Out Of The Dark Part 7

Dags did stick his hand in and pulled out a tube--or rather a bunch of brown papers rolled up and tied with string. And it looked old.

Really old.

Rhonda reached down between us and grabbed the rolled papers. Dags stood first and then helped me up. My Magical Mischief maker was already unrolling the papers and looking at them.

We waited. Where was my drink?

"We need to go." She re-rolled the papers and immediately grabbed my arm on her way by. She half pulled me out of the bar. Her panic was palpable--as well as contagious. My heart started pounding too.

"Wait--where are you--"

"Not now, Dags. We have to go now. You can stay here or come with us. But not another word until we get back."

I pulled free and motioned him to come. Dags shrugged and followed. Both of them went down the stairs. I lingered up top and looked around. I couldn't actually see the little shadow people. But I could tell they were there.

And somehow I got the impression we'd just done what they intended us to do.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Usually I don't fear for my life when Rhonda drives--she's pretty good at it. Mom--not so much. But on this occasion, you'd have thought the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse were after us.

Or at least the Atlanta Police Department.

This woman took the changeable lanes on Roswell Road to their limits, dodging Sat.u.r.day morning traffic with uncanny ability in mom's Volvo. And I somehow got the impression the old car was loving it. I had my right hand on the oh s.h.i.+t handle--that handle up above the pa.s.senger side door? Yep--that's what that thing is called.

And by the time we finally cleared it to Interstate 400, I had both hands white-knuckling it. As she merged in with traffic I chanced a glance behind me at Dags.

My heart skipped when I didn't see anyone in the back seat.

"Okay Dags," Rhonda said as she slowed the Volvo down from Mach 5 to Mach 4.5. "You can get out of the floorboard."

A dark head popped up then. He was as white as bone as he scrambled to get his seatbelt refastened. I sort of wondered if he purposefully ducked into the floorboard--or if Rhonda's driving whip-lashed him down there.

The world may never know.

"I want off," he muttered to himself. I nodded. Me too.

But once we were a good several miles down the road Rhonda fumbled in her jacket for her phone. I wanted to protest the whole cell-phone while you're driving deal--but I was also a bit afraid if she took her eyes off the road to scream at me we would crash.

I watched her press a b.u.t.ton and then hold the thing up to her ear. After a few minutes she closed the phone and tossed it at me. I was not about to let go of my 'oh-s.h.i.+t handle' and the Nokia bounced off my thigh and into the floorboard.

She glared at me and I shook my head.

"Nona needs a cell phone."

I couldn't agree with her more.

"Why doesn't your mom have a cell phone?" Dags asked.

Mom thinks cell phones turn your brain to goo--same as living too close to a ley-line or a power line. Won't have one and we can't talk her into one.

He nodded. "Oh. Okay." Then he frowned. "Is that true? Because you know I did study up on the effects of towers placed along pastures in Texas--"

Rhonda held up her hand. "What do you do--search the net for that kind of stuff?"

Dags nodded. "Yes."

We all sat quietly for a few minutes before Dags spoke up. "So--you gonna tell us why we dashed out of there so quick and why I'll be suffering from chronic back pain for the rest of my life?"

I was waiting to hear this too. I could have let go and found my board--I could see it in the floorboard next to the phone. But I think my knuckles had vapor-locked around the handle. Owch.

Rhonda looked at me. "Would Nona go somewhere with Mrs. Shultz to investigate Dr. Bonville? Like is there some secret archive of knowledge that you would know about?"

I shrugged and finally wrenched my hands free of the handle. Giving a silent grunt, I reached down between my legs and retrieved her phone as well as my board. Erase. Scribble. Hrm--scribble more. HEY WHY I KNOW? U 2 DOING THE OOGIE ON THE SIDE. NOT TELL ME.

She pursed her lips as she read the board by glancing back at it several times.

"Can she not do that?" Dags called from the back. "I'd prefer she keep her eyes on the road."

Touche.

Rhonda sighed. It was a tired sigh, and sounded like it had been filled with high emotion. She was wound tight, and about to pop. "Look, I'm sorry. I just--when I saw the doc.u.ments and the names on them--" she shook her head. "I think they're contracts. And with contracts always comes trouble."

I nodded and thought of the Archer. All the trouble with him began with a contract. Once between the Phantasm and the Reverend Rollins.

