Coming of Age (11 page)

Tirrell glanced back at Tonio, but the preteen seemed all right.
I'll ask him about it later,
the detective decided, turning his attention back to Cam. “Let's start with the first of March,” he told her, “and look at which Saturdays Dr. Jarvis was working.”

The session took nearly an hour and a half, and by the time Tirrell and Tonio left, Barona's four o'clock rush hour was already in progress. Fortunately, the city building wasn't too far from the university campus, and they arrived with Tirrell's temper still in good shape. Passing the front desk and the loungelike duty room, they went up the stairs to the third floor; but instead of going to the cracker-box office the Barona police had assigned them, Tirrell went to another office a few doors down.

Hob Paxton, Detective Second of Barona, was not amused by the report. “Do you realize who you're talking about, Tirrell? Matthew
Jarvis.
Probably Barona's greatest claim to fame. I can't let you go invading his privacy on the basis of some dates in some lab books.”

“Oh, come
on.
” Tirrell brought a finger down hard on the notebook resting in front of the other. “Every single day that we know Colin's kidnapper was in Ridge Harbor Jarvis was out of his lab—and they were the
only
Saturdays he was out. What more do you want?”

“Evidence that he was in Ridge Harbor on those days would help a lot.”

“All right,” Tirrell said. “Get me a records-check authorization and I'll try and find out when he charged up his car around the critical weekends.”

Paxton shook his head. “That's almost as bad as the radiophone trace. Forget it. Besides, all that could get you is how many kilometers he drove, not where he went.”

“It wouldn't even get you that much if he recharged at the other end of any long trips,” Weylin Ellery, Paxton's righthand, put in.

“If he was spying on Colin Brimmer, he wouldn't risk leaving a record of his presence that way,” Tirrell said shortly. His dislike of Weylin had begun about five minutes after their first meeting and was still growing like a healthy weed. The preteen combined a subtle self-righteousness with the irritating air of semi-private amusement kids in secret hive clubs often displayed to the rest of the world.

“Well, it's a moot question, anyway,” Paxton said. “We simply can't do anything like that without more proof, Tirrell.”

Lips pressed tightly together, Tirrell got to his feet.

“Perhaps we should go see Chief Li directly about this.”

Paxton's brow darkened just a bit. “If you want to do that there's no way I can stop you; but I can tell you right now the answer'll be the same,” he said coolly. “I don't know how you do things out east, though, but in Barona a visiting policeman usually doesn't threaten to go over his liaison's head.”

“Out east we're more interested in solving crimes than in carving out political hierarchies,” Tirrell countered. “Thanks for your time.” Turning, he stalked out of the room, Tonio on his heels.

“What do we do now?” the righthand asked when they were behind the closed door of their own office.

“We're going to find Jarvis ourselves,” Tirrell said, still fuming. “Even if he built that cabin with his own hands, he had to buy the materials somewhere, and he may have dropped enough clues along the way to give us a rough idea of where he is. Once we've got that we can scour the area on foot if we have to.”

“You're really sure he's got Colin, aren't you,” Tonio said, that odd look on his face again.

“I'm eighty percent convinced of it,” Tirrell said. “In a couple of days that number may go up.” He tapped the book he'd borrowed from Cam. “I want you to take this picture of Jarvis back to Ridge Harbor tonight. You'll ask Macvey to put a beard, glasses, and gray hair on it and then show it to Colin's sitter, and you'll also show it as it is to the hospital people who remember Oriana's visitor. Better make the picture part of a lineup in both cases—Macvey will know how to handle it.”

“Okay.” Tonio took the book, gazed at and through the picture. “Stan … what would Jarvis want with Colin? I mean, there's no reason for him to have set up a six-month vacation if he was giving Colin to a fagin, is there?”

Tirrell shook his head. “I can't think of one. I frankly don't know.”

“Do you suppose he's doing some sort of experiment on him? Like they do on all those little animals?”

