11. Nicolette
Nicolette
M y insides were still reeling from Katie’s little Sunday dinner visit. I couldn’t explain it but as she moved around that kitchen like she owned it after spewing such nasty things about me, I grew increasingly infuriated. Especially after Riot’s only response was to remind her I was temporary .
Which meant she was permanent.
That hurt more than I was willing to admit.
I had spent all night stewing on how angry I was and the more I thought about it, the more incensed I became.
I even started typing a biting little profile on how Riot wasn’t some golden boy, he was just a heartless jock.
I had no intention of showing it to anyone, it was more of a diary entry, I guess.
I didn’t know how to get back at him, so it felt good to let my anger flow through my fingertips even if I was the only one who ever read it.
Still, Melody’s assignment niggled at me. Nothing Ihadseenfrom Riot Asher so far would lend itself to a profile on why hekilledhis mother. Confusionswirledinside me. I neverleta subject get to me like this. I alwaysremainedindifferent. Unaffected. When did Ibecomeinvested?
Riot appearing in my doorway, shirtless, in dark gray sweatpants had melted my resolve.
I felt my face flush at that moment, standing there, drinking him in.
I knew he had muscles. That was obvious.
But there was something intimate about seeing him this way in the morning, groggy and half-naked, and I had the resounding urge to run my fingers over every inch of his abdomen.
It’s just temporary.
I shouldn’t spend the whole day in the car with him. Hewasoff limits now.
Not that he was ever “on” limits but after last night, it was clear that Katie’s claws were in him. Deep. My face puckered at the thought of him being her little resurrection project. There was so much more to him.
Those piercing blue eyes were dark and haunted and although his face was mostly covered in hair, I could tell he had a firm jaw.
That permanent scowl that was his standard expression was harsh, but I had seen some levity in those eyes.
His eyebrows relaxed when he flipped through those photos on Brennan’s old digital camera.
Until Katie pulled it away.
Ipushedher petite frame and mousy little nose out of my mind, promising myself I would focus on the job at hand.
“What’s at this hospital that’s so important?
” Riot broke the silence that had filled the truck cab for the last twenty minutes on the way to the teaching hospital.
His shoulders relaxed and his eyebrows fell further apart when we left the town border, and my heart filled with tenderness that I tried to tamp down.
“A doctor Iusedto work with at IANN. Hewasour resident MD any time weneededa 'professional opinion'. Because, you know, people need to know youhavea doctorate to believe you when you tell them to wear sunscreen.”
Icaughtthe edge of Riot’s lips twitch.
“Why do you keep your beard that long?”Iasked before thinking better of it. His cheeksreddened.“I just mean, facial hairisin, sure, but ifyou’retryingto reintegrate into society, a seven-millimeter trimmer might do you well.”
I could tell from the crinkle of his eyes hewasn’toffended. But I could also tell from his posture he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said .
“It covers your smile, that’s all,” I said quietly. His eyes met mine and for a split second, the world around us seemed to pause. The air in the truck thickened with a warmth that hadn’t been there a few days ago. A car horn jolted us back to reality.
When wepulledup to the hospital, Riot didn’t get out.“I’mgoingtorun some errands in town. How long do you need?”
“An hour?” He nodded and started to roll up his window. “Hey,” I called. He paused and leaned over the seat to look at me. “You’re totally going dump scavenging, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer but I swear Igotan honest-to-God smile out of Riot Asher. Our eyesmet,tanglingfor a few seconds and at that moment, Iwishedmore than anything I could see more of that smile.
Dr. Leland Moore had been a friend of my father’s in med school so when I had told my dad I was interviewing him he had been overjoyed. The rapport we’d generated on camera was genuine. He reminded me a lot of my dad; good-looking, charming, and smart as hell.
He gave me a warm hug when I spotted him. He still smelled like Old Spice and coffee, his silver scruff scratching at my chin.
“How are your folks? Where are they this week?” We sat down at a table in the cafeteria.
“Momsentme a video last night. I thinkthey’rein Bozeman at the moment. Making their way down to my dad’s brother in Yellowstone.”
“Still living out of that camper van?” He raised his gray eyebrows, still flecked with the original black hair he used to have.
I nodded, smiling at the fond memory of my parents’ excited grins after buying that camper van. They spent an entire summer gutting it and building their dream home on wheels.
