Charlaine Harris - Shakespeare’s Champion

“The good doctor Thrush. I’ve heard great things about you,” Jack said. “I’m Jared Fletcher. New man in town.” He was smiling genuinely. He set a bottle of bourbon on the counter, Claude’s homecoming gift, and opened the refrigerator to extract a beer.

“You’ll have to bring Lily down for supper some night. Maybe she and I can collaborate on cooking and you and Claude can evaluate the result,” Carrie said cheerfully.

“Tom David told on us, Jared,” I said, trying to speak lightly. But I haven’t done that in a long time, and it came out sounding very unnatural. Carrie swung a look in my direction, then back to Jack.

“That would be great, Carrie,” Jack said smoothly. He looked at me to tell me he’d gotten my message: the little cabal was having conversations about us.

“Lily brought Claude some bread and some lasagna,” Carrie said, pushing my praiseworthy aspects.

“Did you, baby?” Jack looked at me, and if there was a flash of heat in his eyes, there was none in his voice.

Baby? I was trying to imagine double-dating with Carrie and Claude. I was trying to imagine everything being straightforward, Jack really working at Winthrop’s Sporting Goods, having no other agenda than making a living. I would just be a maid, and he would just sell workout equipment… We’d date, go out on real dates, during which no one would get shot. We’d never hit each other, or even want to.

“Claude took care of me when I got hurt last spring,” I said, suddenly feeling very tired. I didn’t owe Jack an explanation, but I needed to say something.

“You got hurt…” Jack began, his eyes narrowing.

“Old story. Go out there and have your beer, sugar,” I said dismissively, and gave him what I hoped was a loverlike shove to the uninjured shoulder. He righted himself after a tense second and stalked into the living room.

“Did I catch some undercurrent there?” Carrie asked.

“Yeah, well, nothing’s easy,” I muttered.

“Not with you, anyway,” she said, but her voice was gentle.

“Actually, in this case, it’s him,” I told her grimly.

“Hmmm. You think this is going to work out?”

“Who knows?” I said, exasperated. “Let’s get this kitchen done.”

“It hardly seems right for you to work so hard, Lily. You spend all week cleaning and arranging other people’s things. Why don’t you go sit out there and have some down time?”

With Claude and Jack and Tom David? “Not on your life,” I told her, and finished placing pots and pans in the cabinet.

We worked on the bedroom next, sliding all the drawers back into their correct position, rearranging the clothes in the closet. I polished all the furniture after I found the cleaning supplies, and I quickly stowed away the bathroom things while Carrie set Claude’s desk to rights in the second bedroom.

Then I was through, and I knew it was time for me to leave. Carrie would have to be helping Claude do personal things, I supposed; he would be tired.

He was, in fact, asleep on the couch. All the men had left except Jack, who had opened a box of books and was shelving them in the low bookcase. He’d gathered up all the beer bottles and put them in a plastic garbage bag. He half-turned as he heard my steps, smiled at me, and pushed a dictionary into place. It all seemed so pleasant and normal. I didn’t know what attitude to take. He’d severed our connection until this episode was over. But we were alone in the room except for the sleeping policeman.

I knelt by him, and he turned and kissed me, his hand going to the back of my neck. It was a kiss that started out to be short and ended up to be long.

“Damn,” he breathed, moving back from me.

“Gotta go,” I said very quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeper.

“Yeah, me, too,” he whispered, standing and stretching. “I need to listen to today’s tape.” He patted his jacket pocket.

“Jack,” I said in his ear, “if Howell won’t call the law, you have to. You’ll get in awful trouble.” It was an idea that had consumed any extra minute I’d had during the day. I darted a glance at “the law,” sound asleep on the couch. “Promise me,” I whispered. I looked straight into his hazel eyes.

“Are you scared?” he breathed.

I nodded. “For you,” I told him.

He stared at me. “I’ll talk to Howell tomorrow,” he said.

I smiled at him, rubbed my knuckles against his cheek in a caress. “ ‘Bye,” I whispered, and tiptoed out Claude’s door.

I pulled on my coat in the hall, zipping the front and pulling my hood up. It was really cold, biting cold; the temperature would be well below freezing tonight. I wouldn’t be able to walk even if I needed to. But after extracting Jack’s promise I felt very relaxed. It might not take me too long to sleep.

Just to make sure, I walked the four streets around the arboretum twice, very briskly, and then took the trails through the trees. When I emerged onto Track Street, it was full dark. My feet were feeling numb and my hands were chilled despite my gloves.

I was halfway across the street, angling to my house, when a Jeep rounded the corner at a high speed and screeched to a halt a foot away from my right leg.

“Where’ve you been, Lily?” Bobo was hatless and frantic, his brown coat unbuttoned. There was no trace of the ardent young man who had kissed me the night before.

“Helping Claude move downstairs. Walking.”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Get inside your house and don’t go out tonight.”

His face, almost on a level with mine because of the height of the Jeep, was white and strained. No eighteen-year-old should look like that. Bobo was scared and angry and desperate.

“What’s going to happen?”

“You’ve been too many places, Lily. Some people don’t understand.” He wanted to say more. His teeth bared from his inner tension. He was on the verge of screaming.

“Tell me,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. I snatched off a glove and laid my hand over his. But instead of soothing him, my touch seemed to spark even more inner storms. He yanked away from me as if I’d poked him with a cattle prod. From between clenched teeth, he said, “Stay in!” He roared off as fast as he’d come, as recklessly.

My own anxiety level jumped off the scale. What could have happened so suddenly? I looked up at the facade of the apartment building. Claude’s new windows were dark. Deedra’s, above him, were also out. But Jack’s lights were on, at least some of them. His living room window was faintly illuminated.

I stood in the middle of street in the freezing cold and tried to make my brain work.

Without deciding it consciously, I began to run-not toward my house but toward the apartments. Once I was inside the hall, hurrying past Claude’s door, I tried to walk quietly. I went up the stairs like a snake, swift and silent. I tried Jack’s door. It was unlocked and open an inch. A ball of fear settled in my stomach.

I slipped inside. No one in the living room, lit only by the dim light reaching it from the kitchen. Jack’s leather jacket was tossed on the couch. Further down the hall, the overhead light in the spare bedroom glared through its open door. I listened, closing my eyes to listen more intently. I felt the hair stand up on my neck. Silence.

I’d only been in here once, so I picked my way through Jack’s sparse furniture very carefully.

No one in the kitchen, either.

I was biting my lip to keep from making a sound when I stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom. There was a card table holding a tape player, a pad of paper, and a pencil. There was a Dr. Pepper can on the table. The folding chair that had been in front of the table was lying on its side. I touched my fingers to the Dr. Pepper can. It was still cold. A red light indicated the tape player was on, but the tape compartment was open and empty. I ran back to the living room and fumbled through the pockets of the leather jacket. They were empty, too.