The Chemist Part 22

"So a stranger in town is memorable," she said. "You would have been noticed."

Daniel turned to her. His face was composed, but his eyes were troubled.

"Yes, I can see that," he agreed.

"You were in Arnie's truck, with Arnie's dog," Alex said. "Someone could connect you back to Arnie."

"Einstein stayed in the truck," Daniel said. "I don't think anyone was watching me get in or out."

"There're a hundred similar trucks in town. Five that are the exact same color, year, and model; two of those have campers," Arnie said, not to Daniel, but to Alex. "Half the people there would have a dog with them."

"That's helpful," she told Arnie. "You guys did good here."

"How much does this affect you?" Daniel asked him.

Arnie shrugged. "No way to know. People forget stuff pretty quick when they've got no real reason to remember. We lie low, it'll probably come to nothing."

"Anyway, what's done is done," Alex mused. "We'll just have to be extra careful."

"Kevin's going to be furious." Daniel sighed.

"When isn't he furious?" Alex asked, and Arnie actually laughed out one brief chuckle. "Anyway, it's his own fault for not explaining anything to you. A mistake I'm not going to repeat." She gestured toward the couch.

Arnie nodded to himself, then clumped out the front door, back to his work. Kevin had picked a good partner. She found herself wis.h.i.+ng that Arnie were Daniel's brother rather than Kevin. Arnie was so much easier to deal with.

"How about I make lunch while you lecture?" Daniel offered. "I'm suffering extreme hunger pangs. I don't know what Arnie survives on around here."

"Sure," she said. She grabbed a bar stool and planted herself.

"I did honestly think that I was helping," Daniel murmured as he went back to the fridge.

"I know, Daniel, I know. And I'm hungry, too," she conceded.

"I'll ask first next time," he promised.

She sighed. "That's a start."

THOUGH SHE DIDN'T want to admit it, the large sandwich Daniel made for her did a lot to mellow her perspective on the incident. She gave him the basics while they ate-there'd be time for more detail when they had a specific task ahead of them-and he listened attentively.

"I don't know how to see the world that way," he confessed. "It all seems so paranoid."

"Yes! Paranoia is exactly what we're shooting for. Paranoia is good."

"That's a little contradictory to how they teach it in the real world, but I'll work on flipping my perspective. I know I can do this much-I will check with you on everything from now on. Before I breathe."

"You'll start to get it. It becomes habit after a while. But don't think of what you used to know as the real world. The things that happen in this world are a whole lot more real, and a whole lot more permanent. It's primitive-survival instincts. I know you have them; you were born with them. You just have to tap into that part of yourself."

"I have to think like the hunted." He tried to keep his face positive, but she could see how much the idea devastated him.

"Yes. You are the hunted. And so am I. And so is your brother. And h.e.l.l, so is Arnie, apparently. It's a very popular state of being around here."

"But you," he said slowly, "and my brother, and probably even Arnie, are still predators. I'm just prey."

She shook her head. "I started out as prey. I learned. You've got advantages I never had. You share an exact genetic code with your brother, the apex predator. I saw you down at the range-once those instincts kick in, you'll be plenty able to take care of yourself."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm saying that because I'm jealous. If I could be tall, and strong, and a natural shot, it would change this game I'm playing."

"If I could be smart and paranoid, I wouldn't have put us at risk."

She smiled. "There's no comparison. You have the ability to learn; I'll never be able to grow any taller."

He grinned back. "But you're so much stealthier the way you are."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Let's go do something productive and shoot up some hay bales."

"Okay, but I have to be back by"-he glanced at the clock on the range-"six o'clock at the latest."

Alex was confused. "Is your favorite TV show on or something?"

"No. I owe you dinner, and it's not like I can take you out on the town." He smiled apologetically. "That's one of the reasons, beyond starvation, I went shopping."

"Um..."

"I asked you to dinner. You don't remember?"

"Oh, I remember. I just think we're probably quits on anything you might have offered before I kidnapped you."

"I won't feel right if I don't make good. Anyway, someone has to cook, and I'm not half bad at it. I already know that Kevin and Arnie are useless in that department."

Alex sighed. "I'm probably just as bad."

"So it's settled. Now let's go improve our aim."

DANIEL PICKED THINGS up so quickly, it was no wonder Kevin had been recruited. While they practiced, Daniel told Alex about Kevin's prowess at sports and his particular gift for shooting. Apparently the boys and their father had taken part in many compet.i.tions, and Kevin had almost always come away with the first-place trophy.

"I made the mistake of beating him once, when we were nine. Not worth it. From then on, I went along to keep Dad happy, but I didn't really compete. I found my own interests, things that Kevin didn't want to bother with. Like books. Community involvement. Distance running. Culinary cla.s.ses. Girl stuff, as he frequently informed me."

Alex loaded a new magazine. They were really burning through Kevin's ammo, but she didn't much care. He could afford new ammo.

She'd done a thorough search of the barn today and found a few of his cash h.o.a.rds. It looked like some of the drug money had come home with him. As a general rule, she avoided stealing unless she'd run out of other options, but she was very tempted now to grab as much as she could carry. After all, it was partially Kevin's fault she was so much poorer than she had been last month.

"I wonder what would have happened to me if I'd had a sibling who was better at chemistry and biology in high school?" she asked. "Would I have given it up? Become an accountant?"

She took a shot, then smiled. Right in the heart.

"Maybe you're more compet.i.tive than I am. Maybe you would have fought it out for the crown."

