Eric looked back at Steelie and Jayne. ‘We’re going to check the place for bugs and then you should come in and see if anything’s missing or out of place.’
When they entered the apartment, Scott was acutely aware that this was a step beyond the peculiar closeness he and Jayne had maintained over the years. Turning on the lights revealed a large room that seemed like two rooms due to the placement of the living room furniture; two yellow sofas made an L under a beam bisecting the ceiling. Narrow tables backed both sides of the L and were laden with large lamps and neat stacks of Architectural Digest.
When he turned from checking the lock on the sliding glass door to the deck, he pictured Jayne sitting on the sofa, her feet on the glass coffee table, looking at the corner fireplace. Then he realized with a start that the image had turned into one of him lying intertwined with her on that sofa. He tried to get back to the task at hand. Eric was continuing methodically with the bug detection unit, now passing it behind bookshelves and a pine TV cabinet. So far, the unit wasn’t raising any red flags.
Scott crossed the full length of the room, past the glass dining table and the front door where Jayne and Steelie were hovering, and stepped into the kitchen. He checked all the locks on the windows. Nothing had been forced or tampered with so he moved on to the bedroom, knowing Eric would follow him with the detection unit.
Scott was surprised by the femininity of the bedroom compared to the rest of the place. A blanket was draped at the foot of a large bed and numerous pillows of different shapes were ranged at the head under a sizeable window. He went directly to the window to check its lock and had to navigate a complicated set of semitransparent curtains running on different tracks. Leaning in, he jogged the bedside table and looked down to make sure he hadn’t knocked anything to the floor. Along with a small stereo unit, three books-on-tape, and a slim silver pen, there was a pad of paper whose top sheet looked like a list.
He registered a few words and then stooped to take a closer look.
Kigali. Blocked road.
Genocide starting. Ripping shoulder joints.
Driving but no rides. Child with fever.
Embassy. Knowledge of ignorance.
He started to re-read it, hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was and then he heard someone step into the room, their tread soft on the carpet. He turned quickly to see Jayne in the doorway, looking more like herself, if somewhat pale.
‘I was just . . .’ He couldn’t explain why he was reading her private notes.
She walked toward him and looked down at the paper. ‘It was just a dream.’ She flipped the pad over so its cardboard back was uppermost.
He was looking at the top of her down-turned head. ‘You’re dreaming about road blocks in Kigali.’ He couldn’t make it a question.
‘Yep.’ She met his eyes and he was surprised to see a defiant look. He was even more surprised when she jabbed an index finger toward his chest and hissed, ‘And don’t you dare judge me.’ She turned and began walking away.
He couldn’t believe she thought he didn’t know what this dream was about. ‘Jayne, wait.’
She stopped by the door but didn’t turn around.
He continued, ‘I know what the books-on-tape are for.’
She turned toward him but spoke warily. ‘They’re entertainment.’
‘No, they’re not.’ His tone was harsher than he’d meant it to be but he was trying to hold her there with his voice, desperate to stop her from putting up more defenses. He could practically see her throwing up the scaffolding, so he talked, fast. ‘You have them so that when you wake up from a nightmare so real you think you’re there, you can hit “Play” and know that you’re here. Here; not there. And maybe you feel guilty about that.’
He tried to read her expression. He couldn’t be using the right words. She looked stricken. He closed his eyes, mustering all his energy to say the most important thing, the thing he should have said first. ‘You know what, Jayne Hall? You’re not the only one who sometimes needs a reality check to get through the night.’
Saying that out loud made him feel like he’d eaten something bitter and he swallowed before opening his eyes, hoping to see understanding on her face this time. But she wasn’t there and he didn’t know when she’d left. He felt rooted to the spot.
Eric stepped through the doorway. ‘I just told Jayne we’re clear in the other rooms, including the bathroom. So I’ll check this one, then we’ll do the outside.’ He frowned at Scott. ‘Everything all right, man? You weren’t shouting at her, were you?’
‘No.’
‘OK, maybe not shouting, but that thing you do that sounds like shouting to everyone else.’ Eric started to sweep the bug detection unit around the walls and closets but he kept an eye on Scott, who sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘OK, maybe my voice was raised.’
Eric stopped in mid-sweep and looked him over.
Now Scott felt defensive. ‘I just don’t want to be misunderstood on any of the stuff that matters.’
Eric turned back to the sweeping. ‘Houston, I have never known you to care what other people think about you.’
‘Yeah. Well, I care what Jayne thinks about me.’
Eric came to the end of his circuit around the room and rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘My friend, you will be lucky if that woman thinks about you, at all. Ever.’
Scott knew exactly what Eric was doing and it had worked: he wanted to punch him. His blood was flowing again, the bitter taste gone.
He exchanged an amused look with his partner and said, ‘Get your hand off my shoulder.’
Steelie stood next to Jayne in the front doorway, watching Scott and Eric’s flashlight beams moving around the garden as they checked the exterior of Jayne’s apartment. They came closer to the building and then went under the stairs that led to the front door. Jayne turned back inside and dropped on to the sofa. Then she kicked off her shoes and turned to lie down.
Steelie came to perch on the arm of the sofa. She tried to see Jayne’s expression but her hair was obscuring her face. Steelie pushed it back from her forehead and noticed Jayne’s freckles were standing out. Usually they were almost invisible against her skin but she was decidedly pale this evening. Steelie pulled up her shirtsleeve and pressed the inside of her wrist to her friend’s forehead. ‘You’re warm. How do you feel?’
‘Kind of cold.’
‘Hm. I think you need a hot shower and a hot drink.’
‘My shower’s probably bugged.’
‘They said the place is clean.’
‘Feels dirty.’
Steelie recognized the stubborn tone and got up. She went to the kitchen, put on the electric kettle, and started rummaging in the cupboard that held tea and coffee. She pulled a few things out and straightened up just as Scott and Eric walked in through the front door. Eric was using a surgical glove to hold a small box. He came over to the kitchen while Scott walked to the living room and sat on the sofa next to Jayne.
Eric put the item on the counter, resting it on another glove.
‘What is that?’ Steelie was curious.
‘A radio frequency transmitter. It’s a type of wiretap.’ He was keeping his voice low.
‘Where was it? I mean, is it something to do with Jayne?’
He nodded. ‘It was on the exterior part of her phone line.’
‘Jesus. But who . . .’
He shrugged and looked over to the living room. Steelie followed his gaze and saw that Jayne had sat up. She was shaking her head, as though responding in the negative to something Scott was saying.
Eric said, ‘He’ll be asking her some questions about her phone before we say anything about the tap. Listen, you said she stayed with you last night? Can you keep her over there for a couple more days?’