Peter Clement - The Inquisitor

And then I'd be back at the beginning again, dreading but not precisely knowing the events to come.

But no matter how or where they started, all the dreams led me to the same spot and all ended the same way.

I stood in darkness, listening to the cascade of water on the other side of the door. There were also strains of barely audible music. The dripping from my shoe when I took a step made me realize that a puddle had spilled under the threshold to form around my feet.

I called out again.

No answer.

I tried the handle.

Unlocked.

I turned it and pushed.

It swung open, and the sound of the streaming torrents trebled in volume. I could also recognize the song now.

"Hello?" I raised my voice to be heard above the din and peered into the semiblackness of the laboratory.

Still no response.

The digital readouts on the equipment, fluorescent green and fire red, cast a neon glow that shimmered on the surface of the flooded floor. At the middle, like an inverted fountain, a huge cascade of water spouted from what must have been a broken pipe in the ceiling. The spray caught enough illumination to glitter like a downpour of emerald and ruby sparkles, but something dark and solid hung in its center.

I should have just turned and left, gone for a maintenance man.

But that dark shape drew me forward.

As I stepped closer, it became a human form, like someone standing under a shower, head slumped forward and shoulders rounded to receive the full force of the streaming water on the neck and upper back. Nearer still, I felt droplets from the spray as it cascaded off the top of the person's crown, creating a domed effect. Knowing I shouldn't, I ducked inside the watery cupola and looked up to see a downturned face looking at me. Its wet skin reflected the ambient light, making it seem coated in a sheen of olive and purplish paint. The eyes bulged as if he were enraged, his cheeks were bloated to the bursting point, and a tongue swollen to the girth of a Polish sausage hung twisted from the side of his mouth.

I screamed and woke in a sweat.

For an instant I felt the relief that always flooded through me when I escaped the nightmare.

But dawn slashed across my eyes, a light shredded by the horizontal blinds, and reminded me of the old woman's room.

And Garnet's ambush.

The never-ending dread of getting caught settled in for another day. I could hardly escape it anymore. Even in my other self, it would leech through from time to time, which meant someone might spot that I'm scared and get suspicious.

Shit.

At least Earl hadn't recognized me; if he had, the police would already be at the door.

But what the hell had he been doing there? And how did he know to get the old lady to safety? Could he be on to everything, could he have figured it all out? Christ, he might even have been the creeper on the ward last week.

My skin grew clammy again, adding to the sour aroma from the already damp sheets. I threw them off in disgust, retreated to the shower, and turned the cold water on full. The blast of icy needles overrode my runaway thoughts and helped me focus, not that that offered much comfort. As I tried to rein in my worst fears and sort out pure imaginings from fact, a few gnawing realizations shoved everything else into the shadows.

Whoever had been the figure in the hallway, it didn't change the fact that Garnet had been skulking around last night. And whatever reason Garnet had had to move the old lady out and keep watch in her room, he now knew for certain that she'd been in danger. Which meant he'd be more watchful than ever up there, and there'd be no delaying or diverting him until he got at the truth.

The trouble would be, which truth? The one I planned for him to discover, or the reality behind it? But false leads might not fool the likes of Earl. All the pieces in their entirety were there to be found, and he definitely had the smarts not only to find them but also to fit them into place.

Time to accelerate the plan.

Sunday, July 13, 6:10 p.m.

"Sit down, Thomas." Jane felt eerily calm and totally in charge. She'd had a sense of complete control all weekend, first refusing to see him, then instructing him to show up at her apartment. That he'd arrived twenty minutes early only enhanced her heady my-way-or-the-doorway attitude.

He didn't stretch out on her living room rug as he usually did while waiting for supper, but took one of the upholstered chairs, which seemed a size too small, making him bend like a half-folded lawn chair.

The sight of him made her giggle.

He immediately smiled. "Well, that's better. God, I thought you had bad news, it felt so serious in here."

She said nothing.

Immediately he leaned forward, his features funneling into a pointed look of concern. "What's up, J.S.?"

She never really liked how he'd appropriated Dr. G.'s nickname for her. It felt like an intrusion on something private she shared with a special friend.

She studied Thomas's sleek, sturdy frame and lean, bearded face, thinking how his appearance had fed her schoolgirl ideal of a Tennessee woodsman, hard as an oak ax handle, yet still more boy than man. Well, time to grow him up. See what he could make of himself.

"I'm pregnant."

He appeared to stop breathing.

The seconds crept by in discreet silence, as if trying not to eavesdrop.

"Thomas, did you hear me?"

"Jesus, Jane, give me a moment. That's quite a shock."

"Really? Uh, how many times have we made love? A hundred, maybe? And do you remember putting on a new condom each time we sampled seconds? Look, I may have been as lax as you, but we were a team in this one. Do me a favor and spare me the surprise." The impatience she felt surprised her. But what the hell, let it rip. She'd no time for bullshit. Not now.

He gaped up at her as if she were a stranger.

She put a hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Forget kind lies, Thomas. I need to know. Do you want your baby and to be a daddy, or not?" Her voice sounded serene despite the abruptness of her words.

His jaw slipped another notch.

"And I won't beg, damn it. If you don't want to share the child, you're out of here, and I get a lawyer."

He seemed to fold up a little more in his chair.

Think only of the baby, she reminded herself, and the freedom exhilarated her, liberated her in a dozen ways. From Mom's inevitable disappointment in her, from the disapproval of all Grand Forks, from the clucking tongues at St. Paul's- their hold on her slipped like chains to the ground. Second-guessing and hesitation about what to do vanished. Work? She'd keep her job as long as possible. Where to go? She'd stay here in her apartment. Whom to count on for no shit about how she ought to have been more careful? Her little brother, Arliss.

Decisions and answers flew into place- snap, snap, snap. She felt weightless.

Thomas stared up at her in absolute awe.

His expression fueled her exuberance over having taken charge.

"I've never seen you this way," he said, sounding totally incredulous. "You're… you're… radiant."

It's the hormones, stupid, she wanted to say, but didn't. Yet her silence caused a weight to tug on the middle of her chest, as if she'd allowed him to snag her in flight and pull her back toward the ground.

"I mean it, Jane. You're absolutely glowing." He got to his feet, walked to where she stood, and put his arms around her.

She resisted. "No. Tell me what you want."

"I love you."

"Yeah, right. How about the child?"

He grinned. "I'd be proud to be a daddy with you."

She watched his eyes dilate as fully as she'd ever seen, even in lovemaking. But from desire? Not this time. He looked more as if he'd been caught in the middle of telling a joke and a bomb had gone off.