Robin Cook - Acceptable Risk

“Here in the cottage?” Edward asked with surprise.

“No, in the castle,” Kim said.

“I think we should be making more progress getting the house in order before you go back to your paper chase,” Edward said. “You’ll have the whole month to indulge yourself up there.”

“This is something even you will find fascinating,” Kim said, ignoring Edward’s remarks. She carefully opened the notebook to the last entry. Handing it to Edward and indicating the passage, she told him to read.

Edward put his blueprints on the game table Kim had been using. As he read the entry his face gradually changed from vexation to surprised interest.

“You’re right,” he said eagerly. He gave the book to Stanton.

Kim told them both to be more careful with it.

“That will make a great introduction to the article I plan to write for Science or Nature about the scientific causes of the afflictions in the Salem witch trials,” Edward said. “It’s perfect. She even talks specifically about using the rye. And the description of the hallucinations is right on target. Putting that diary entry together with the results of the mass spec on her brain sample closes the case. It’s elegant.”

“You’re not writing an article about the new mold until the patent situation is more secure,” Stanton said. “We’re not about to take any chances so you can amuse yourself with your research colleagues.”

“Of course I won’t,” Edward said. “What do you think I am? An economic two-year-old?”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Stanton said.

Kim took the diary from Stanton and pointed out to Edward the part about Elizabeth teaching others to make dolls. She asked him if he thought that was significant.

“You mean in relation to the missing evidence?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Hard to say,” Edward said. “I suppose it is a little suspicious… You know, I’m famished. What about you, Stanton? Could you eat something?”

“I can always eat,” Stanton said.

“How about it, Kim?” Edward said. “How about throwing something together. Stanton and I still have a lot to go over.”

“I’m hardly set up for entertaining,” Kim said. She’d not even ventured to glance into the kitchen.

“Then order in,” Edward said. He began unrolling his blueprints. “We’re not picky.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stanton said.

“I suppose I could make some spaghetti,” Kim said as she mentally reviewed what she’d need. The one room that was reasonably organized was the dining room; before the renovation it had been the old kitchen. The dining table and chairs and breakfront were all in place.

“Spaghetti would be perfect,” Edward said. He had Stanton hold the blueprints while he weighted the corners with books.

With a sigh of relief, Kim slipped between her crisp, clean sheets for her first night’s rest in the cottage. From the moment she’d started making the spaghetti to a half hour previously when she’d stepped into the shower, she’d not stopped working. There was still a lot to do, but the house was in reasonable order. Edward had worked equally as hard once Stanton finally left.

Kim lifted Elizabeth’s diary off her night table. She fully intended to read more of it, but as she lay back into her bed, she became aware of the sounds of the night. The most notable was the remarkably loud symphony of nocturnal insects and frogs that inhabited the surrounding forest, marshes, and fields. There were also the gentle creaks from the aged house as it radiated off the heat absorbed during the day. Finally there was the subtle moan of the breeze from the Danvers River wafting through the casement windows.

As her mind calmed, Kim realized that the mild anxiety she’d felt when she’d first arrived at the house that afternoon still lingered. It had merely been overwhelmed by her subsequent intense activity. Although Kim guessed there were several sources of her unease, one was obvious: Edward’s unexpected request to sleep apart. Although she understood his point of view better now than when the subject had first come up, Kim was still disturbed and disappointed.

Putting Elizabeth’s diary aside, Kim climbed back out of bed. Sheba flashed her an exasperated look, since she’d been fast asleep. Kim slipped her feet into her mules and crossed to Edward’s bedroom. His door was slightly ajar and his light was still on. Kim pushed the door open only to be confronted by a deep growl from Buffer. Kim gritted her teeth; she was learning to dislike the ungrateful mutt.

“Is there a problem?” Edward asked. He was propped up in bed with the lab blueprints spread around him.

“Only that I miss you,” Kim said. “Are you sure about this idea of sleeping apart? I’m feeling lonely, and it’s not very romantic to say the least.”

Edward beckoned her over. He cleared the bed of the plans and patted the edge for her to sit down.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It is all my fault. I take full responsibility. But I still think it is best for now. I’m like a piano wire about to break. I even lost my cool with Stanton, as you saw.”

Kim nodded while examining her hands tucked into her lap. Edward reached out and raised her chin.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Kim nodded again, yet she was struggling with her emotions. She guessed she was overtired.

“It’s been a long day,” Edward said.

“I guess I also feel a little uneasy,” Kim said.

“What about?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Kim admitted. “I suppose it has something to do with what happened to Elizabeth and with this being Elizabeth’s house. I can’t forget the fact that some of my genes are also Elizabeth’s genes. Anyway, I sense her presence.”

“You’re exhausted,” Edward reminded her. “When you’re tired your imagination can do crazy things. Besides, this is a new place and that’s bound to upset you to a degree. After all, we’re all creatures of habit.”

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” Kim said, “but it’s not all.”

“Now don’t start getting weird on me,” Edward said with a chuckle. “I mean, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

“I never have in the past, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You’re kidding?”

Kim laughed at his seriousness. “Of course I’m kidding,” she said. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I am changing my opinion about the supernatural. The way I found Elizabeth’s diary gives me chills when I think about it. I’d just hung up Elizabeth’s portrait when I felt compelled to go back to the castle. And once I got there I didn’t have to look very hard. It was in the first trunk I opened.”

“People get a sense of the supernatural just being here in Salem,” Edward said with a laugh of his own. “It has to do with that old witchcraft nonsense. But if you want to believe some mystical force guided you up to the castle, that’s fine. Just don’t ask me to subscribe to it.”

“How else can you explain what happened?” Kim said fervently. “Prior to today I’d spent thirty-plus hours without so much as finding something from the sixteen hundreds much less Elizabeth’s diary. What made me look in that specific trunk?”

“OK!” Edward said soothingly. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. Calm down. I’m on your side.”

“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I didn’t mean to get all worked up. I just came in here to tell you that I missed you.”

After a lingering goodnight kiss, Kim left Edward to his blueprints and stepped from the room. After closing Edward’s door she was bathed in moonlight coming through the half-bath window. From where she was standing she could see the black brooding mass of the castle silhouetted against the night sky. She shuddered; the scene reminded her of the backdrop of classic Dracula movies which used to terrify her as a teenager.