But I still can’t quite bring myself to push him away.
“You said you weren’t going to do that again without permission,” I say when he pulls back.
“No. I said I’d try.” Something apparently catches his eye at that point, because he grabs his CHRONOS key and blinks out.
Seconds later, Grant pulls up next to me in the blue car. I suspect he saw Kiernan, but it’s hard to read his expression with his right eye swollen half-shut. I don’t see Delia, so she must be lying down in the back.
That assumption is shattered as soon as Grant shuts off the engine and I hear the thumping inside the trunk.
Grant is still sitting behind the wheel when I tap on his window.
He rolls it down and I ask, “Why on earth did you put her in the trunk?”
“I didn’t want to, but it’s the only way I could keep her from running back over there. Abel is—”
“Her husband. Yes.”
He looks across the street to where the cars were earlier. “Where is he?”
“Abel was arrested. So was the guy with me. Help me get Delia out of the trunk.”
His expression borders on horror.
“Well, you knew you’d have to let her out eventually when you put her in there, didn’t you?”
“Yes. But there weren’t any alternatives. And she has a temper.” His hand goes up to his swollen eye, so I’m guessing that’s Delia’s handiwork rather than something won in the fight.
We walk around to the rear of the car, and I knock on the trunk. “Delia? My name is Kate. You know my grandmother, Katherine Shaw. Grant is going to open the trunk now, and he’s really very sorry for putting you in there. We’re all on the same side, so no hitting anybody, okay? We need to focus on how to get Abel and Kiernan out of jail.”
Grant eases the trunk open, and Delia props herself up, glaring first at me and then at him. Her face is a wreck, and her nose is very clearly broken. The skin on the bridge is split open, and the entire center of her face is beginning to discolor. Her sleeveless white blouse is now nearly as red as her skirt, and her face and arms are streaked with blood and tears.
“I don’t know you,” she says as she drags her feet over the edge of the trunk, one shoe missing. Her voice sounds like she has a really bad cold, which is hardly a surprise given the extent of the damage. “Where’s Abel?”
“Abel and my friend Kiernan are on their way to the county jail. One of the guys here seems to have been a police officer of some sort. And like I said, you knew my grandmother at CHRONOS. Katherine Shaw?”
I pull out my phone.
“Looks like there’ve been some changes at CHRONOS,” Delia says, her voice flat. “A lot of changes, if they’re letting you carry that on a jump.”
“I’m not exactly CHRONOS.”
I click to play the recording of Katherine. It’s a slight variation on the one I played for Timothy and Evelyn, the one I played for Adrienne at Port Darwin, and the one I would have played for Moehler if he hadn’t been shot.
I watch Grant when Katherine reaches the part about Saul. His eyebrows go up a bit, and then a look of resignation settles on his face.
Katherine tossed in a comment about a training mission she was on with Delia and something about Abel and a sandwich. It doesn’t make sense to me, but Delia’s mouth twitches the slightest bit when Katherine says it. It’s more of an about-to-cry twitch than an about-to-smile twitch, but I can tell Delia believes that it’s really Katherine. Whether she believes what Katherine told her is another question.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Delia says. She reaches back into the corner, fishes out her other shoe, tugs it on, and starts climbing out of the trunk. Grant tries to help her, but she pushes him away. That’s a mistake, because she’s obviously light-headed. Grant props her back up when she stumbles, and she rewards him with a foul look before staggering over to the driver’s side.
Grant says, “Maybe you should let me drive?”
Delia stands there for a minute and then says, “Have it your way.” She works her way around to the passenger side, holding on to the front of the car as she goes.
I slide into the backseat. Delia mutters something about not inviting me, but I think Grant is relieved to have me along.
“Until we get Abel and Kiernan out, we need to stick together,” I say, deciding to omit the part about me being unable to drive the truck.
She doesn’t respond, just leans her head back against the seat as Grant starts the car. “Take a right at the intersection.”
“We should find you a doctor first,” Grant says. “You’re still bleeding—”
“If Abel’s in police custody, that’s where we’re going. This can wait.”
“Delia,” I say softly, “you’re speaking as Abel’s wife. But they assume you’re his employer, and I’m pretty sure our chances of getting him out of this are much better if they keep on thinking he’s your driver. That might be more believable if you get your face taken care of and change into fresh clothes before we talk to the judge or sheriff or whoever’s in charge.”
I can tell Delia really, really wants to disagree with me, but she knows I’m right. She slumps down in the seat, and Grant takes the left turn toward Athens.
“There’s a hospital near the boardinghouse,” he says. “On Milledge, I think—St. Mary’s or something like that.”
“Fine,” Delia says. “But go to the stable point first. I want to try to pull up HQ. No offense, Kate—oh, hell, I don’t care whether you take offense or not. I’m not buying your story, and I’d much prefer having CHRONOS Med patch up my face than some nun with a needle. And when they’re done, Angelo can help me figure out a way to get my crew home safely.”
I start to tell her that Angelo is dead—Katherine seems to have forgotten to mention that part this time around. But I decide that can wait. Delia is having a bad enough day, and the fact that her boss is dead in 2305 is truly a moot point when she’s stuck here in 1938.
Grant sinks down next to me on the wooden bench, which looks like a repurposed church pew. He’s holding the compress that the nurse gave him against his swollen eye with one hand and a small paper cup of water in the other. The room is empty, aside from an elderly man slumped in a chair at the far end of the narrow waiting area, who’s snoring loudly. I can understand why he’s asleep. The heat makes you want to close your eyes and melt. The only thing the fan in the window seems to be accomplishing is sucking in more hot, humid air.
I waited in the car, on Delia’s orders, while she and Grant tried their keys at a stable point located inside this odd, octagonal-shaped brick chapel next to a women’s dormitory. They were gone maybe five minutes, and when they returned to the car, it was as if they’d switched roles. Grant led Delia back and helped her into the passenger seat. Neither said a word on the short drive to the hospital.
Delia found her voice as soon as we arrived at the hospital, however. The nurse, a very patient woman, who identified herself as Sister Sara, practically had to drag her into the examination room. Delia kept glancing back over her shoulder at us, all the way down the hall.
“Is Delia always this afraid of doctors?” I ask Grant, mostly to have something to say. The only thing he has uttered since leaving the stable point was a short, not-very-convincing promise to Delia that everything would be okay.
“I don’t think she considers them doctors,” he says. “Would you trust medical personnel from a few hundred years ago? Back when they still used leeches? I mean, they seem nice, and I’m sure they wouldn’t hurt her intentionally, but . . .” He shrugs. “Now that Delia’s not here, you want to tell me why that other guy was with you when we pulled up?”
So he had seen Kiernan jump away. “Kiernan had to get something he’d left with me. He was jumping back from later today—tonight, actually.”