Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

"I'm serious, honey."

"Thank you. I admire you, too. And despite all that's happened, I have no regrets."

"Me, neither." She ran her fingers through my hair. "In a few days when we're back in L.A., I'm going to remember being with you. Everything else good about this place. Frame it in my mind, like a picture."

Psychic sculpting. I doubted I had the talent.

By ten A.M. the reservations were booked: back to Saipan in five days, LAX in a week. I'd try to find a good time to tell Moreland. If I didn't find one, I'd tell him anyway.

I phoned the Aruk police station. A man with a sibilant voice told me the chief was busy.

"When will he be free?"

"Who's this?"

"Dr. Delaware. I'm staying at-"

"Knife Castle, yeah, I know. I'll give him your message."

Robin was still sleeping and I went down to breakfast. Jo was there by herself, eating heartily.

"Morning," she said. "Get any sleep?"

"Not much."

"It's something, isn't it? You come to an out-of-the-way place, think you're escaping big-city crime, and it runs after you like a mad dog."

I buttered a piece of toast. "True. Life can be a prison. Sometimes, out-of-the-way places make the best prisons."

She wiped her lips. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

"Sure," I said. "The isolation and poverty. For all we know there are all kinds of behavioral aberrations rampant."

"Is that what you're looking for in your research?"

"I haven't gotten far enough to develop hypotheses. Looks like I won't; we're booked on the next boat out."

"That so?" She placed a dollop of marmalade on a scone. The sun was behind her, crowning her with a rainbow aura.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"Till I finish."

"Wind research," I said. "What exactly are you looking at?"

"Currents. Patterns."

"Ever hear of the Bikini atoll disaster? Atomic blast over in the Marshall Islands. Shifting winds showered the region with radioactive dust."

"I've heard of it, but I study weather from a theoretical standpoint." She nibbled the scone and gazed at the sky. "There are wet winds coming, as a matter of fact. Lots of rain. Look."

I followed her finger. The clouds had moved inland and I could see black patches behind the white fluff.

"When will the rain get here?"

"Next few days. It could delay your getting out. The boats won't sail if the winds are strong."

"Are we talking winds or a storm?"

"Hard to say. The house probably won't fly away."

"That's comforting."

"It could be just rain, very little air movement. If the winds kick up, stay inside. You'll be fine."

"The charter company didn't mention anything about delays."

"They never do. They just cancel without warning."

"Great."

"It's a different way of life," she said. "People don't feel bound by the rules."

"Sounds like Washington."

She put the scone down and smiled, but held on to her butter knife. "Washington has its own set of rules."

"I'll bet. How long have you been working for the government?"

"Since I got out of grad school." Her eyes returned to the clouds. "As they get lower, they pick up moisture, then they turn jet-black and burst all at once. It's something to see."

"You've been to the region before?"

She examined the cutting edge of the knife. "No, but I've been other places with comparable patterns." Another glance upward. "It could come down in sheets. Only problem'll be if the cisterns fill too high for the filters to handle and the germ count rises."

"I thought Bill had the water situation under control."

"Not without access to the town he doesn't. But you heard Laurent. He's stuck here. All of us are. Guilt by association."

"At least you've got your gun."

She raised her eyebrows. Put the knife down and laughed. Pointing her finger at the coffeepot, she pulled an imaginary trigger.

"Crack shot?" I said.

"It was Ly's."

"How'd he get it through baggage control?"

"He didn't. Bought it in Guam. He always traveled armed."

"Exploring dangerous places?"

Filling her juice glass, she drank and looked at me over the rim. "As you said, it's impossible to escape crime."

"Actually, you said that. I said life could be a prison."

"Ah. I stand corrected." She put the glass down, snatched up the scone, bit off half, and chewed vigorously. "It's incredible, being that close to a psychopathic killer. Ben seemed okay, maybe a little too pukka sahib with Bill, but nothing scary." She shook her head. "You never know what's inside someone's head. Or maybe you do."

"Wish I did," I said.

Dipping her hand into the pastry basket, she scooped up croissants, muffins, and rolls, and then broke off a cluster of grapes.

"Working lunch," she said, standing. "Good talking to you. Sorry you didn't have time to solve the mysteries of the island psyche."

She headed for the door to the house. When she got there, I said, "Speaking of prisons, this place would make an especially good one, don't you think? U.S. territory, so there'd be no diplomatic problems. Remote, with no significant population to displace, and the ocean's a perfect security barrier."

Her mouth got small. "Like Devil's Island? Interesting idea."

"And politically expedient. Ship the bad guys halfway around the world and forget about them. With the crime situation back home, I bet it would play great in Peoria."

Crumbs trickled from her hand, dusting the stone floor. Squeezing the pastries. "Are you thinking of going into the prison business?"

"No, just thinking out loud."

"Oh," she said. "Well, you could take it one step further. When you get back home, write your congressman."

Yet another folded card on my desk:

O let not Time deceive you,

You cannot conquer Time.

In the burrows of the Nightmare

Where Justice naked is,

Time watches from the shadow…

WH Auden

Below that: A: Don't you think Einstein would agree? B."

What was he getting at now? The ultimate power of time… deceitful time… Einstein- time's relativity? The nightmare- death? Impending mortality?

An old man losing hope?

Making a typically oblique cry for help?

If so, I was in no mood to oblige.

I read a few more charts but couldn't concentrate. Returning to the house, I encountered Gladys coming out the front door.

"I'm glad I caught you, doctor. Dennis- Chief Laurent's on the phone."

I picked it up in the front room. "Dr. Delaware."

Dead air, then a click and background voices. The loudest was Dennis, giving orders.

I said, "I'm here, Chief."

"Oh- yeah. My man said you had something to tell me."

"I was wondering if I could come into town to talk to Ben."

Pause. "Why?"

"Moral support. Dr. Moreland asked me. I know it's a tall order-"

"No kidding."

"Okay, I asked."

"You don't want to do it?"

"I don't particularly want to mix in," I said. "Any idea when the rest of us will be allowed off the estate?"

"Soon as things quiet down."

"Robin and I have reservations out in five days. Any problems with that?"

"No promises. No one's allowed off the island till we settle this."

"Does that include the sailors on the base?"

He was silent. The noise in the background hadn't subsided.

"Actually," he said, "maybe you should come down to talk to him. He's acting nuts, and I don't want to be accused of not providing proper care, create any technicalities."

"I'm not an M.D."

"What are you?"

"Ph.D. psychologist."

"Close enough. Check him over."

"Pam's an M.D."

"She's no head doctor. What, now that I want you, you're not interested?"