Chapter 27
THE LARAMIE HOUSE
I toss the package to Kail, and he catches it in mid-air as I drop into the driver’s seat and close the door. I hand him the second bag, which holds three hamburgers and fries. The scrumptious smell floods the car, and my stomach grumbles.
“Done.”
“Did you get what I asked you to?”
I start the car. “A big, black knobbly one that buzzes? Yes.” He tears at the wrapping and pulls the box from the remains of the paper.
“Hmmm. Good. The way that top and those jeans cling to you. I’d get you out of them and put it in you now if I could.”
“It’s broad daylight.” I pull the car out of the parking space and head home. Getting him to stay incognito in the car while I shopped was hard enough. “No getting frisky in the car in broad daylight.”
“So, if we come back at night—”
“No!”
He smiles. “When you say no to my ideas, I get the impression you don’t always mean no. You’ve never been fucked in the back of a car, parked behind a bar?”
Oh yeah. That one time, with a transient boyfriend. “Once, a long time ago. Are you saying you can remember doing it?”
His mouth opens and stays that way. “I think so? I don’t know who though. How. When. I wish I did.”
“What if there were a way to speed up the return of your memory?”
“If there were, I’d do it.”
It’s enough to keep both of us quiet on the return trip. I can’t help but wonder how that might be good or bad. What if he did something that was revolting? What if he remembers how he died, and it was traumatic, as dying often is. Especially if you were young.
The groceries are in the back seat, and Kail helps unload them and carry them to the kitchen. We chow down on the burgers—two for Kail—and eat without talking much. We’re both starving.
My phone buzzes while we’re binning the scraps and wrappers, and I thumb it open, to find a text from Molly.
Past the burger in my mouth, I manage to say, “It’s the McCluskers.”
“Uh-huh.”
MOLLY: Meeting has to be tonight. The ones coming have agreed. Attached a map showing the Laramie house. See you there at seven. Bring something snacky if you can, and drinks. Will supply ice box for anything that needs it.
I show it to Kail.
“And they want me to talk about myself?”
“Yes.” I take his hand. “The non-murdery parts, remember. If we can’t convince them to help us, I’m ready to leave Revenant and go somewhere we can live without worrying.
I have money to draw on.” Especially once I sell this house.
“And I don’t think we have a snowflake’s chance in hell by ourselves.
Like we discussed, we’re up against billionaire companies.
So, there is that.” I have a sudden panic moment.
I’m leaping into this like someone off the roof of an asylum. Do I really know him well enough? Nope.
He grunts, squeezes my hand. “It’s your life. I seem to have forgotten what living is.” He rests his gaze on me, and the steadiness I see in there, the trust, it settles me. He’s human, and more so than most actual people.
“I can help fix that,” I whisper and draw his hand to my face, press it there. We spend a minute kissing, with me pushed against the counter until Kail breaks away and re-adjusts my waistband that he’s unbuttoned and unzipped so he can grope me.
I smirk lopsidedly and try to prompt him. “I could sit up on the counter?” I’m aching all over again, wanting him. How he resists doing more, I do not know.
“Later.” He pulls on the jeans, purposely dragging the crotch upward and hitching me an inch in the air while he smiles knowingly.
“I will use you tonight. I promise.” He steps away.
“Okay. So, we search upstairs.” He looks at the ceiling.
“What about ceiling access to the inside of the roof, even if you’ve got no attic? ”
“Dayum. Maybe?” That’s kinda brilliant. Dad might’ve used it.
“Let’s start upstairs. I’ll tell you about where I went to school, when I got pimples, and my boring life up until now, to pass the time?”
He nods, ruffles my hair, kisses my crown, then ruffles my hair again. “I would love that.” His baritone voice, beside my ear, vibrates in and melts my knees. He bites my neck, and I close my eyes and mumble appreciation. “Race you upstairs!”
“Cheater!” We pound up together for two steps then he takes off. I swear the house shakes whenever he bounces all his weight on the floors like this.
And that is how I end up telling my life story to Kail.
If there is anything that says we are meant to be together, it’s a partner who listens to all the boring bits and still looks fascinated, still kisses you, and still manhandles you into a hallway closet to feel you all over and make you want to go to your knees for him, despite the lack of orgasms.
We stumble out of there, grinning, my face is hot, and I know Kail has a hard-on because I felt it against my ass. Why the closet? I don’t know, but I’m not complaining though the spider webs are a pita to brush off.
We fry up some sausages and have them with beans and a fancy rice salad I found in the minimart, then head out to this meeting, bearing the few snacks I have—Cheetos, along with a six-pack of beer.
The Chevy curls down Jordan Street until I turn into Celeste Road. When I bring the car to a halt behind a red Jeep, Kail taps the window.
“Hey. I know this place. It’s where I stole the hoodie.”
“Lucky they’re AWOL then.”
On the sidewalk before the house a white cat is sitting on its rump, looking as if it’s impatiently waiting for us to arrive. The black wriggly shape on its forehead makes it instantly recognizable. I go to one knee.
“Squiggle Cat! I missed you. I even bought some cat food for you.”
“I know him…or her. Trailed me up the hill for a bit the other day. It gets around.”
