The Panic Zone Part 40

"We can wait, or come back," Uncle Ned said.

"I'll be fine. I'll walk home. I just need to be alone, to think."

The anxiety in her aunt's eyes was clear.

"Don't worry, Aunt Marsha."

"Try telling the rain not to fall."

Both women released a laugh.

"What happened is n.o.body's fault," her aunt said.

"I know."

"We love you, Emma," her aunt said.

They drove off, leaving Emma alone to walk along the high prairie that disappeared into the mountains. She made her way around the headstones to the gravesite that was marked by a white wooden cross and a mound of dark earth.

The stone wasn't ready yet.

The small plate affixed to the cross read Joseph Lane and Tyler Lane.

Emma sat on the gra.s.s.

No one else was in the cemetery.

Birds twittered.

Am I wrong? Is everyone else right? Have I lost you forever?

She was so tired. She didn't know what to do.

I want to be with you. I need to be with you.

A breeze rolled down from the Rockies and lifted her hair, tugging her down a river of memories as moments of their lives together rained upon her like falling stars.

I feel your hand, Joe. I really do. I feel that shirt, that stupid faded denim shirt, softened by a thousand washings. I feel your skin. I smell you. I taste your cheek on my lips.

Oh, Tyler, Mommy sees you laughing in the sun.

I see you, Mom and Dad.

I see the fires that took you all.

I see you together.

Don't leave me here.

Can you hear me?

Please, take me with you.

I want to be with you.... I can't bear to be alone.

I can't be without you. I can't. I can't live without you.

I can't fight anymore.

Was I wrong about it all?

Was the phone call really about Dr. Durbin's letter? Was Polly Larenski crazy with grief, too? Was she not in her right mind when she called me and said Tyler was alive?

Help me!

Joe, help me! Tell me what to do. Tell me what is real because I don't know anymore. Send me a sign, show me the way, please. It hurts so much.

Time slipped away as Emma struggled with half-dreamed fears, listening and searching. But no one spoke to her and no signs emerged.

Reality descended upon her with the sinking sun.

She was alone.

Defeated.

She had come to another decision.

As she walked home from the cemetery, the truth emerged at every turn and every corner where she was met by the ghosts of her happiness.

There was the Wagon Wheel Diner where she first saw Joe. And there was the Branding Bar where she met him again a month later. And there were two houses that Joe and his crew built. And down the way, in the distance, she saw her school and, near it, the hospital where she had Tyler. There was the park where he liked to play.

I can't live without you.

Reality had arrived with the night, and the truth was as dark as the starless sky. She walked into Yancy's Drugs, went to the cold remedy aisle and s.n.a.t.c.hed a large bottle of extra-strong sleeping pills.

The store was deserted.

Mindy, the teenaged clerk, picked up the bottle from the counter. She hesitated to slide it over the scanner next to the cash, giving Emma a look that telegraphed her knowledge. Like when boys bought condoms or Mindy's girlfriends paid for birth control or Rudy, the furniture salesman, bought hair dye. If you wanted to know what was really going on in Big Cloud, talk to the checkout girl at Yancy's Drugs.

"How are you doing, Emma?" Mindy turned the bottle to find the barcode.

"I'm having trouble sleeping, Mindy. How's your mom?"

"Good. We're so sorry about what happened and everything."

The scanner beeped.

"Will that be cash or charge?"

Emma set a ten on the counter then gathered up her change, her pills and left. When she put the bottle in her purse, it sounded like a baby's rattle.

Aunt Marsha was relieved when Emma arrived home. Uncle Ned woke from napping in front of the TV and an old John Wayne movie.

The Searchers. Joe's favorite. Was that a sign?

"Do you want something to eat, dear?" Aunt Marsha asked. "I can fix you a chicken sandwich and we have potato salad."

"No. I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed. I'm very tired."

"Oh, before I forget, I have your new prescription in my purse and Dr. Pierce said you were to take two pills before bed. I'll get them."

After Emma swallowed the pills with a gla.s.s of water, she hugged her aunt, a bone-cracking, pa.s.sionate hug that lasted more than a moment.

"Goodness, dear!"

Then Emma hugged her uncle the same way.

"Thank you both for everything. I love you."

"We love you, too, Em." Uncle Ned, rubbed his eyes. "Sleep well."

"Emma?" her aunt asked. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Emma stopped, swallowed, blinked back a few tears and forced a weak smile before shaking her head.

"I'm just tired."

Alone in her bedroom she shut the door.

She got a cup of cold water from her bathroom and set it and the bottle on her nightstand under the glow of the reading lamp.

In the dim light, she undressed and wrapped herself in one of Joe's old flannel shirts. She pulled out Tyler's stuffed teddy bear from her bag as well as her wallet, which held a worn snapshot of the three of them at the park.

She loved this picture.

I want to be with you. When I sleep, I dream. In my dreams we are together. I need to be with you.

She could hear crickets in the night. See the darkness from her window.

Warm joy flowed through her heart, carrying her to every tender memory, every sweet second of their lives together.

Help me find my way back to you.

Please.

It hurts.

The bottle rattled slightly when she reached for it.

It was hard to see because of her tears, but she managed to read a few words on the label: One hundred extra-strength capsules. The recommended dosage for adults was two before bed.

She unscrewed the cap, stared at the foil seal.

She caught her breath, then using her thumbnail, punctured the foil.

She peeled it back, removed the cotton and peered inside.

50.

New York City.

Wyoming.

There's a link to Wyoming, Jack Gannon thought, working late at his desk at the World Press Alliance.

But what is it? And there's a link to Brazil, Africa, human traffickers, an ex-CIA player and something called Extremus Deus. Man, this story shoots in a thousand directions but I have no way of knowing how the threads connect.

A planned attack was feared.

Gannon sensed time was hammering against him.

People have died. People have been murdered. I've got to nail this story.

He had to settle down, he had to focus.

Reaching for his mug to take a hit of coffee, his hand shook. He set the mug down. Jet lag, he told himself, it's jet lag.

He'd returned from Africa late yesterday.

Or was it the day before?

He'd lost track of time.

He glanced out the window. Dusk had fallen on Manhattan and the Empire State Building ascended from a galaxy of light. His body was sore from stress, from tension. He'd arrived at the office that afternoon and worked with a sense of urgency, propelled by caffeine and adrenaline. The midlevel editors had left him alone. He was working for Melody Lyon.

For her part, Lyon had yet to get a face-to-face debriefing from him. She'd been in Montreal, then in Boston on company business. She was due back at headquarters at any moment and she'd ordered him to wait at the office no matter how late she was.

All right, Gannon, focus.

He tried the coffee again, managed a decent gulp and got back to work.

He had so many files open that he risked freezing up his computer. He'd scanned in the pages he'd found near the cafe bombing in Rio and was reviewing them. He'd also downloaded and opened everything from Maria Santo and Sarah Kirby's group in Rio. He had Adam Corley's ma.s.sive file open, and he had his own notes on what he suspected were the major veins of the story.