From the other side, the door was thrust open, and Rye Mallett barged in. He reached behind him, shut the door, and locked it.
Astonishment sent Brynn stumbling backward several steps. She dropped her coat but recovered immediately, and shock became outrage. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I want to talk to you.” He bore down on her until he had her backed up against the sink. “I want to talk to you about your father.”
“My father?”
“Dear ol’ dad. That Brynn! My, how you’ve grown scene had led me to believe you were well known because your old man was the sheriff or something. Turns out Wes O’Neal—”
“I know his name.”
“—is a thief! By trade.”
She took a series of short, shallow breaths. “Who told you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Point is, he’s a crook, in and out of county jail so many times, they considered putting a revolving door on his cell. You were a regular at the sheriff’s office. Staff there played dolls with you while waiting on CPS to send someone for you. You used to cry when they tore you away from people like Myra. You—”
“All right,” she snapped. “You’ve made your point.”
“Aw, no. I’m just getting started.”
Although she didn’t think he could possibly get any closer to her, he crowded in. To keep from touching, she had to arch over the sink. “Get back.” She pushed against his chest with her left hand. “I don’t know what you think—”
“What I think is that you’re following in Daddy’s footsteps, upholding the family tradition.” He thumped the lid of the metal box tucked under her right arm. “What’s in the box?”
“You saw what was in it!”
“What I saw, what Rawlins and Wilson saw, was a dog-and-pony show performed by you and your partner in crime, the self-esteemed Dr. Lambert.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hell you don’t. I was watching you. When Lambert said, ‘accommodate them,’ you looked like you’d swallowed a bug. You were as surprised as the three of us when Rawlins raised the lid and all we saw were tubes of blood. If that’s what they are.”
“That’s exactly what they are, and I wasn’t at all surprised.”
“Right, more like disbelieving, holding yourself together while Lambert dazzled us with bullshit.”
“Everything he said was scientifically sound.”
“Deliberately scientific. Intentionally over our heads. Meant to distract.”
“You’re delusional. How do you know what I was feeling, thinking? Are you a mind reader?”
“Lip reader.”
“What?”
“Cockpits can be noisy. I learned to read a copilot’s lips. Nine, four, three, two.” He placed his hands on his hips, thrust his face to within inches of hers, and repeated the numbers in a taunting whisper. “Nine, four, three, two.”
She braced her hands on the ledge of the sink behind her in order to keep her balance. “The lock.”
“The lock. I read your lips as you rolled each number into place. Missed the last one. What is it?”
He’d read her lips? That was almost as unsettling as him being only one digit short of knowing the combination to the padlock. His eyes were like magnets now, holding her in thrall.
But she looked away, turned her head aside, and tried to regain her equilibrium. “Would you give me some space, please?”
He eased away from her and took a half step back.
She took a few short breaths. “How did you bump your head?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a bump at your hairline.” She reached up to touch it, but he yanked his head back.
“Banged it on impact. It’s fine. Did you get a car?”
She was still dazed by his sudden reappearance and confounded as to how she was going to deal with his fresh knowledge of the box and its contents. Her thoughts were darting helter-skelter, overwhelming her with calamitous implications. She willed them to slow down and concentrate on what he had asked her. In stops and starts, she explained the arrangements that had been made.
“Wilson’s not coming back?”
“No. He was as relieved to ditch me as I was to be ditched.” Her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came questions. “How did you know we were here?”
“You mentioned that Wilson was taking you to breakfast, and the lady running the admissions desk at the ER told me this is the only place open today. I drove over in Marlene White’s car, saw you through the window, parked, and waited to see what would happen. When Wilson left without you, and you didn’t return to the table, I hurried around back. Found the delivery door unlocked.”
“Very resourceful.”
“Determined.”
“Determined to chase me down? Why?”
“Why do you think? I want that number. I want to take another look, see what contraband I flew in here last night.”
“It’s not contraband. It’s blood samples.”
“Then what’s the harm in giving me the number?”
“It’s supposed to be kept airtight.”
“Good argument, just the right amount of logic, but I don’t believe you.”
She glared at him and remained silent.
“Okay, have it your way,” he said. “How long before the car man gets here?”
“Wilson estimated fifteen to twenty minutes, half of which have elapsed.”
He glanced behind him at the locked door. “Not long then before you’ll be missed,” he said, musing aloud.
“Missed? I won’t be missed at all, Mr. Mallett.”
“From here on, why don’t you call me Rye?”
“I’m happy to. Go to hell, Rye. But first get out of my way. I’m leaving. If you don’t allow me to leave, I’ll—”
She didn’t even have to finish before he raised his hands in surrender, stepped aside, and tilted his head toward the door. “You want to go, go.”
She looked toward the locked door, then back at him. “What’s the hitch?”
“No hitch. Bye-bye. Been nice knowing you.”
She stayed where she was. “Why the foreboding undertone?”
“Did it sound foreboding?”
“You know it did.”
He shrugged. “It’s just that if you leave with only a Ford dealer to protect you, who knows what they might do.”
“They? Who?”
“The two guys in the corner booth. Both dressed in black suits. One tall, Hispanic, hard body, handsome devil. The other smaller, hyper, pointy nose, and ears like a fox. Did you notice them?”
“They ordered apple pie with their Whole Hog breakfast. What have they got to do with me?”
“You tell me, Dr. O’Neal.”
“I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“No? Well, I have. Know when? As I was leaving the sheriff’s office. Know where? They were sitting in a black, late-model Mercedes, parked across the street and almost out of sight behind a hardware store, like they were keeping an eye on the place, like they were waiting for somebody besides me to come out.”
His eyes scaled down from her face to the toes of her boots and up again. “As nice a prize as you would make, I don’t think they’re after your sweet self, so much as that box you’re welded to. More to the point, they’re after what’s in it.”
Of their own volition, her lips parted with alarm.
“Riiiight,” he said. “That weird pair were waiting for you, and you are going to tell me why, and you are going to tell me now.”
She raised her chin in defiance. “Or what?”
8:32 a.m.
Rye gave the small of Brynn’s back a nudge to get her across the threshold, followed her into the room, and closed the door with a solid thunk. He pressed the button on the doorknob and slid the chain lock into place. The curtains were drawn, but there was an inch-wide separation in the middle of the window. He overlapped the edges to close it.
The decor was standard mountain-cabin-in-the-woods à la the sixties. The artwork on the knotty pine–paneled walls was reminiscent of the bear in Brady White’s office, the bedspread striped in earth tones, the lampshades made of burlap. In the bathroom, everything was tan and basic motel issue.
While he conducted his brief inspection of the layout, Brynn didn’t move from the spot where she’d taken root just inside the door. She said, “After a drive long enough to make me car sick—”
“Mountain roads. It’s not my fault they’re winding.”