“Yeah, for a couple of minutes there you didn’t seem very pleased with me. Sorry about that.”
“I understood where you were coming from, but just do us both a favor-don’t put me in that position again, or I will hurt you,” she said, then flashed a wry grin.
I nodded. “I promise.”
We were parked across from one another in a booth at the restaurant connected to our hotel. It was late enough that the lunch rush was over but still far too early for dinner, so we had the place almost completely to ourselves. We’d been dropped off here less than an hour ago after officially declining the earlier lunch invitation we’d received. I don’t know if the food would have been any more upscale, but in my opinion the company would have been almost intolerable. Given all that had transpired, by the time my conversation with Doctor Jante ended, I’d had more than enough of her for one day; and I was fairly certain the feeling was mutual. Sharing a meal with her really wasn’t an appealing option as far as I was concerned.
However, since Constance and I were both running on coffee and the quickly waning benefits of an overpriced airport breakfast back in Saint Louis, sustenance was definitely in order. Therefore, we checked in, dropped our luggage in our rooms, and headed straight back down here.
I had begun telling her what transpired behind closed doors back at Carswell as soon as we sat down, pausing only long enough for us to place our orders. I hadn’t actually told Doctor Jante I would keep her secret; therefore I wasn’t particularly worried about violating a confidence to which I’d never agreed. I came here for answers, not more questions, so I wasn’t about to play her game.
I mulled over Constance’s earlier comment while chewing the mouthful of potato, then swallowed and asked, “So the FBI isn’t allowed to recruit?”
“Sure we are,” she said. “We do it all the time, but not like this.”
“Well, apparently you do.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I do.”
Stabbing at her salad, she commented, “I know I’m changing the subject, but I have to say you sure seem to be in a lot better mood now.”
“Actually, yeah, I am,” I said while turning my plate in a slow semi-circle as I looked for a suitable angle at which to attack the oversized cheeseburger that was competing for space with the equally massive pile of fries. “Not euphoric by any stretch of the imagination, but way better than I was. Don’t know why. I suppose just getting out of there helped.”
“I’ve had days like that,” Constance agreed.
After a quiet pause I confessed, “I’m actually feeling a little guilty about it.”
“Why?”
“It’s not like this is done,” I said. “Miranda is still looming over us. I still need to make a decision about tomorrow. And, Felicity…”
“Didn’t she say she was fine though?”
“Yeah. Yeah she did…” I admitted. I had called her again while we were being driven to the hotel, and she had assured me everything was back to normal. In fact, she had sounded as relieved as I now seemed to be feeling.
“Then let yourself relax for a change, Rowan,” Constance said. “You live under that dark cloud way too much. It’s not good for you.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “I just hope this isn’t some sort of calm before the storm type of thing.”
“There you go again. The eternal pessimist.”
“Sorry. It’s become a bit of a habit.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Not without good reason,” I reminded her. “Look at my track record.”
“I know.” She looked up from her meal and watched for several seconds as I visibly struggled to figure out how I was going to get my lunch from the plate to my mouth without ending up wearing some of it. Finally, she shook her head and commented, “I still can’t believe you ordered that thing.”
“Yeah, I’m beginning to feel the same way,” I replied with a chuckle. “But I’m really hungry and it looked good in the picture on the menu.”
“So your mood is obviously better. What about your headache?”
“Down to a dull roar. Actually, it’s even better than it was earlier this morning on the plane,” I answered while smashing down the top of the burger with my hand in an attempt to make it flat enough to fit my mouth. “So, still there, but much better than it was a couple of hours ago.”
“Well that’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah, about as good as it gets for me. I’ve gotten used to living with the pain I guess. Unfortunately, the lull is just another one of those red flags that makes me wonder when the piano is going to fall on my head.”
“I thought we were trying optimism this time?”
“It’s kind of a foreign concept for me, but yeah, you’re right.”
She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe food will help.”
“Maybe. If I can ever manage to actually eat it.”
She glanced at the monstrosity on my plate and raised an eyebrow. “I’m really thinking a knife and fork are in order for that thing.”
“It’s a cheeseburger, Constance. I’m pretty sure they would revoke my membership to the man club if I did that.”
She shook her head. “You really have been hanging out with Ben too much.”
I decided that I was simply going to have to dive in and take my chances. Still, as a precaution I tucked my napkin into my shirt collar to form a makeshift bib, then finally managed to get my hands around the sandwich and haul it up from the plate.
Constance chuckled as she joked, “Should I flag down the waiter and ask for extra napkins?”
“Now you sound like Felicity,” I said.
“Well, she did tell me to look after you.”
“Did she teach you any Gaelic?” I asked. “Then I’d feel right at home.”
“Maybe I should call her and ask for a lesson or two.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.”
I returned my attention to the mammoth burger. All of my smashing at least allowed me to take a bite but not without a significant amount of struggle involved in actually getting my mouth around it. Of course, a side effect of the manhandling also produced a bit of a mess, just as I’d expected, most of which I was able to contain over the plate. However, some of it still ended up accenting my shirtsleeve, not to mention my face.
I laid the burger back onto the plate and began cleaning the catsup and such from my chin. Constance grinned at me, shaking her head before once again stabbing at her bowl full of healthful greens. I continued chewing while stifling my own urge to laugh.
The cheeseburger actually did taste as good as it had looked on the menu. Unfortunately, my enjoyment of it ended with that first bite because when I swallowed I felt a quick stab of pain along the side of my neck. What made it even worse was the fact that the stinging sensation was too familiar for words.
A swath of panic instantly rushed over me as I winced and reached upward, feeling around with my fingers. The burning sensation gave way to a tingling discomfort. When I pulled my hand away and looked, it was wet and smeared bright red. The light fixture over our table instantly bloomed, casting everything in a stark contrast of washed out colors and hard shadows.
Constance’s voice echoed in my ears. “You missed some, Rowan.”
I tried to look at her as a gelid chill penetrated my skin, leaching directly into my bones.
“How did you manage to get catsup on your…” Her voice rattled in my head again but stopped with a sudden yelp, leaving the question to dangle, unasked.
The room began to spin, and I pushed my hands against the edge of the table in an attempt to stop myself from sliding downward, but to no avail. I had already begun pitching sideways as darkness slipped in to replace the garish light.
I could feel pressure against my neck as I heard Constance, shouting the command, “Call 9-1-1. NOW!” Her
