She leans forward, enhancing my view. I smile; sneaky Kels, you play the flirt game pretty well. "Would you believe anthrax?"
Henry meets us at the San Antonio International Airport and he’s exactly as Kelsey has described him: grizzly and grinning. This is the Marlboro Man after a three pack a day habit all his life, too much time in the sun without sunscreen, and only a passing acquaintance with non-flannel apparel. I like him. He wraps my partner in a bear hug, squeezing her tight enough to get a grunt out of her, before backing away and shaking my hand.
"Kelsey, you look fabulous," he enthuses, returning his attention to her. "You’ve grown up so pretty."
I can’t argue that statement so I simply nod my agreement and get a gentle nudge in the ribs.
We introduce Olsen and Conrad, who are already working on equipment and hotel accommodations so they desert us quickly to handle those. We head toward baggage claim to take care of our end.
"Your Pa would be so proud, Kelsey," Henry says as we climb onto the escalator.
I’m intrigued by this discussion since Kelsey has told me very little about her grandfather. I only know how important he was to her and that he’s no longer with us. What kind of euphemism is that anyway? Why are people so damn scared about death? And why is it considered impolite to say someone is dead? Unless, despite all our protestations, we really do believe it is the end. That would be depressing if it were true. But I don’t believe it is. I may be a lapsed Catholic, but the concept of eternity is deep within me.
Any of my previous attempts to pry information out of Kelsey about her grandfather have been met with tight lips and watery eyes. Since I hate to see her cry, I drop the topic each time. Even now, seeing Henry, she’s getting maudlin. I rub her back warmly and get a surprised if grateful smile in response. Hey, I can do sensitive. No one seems to believe me, but I can.
"How are your parents?" Henry asks. Man, he knows how to hit all the buttons. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Kelsey brushes him off. "Same as always. Tell me about Irene and your boys."
Her distraction is a complete success and we’re well into the heart of San Antonio before Henry stops talking about his three sons (I now know their ages, occupations, marital status, and college GPA’s), and begins discussing the reason we came here.
"So I thought we could meet everyone for lunch tomorrow, including Clayton Jackson, he’s the fella who owns the ranch I was telling you about. I told the family you’re in town to visit with some friends of your Pa’s, to remember him. They don’t know about my suspicions. I figured it was best that way. Don’t want people to get all panicky. This type of stuff scares the crap out of people. As it should."
Great. Apparently Henry is a Dick Tracy wannabe.
"That’s fine." Kelsey nods, turning in the front passenger seat of the Chevy Suburban to meet my gaze. I must appear amused because she gives me a warning glare and I school my expression, looking to my right and using Jimmy as a distraction. Jims, the orange hair still standing spiky on his head because he was dumb enough to dye it again, is busy examining the console next to him where he can adjust the volume and radio station. He turns on the AC.
Henry turns it off from up front. "Wastes gas, that air conditioning does. No one needs it. Besides, it’s December, for God’s sake."
Jimmy looks at me guiltily and I can’t help but laugh. How is it we end up in such bizarre situations?
I am about to leave the rest of the crew at the affiliate station to pick up a truck and check the equipment. I can’t, with good conscience, shake Henry who was a dear friend of my Pa’s, so I agree to dinner with him and Irene. He says he will take me back by the hotel later tonight.
I find myself wanting Harper’s company but can’t think of a good enough reason to have the my director/producer come along and no one else on the crew. So Harper pulls me aside and promises to check us into the hotel. At least I’ll get to sleep with her tonight. My little psycho gives us a ready excuse to room together. Wish it gave her a ready excuse to come to dinner. But I don’t want to get Henry all upset, and we don’t have any reason to believe that he followed us here. Besides, the gun rack in the back of the Suburban serves as a deterrent. I know it scares the hell out of me.
"You’ll be okay?" she asks in that dark, worried voice.
I nod, run a hand down the front of her shirt, smoothing the buttons. I find myself constantly fascinated with her buttons, I suppose it’s because I know what’s under there, but I try not to bite them off anymore. Unless I simply can’t help myself.
"I know this is hard for you," she whispers, "and, eventually, I’ll torture the details out of you. But, for now, please know that I care."
I’m stunned into silence when I look up to meet her blue eyes. They’re sincere and warm. There are so many facets to this woman I may never understand. "I know," I finally manage to say.
"You can tell me anything; you know that, right?"
I nod again.
"So go enjoy dinner. I’ll have my cell on if you need anything. Okay?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Harper." I feel a little awkward, wanting to hug her or kiss her or something. She’s turning into a better friend than I could have imagined. I know I’m not very good at returning that sentiment. This whole friendship thing is new to me, only Erik has ever been able to squeeze it out of me before.
She always seems to understand and smiles rakishly, running a hand down my arm. "I’ll think of ways for you to express your gratitude."
"I don’t doubt you will."
"Be careful."
"Always." It’s hard to watch them pile into the truck and drive away. Finally, Henry draws my attention away with yet another story about his oldest son, Ryan. I was supposed to marry him – in Henry’s mind – so I am relieved to hear that the position has been filled in my absence. I certainly don’t need any more complications in my life right now.
"So Henry thinks this Dale Sams guy is trying to grow anthrax? And he’s collecting samples from the sick cows over at the Jackson ranch?" Harper asks, while we linger over dessert and each other, settled on the hotel’s king sized bed.
"Yeah, he thinks that maybe the guy is planning something. He says the guy always has been a little off. But it was hard to know for sure since he’s an Aggie professor and those guys like the smell of manure to begin with."
She laughs at that statement. "Ah great, another nut flake to add to our list of known and unknown nut flakes? We do seem to manage to find them, don’t we? Doesn’t this all seem a wee bit melodramatic though?" Harper inquires, offering me a strawberry and then licking the juice from her fingers. It’s amazingly provocative and is serving to distract me from the conversation. "Is Henry just looking for some excitement in his retirement days?"
"I don’t think so, Henry was never the excitable type before, but it is possible. Bio-chemical warfare is a terrifying reality today, ever since the subway gassing in Tokyo a few years ago. Anthrax is the easiest to create, transport and deliver. Henry says just about anyone with a basic understanding of microbiology and a small lab could grow it."
"It also has a vaccine." She bites my shoulder through the cotton of my blouse. Then her fingers find the buttons, freeing each slowly.
"Which no one uses. We only started vaccinating our deployable military in the last decade. Other than millworkers, veterinarians and a few other people, the general populace isn’t vaccinated. That makes anthrax a very viable weapon."
Harper nods, but is quickly losing interest in the conversation. My shirt is now on the floor, her hand is in the waistband of my jeans, tugging me closer.