“Sure does.” I rise and stare at the two-story cream house with a tower on the left, a chimney on the right side, and a long shallow arch over the front door.
“I guess we shouldn’t take the cat inside.
” I scan the parked vehicles. “We’re the last to arrive, judging by all the cars.
A pretty house, and it looks like it was built quite a while ago. The 1800s?”
He shrugs. “It’s a house. It has clothes in the attic.”
“I like old houses. They have secret walls and stuff, in the movies.” We start up the paved pathway. “The garden seems tended to.”
“So long as there’s no bodies. I’m getting tired of those.” He takes my hand and we head up like that. It makes me feel like we’re an old couple.
“You need to stop making them then.”
“Point taken. Did you bring a shotgun?”
I blow him a raspberry. “I lost it, remember. Someone took it from me. We really should find it. Mr. McClusker will want it back.”
“I don’t think I’ll be looking for it until the searchers leave the mountain.”
It’s dusk soon, and he’s right. Up there, on the shadowed slopes, pinpoints of light are showing. They’re still searching for those two men. I sure hope they find nothing that makes them think we…I was to blame.
Do they even know Kail exists? He says no. But this other institute must be imaginary.
We step up and go beneath the entry area’s pretty arch. Greenery dangles from it, shielding the doorway. We wipe our feet and enter the Laramie house.
We follow Ron’s wheelchair along a wide hallway to a living room that out-does the one in my father’s house by two or three, in size and grandeur. Though dusty, several sculptures grace the bookshelves, and the cornices and style of the shelving speaks of money and taste.
The Weirdos have arranged armchairs and a sofa in a cozy spot around a low square white table. They nod or raise their hands, acknowledging me. I almost feel like a member.
A pile of magazines with curled pages are stacked at one corner of the table. Our beers are in the ice box. Salty snacks lie among the other offerings of cheese, dips, and cookies.
I park my opened beer on the table and seat myself as Ron introduces Esau, Rasmus, and Melody to Kail.
He mumbles a greeting in return, then treads a quiet path, beer in hand, to that chair in a far corner between a bookshelf and a window cloaked by blue curtains.
I have an armchair to myself. Dust rises from the arm when I pat it, curious about the film on the blue material.
Molly and Ron are opposite me this time, on a leather sofa, while Esau and Melody flank me.
Esau’s in black jeans, ponytail, and brown shirt, Rasmus is on a sofa beside him with his red hair well mussed as if he rushed through a shower.
We’re informed that Lulu isn’t coming, again, and I gather she has probably chosen to resign from this book club.
Maybe she expected more books and fewer supernatural mysteries.
“Emergency meeting of the Weirdos in session,” Ron announces with a smile. “Drink, eat, be merry, and I think Hailey is going to speak this time?”
“Yes.” I suck in a huge breath, try to remember what Kail and I thought was appropriate, then spill everything except those murders.
It’s not that different to what I said to Ron and Molly.
Father’s notes. The role of the institute.
That the Large Hadron Collider has not been shown to be involved.
Kail said that to me, didn’t he? Clay’s confession about Father’s murder, such that it was.
His threat, which was blatant. The attack on me. I spill it all.
They listen without interrupting, though the murder and the revelation about the creation of frankenstructs, of men made into what most would call monsters, those are met with grumblings and frowns, and excited gasps. “Please don’t ask me for more info about the attack on me. I won’t say more.”
Not can’t, won’t. I’m sure they note the choice of word.
I end with, “The reason I am telling you all of this is that we need help. The institute seems to be in control of the law in Revenant, and they have deep pockets. I, we, want to take them down, especially Clay. I want justice”—I ball my fist—“and revenge for what was done to my father. I should stress this could be dangerous. It may require some actions the law would frown upon.”
Kail stirs, takes a swig of beer. I do the same then place the cold bottle on the table. Then I wait, both hoping and dreading what they might say.
“So.” Melody sits forward. “Are we to understand this has nothing to do with the LHC, and it may mean we could be charged with criminal offenses? Because I can’t do this.
The club was never meant to go where you plan to go.
If your father was murdered, Hailey…and I am so disturbed by that…
I’m sorry.” She looks to me, through her frothy blond bangs, with creases forming on her forehead.
“This should be a case for the law. There must be a way to get this looked at, legally.”
Molly butts in, taps the table. “The sheriff won’t do nothing, and to go higher we need some proof. So far, it’s hearsay and Hailey’s word against Clay’s.”
“True.” Melody shakes her head. “I will pledge some help, as long as nothing illegal is asked of me. As I said, this case, the murder and the creation of monsters, it’s worrying in the extreme.”
“Do we not have proof of these monsters?” Esau asks. “Nothing but the notes of your father? Where are they aiming to get these parts of bodies from?”
“We have proof,” I murmur and glance at Kail. I’m relieved when he stands.
He approaches and places his beer on the table between Molly and Ron, then he slips off his hoodie, pulls it off over his head, and he waits.
He wears no shirt beneath the hoodie. The scars, the half-removed, tattered sutures, and the remaining staples are obvious.
The dark red tracks roam over his bared arms, neck, and chest, dividing him up like a steer marked for cutting by a butcher.
The room descends into silence.
“I am one of them. A frankenstruct.”