Still, Rhys was thinking, it might be better for the execution to happen around back of those cargo containers.
“What’s your name?” he asked, even though he knew.
“Travis!” he said, his voice squeaking. “Travis Roben.”
“You been in trouble with the law before?” Kendra asked, glancing at Rhys, the corner of her mouth going up a fraction of inch, giving him a look that said I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am.
“Never!” he said.
“I need you to step over here,” he said, and motioned for Travis to walk toward the containers.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “Can I put my hands down?”
“I never asked you to put them up,” Rhys said. “But... no.”
When they reached the rusted containers — two of them, one labeled MAERSK was stacked on another marked EVERGREEN — Rhys gave Travis a little shove, pushing him around to the other side.
“Why do I have to go back here? Jesus, all I did was a little trespassing! You don’t have to shoot me!”
“Maybe I do,” Rhys said.
Kendra was standing a few feet in back of her partner, taking in the show.
“No, please!” Travis said.
“Turn around,” Rhys said.
Travis, hands skyward, burst into tears as he turned his back to Rhys and Kendra.
“You have no idea, do you?” Rhys said.
“What?” he said.
“No idea why this is happening.”
“I told you, I’m sorry! I’ll never step foot on this property again. I swear.”
Rhys raised his arm, aimed directly at Travis Roben’s head.
That was when Kendra thought she heard something behind her, and started to turn around to see what it was.
A millisecond later, Sandy swung Travis’s Louisville Slugger into Kendra’s face, making her nose blow up like a tomato.
Forty
New Haven, CT
Dorian, whose phone contained the digital equivalent of the world’s biggest Rolodex, and who could find anyone, anywhere, to do just about anything, had someone from the DNA testing lab at Miles’s house by nine. Chloe hadn’t even had breakfast yet, unless one counted flavored coffee pods. So far she had tried a caramel espresso, a vanilla espresso, and something with the word Guatemala in it, and was pretty close to bouncing off the walls when it came time to provide a DNA sample.
“Will this hurt?” Chloe asked the technician, an East Indian woman in her early thirties. At Ferrari speed, she added, “Because if it does hurt I’m okay with that because I have a pretty good tolerance where pain is concerned unless you know someone is hitting you in the head with a hammer or something and then, whoa, that’s kind of my limit, not that anyone has ever hit me in the head with a hammer.”
“It’ll only take a second,” the woman said. “And it’s not a blood sample. I’m not sticking a needle into you. I’m just taking a swab and putting it into your mouth.”
“Okay,” Chloe said.
She put the sample in a small vial, sealed it in a plastic bag, labeled it, and put it into a pouch.
Dorian asked, “How long?”
“We’ll put a rush on it,” the woman said. As she headed for the front door, Chloe called out to her, “After all this coffee, don’t be surprised if my DNA shows I’m Ethiopian!”
Dorian said, “Maybe your next one should be a decaf.”
Chloe said, “Where’s Miles?”
“He was feeling tired and went to lie down for a bit. He didn’t sleep well.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of shit going down, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” Dorian said.
“I need to eat something before I go totally buggy. Gotta soak up this caffeine. Has Miles got something like that thing in Star Trek? I tell it what I want to eat and a little door opens and it’s there?”
“Sadly, no. The closest thing Miles has to that is a housekeeper, and she doesn’t arrive until ten. But help yourself to anything. See that door? That’s a pantry. All kinds of stuff in there.”
Chloe looked, marveling at the shelves lined with canned items, boxes of cereal and pastas and rices, a dozen kinds of olive oil, veggie chips, potato chips, corn chips. There was an extra freezer in there as well, where Chloe found half a dozen flavors of Ben & Jerry’s, steaks and chops and whole chickens.
“Miles is definitely a meat-a-tarian,” she said, loudly enough for Dorian to hear.
“Yes.”
Chloe popped her head out, pointed a finger at Dorian. “I’m betting you’re vegan. You’ve got this vibe about you.”
“And what kind of vibe is that?” Dorian asked.
“Vegan goes along with the whole androgynous thing.”
“I like my steak rare,” Dorian said, adding, “And bloody.”
“Well, there you go. So much for stereotypes.” She glanced back into the pantry. “There’s more food here than where I work.”
“And where’s that?”
“The Paradise Diner in Providence. I wait tables.”
“Oh.”
Chloe came back into the main part of the kitchen, went into the fridge, and came out with a container of eggs and a bag of shredded cheddar cheese.
“I don’t work in the kitchen, but I still know my way around,” Chloe said. “I’m gonna scramble some of these. You in?”
“I’m good.”
“Would Miles want some?”
“He ate.”
“Okay.” Chloe found a bowl and a frying pan. She cracked four eggs into the bowl, tossed in a handful of cheese, beat it, then put the pan on the stove. She turned on the burner, dropped a pat of butter in, poured in the eggs, and stirred them around with a wooden spatula. The entire process took less than five minutes. When the eggs were ready, she slid them onto a plate, salted them, and perched herself on a stool on the other side of the island from Dorian.
“So what’s your story?” she asked.
“My story?”
“How long have you been Miles’s assistant?”
“About ten years,” Dorian said.
“Good guy to work for?”
Dorian hesitated. “Sure.”
“Whoa, hard to read between the lines when it’s just one word, but that doesn’t sound great.”
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. He’s demanding. Often short-tempered. Irritable. But I wouldn’t have given him a decade of my life if I didn’t believe he was, ultimately, fair. And a decent person.” Dorian paused. “These last few weeks have changed him. He knows what’s coming and he’s dealing with it. And...”
With a mouthful of eggs, Chloe said, “And?”
“And I see a difference in him even today. He’s stressed, but there’s a softer side coming out. I wonder if that has something to do with you.”
Chloe said, “Me?”
“I think finding you, and his quest to find the others, has given his life some renewed meaning. However long that life may be.”
Chloe said nothing.
“Do you have any idea?”
“Any idea about what?”
“What this will mean to you? How your life will change? I mean, look around.”
“I don’t care about this.”
“Really? You look like you’re settling right in.”
Chloe shrugged. “So I’m impressed. That’s all.”
“You and the others will share millions.” Dorian couldn’t hide a look of some disdain. “And done nothing for it.”