The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(57)
She sits on the edge of my bed and gently probes the contours of my face. I’m fascinated by her eyes. She’s clearly making a clinical assessment, but there’s obvious compassion there—not necessarily for me as a person, but for my body, for me as a patient.
“Let’s see here. Blink if it hurts.”
She traces her fingers down my jawline. There’s a subtle pain, but nothing like yesterday. I don’t blink.
“Good. I’m going to take these off.”
She unwraps the bandage that has been holding my jaw clenched and sets it aside.
“Okay, slowly, open your mouth. Stop when you feel pain.”
I get my teeth apart a fair distance before I feel something sharp in the back of my mouth. I stop there.
She measures the distance between my teeth with a small ruler. “Not the most scientific tool, but my dad was a vet and it worked for him. The good news is you can move from straw food to anything that fits on a spoon. I’ll send you up some soup. Sound good?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply in a scratchy voice.
“Let’s get some liquids in you. In the meantime, we have a special visitor.”
I look toward the door, hoping to see Jillian walk through. Instead Office Gunther enters.
My whole body trembles for a moment. I don’t know if it’s a high-level response or something from muscle memory. Either way, I feel my stomach knot up, and I grow cold.
“Look who it is, Theo. The man who rescued you.” Talbot gives me a warm smile and a squeeze on my shoulder. “I bet you’re glad to see him.”
I glance up at Gunther and nod. “You have no idea.”
“I’ll leave you two to get to the bottom of this.” She stands up and walks over to Gunther. “It’s nice of you to check in on him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies uneasily.
To be honest, I’m relieved to see that he didn’t slip the lie on like a new pair of shoes. That would make me suspect that he’s a sociopath. Instead, he just awkwardly accepts the praise, trying not to look at my bruised face.
He shuts the door behind her and takes a seat in the corner. Eyes toward the floor, slack posture. He doesn’t want to stare at me and see the damage he’s done to my face.
“You shouldn’t have been in that van,” he says after an uncomfortable silence.
Right now he’s wrestling with what he did, trying to decide if he made the wrong choice in not arresting me.
“They’re not going to find Chelsea’s killer,” I reply.
“How do you know?”
“I saw what happened with my friend Juniper. They’ll do the same thing all over again.”
Relieved that this conversation isn’t going to be about what he did to me, he finally makes eye contact. “You don’t know anything about me and Chelsea.”
“I think you cared about her a great deal.” I leave out that he’s also very ashamed of what she became.
“I was like a brother to her. Her parents weren’t around much, and I had to look out for her.” He pauses. “When she got older . . .”
It’s a small town. The number of available women is very limited. It’s why first-cousin marriage is the norm in so many parts of the world—that, and it makes it easier to retain property in zero-sum societies.
“When I saw you coming out of the back of that van. What the fuck, man? And then when you opened your mouth and just wouldn’t shut up. What the hell were you doing back there?”
“Looking for bacteria and hair samples.”
“They do all that science shit in the state lab.”
“Not like I can. They’re twenty years behind the tools I have access to.”
“Oh, yeah? How good are those tools of yours in court?”
“I don’t give a damn about court right now. I want to find a killer.”
“You’re serious?”
“Serious enough to run my mouth so you’d kick my ass instead of me getting kicked out of the state and not being able to finish what I started.”
He shakes his head. “I knew you were trying to piss me off.”
“And I’m here instead of in jail.”
“You still could be.”
I point to my damaged face. “You could have said I was resisting arrest and maybe got away with it. But not now. You were my get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He stands up. “I brought some of your things by. Your backpack is in the closet.”
“Is this where you tell me to get out of town?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do. Just stay clear of me. There’s something off about you.”
No shit.
After he leaves, I muster the energy to get out of bed. While my strength is there, the pain medicine has my balance a little off. I think I’ll skip the next round of pills and see how I manage.
I take my pack out of the closet to get my laptop. When I unzip the top, there’s a plastic evidence bag sitting on top of my clothes.
Inside are the samples I took from Chelsea’s body.
He left them for me.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ACADEMIC
I close my eyes and ease my mouth open wide enough for the forkful of cherry pie. The back of my jaw feels like a metal grinder is attacking my nerve endings, but I endure long enough to get it into my mouth, then quickly retract the fork.