Page 47 of Jealous of the Clouds
No.
Stop.
Let the poor guy sleep.
But do tell him when he wakes.
I turned back to retreat into my office. I sat down at my desk, switched on the lamp to banish the darkness outside—and in my mind.
I could always work on my podcast. I could always do a good thing.
I powered up Garage Band on my iMac and pulled my microphone toward me. I did a quick levels check and adjustment and began, off the cuff, from the heart.
“Camille D’Amico is fifty-seven years old. She’s a good woman, a funny one, kind, and a bit of a cynic. She’s a good friend to most everyone she knows. A protector and compassionate defender. A mother.
“And she’s missing.
“I have good reason to believe she was abducted by the man who may have murdered my brother, Joshua Kade.”
There was a stirring behind me. I looked up at the dark glass above the computer. Ted was reflected there, standing between the open French doors.
I shut off my mic and swiveled.
He wore a pair of my old sweatpants and nothing else. He couldn’t have looked more tempting. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
He shook his head and moved toward me. He leaned down to wrap his arms around me from behind. “I heard you.” His voice was gravelly with sleep and as yet unbanished fatigue. But it also had a warmth in it I’m not sure I’d heard before. It set off quiet alarms in my heart—good ones.
I wanted this quiet, simple moment to last forever.
I would have settled for even a few more seconds, but then my phone rang. I picked it up from the glass surface of my desk and glanced down at its screen.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Under normal circumstances, I’d consider this a telemarketer and let the call go to voice mail. But we were not living under normal circumstances, so I pressed the green phone icon to answer.
A very deep, artificial-sounding voice came through the line. I had enough experience with voice-altering technology to know when one was in use. This one sounded like Darth Vader. “Tell Ted Camille’s dead. She died in pain, crying out his name.” The person paused, breath a little heavier. “And you’re next,Karl. I should have gotten rid of you when I got rid of your lousy, drug-addled whore of a brother.”
Before I could form a response, the line went dead.
I was too stunned to do anything for at least a minute or two. Then I glanced up at Ted, wondering if he could hear the words that had just shocked me to my core and ascertained he hadn’t. His expression was merely curious, not filled with horror.
And then I called the number back.
But it just rang and rang…endlessly.
I hung up and looked again at Ted. How could I tell him?
Chapter 21
Ted
“We should take a ride,” Karl said.
“A ride? It’s late. Why a ride now?” I didn’t know if my face revealed my suspicion. This was odd. It was getting on toward eleven o’clock. A ride? I was thinking only of a magic carpet ride to dreamland if I wanted to get fanciful. The whole world, its dark pressing against the windows, suddenly seemed surreal. “Who was that on the phone?”
Karl rolled his office chair back and stood. “C’mon. Let’s find you something to wear.” Wordlessly, I followed him into his bedroom, watching as he slid open drawers. He pulled out a faded blue hoodie with the De Paul Blue Demons logo emblazoned across the front and a pair of gray socks, the kind from which sock monkeys were crafted. From his closet, he withdrew a denim jacket. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’m gonna go grab my keys and put some shoes on.”
There was an electric charge to the air, as though the tension between us was a living thing, invisible, butthereall the same. I didn’t speak as I watched him retreat. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know who the caller was, although I suspected. Nor did I want to know what the call was about. My gut held ready answers to both questions, but I pushed my mind away from them. But the avoidance had no effect on my terror and dread.