Tirrell studied the other's face. “That really got to you, didn't it?” he asked.

The preteen shrugged uncomfortably. “I used to go to the library and watch animals like those playing around in their cages,” he said. “I didn't know people did things like … that … to them.”

“It has to be done,” Tirrell said, trying to remember his own reaction to that revelation when he was in school. But it was buried too deeply. “There are lots of things we have to do to animals to live. All the meat we eat comes from animals; so does leather and furs—”

“I know all that,” Tonio interrupted impatiently. “I'm not a child. It's just that … cows and trehhosts aren't so small and friendly looking. Or so defenseless.”

“I understand.” Tirrell let the silence hang in the air a few seconds, and then gestured minutely toward the book. “I'd like that picture in Macvey's hands as soon as possible.”

Tonio looked up and managed a faint smile. “Okay, I get the hint. You want me to phone the results to you or just fly them back?”

“Better hand-deliver them. Paxton's point about Jarvis being a civic landmark is well taken. I don't want to risk any leaks until we've got a solid case. There's that twenty percent chance he could be innocent, after all.”

“Right.” Sliding the jacket off the book, Tonio carefully flattened the paper and buttoned it inside his shirt. “See you in a couple of days,” he said and disappeared out the door. Swiveling his chair to face the window, Tirrell gazed out, and a minute later saw his righthand rising rapidly into the eastern sky.

But he's
not
innocent,
the detective told himself.
One way or another, Jarvis
is
involved.
And that certainty made something very unpleasant crawl around in the pit of his stomach … because he had no answer for Tonio's question.

What the hell
did
Jarvis want Colin for, anyway?

All the logic Tirrell was trying so hard to build into his case tottered dangerously around that point. For a moment he wondered if Tonio had been right, if Jarvis was Colin's father and simply wanted some time with his son. But Jarvis was surely smart enough to have tried legal channels before resorting to kidnapping if that was his goal. No, it had to be something else entirely … and two facts abruptly clicked together in Tirrell's brain.

Jarvis was an endocrinologist, who had done extensive work with the glandular role in teekay.

Colin was at the age where teekay was just starting to become significant.

Tirrell shuddered as the picture of small animals in cages flicked through his mind. Picking up the phone directory, he turned to the business section and began making lists of builders, building supply stores, and renters of building equipment.

A
S USUAL, LISA DROPPED
to the sidewalk a good four blocks away from the Lee Intro School. It was nearly six o'clock, an hour past sundown, and even with the streetlights shining brightly she had no problem finding a doorway dark enough for her to surreptitiously stuff the two wads of tissues into the training bra she'd borrowed from Sheelah's dresser. Daryl had always seemed nervous about being seen with her until she'd hit upon this way to make herself look older. It had helped, but only for a while, and over the last couple of weeks he'd started acting a little funny again. Distant, sort of. Hopefully, though, the few drops of perfume she'd managed to scrounge would help bring him back around. Sniffing at her wrists, she checked to make sure the flight hadn't blown the scent away.

Daryl was waiting by their usual bench when she arrived, turning the latest book nervously end over end. Playfully, she used her teekay to freeze it suddenly in midair. His eyes bulged for a split second before he looked up at her with obvious irritation. “Knock it off, Lisa, he hissed.

“Hello, Daryl,” she said demurely, releasing the book.

“Hi,” he grumbled. “You have the other one with you? Good—give it here. All right, now, this one shouldn't have any new words that you can't get from the pictures; if there are any you can't figure out, mark them and we'll talk on Friday. Okay?' He took a step back toward the school.

“Wait a second,” Lisa said, puzzled and alarmed. “What's the rush? Anything wrong?”

“Of course not,” he said, a little too quickly. “I just can't stay out here all night.”

“All night? It's only—”

“Lisa, I've got to go,” he interrupted brusquely, and for a second she was a kid again, standing in front of her preteen overseer. “I'll see you on Friday; don't be late.”

