Fade (7 page)
She"s not going to fuck this up again.
Mixes it up. Stirs evenly for two minutes.
Lets it come to a boil.
Times it perfectly.
Cuts the heat.
Waits.
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It turns a glorious purple.
Smells like cough syrup.
It"s perfect.
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Mr. Durbin pats her on the shoulder. “Nicely done, Janie.”
She grins. Takes off her safety glasses.
And his hand is still on her shoulder.
Caressing it now.
Janie"s stomach churns.
Oh god
, she thinks. She wants to get away.
He"s smiling proudly at her. His hand slides down her back just a little,
so lightly she can hardly feel it, and then to the small of her back. She"s
uncomfortable.
“Happy birthday, Janie,” he says in a low voice, too close to her ear.
Janie fights back a shudder. Tries to breathe normally.
Handle it,
Hannagan
, she tells herself.
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He steps away and begins to help her clean up the lab table. Janie wants to run. Knows she needs to keep her cool, but instead she
escapes at the first reasonable opportunity. It was one thing talking about
what might happen, and it was an entirely different thing to actually
experience it. Janie shudders and forces herself to walk calmly. Get her
thoughts together.
She heads outside for the parking lot. And then she remembers she left
her goddamned backpack on the goddamned lab table. Her keys are in that bag.
The office is closed by now.
And she doesn"t have a fucking cell phone.
Hi, this is 2006, calling
to
tell you you’re a loser.
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She goes back anyway, feeling like a dork, and meets Mr. Durbin halfway. He"s carrying it. “Thought I might find you on your way back
for this,” he says.
Janie thinks fast. Knows what she needs to do. She struggles to get over
the creep factor. “Thanks, Mr. Durbin,” she says. “You"re the best.” She
gives his arm a quick squeeze, and flashes a coy smile. And then she
turns and heads down the hallway, taking long, loose strides. She knows
what he"s looking at.
When she rounds the corner, she glances over her shoulder at him. He"s
standing there, watching her, arms folded across his chest. She waves
and disappears.
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And now she doesn"t want to tell Cabel.
He"s going to be upset.
She drives home and looks up Captain"s number. Calls her cell phone.
Tells her about her hunch.
“Good job, Janie. You"re a natural,” she says. “You okay?”
“I think so.”
“Can you keep it going for a while?”
“I—I"m pretty sure I can, yes.”
“I know you can. Now I want you to research. Isn"t there a chemistry
fair or something? A high-school statewide competition that Fieldridge
sends a team to? Something like that?”
“I don"t know. Yeah, I think so. There must be. There"s one for math,
anyway.”
“Check into it. If there is one, and this Durbin goes to it, I want you to
sign up. We"ll pay for it, don"t worry about that. I"ve been racking my
brain, and I can"t think of any other way you"re going to land in his or
some of the other students" dreams. Can you?”
“No, sir. I mean, okay, I"ll sign up.” Janie sighs, remembering the bus
trip to Stratford.
“Have you taken a look at Martha"s reports yet?”
“Some,” Janie says.
“Any questions?”
Janie hesitates, thinking about what Miss Stubin said in the dream.
“Nope. Not yet.”
“Good. Oh, and Janie?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You"re calling from home. Haven"t I given you a goddamned cell phone yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I don"t want you to go anywhere without one from now on. You
hear me? I"ll have one for you tomorrow. Stop by after school. And you
need to tell Cabel about this guy if you haven"t already. I don"t want you
in this project alone. It already makes me ill, knowing that creep is hitting on other high-school girls, much less you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing,” Captain says.
“Yes?”
There"s a pause.
“Happy birthday. There"s a gift on my desk for you. The cell phone will
be next to it by tomorrow after school, if you come while I"m not here.”
Janie can"t speak.
She swallows.
“Is that clear?” Captain says.
Janie blinks her tears away. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Good.” There"s a smile in her voice.
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It"s well after six before Janie makes it to Cabel"s house. She jiggles her
keys, trying to find the right one, and he opens the door. She looks up at
him. Smiles. “Hi.”
“Where"ve you been?”
“Sorry. Stuff happened.” She enters the house. Takes off her coat and
boots.
“What stuff?”
She sniffs the air. “What are you cooking?”
“Chicken. What stuff?”
“Oh, you know. Got to school late, and everything fell apart after that.
You ever have one of those days?”
He goes to the stove and flips the chicken. “Yeah. Practically every day
last semester, when you wouldn"t talk to me. So what happened?”
She sighs. “My beaker exploded. Third hour. Durbin. I had to go in after
school to redo the experiment.”
He looks at her, tongs in hand. “The guy with the groceries?”
She nods.
“And?”
“And…I think he"s the guy we"re after. I called Captain.”
He sets the tongs down loudly on the counter. “What makes you think
that?”
“He touched me. It was…weird.” She says it quickly, and then turns and
goes into the bathroom.
But he"s right behind her, and she can"t get the door closed because his
foot is in the way. “Where?” he shouts.
She cringes. Squeaks. She takes a breath, gathers her nerve, and gives
him a furious look. “Stop it, Cabe! If you can"t handle this without getting in my face about it, I"m not going to tell you anything.”
He hears her.
His eyes grow wide.
“Oh baby,” he whispers. Steps back. Out of the doorway. His face is
ashen. He walks slowly back to the kitchen. Leans over the counter. Puts
his head in his hands. His hair falls over his fingers. The bathroom door clicks shut.
She stays in there for a long time.
He"s pulling his hair out.
Finally, frustrated, he calls Captain. “What"s going on, sir?”
There is a pause, and then he says, “She said he touched her. That"s all
I"ve gotten out of her so far.”
He nods.
Yanks his hair.
“Yes, sir.”
