some time, and for a
second I faltered, wishing I'd not come.
Then space was found for me at the table, and it was too late.
Introductions were made, but I forgot the names as soon as I heard
them. Other than Paul and Sam, the only person I recognized was
Alana, the forensic anthropologist who'd told me where to find Tom
in the facility earlier. She was with a brawny man I guessed must be
her husband, but the rest were either faculty members or students I
didn't know.
'You've got to try the beer, David,' Paul said, leaning round Sam
to see me. 'This place has its own microbrewery. It's fantastic'
I'd hardly touched alcohol in months, but I felt I needed something
now. The beer was a dark brew served cold, and tasted
wonderful. I drank half of it almost straight off, and set the glass down
with a sigh.
'You look like you needed that,' Alana said from across the table.
'One of those days, huh?'
'Something like that,' I agreed.
'Had a few of those myself.'
She raised her glass in an ironic toast. I took another drink of beer, feeling myself begin to relax. The atmosphere around the table was
informal and friendly, and I slipped easily into the conversations
going on around me.When the food arrived I tore into it. I'd ordered
steak and a green salad, and I hadn't realized how hungry I was until
then.
'Having fun?'
Sam was grinning at me over the top of her glass of mineral water.
I nodded, working to swallow a mouthful of steak.
'Is it that obvious?'
'Uh-huh. First time I've seen you look relaxed. You should try it
more often.'
I laughed. 'I'm not that bad, am I?'
'Oh, just wound a little tight.' Her smile was warm. 'I know you
came here to get some things straightened out. But there's no law
says you can't enjoy yourself from time to time. You're among
friends, you know.'
I looked down, more affected than I wanted to admit. 'I know.
Thanks.'
She shifted in her seat and winced, putting her hand to her
stomach.
'Everything OK?' I asked.
She gave a pained smile. 'He's a little restless.'
'He?'
'He,' she said firmly, stealing a look across at Paul. 'Definitely
he.'
The plates were cleared away, desserts and more drinks ordered. I
had coffee, knowing if I had another beer I'd regret it in the
morning. I leaned back in my chair, savouring the slight buzz of
well-being.
And then my good mood crashed around me.
From nowhere I caught a waft of musk, lightly spiced and unmistakable.
A second later it had vanished, lost amongst the stronger
odours of food and beer, but I knew I hadn't imagined it.
Recognition ran through me like an electric shock. For an instant I
was back on the tiled floor of my hallway, the metallic stink of blood
blending with a more delicate, sensual scent.
Grace Strachan's perfume.
She's here. I bolted upright in my seat, frantically looking around.
The restaurant was a confusion of sound and colour. I scanned the
faces, desperately searching for a telltale feature, some flaw in a disguise. She must be here somewhere. Where is she?
'Coffee?'
I stared blankly up at the waitress who'd appeared next to me. She
was in her late teens, a little overweight. Her perfume cut through
the cooking and bar-room smells: a cheap musk, heavy and cloying.
Up close, it was nothing like the subtle perfume that Grace Strachan
used.
Just similar enough to fool me for a second.
'You order coffee?' the waitress prompted, giving me a wary look.
'Sorry.Yes, thank you.'
She set it down and moved on. My arms and legs prickled, shivery
with the aftermath of adrenalin. I realized my hand was clenched so
tightly around its scar that it hurt. Idiot. As if Grace could have followed
you . . . Awareness of how brittle my nerves were, even here, left a
sour taste in my mouth. I tried to force myself to relax but my heart
was still racing. All at once there didn't seem to be enough air in the
room. The noise and smells were unbearable.
'David?' Sam was looking at me with
second I faltered, wishing I'd not come.
Then space was found for me at the table, and it was too late.
Introductions were made, but I forgot the names as soon as I heard
them. Other than Paul and Sam, the only person I recognized was
Alana, the forensic anthropologist who'd told me where to find Tom
in the facility earlier. She was with a brawny man I guessed must be
her husband, but the rest were either faculty members or students I
didn't know.
'You've got to try the beer, David,' Paul said, leaning round Sam
to see me. 'This place has its own microbrewery. It's fantastic'
I'd hardly touched alcohol in months, but I felt I needed something
now. The beer was a dark brew served cold, and tasted
wonderful. I drank half of it almost straight off, and set the glass down
with a sigh.
'You look like you needed that,' Alana said from across the table.
'One of those days, huh?'
'Something like that,' I agreed.
'Had a few of those myself.'
She raised her glass in an ironic toast. I took another drink of beer, feeling myself begin to relax. The atmosphere around the table was
informal and friendly, and I slipped easily into the conversations
going on around me.When the food arrived I tore into it. I'd ordered
steak and a green salad, and I hadn't realized how hungry I was until
then.
'Having fun?'
Sam was grinning at me over the top of her glass of mineral water.
I nodded, working to swallow a mouthful of steak.
'Is it that obvious?'
'Uh-huh. First time I've seen you look relaxed. You should try it
more often.'
I laughed. 'I'm not that bad, am I?'
'Oh, just wound a little tight.' Her smile was warm. 'I know you
came here to get some things straightened out. But there's no law
says you can't enjoy yourself from time to time. You're among
friends, you know.'
I looked down, more affected than I wanted to admit. 'I know.
Thanks.'
She shifted in her seat and winced, putting her hand to her
stomach.
'Everything OK?' I asked.
She gave a pained smile. 'He's a little restless.'
'He?'
'He,' she said firmly, stealing a look across at Paul. 'Definitely
he.'
The plates were cleared away, desserts and more drinks ordered. I
had coffee, knowing if I had another beer I'd regret it in the
morning. I leaned back in my chair, savouring the slight buzz of
well-being.
And then my good mood crashed around me.
From nowhere I caught a waft of musk, lightly spiced and unmistakable.
A second later it had vanished, lost amongst the stronger
odours of food and beer, but I knew I hadn't imagined it.
Recognition ran through me like an electric shock. For an instant I
was back on the tiled floor of my hallway, the metallic stink of blood
blending with a more delicate, sensual scent.
Grace Strachan's perfume.
She's here. I bolted upright in my seat, frantically looking around.
The restaurant was a confusion of sound and colour. I scanned the
faces, desperately searching for a telltale feature, some flaw in a disguise. She must be here somewhere. Where is she?
'Coffee?'
I stared blankly up at the waitress who'd appeared next to me. She
was in her late teens, a little overweight. Her perfume cut through
the cooking and bar-room smells: a cheap musk, heavy and cloying.
Up close, it was nothing like the subtle perfume that Grace Strachan
used.
Just similar enough to fool me for a second.
'You order coffee?' the waitress prompted, giving me a wary look.
'Sorry.Yes, thank you.'
She set it down and moved on. My arms and legs prickled, shivery
with the aftermath of adrenalin. I realized my hand was clenched so
tightly around its scar that it hurt. Idiot. As if Grace could have followed
you . . . Awareness of how brittle my nerves were, even here, left a
sour taste in my mouth. I tried to force myself to relax but my heart
was still racing. All at once there didn't seem to be enough air in the
room. The noise and smells were unbearable.
'David?' Sam was looking at me with
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