Rhonda kept talking. "We just needed to get as far away from there as possible. Oh, and Dags, I need you to call in sick tonight."

"Call in sick? I've never called in sick."

"Then make this a first. Otherwise I doubt you'll ever make it home alive."

I heard him gulp. I stared at Rhonda. What the h.e.l.l was going on?

I suggested we stop by the hospital first. I wanted to see Daniel. Rhonda agreed and we arrived in one piece at Northside Hospital twenty-minutes later. Dags had gone very quiet as Rhonda parked and the three of us took the elevator up.

Tiarra was on duty when we stepped out of the elevator. She took one look at Dags and then one look at me and arched her left eyebrow up high. I gave her a don't ask shake of the head and she gave me a you're kidding look beneath her eyebrows. Then she gave me a awrigh' den sigh. "Lieutenant Holmes is in there with him. He's such a nice man."

I stopped in my tracks. Who? I thought Captain Cooper was staying with him. So--who was this? I pushed open the door and then stopped. There was a small short wall where the bathroom was that prevented anyone near Daniel's bed from seeing who entered the room. I heard the familiar whirl of the breathing machine first, and then the television just before a deep voice laughed. I paused, took in a deep breath and stopped in my tracks as the voice spoke.

"Yeah, it's not the greatest job--but I'm so close to retiring, Danny. I've got a good pension. Trevor's still in j.a.pan--not sure he's ever going to come home. He loves it too much. I just--I just want peace and quiet for a while. I know I didn't tell you last time I was here, but Phyllis pa.s.sed away. Breast cancer. It was so hard--and in the end it was even harder for me because I was almost relieved when she died. She was in so much pain," he sniffed. I felt like an a.s.shole, intruding like this. There was something very right about the way he spoke--comforting. Languid vowels. "Am I wrong to feel like that? To feel glad she died?"

I wanted to tell him no--it wasn't wrong. For me it wasn't, but then I didn't suppose I was built of the best moral fiber. After all--I wasn't exactly sure what I was anymore.

But it was also time for me to stop snooping. I opened the door again making more noise and then barreled forward.

Charlie Holmes wasn't what I expected.

I sort of expected an overweight man in a beat cop uniform. Something very stereo-typical. Complete with several chins and a balding head. But the man that stood up from the chair I usually sat in wasn't anything like that. He was past sixty--that much I was certain of. Though his skin was remarkably unwrinkled. Oh there were laugh lines around his eyes, which were kind and dark brown. His hair was salt and pepper, with more salt than pepper, and he was as tall as I am. He was dressed in a regular suit--nothing fancy out of Sears--and he gave me a genuine smile when he looked at me.

He offered me his right hand. "Lieutenant Charles Daniel Holmes." He winked. "Most friends call me Danny, but I think in this case you should call me Charlie. Less confusing that way. And you must be the new distraction in his life. It's very nice to meet you."

I took his hand, hesitating just a tad. Lately me touching solid human hands with my own wasn't a good idea.

And it wasn't.

The skull was there. The sign this man--this very sweet man--was going to die.

d.a.m.n it.

"Captain Cooper called me, said he was being called in. Wanted me to come sit with Danny-boy here," he gestured to my boyfriend. "To tell you the truth, I didn't know this had happened. Oh, I'd heard about the incident down at the warehouse--but I never thought my Danny would be involved."

My Danny. I realized these two had a history--and in the short time I'd known Daniel he'd never mentioned a man named Charlie Holmes. And in a way I was relived at not having to tell Daniel I knew his friend was doomed to die. The skull never gave me a time and a place--it was more of a marker that the death would be soon.

Once Dags and Rhonda came in Charlie did his introduction again. He smiled at Rhonda, though I could see in his expression he wasn't quite sure what to make of her black hair, lips, eyes and nails. And then he looked at Dags--and here he really looked confused.

Rhonda spoke up as she reached in her backpack and pulled out a pen and paper to hand to me. "Dags here is helping us on a--" she hesitated. "A project."

"Project?" Charlie shook Dags' hand but kept his expression wary. "I thought Danny here said you were a bunch of amateur detectives?"

Amateur detectives? s.h.i.+t...that made us sound like the s...o...b.. Gang.

Well--I guess in Daniel's eyes we were amateur. Pooh on him though for discussing us with someone we didn't know.

