thinks he was responsible for his brother’s death.”

“Was he?”

“In a way. It’s a long story.”

He could tell she didn’t want to get into it. “But you dumped him?”

She seemed to retreat inside herself for a few seconds. “It’s hard to talk about. We weren’t just dating, we were engaged. But I couldn’t go through with it. I thought I knew him, but—”

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Corey, pulling her closer. “I get the picture.”

“I got a restraining order against him yesterday. Maybe he’ll finally stop calling, stop following me around.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes restraining orders just make a guy mad. Where’s he live?”

“With his dad and his dad’s second wife. In Tangletown.” She mentioned an address.

“Trust me. He tries anything, and I’ll be all over it.”

Charity turned, looked deep into his eyes. “I think this time, I finally got lucky. I feel really safe with you.”

They sat snuggled together for a while longer, talking, laughing softly, looking up at the stars, and then Corey leaned over and kissed her. She didn’t resist. Moving his other arm around her, he laid her down against the blanket. “This okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she whispered.

“You’re beautiful, you know that? Just the kind of girl I was hoping to meet.”

Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse. Her body rose at the touch of his hand. “I want you,” he whispered.

“I want you too,” she breathed.

Her words flooded him with desire—and with a kind of gratitude.

N
eil Kershaw set his briefcase on one of the empty chairs.

Jane felt the force of a quick, intense appraisal as he sat down.

The back room of the Lyme House pub was softly lit by wall sconces and washed by firelight from a round, copper fireplace in the center of the room. It was a good place for a quiet conversation.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, glancing up at a waiter. “Oh, hi. What’s your bar scotch?”

“Cutty Sark.”

“Great. Make it a Cutty and water. Thanks.”

Jane sipped from a glass of sauvignon blanc. She guessed he was in his forties, though he could have been older. He had a strong face, big eyes, big nose, big mouth. All of his features seemed oversized, but taken as a whole, he was mildly attractive. He wore a school signet ring on his right hand, a gold wedding band on his left. His clothes were casual, a plaid flannel shirt tucked into brown cords. His only unusual feature was the long graying ponytail tied with a strip of tie-dyed muslin.

He made himself comfortable in the chair opposite her while his gaze wandered the room. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me. Like I
said, I didn’t want to talk to you about this over the phone. It seems we have a … friend in common.”

“And who would that be?”

“Julia Martinsen.”

Jane did her best to keep her expression neutral. “What about her?”

He was clearly nonplussed by her lack of response. “There’s no reason you should trust me, I suppose. Let me explain. Julia and I first met in Pretoria, South Africa, and then later in Gaborone, Botswana, where she had a small house. I assume you know this, but prior to her time in Africa, she’d been working on HIV/AIDS in the U.S. She left because she felt she could do more good over there.”

“How much do you know about her work in the U.S.?”

“Not a lot. She doesn’t talk much about her past.”

For good reason, thought Jane. She knew a hell of a lot more about Julia than he did.

“I work with Harvard, the University of Minnesota, and internationally with the UN. I’ve spent the last eight years working on the AIDS crisis in sub-Saharan Africa, mainly Zambia. I’m a Minnesota boy, born and raised. I come back a few times a year.”

The waiter arrived with his drink. Kershaw thanked him and took a sip before he continued. “I don’t know how much you know about Africa or AIDS. Africa is the epicenter—ground zero for the pandemic. We may think nuclear war or environmental disaster will be the undoing of the human race, but I’d put my money on microbes. I used to think I burned the candle at both ends, but Julia, she had the most fierce commitment to her work of anybody I’ve ever known. It’s what drew me to her. She was utterly fearless. She chose the neediest, the most dangerous clinics. She’d go into the bush, visit villages where she was met with not only total silence but often outright hostility.

“Sometimes I’d visit a clinic where she was working and I’d find that she’d been up for more than thirty-six hours. It was easy to forget about time because the situation is so dire. I’d make her come
back with me to where I was staying, force her to eat, to sleep. She’d thank me, but the next day, she’d be back at it again. I worked mainly in South Africa from ‘05 to ‘07, so it was hard to keep track of her, but I did my best. I was the one who finally demanded she see a doctor. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but she contracted TB a year ago. I knew she was sick, but she refused to admit it. She kept saying it was just a cough, that she was tired because she was putting in such long hours. My worst fear was that she contracted HIV. It often goes hand in hand with TB in Africa. But she was clean, thank God. She’s much better now, but … well, she’s not fully recovered, physically or emotionally. The years in southern Africa and her illness really took it out of her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jane. She had no intention of giving this guy any information until she knew what he wanted. “But why did we have to meet for you to tell me all this?”

“Because you’re her friend. She traveled with two photographs that were always with her. One of you, and one of a man named Leo. I assumed that he was an old love, a boyfriend or husband, and that you were her best friend.”

What this guy didn’t know about Julia could fill a book.

“What I’ve come to tell you isn’t all good news. First, I wanted you to know that Julia’s come home to the cities to recuperate, and perhaps to stay. I don’t think she’s decided yet. And second, I thought you needed to have some perspective on what she’s been doing with her life these past few years. I guess, mostly, I was hoping that it might help you understand why she’s not in a very good place at the moment. If she hasn’t contacted you, she will. It was clear to me that you’re one of the main reasons she decided to move back here.”

“She talked about me?”

“Enough to know that you’re extremely important to her.”

“When you say she’s not well emotionally, what do you mean?”

He rubbed his jaw. “She’s not the same Julia I first got to know. She doesn’t seem to have many internal breaks. If she gets something into her head, she can’t stop herself from acting on it.”

“I think she was always like that,” said Jane.

He furrowed his brow. “You probably know her better than I do. But there
is
a difference. She seems more volatile, and at the same time more vulnerable. I feel as if I’m betraying her in some way, telling tales behind her back, but I guess I’m offering this information so that when she does contact you, you’ll understand why you need to be gentle with her. She’ll get her bearings, I’m sure of that. She’s an incredible woman, probably the strongest, most admirable person I’ve ever known.”

“That’s quite a statement.”

“But it’s true. To be around a human being who’s that passionate, that good, well, it’s like being on a constant high.”

“Are you two close?”

“I wish I could say we were, but it’s just a friendship.” He stared down into his drink. “There’s some hidden part of her, something that drives her, that I may never understand. Perhaps you do. Or if you don’t, maybe one day she’ll open up to you about what it is.”

“Do you plan to stay in touch with her?”