He listens intently.
His face changes.
“It"s what?”
Then.
“Bloody fucking fuck,” he mutters. “You"re kidding.” He closes his eyes.
“Shoot me now. I didn"t know.”
He turns off the phone.
Sets it on the table.
Walks to the bathroom door.
Leans his forehead against the molding.
“Janie,” he says. “I"m sorry I yelled. I can"t stand the thought of that
creep touching you. I"ll get a handle on it. I promise.”
He waits. Listens.
“Janie,” he says again.
Then gets worried.
“Janie, please let me know you"re okay in there. I"m worried. Just say
something, anything, so I—”
“I"m okay in here,” she says.
“Will you come out?”
“Will you stop yelling at me?”
“Yes,” he says. “I"m sorry.”
“You"re driving me crazy,” she says, coming out. “And you scared me.”
He nods.
“Don"t do that.”
“Okay.”
7:45 p.m.
Cabel turns the burner on low under the chicken, hoping to salvage it.
Janie"s in the computer room, writing up her notes. He comes in and sits opposite her, at the other computer. Does some
surfing. Some typing. Hits Send. Janie"s computer binks. When she
finishes her notes, she checks her Gmail. Clicks on the link. Watches the
screen.
It"s a Flash e-card.
Simple and beautiful.
I love you, and I’m sorry I’m an asshole.
Happy birthday.
Love,
Cabe
She looks down at the keys. Composes her thoughts. Hits Reply.
Dear Cabe,
Thank you for the card.
It means a lot to me.
I haven’t received a birthday card since I turned nine. I just
realized that
was half my life ago.
I’m sorry I’m an asshole too. I know it frustrates you when I don’t
take
care of myself—that’s why you were mad the other day, isn’t it? I’ll
try
harder to work on the dreams, so they don’t mess me up so
badly. And
I’ll keep supplies in my backpack from now on. I should have
been doing
that all along, so you don’t have to worry so much. Thing is, I like
it
when you are there to help me. It makes me feel like somebody
cares,
you know? So maybe I’ve neglected some things on purpose, just
so you
notice. It’s stupid. I’ll stop with that. Why are you so upset about
this
case? All I know is that I really miss you.
Love, J.
She reads it over and hits Send.
Cabel"s computer binks.
He reads the e-mail.
Hits Reply.
Dear J.,
I want to explain something.
After my dad set me on fire…Wel …He died in jail while I was still
in the
hospital getting skin grafts. And I never got to tell him how much
he hurt
me. Not just physically, but inside, you know? So I took it out on
other
things for a while. I’m better now. I got counseling for it, and I’m
really
better. But I’m not perfect. And I’m still fighting it. See…You’re,
like, the
only person I have in my life that I really care about. I’m selfish
about
that. I don’t want anybody to touch you. I want to keep you safe.
That’s
why I hate this assignment so much. Now that I have you, I’m
afraid to
see you get hurt or messed up, like I was. I’m afraid I’ll lose you, I
guess.
I wish you could always be safe. I worry a lot. If you weren’t so
damned
independent…Ah, well. *smile* As much as we have been
through in the
past few months, we still don’t know each other very well, do we?
I want
to change that about us. Do you? I want to know you better. Know
what
makes you happy and what scares you. And I want you to know
that
about me, too.
I love you.
I will try to never hurt you again.
I know I’ll screw up. But I’ll keep trying, as long as you let me.
Love,
Cabe
Send.
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Janie reads.
Swallows hard.
Turns toward him. “I want that too,” she says. She stands up and scoots
over onto his lap. Holds him around the neck. His arms circle her waist,
and he closes his eyes.
January 10, 2006, 4:00 p.m.
Janie slips into the police station, goes through the metal detector, and
heads downstairs.
“Hey, new girl,” says a thirtysomething man when she gets to Captain
Komisky"s door and knocks. “Hannagan, right? Captain said to tell you
to go on in. She left you some stuff. I"m Jason Baker. Worked with Cabel on the drug bust.”
Janie smiles. “Pleased to meet you.” She shakes his hand.
“Thanks,” she
adds, and opens the office door. On the corner of the desk is the tiniest
cell phone she"s ever seen, and next to it is a medium-size box and an
envelope. The box has a bow on it. She grins and takes the items, then
slips back out. When she gets to the car, she examines the gift box and
the envelope, savoring it.
Decides to wait.
4:35 p.m.
Sitting on her bed, she opens the envelope first. It"s a traditional birthday
card with a simple signature on the bottom—“Fran Komisky.”
Inside the
card is a gift certificate to Mario"s Martial Arts for a self-defense class.
Cool.
And inside the box is every kind of pampering item that Janie would
never buy for herself. Relaxation votives, stress massage oils, aromatherapy bath salts, and a plethora of scented lotions in tiny adorable bottles. Janie squeals. Best present ever. She calls Mario"s and signs up for a class that starts the next day. And
then, she goes to the phone book and looks up optometrists. Finds a
vision shop that"s open evenings and calls for an appointment. The
receptionist says there"s a cancellation for a five thirty p.m. appointment
today, and can she make it?
She can.
And does.
She raids her college fund.
Walks out an hour later, four hundred bucks poorer but wearing new,
funky, sexy glasses. She loves them, actually.
And she can see.
She had no idea how poorly she was seeing before. Can"t believe the difference.
She drives straight to Cabel"s, knowing she can"t stay long. She knocks
on the front door. He opens it, towel drying his hair. She grins brightly.
He stands there, gaping. “Holy shit,” he says. “Get in here.” He pulls her
in the house and slams the door. “You look fantastic,” he says.
“Thank you,” she says. She bounces on the balls of her feet. “And an
added bonus,” she says.
“Let me guess. You can see?”