“Yes, they are. Retirement is treating them well.”
“That’sgreat to hear, what brings you back to Godot? ”
I opened my mouth to give him one of the excuses I’d concocted but his fatherly interest melted my exterior. I blew a breath out.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Istartedwith an assignment. A big one. With big opportunities.”
Ipicturedmyselfpackingmy bags and moving to the documentary studio in California, big sunglasses on my face,strollingthe red carpet into the screening of the Riot Asher Story.
“But... now? There’s something about it that feels... misguided.” I shook my head, realizing how confused and cryptic I probably sounded. “But after coming back and seeing how half the town deteriorated… I don’t know, it just gave me that old feeling of something being off.”
“And what can I help you with?”
I bared my teeth and dug through my bag, pulling out the plastic baggie of leaves I had collected from the water tower.
“For one, I was wondering if you could have these tested?”
He raised his dubious eyebrows. “For what exactly?”
I pressed my lips together. It was important not to lead him in any specific direction, but I had to give him something.
“Any kind of chemical that might not organically belong in the woods of West Virginia?”My hopeful voicewentup.
Dr. Moorelaughed.“There’sthat old Nicolette Parker evasive line ofquestioning. You know being purposefully vague in hopesI’llreveal something doesn’t work on an old man like me?”Heleanedin andwinked.
“It could be nothing, and I could bebarkingup the wrong tree. Literally. But it’s a hunch.”
“Well, if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it’s floss twice a day and never ignore a Nicolette Parker hunch.” His smile touched his wrinkled eyes, his tan skin was weighed down with more gravity than the last time I’d seen him. “Do you think this has something to do with the health reports?”
I remained quiet for a moment, hoping he’d go on, but he didn’t. “Which ones were those? ”
“Godot hasn’t exactly had the best luck when it comes to keeping its people healthy. The cancer rates are astronomical and climbing. The reports come out every couple of years.”
Inodded, measuredly.“Godot’s lung disease and cancer rateshavebeen higher than any other county in the country. Itgotso bad, theyshutthe mine down because of it.”
Dr. Moore gave a short chortle. “Really?”
“Yeah, the churchownedthe land, so theyoutsourcedit to another company to manage. Itdisplaceda lot of people’s jobs, I guess.”
Heregardedme intently.“Seems unnecessary, but I can see how the church wouldn’t want to be liable.”
“You don’t think the coal mine has any relation to the increased cancer rates?”
Hegazedup into the fluorescent lights of the hospital cafeteria andtiltedhis head back and forth.
“Extendedactive coal mine exposure presents anincreasedrisk of lung disease,there’sno doubt. But unless wetooka hard look at the makeup of that specific coal mine to see if therewereany extenuating factors… I wouldn’t draw a direct correlation to it, no.”
Ifrowned. If therewasno direct link between the cancer rates, why would the churchoutsource it?
“Think about it…” he went on. “Your aunt passed away from lung cancer, right? Non-smoker if I remember correctly?” I nodded. “Did she ever work in the mine?”
I chewed on my lip. She had been a librarian.
“Sheusedto take kids on a field trip once a year but otherwise, no.”
Hetiltedhis head in my direction.“Therearea lot of active coal mines in this country. Outside theexpectedhazards of the job, no other area suffers with the rates Godot does.”
I sat with that for a moment, trying not to feel dejected. All I had were a bunch of unlinked circumstances that made no sense.
“Have you ever heard of Chimera?” I asked.
He squinted one eye, searching his memory. “The Greek fire-breathing monster? ”
“No, it’s some new drugthat’scompletelyovertakenthe Valley in Godot, some hybrid between meth and heroin.”
Dr. Moore grimaced and shook his head. “Eesh, I haven’t heard of it but it’s not surprising. That could certainly be a contributing factor to the aggressive progression of the adenocarcinoma cases.”
“How’s that?”
“Early detection and screeningarecrucial to cancer treatment. Most people in areas like Godot don’t reallyhavepreventive health coverage.
They don’t go see a doctor until something’s wrong.
And if this Chimeraisa blend, the heroin could suppress any discomfort and the methamphetamine would provide energy, I suppose.
