Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Based on looks alone, Mel would have guessed the man was a mild-mannered, absentminded professor.
But he pulled off the tweed jacket look without coming off too academic or disheveled.
He seemed like the kind of guy who would be more comfortable in well-worn jeans than neatly pressed chinos, but was no doubt dressed up for his speech today.
She had watched him yank off his tie as soon as he could.
At least it wasn’t a bow tie with polka dots. That would have been over the top.
But from what she’d seen of his presentation, it was clear the man was a brilliant scientist. His passion when he spoke about the honeybees was real and contagious.
It was evident that he was in love with bees and had been since he was a child.
Any potential significant other couldn’t be the jealous sort, or that flare of emotion whenever he talked about his “girls” would give them fits.
She wouldn’t be surprised if someone who looked like Dr. Woodruff had a romantic partner tucked away somewhere.
Then there was the way he talked about Woodruff Mountain in North Carolina, his self-deprecating humor when he told stories about growing up with his Pops, and the affection he expressed for his sister, who was working with him on finding a remedy for CCD.
Dr. Daniel Woodruff had deep roots in that mountain of his.
But it was the panic that had radiated from him the moment he spoke with that young Italian woman that had taken Mel off guard.
It reminded her of Dr. Ricci’s anxiety. In a room full of good humor and high spirits, Mel had nearly been overwhelmed by that sudden wave of fear.
The young woman wasn’t hiding any dark secrets that Mel could sense, yet Daniel’s interaction with this Francesca had seemed to incapacitate him for a moment.
Whatever it was, it had also given him a bad headache.
Perhaps a visual migraine? He did keep rubbing at his temple and blinking at his surroundings.
She continued to watch him as she hid by a column on the hotel’s portico.
Mel wondered what on earth he was saying to Francesca.
He brought the young woman over to the potted plants around the entrance.
Mel could see the bees visiting the blooms, but she couldn’t make out their conversation at all.
They were both smiling but she could tell Francesca was eager to join her friends in the taxi.
Mel walked closer just as Daniel took Francesca’s hands in his.
Francesca looked down at her hands. Her smile faded and Mel could see that he was having another episode of some kind. His expression was vacant, as if he wasn’t really seeing her at all.
Then Mel felt it—that spike of fear—but it wasn’t his fear. No, that couldn’t be right.
Francesca frowned with concern, leaning over to peer into his face. “Dr. Woodruff?” She finally tugged her hands loose and Daniel staggered.
Mel quickly stepped in beside him and took his arm to steady him. She smiled at Francesca. “I don’t think Dr. Woodruff feels well. I think he…skipped breakfast.”
Francesca’s face cleared. “Ah, yes. This can disturb everything.” She drew a circle in the air. “You can…take care of him?”
Mel nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure he gets something to eat.”
“You’re… You’re not with them. It’s not this train,” Daniel muttered.
“I’m sorry, we must go or we will miss the train.” Francesca looked at Daniel again.
“No worries. He’ll be fine,” Mel said.
Francesca looked relieved. “I am sorry you cannot come with us, Dr. Woodruff. I do hope you are feeling better!” She ran for her taxi and climbed in. Both cars drove out of the portico.
His hand went to his head and swayed. “Damn. That was a mistake.”
Mel hung on to his arm. Wherever the fear and anxiety had come from, he was broadcasting nothing but helplessness and anger now. She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, grasping the pendant around her neck.
As expected, his head swung toward her, squinting at the sunlight beyond the portico. “What was that? What did you do?”
“Just a little magic,” Mel answered honestly. She put her wrist under her chin and wiggled her fingers at him, but he had already shut his eyes again. “But most of it was me keeping you from being carted off to whatever passes for the psych ward here.”
Daniel frowned and tried to pull away from her grip, but he staggered a bit. If she hadn’t spoken to him a few minutes ago, she would have thought he was ill or drunk. Well, he might be ill…
“And trying to save your reputation with your colleagues at no extra charge,” she added.
He flinched. Mel looked around. Luckily, no one was paying attention anymore.
He seemed to slump into himself a bit, rubbing again at the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t that train anyway.”
Mel frowned. “What is it you thought was going to happen to that train, Dr. Woodruff?”