Numbly, she watched as he strode back toward Lee Intro, his figure alternately clear and indistinct as he passed under the row of streetlights. The abruptness of his manner had scared her down to her toes—something was wrong, and she had no idea what it could be. Had he been caught passing her books? After her library experience she could easily imagine such a thing's getting him in trouble. Perhaps someone had been watching tonight's meeting—maybe that was why he'd left so quickly. Frantically, she looked around, but she couldn't see anyone.

Or else …

Daryl was nearly a block away by now. Carefully, trying to match his speed, Lisa set off after him, a new suspicion growing in her mind. He passed Lee Intro without pausing and continued on the three blocks to the Paris Introductory School. He went in the front door while Lisa, not wanting to hang around in plain sight, found a dark tree midway between two streetlights and flew up into it. She didn't have long to wait; a moment later Daryl reemerged, accompanied by a teen woman, and together they headed toward the commercial area near the two schools. Their voices carried distinctly in the still air, and though Lisa couldn't catch many of the words, it was clear they were having a good time. They passed under a light, giving Lisa a glimpse of the teen's long blonde hair, and she noticed for the first time that they were holding hands as they walked. Laughing and chattering, they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

A moment later Lisa was high overhead, streaking toward Barona's northern power station and trying to make some sense out of the jumble of emotions chasing each other through her mind. It was a relief, of course, to have her worst fears proved wrong … and yet, at the same time, the real reason for Daryl's behavior had her so mad she could hardly see straight. How
dare
he treat her like some pestering kid and then sneak off to be with some stupid teen woman? He was acting just like one of those preteens who belonged to secret clubs and wouldn't say anything about them to outsiders. He could simply have
told
her he had a date—she would have understood. It was the
way
he'd dumped her that was so infuriating.

Wasn't it?

Even with the cool wind whipping past, she felt the rush of heat that rose to her face. She had absolutely no interest in Daryl as anything except a teacher—none at all. Was it her pride that had been bruised so badly, the fact that Daryl's interest could switch so easily to someone else? Because she wasn't jealous. Really.
Wasn't.

Abruptly, she reached up her sweater and angrily ripped the tissues out of her bra, flinging them as far as she could away from her. No more pretending to be something she wasn't for
anyone.

She'd planned on spending at least half an hour going over parts of the new book with Daryl and was consequently some forty-five minutes early for her shift at the power-station. For a moment she considered waiting outside, but there really weren't any places nearby that had both the privacy and light she needed to read. Leaving her book on the power station roof near one of the skylights, she went inside.

The adult supervisor didn't seem surprised to see her so soon. “Lisa Duncan,” he nodded, marking something on his clipboard. “You're sure racking up the extra points these days. This is, what, the fourth time in as many weeks you've signed for nighttime power duty? You must be planning to go into science or medicine or something.”

“Extra points are nice to have,” she said noncommittally. “Should I go ahead and start now or wait until I'm supposed to?”

“Whichever.” The man peered through the square of glass set into one of the office's doors. “Charl's doing okay, I think, but he'd probably appreciate a little help. If you start now you get to quit early, too.”

“Okay.” Nodding to him, Lisa teeked open the door and walked into the big room.

The north power station, the newest of Barona's three, had been built with each of its four flywheels in a separate room, which was the reason Lisa had signed specifically to work here. Charl, a preteen from a different hive, was slouched in a chair near the flywheel's side, gazing at the spinning wheel with an unblinking expression that was both tired and somewhat resentful. Lisa knew his type instantly: he'd probably fooled around most of his life, losing points for disobedience and never volunteering for the extra work that could make them up. Now, with Transition bearing down on him, he was trying desperately to make up for lost time. Teeking over a chair for herself, she sat down a few meters away from him and got to work.

He left an hour later, never having acknowledged Lisa's presence by so much as a glance. That was fine with her; still smarting from the whole thing with Daryl, she wasn't much in the mood for conversation.