Rhonda was the one to answer. "You could say that."

Charlie seemed satisfied. "Sorry to surprise you like this--but I would do anything for the captain. He's a good man."

"So what's your a.s.sociation with Detective Frasier?" Dags asked in a very professional voice.

"I was Danny's mentor--sort of his sponsor when he joined the force. I was his first partner," he chuckled. "And the only one to survive."

Yeah, I remembered Daniel talking about his partner past. Not exceptionally good.

"We worked downtown for several years before he decided to go for detective. He wanted more out of the job--and he wanted a bigger salary. He was seeing that news reporter at the time and I think she was having problems dating just a cop. She wanted something with a higher profile."

Dating what news reporter? I looked at Dags and Rhonda, but it didn't look as if they were gonna ask that question, and I was busy holding hands with my man.

"So he made detective, and we sort of lost touch. He had that problem a year ago--with the one partner that got shot--and then Cooper called about this," he looked over at Daniel. "I must say, I never expected him to end up in the hospital. Though Cooper did tell me the doctor said he would regain full use of his leg again. Not sure if he'll be running after any skels for a while, but knowing Danny, he'll give it a try."

I pursed my lips. I had no idea what this man was talking about. What the h.e.l.l was a skel? And did you spell that with a C or with one or two Ls? See when you write out your sentences, those things become kinda important.

Dags said, "Are you retired?"

"Almost. Got a part-time job working several warehouses. Night watchman mostly. Very quiet and I think I can do that for a while. I wanted to get together with Daniel and tell him."

"You have any kids?" Rhonda asked. She looked impatient.

"One. He was adopted. Trevor. He's in j.a.pan, learning j.a.panese. Been there for several years. I'd wanted him to come home after my wife--his mother--died. But," he shrugged. "He's happy. And I can't deny him that."

I looked at Daniel. Did his eyes flutter? Would he be mad if I propped them open so I could see them?

"Zoe. We need to get back to the shop." Rhonda and Dags left the room.

I lingered a moment, looking at Daniel. I really didn't want to leave, but I was also wondering about what had happened in that loft. I was sure the second Shadow Person wasn't like the first two that tried to throw Dags and Rhonda down the stairs. But I didn't know why I thought that. They all looked the same--just shadowy little people. So--why the difference? Why were the first two mean and that third one helpful?

And how on earth could anyone think theses things were Brownies?

"Zoe."

I looked at Charlie. He had his hands in his pockets and was looking at me with a strange intensity. "You go. Do what ever it is you do, okay? I'll be here with Danny. I promise. And if something happens, you'll know in here," and he put his hand over his heart.

With a nod I leaned down and gave Daniel a kiss on his cheek and left the room.

"I like him," Rhonda said in the elevator on the way down. She was looking at me.

I nodded. I could sense he was a good man--I just--I just wanted to stay here. I gave her a half smile and the door opened into the lobby.

It looked like any other lobby with its marble and tile flooring--one half old one half new. The industrial Berber carpet and the window covered atrium. The registration and admittance desk was to the right as we moved to the front.

And then it hit me--an overwhelming need to curl up in a corner. I--I had never experienced anything like this before. It was like every fear I had, every inadequate thought about myself, every random thing anyone had ever said to me and hurt me came flooding back into my memory.

I put my hands to my head and stopped.

"Zoe? Dags? What's wrong?"

I had to get a hold of myself--cause all I wanted to do was cry. I realized I was shaking, my head down. Oh dear lord you're in a hospital with a track record. Get out before they put you in a bed!

"What the h.e.l.l...is that?" came Dags' voice.

I did manage to move away from the center of the atrium, a few steps as Rhonda pulled on my arm. But I looked up to see Dags standing in the center, his right hand to his head, his eyes closed. He looked like he was going to fall over.

Literally.

The feeling intensified as I felt winter air come through the front sliding doors. And another feeling came to me--this one stronger. A culmination of familiarity, of force and of power. But this wasn't like the power I experienced when I took that lady in the hospital--this was a ghost of something--sinister.

Of something almost primitive in its subdued rage.

Everything around me turned to gray at that moment--the injured and the well, the visitors and the doctors as well as the furnis.h.i.+ngs and the sky through the gla.s.s. It was like stepping into a black and white movie, only the shadows around me undulated and moved, oozed and laughed in whispered voices.