He leaned casually into his shooting position and fired a round at a bale a hundred yards farther away than hers.

She fired again. "Maybe I would be happier as an accountant."

Daniel sighed. "You're probably right. I was pretty happy as a teacher. Not a glamorous career, but the mundane can be quite satisfying. In fact, being ordinary in general is highly underrated."

"I wouldn't know. But it sounds nice."

"You were never ordinary." It wasn't a question.

"No," she agreed. "Not really. Unfortunate, as it turned out." Always too smart for her own good, though it had taken her a while to see things that way. She shot her target in the head twice in quick succession.

Daniel straightened up and leaned the long rifle against his shoulder. Einstein got to his feet and stretched out his back. "Well, I had my few areas where I transcended the mundane," he said, and Alex could tell from his tone that he was purposely lightening the mood. "And lucky you," he continued, "tonight you get to see me work in my favorite field."

Alex set the SIG down and stretched, much like the dog had. Her muscles got stiff more quickly with her injuries. She wasn't moving the way she usually did; she was favoring the damaged parts of her body. She needed to force herself to use her limbs equally.

"Sounds exciting. And I'm hungry, so I really hope the field you're talking about is the kitchen."

"It is, indeed. Shall we?" He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand toward the truck.

"As soon as we clean up our toys."

DANIEL DID SEEM very at home, humming as he diced things and sprinkled spices on things and put other things into saucepans. Of course, she couldn't help but notice that a lot of the tools appeared to be brand-new and hadn't been in the cupboards when she'd dug through them earlier. She would hold off on the lecture about how people who were just pa.s.sing through town rarely bought things for their kitchens. It was starting to smell kind of amazing and she didn't want to jinx anything.

She sat sideways on the sofa, her legs curled up under her, watching the news and Daniel at the same time. Nothing interesting on TV-just a lot of local stuff and a little bit about the primaries, which were still about nine months away. The whole election process was irritating to Alex. She would probably have to stop watching the news altogether when the real campaigning started. As someone who knew better than most the kind of darkness that went on behind the scenes and how little any of the important decisions had to do with the figurehead spokesperson the people elected, it was hard for her to care much about left or right.

Arnie had eaten another frozen dinner and retired around seven thirty, as seemed to be his habit. Alex had tried to convince him that a home-cooked meal was worth waiting for, but he hadn't even bothered responding to her coaxing. She was surprised that Daniel didn't give it a try, but maybe he was concentrating too hard on the food to notice. She offered to help once or twice only to be told in no uncertain terms that all she was allowed to do was eat.

Daniel grumbled to himself as he set out the unmatched plates, random silverware, and coffee mugs. She would have to remind him that he wasn't to go off on another shopping spree for monogrammed china. He moved all the food to the table, and she got up eagerly, famished and driven half wild by the various fragrances wafting through the room. He held a chair out for her, which reminded her of things she'd seen in old movies. Was this what normal people did? She wasn't sure, but she didn't think so. At least, not in the places she went out to eat.

With a flourish, he pulled out a lighter and lit a blue-and-pink-polka-dotted candle shaped like the number 1 that he'd stuck into a bread roll.

"This was the closest I could find to a taper," he explained as he saw her expression. "And this was the best I could do for wine," he continued, gesturing to the bottle that sat open beside her coffee mug. The words on the label were all unfamiliar to her. "It's the choicest vintage the United Supermarket carries."

He made as if to pour, and she automatically covered the top of her mug with her hand.

"I don't drink."

He hesitated, then poured a small amount for himself. "I got some apple juice this morning. Or I could get you some water?"

"Juice would be great."

He got up and headed for the fridge. "Can I ask? AA or a religious preference?"

"Safety. I haven't touched anything that might cloud my perception in four years."

He returned and poured her a mugful of juice before sitting opposite her. His face was carefully nonchalant.

"Didn't you start running just three years ago?"

"Yes. But once it really sank in that someone might try to kill me at any moment, it was hard to think about much else. I couldn't afford to be distracted. I could miss something. I did miss something, I guess. If I'd really been on my toes, Barnaby might still be alive. We shouldn't have waited."

"You don't feel safe here?"

She looked up at him, surprised by the question. The answer was so obvious. "No."

"Because I was stupid this morning?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all. I never feel safe anywhere."

She heard how blase the words sounded, the way the words of course seemed to be embedded in her answer, and watched his face fall a little in response.

"Hey, but I probably have PTSD. It doesn't have to be like that. I'm sure another person could handle things better."

He raised one eyebrow. "Yes, Kevin seems completely normal."

They laughed again. She hadn't laughed this much in the past three years put together.

He lifted his fork. "Shall we?"

CHAPTER 15.

No, I'm not exaggerating. I am fairly certain this is the best meal I've ever eaten in my entire life. Granted, I'm generally a fast-food girl, so I'm not a very sophisticated judge, but I also mean what I say."

"Well, that's a lovely compliment. Thank you."

"What is this again?" She poked her fork at the dessert on her plate, wis.h.i.+ng she had a tiny bit more s.p.a.ce in her stomach. She'd eaten herself nearly sick, but still she craved just one more bite.

"Bananas Foster b.u.t.ter cake."

"I mean..." She went for it, ignoring her stomach and savoring a small forkful. "Where did you learn to do this?"

"I took a few culinary courses in college. I watch a lot of the Food Network on the weekends, and I practice when I can afford to."

"Time amazingly well spent. I think you might have missed your calling, though."