He looked down at her and blinked. “Not that one. Could be on the way back…” He broke off as he finally realized she was listening and looked over to where the taxis had been.
“Could be which one?” she coaxed.
“I need to get to Florence,” he said in a flat tone.
“Dr. Woodruff, I don’t mean to be forward, but do you get migraines? This pain you’re having and your vision issues—it could be something serious. Should I get you to—”
“No. No need.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, squinting in the direction of her face. “I mean, yes. I get these migraines. They usually fade in a few minutes.”
She looked into his eyes. “I thought those usually affected your pupils.”
He frowned. “Not mine.” His smile was more of a grimace. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“I’m sorry. Do you need some medication? Something in your room?”
“Nothing has made a dent in these.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m out anyway.”
“Maybe you should—?”
“Ms…Noblett, was it?”
“You can call me Mel.”
“Mel, I don’t need drugs or a dark room or whatever else. It will ease up on its own. I need to get to Florence.”
Mel shook her head. “Must make it really hard to drive.”
She could tell he was grinding his teeth.
“All right. All right,” she said. This wasn’t a ploy to avoid an interview. No. Whatever this was, he believed it. His concern for his friends was sincere, whatever the reason. “Florence,” she repeated. “So it wasn’t that train, but it could be some other train?”
Daniel frowned at her. “Yes.” His expression was stubborn.
“And…going to Florence will…?”
He blinked at her. “Look, I need… I need to figure out…” He shook his head “I have to deal with something important—as in lives-could-be-in-danger important. But I’m not completely sure how and…I’m not even sure if it’s a…real threat.”
She frowned and considered him for a moment.
He was absolutely sincere in what he was saying.
And whatever it was that caused this reaction in him had happened when he touched his colleague.
That was intriguing. And a nice drive through the Italian countryside with the top down might get her that interview after all.
“So to figure out if it’s a real threat, you need to…?”
“I need to…talk to one of them.”
She would bet he needed to touch one of them. “Do you have their itinerary? Where they plan to go in the city? When they plan to return?”
He patted his satchel. “Yeah.”
“I could drive you.”
“Can you beat that train?”
“My Mini could beat that train to Santa Maria Novella,” she said. “But only if it were strapped to the top.”
He squinted at her. “Santa Maria—”
“The train station in Florence,” she said patiently. “Haven’t you been to Florence, Dr. Woodruff?”
“No.”
What fun this was going to be. “Well, if we grab a taxi, we might actually catch the train your friends are taking.”
She felt that ice-cold tide of fear roll off him again. Whatever happened when he touched his colleague had been very real to him.
“I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “It could take a while in the car. The road goes through some beautiful countryside, but there are a lot of trucks and traffic getting in and out of the—”
“No train.”
“Okay. Then it would be my pleasure to drive you to Florence.”
This was her shot. Hopefully, somewhere in there she could get that interview, but she doubted that she was ever going to recoup all her expenses on this trip, at least not until she wrote her book. And this would definitely go in the book.
“Where’s your car?”
“Right next door.” Briefly, she considered leaving him there while she went and got the Mini, which was parked in the hotel’s garage, but when she considered the condition he was in, she thought better of it.
“We can be on the A1 pretty quick. If I really push it and the stars align, we might make it in an hour or so.”
Mel slung her backpack over her shoulder, made sure he had a good grip on his satchel, and guided him toward the parking structure.
It seemed his head was still giving him a lot of trouble, and the sunlight only made it worse, so she took extra care to watch their footing.
He stumbled here and there on the uneven pavement.
Once she got him into the car and off his feet, she could risk poking at the miasma that was smothering him.
He seemed to trust her guiding hand on his arm and managed to adjust to her short stride despite his long legs.
But he did so without comment, absorbed in his own thoughts.
As they turned into the parking structure, she looked up at him.
His hair was such a dark brown it was nearly black, almost long enough to pull into a tail.
She had a thing for guys with long hair.
It pushed all her buttons, especially that dark color, with just enough curl to—
Dr. Woodruff stumbled and she gasped, grabbing his arm to keep him from falling. “Sorry. The floor of the garage slants up here.”
Whoa. She had to guard against broadcasting that particular emotion. He’d picked up some of it.