come into his house and poke her nose into his business?
The bedroom door creaked open a few minutes later, and he heard Iris's soft footsteps approach, 'I'm sorry. I went too far. I shouldn't have pushed you.'
'Doesn't matter.' he said, blessed numbness settling over him like a blanket. 'This was a doomed situation from the get-go. I knew it as soon as Darcy suggested it.'
'Too much like moss on your rolling stone?' she asked.
He managed a wry smile. 'Exactly.'
Iris set her suitcase next to the coffee table and sat across from Maddox in one of the armchairs. 'You don't need to drive me. I called a cab from the bedroom. They'll be here in a few minutes.'
He pushed himself off the sofa, concentrating on the pain in his ribs to keep from thinking about the darker pain in the center of his chest. 'Tell them to take you to the Princeton. Darcy'll be waiting.'
He crossed to the kitchen counter and pulled the toast from the toaster. It was already cold. He sighed and dropped the bread on the counter.
He felt Iris move closer to him. 'I appreciate your watching out for me last night.' she said. 'I felt safe here. Thank you for that.'
He closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out her words as easily. 'You weren't safe at the St. George. That's all.'
'I know' Her voice came out low and tight. 'You've helped me a lot over the past couple of days. I just want you to know that I'm grateful.'
He sighed, 'I didn't do anything.'
She touched his back, her fingers pressing lightly into the bruises on his rib cage. 'Yes, you did.' Her hand fell away.
The sound of a horn honking outside made Maddox start. He looked over his shoulder at Iris. 'There's your ride.' He attempted a smile, hoping it didn't look as sick as he felt.
She retrieved her bag and started toward the door. Maddox caught up with her, realizing he was letting his own conflicted emotions override his good sense. Anybody could be outside waiting for her in that cab, including Quinn.
Or TahirMahmoud.
'I'll walk you out.' he said, taking the bag from her. He nodded for her to get behind him.
She inclined her head and fell into step behind him, smart enough not to argue. He relaxed a little when he caught sight of Abner Toulouse behind the wheel of the cab.
He and Abner had shot a few tables in the past. He was a good man. 'Screw Loose!' He shook Abner's hand as the cabbie got out to help Iris with her bags.
'Maddox. Who knocked you around, man?' Abner put the bags in the trunk of the cab and cocked his head, a grin spreading across his wizened features.
'Should've seen the other guy.' Maddox answered.
'Yeah, yeah, you the big guy.' Abner clapped him on the shoulder. Maddox tried not to wince.
Iris opened the back door but stopped before she got into the backseat. She looked at Maddox. 'I guess I won't be the seeing you again, so, goodbye. Thanks again for everything.'
A dull pain started to spread through his chest, stealing his breath, but he pushed it down deep inside him. He didn't want her to feel it and get the wrong idea. 'Be careful. Iris. Think about getting on the next plane home, like I said.'
'I will.' she said. He could tell it was a lie. She had no intention of leaving until she found her friend.
He made himself back away from her before he tried to stop her from leaving. She wasn't his problem anymore. She never should have been.
Abner gave a short wave and drove away, splattering mud behind him. Maddox watched until the cab disappeared around the curve and was gone from sight.
'Better this way' he murmured aloud, as if voicing the idea would make it so.
He walled slowly back to his front door and sank onto the bottom step, groaning at the agony in his twisted knee. He focused on the pain racing up his leg and into his lower belly, welcoming the burning sensation. Anything beat the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
'Are you certain you would rather remain here on the island than return home?' Nicholas Darcy asked from the doorway of Iris's new hotel room.
She turned to look at him. He looked so uncomfortable, standing stiff and formal in the doorway. He hadn't even followed her inside, just set her bag on the floor by the door. 'I have to keep trying to find out where Sandrine is.'
'I thought you knew where she was. Isn't she part of that focus group from the convention?'
'I think there's more to it.'
Darcy's eyes narrowed. 'What?'
She couldn't tell him about Quinn, even if Darcy knew who the man was. She had no idea about security clearances or what constituted classified information, so she kept her mouth shut.
'I see.' Darcy said after a moment of silence, 'Very well. You have my phone number if you need anything. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any further trouble, I will do whatever I can to help you out.'
'Thank you, Mr. Darcy. For everything.'
He gave a small wave and left, closing the door behind him.
Iris sat on the end of the bed and released a long, slow breath. Now what? She pulled the list of names from her purse and looked at them again. Fight names. An even number-was that significant?
Something Sharon Phelps had said the night of the cocktail party ran through her mind. She'd mentioned that Dr.Grinkov was interested in-how had she put it? Synchronized paranormality? Synchronized suggested more than one person would be involved.
But involved in what?
Feeling restless, she crossed to the window. Unlike her room at the St. George, this hotel room looked out on the street below. She squinted against the bright morning light and peered at the store fronts below. The area looked familiar. Had she been there before?
Then she spotted the faded blue-and-dun sign on the front of one of the buildings-the Sand Dollar Cafe, the Internet cafe Maddox had taken her to the other day. Perfect.
Within ten minutes, she was seated atone of the cafe's computer terminals, a cup of steaming coffee at her elbow. She laid her list of names in front of her and started searching.
The first thing she ascertained, pretty quickly, was that of the eight names on the list, only one had a Web site: Celia Shore. None of the others had a Web presence.
However, within a half hour, she'd managed to find all eight people on the list Sharon had given her, and a pattern began to emerge.
She'd apparently been right about what Sharon had meant by synchronized paranormality. The eight names could be split into four groups of two, based on the purported paranormal specialty of the people on the list. There were two clairvoyants, two telekinetics, two mediums and two empaths.
Well, one empathy, since Celia Shore had been a fake.
But what was the significance of the two groups of four? Where did the synchronicity come in?
She tucked the list into the small notebook she kept in her purse and sat back, frowning at the computer screen. There had to be a reason Dr.Grinkov had selected this particular set of people for whatever he had up his sleeve.
Quinn thought terrorists were involved, but Iris couldn't see why, much less how. And until the ClA agent approached her again, there wasn't a lot she could do, was there?
She'd called the St. George to see if Celia Shore's death had affected the conference schedule. The events coordinator told her that the morning sessions had been cancelled, but the conference would resume after 1 p.m. She had a few' hours to kill between now and then.
She started to shut down the computer but stopped, pulling up the search engine page again. She typed in 'Maddox Heller' and hit enter. Several links popped up.
The first one caught her eye: Concerned Citizens for Maddox Heller.