They might feelleveledout. Until theyweren’t, of course, and by then the carcinomahasprobablyspreadto other organs. ”
“You reallyhaven’theardof Chimera or anything that sounds like a new hybrid drug out there?”
His eyes studied the table as if it held answers and shook his head.
“Not personally, but I’ve been off the floor for a while. Teaching caters better to my aging limbs now.” He smiled. “I’ve got a colleague that consults for the DEA. I can put you in touch if you’d like?”
“I’dappreciate that, thank you.”
Ifoundit strange that a new, deadly drugwasrampant in Godot, and itwasn’teven on the radar of theteachinghospital not an hour away. My thoughtsdriftedto the harrowed faces at the Center.
“I’ve seen a few flyers around town, recruiting volunteers for some new cancer drug trials. Are any of those looking encouraging?”
Dr. Mooretiltedhis head back and forth.
“Thereisone study from Echidna Pharmaceuticals that'slookingvery promising. It’s been years in the making andisfinallygettingpresentedto the FDA this summer. Itwashard to find volunteers who meet the criteria, though, and with the addiction problem as big as the cancer problem, I wouldn’t imagine the folks from Godotwereviable candidates. ”
Inarrowedmy eyes.“The Centersaidthey send a shuttle van full of people here twice a week for the trials.”
His expression fell to concern. He paused and considered that.
“Odd…” He shook it off and sat straighter. “Well, perhaps there are more clean lung cancer patients than we think?”
“So, in addition to being positive for lung cancer, one of the requirements to volunteer for the trialisthat youhaveto be clean?”
Henodded.“Yes, the presence of substances like meth or heroin could skew the results.”Dr. Moore’s heartfelt lookwaslacedwith sadness.
“If this drug getspassed, you can restassuredthat it’ll help a lot of people.
I’mnot well-versedin it but it’scausedquite a buzz in the pharmaceutical world. ”At that moment his beeperbuzzed.
Ithankedhim profusely before promising to give my dad his regards.
“What kind of unexpected factors?” I asked before he started walking away. He looked at me with a question in his eyes. “You mentioned we’d have to test the mine to determine if there were some unexpected factors. What might some of those be?”
He turned his lips down in thought. “Oh, just the normal things they would have had to test for when they opened the mine. Certain carcinogens, asbestos, radon…”
When Riotpulledup to the hospital parking lot a few minutes later Ifelta pull at the edges of my lips.
Something foreign and wholly unfamiliartuggedat the corners of my mouth and my heartflutteredwhen his truckrolledto a stop.
My ego stillachedfrom the wayhe’dyelledat me the night before, but I could understand the stress of the new situation wefoundourselves in.
I was the new factor here. I was the one who was interrupting Riot’s regularly scheduled routine. He had thrown me a lifeline, and I was all but tying us up in it. He deserved better from me.
That realizationsatlike a block of ice in my gut, freezing me from the inside.
Ibusiedmyself with my phone. Ihada message from Chelsea with a photo of Jacob next to his truck, getting towedaway.
Chelsea
Your uncle’s truck totally just blew the bed. Brand new engine — shot!
Something familiar tugged at my memory.
“Wow,” I said out loud, baiting Riot.
Respectfully quiet at first, he finallyasked,“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s my Uncle Jacob…” I waited for a reaction that didn’t come. “Apparently his engine blew up.”
“Hm, really.” Riot muttered but I couldn’t help noticing the small twitch in his lips.
“Yeah, whichisweird because hewasbraggingabout how itwasbrand new, andhe’djusthadittuned up.” I pictured the metal tray under the carport I'd spotted before we left. The one filled with thick, dirty liquid.
“Hm, yeah?”
“Yeah,you’rea mechanic. What would make an engine die like that?”
Riot raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Plenty of things, I guess.” He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead and I kept mine fixed on him. He was good at giving nothing away.
“I mean, it’s almost like someonedrainedthe oil out of his car.”
His eyebrows went up, seemingly impressed. But then his right shoulder shrugged.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” I was goading him, but I couldn’t help it. His profile was steady, unwavering while the highway passed us.
His exaggerated frown directly contradicted his amused eyes. His head drifted from side to side. “Nope.”
The little pop his lipsmadeon the end of the word nope warmedmy insides and Ifeltthat block of ice begin to thaw.