The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust #1)(67)

Caitlin turned, pressing herself against me, our bodies glistening in the pulsating spray. “Apocalyptic,” she murmured, kissing me. “I may have a lead. You’ve mentioned that India keeps coming up, in regards to Carmichael’s past.”

“A couple of times, yeah.”

She turned me around and traced the curve of my shoulders with a bar of soap.

“My nocturnal ramblings led me to some old news stories about her alma mater, Stanford. Many years ago a young Lauren, undertaking her freshman studies of archeology, talked her way onto a field expedition to southern Nepal, near Chitwan. The team intended to explore and document a recently-excavated temple complex dating back to the Maurya Empire.”

I closed my eyes, savoring her touch. “And how did that go?”

“Badly. Two weeks into the expedition, their camp was attacked by murderous bandits. By some miracle, Lauren survived.”

“Miracle, huh?” I shook my head. “She’s not the kind of person who depends on miracles. Did anybody else make it out?”

“One man. Her professor and mentor, Dr. Eugene Planck. Upon his return he was immediately hospitalized with a nervous breakdown, which quickly progressed into full-blown psychosis. He tried to kill himself by drinking muriatic acid. He wanted, according to witnesses, to ‘burn the parasite.’ His family had him committed.”

Burn the parasite. I thought about Lauren’s death-curse, the snake creature she’d forced into my stomach, and shuddered. Was that where she had learned the trick?

“Did he die?” I asked.

“No, and as far as I can tell he’s still languishing in a padded room at Napa State Hospital.”

“He knows what happened on that expedition. Dr. Planck is probably the only person who can tell us what Lauren’s become and what she really wants. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking San Francisco is an hour and a half away by plane, and from there it’s a short drive to Napa,” Caitlin said. “We can be there and back in time for a late dinner. Speaking of, how do you feel about scrambled eggs and sausage?”

My stomach gave an involuntary grumble. With all the chaos, I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down for a decent meal.

“Sounds great,” I said.

“Fantastic.” She turned off the shower and reached for a towel. “You’ll find my kitchen is well stocked. You cook while I go online and buy our tickets. Oh, don’t use any of the meat in the red Tupperware.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t like it. It’s…not for you.”

She hummed a happy tune as she wrapped a towel around her hair and strolled off. Alone for a moment, I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“So,” I said to myself, “now you’re dating a creature from hell. That’s new.”

I was okay with that.

No, better than okay. Being with Caitlin felt…natural, in a way I couldn’t find words for. Like her hand was made to fit in mine. I dreaded the inevitable conversation with Bentley and Corman about it, but for now I was happy just to see where this road would take us. In a week marred by death and pain, I’d found a single red rose growing in the ruins.

I’d take the thorns as they came.





Thirty-Four



Two hours later we leaned back in stiff chairs as our plane roared down the runway, lifting off for California skies. Caitlin had bought us tickets for business class, and we were sitting toward the back on a half-empty flight.

“Normally I prefer first class,” she told me, “but I felt a low profile would be wise. We don’t know how many eyes Lauren has, and I imagine she wouldn’t want us talking to her dear old professor.”

“I’m wondering why she let him live,” I said. “And on the note of paying for things, I’m reimbursing you for the tickets.”

“No you aren’t,” Caitlin said. “It’s a business expense. I am investigating a potential threat to my prince’s safety. I just have to fill out an expense report when we get back.”

The plane leveled out. Wisps of cloud slithered past my window. I tilted my head, looking at her.

“Expense report? It just seems a little modern for, well, who you work for.”

She fished in her handbag, a slender black Louis Vuitton, and handed me her business card.

“Southern Tropics Import/Export Company

Caitlin Brody, Regional Manager”

“We believe in keeping up with the times,” she said. “It’s not all backward Latin and slaughtered goats.”

The drink cart trundled down the aisle. Caitlin promptly ordered a pair of ginger ales for us. I stared at her.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” I asked.

“Doing what?”

“Ordering for me.”

“Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Do you mean you weren’t just feeling slightly airsick, and a bottle of ginger ale wouldn’t help your stomach feel better?”

“I suppose,” I said, unscrewing the cap, “you may kinda sorta have a point.”

“Besides, you get the most adorably consternated look on your face.”

I had to smile at that. She was right about the ginger ale, anyway. I waited until the stewardess pushing the drink cart was farther up the aisle, leaving us alone in our little pocket of empty seats. I wasn’t looking forward to this, but it was time we laid all our cards on the table.