Joe was standing above her. He’d already showered, and his hair was still damp, but he was already dressed to face the day.
“What…time is it?” She squinted against the painful light of early morning and sat up, accepting the pills. She felt disoriented, but not as sick as she knew she deserved to, after everything she’d had to drink. She just wanted to go back to sleep.
“Five-thirty,” he said.
She swallowed the pills. “Ten more minutes,” she told him.
Wasn’t happening.
He jerked the covers back, caught her arms and dragged her up. “Shower. Now. Unless you want to stay here, locked in this room, until we get back.”
So she headed for the shower.
When she got out, she had about ten minutes left. Frantically, she began throwing things into an overnight case.
“If you forget something, we can buy it when we get there,” he told her. “Here.” He was back in front of her with a cup of coffee.
She took it from him and drank gratefully.
To her surprise, he smiled at her and touched her chin. “That hair of yours is a mess,” he told her.
She turned, ready to look for her brush.
“Hey, leave it. It’s sort of sexy, in a hungover kind of way,” he told her.
She cast him a glance of ice, causing him to laugh softly again.
“There’s your bell—they’re here,” he told her.
“I’m ready,” she said, and quickly swallowed the rest of her coffee. He had added enough milk to keep it from scalding her throat, and it was good.
A road trip.
Joe couldn’t believe he was on a road trip with four other people. He expected the usual question to come from the backseat: Are we there yet? But his passengers were quiet.
Brent had brought an audio collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s work. As they drove, they listened to “The Black Cat” and then “The Pit and the Pendulum,” moving on to the poems by the time they passed into Delaware.
Just over the Maryland line, Joe pulled over at a rest stop to get gas. Everybody decided to get something to eat at that point, and he was sure they would have to wake Genevieve, who had fallen asleep before they ever left Manhattan. She was awake, though, and he noticed with amusement that she’d brushed her hair back into its usual sleek cascade.
“What time do you think we’ll get there?” Nikki asked, as they all sat down to have breakfast.
“With or without traffic?” Joe asked.
“We’re doing well so far,” Brent said, and glanced at Joe. “If we keep moving fairly quickly, we can make it by one-thirty or two.”
“When we get there, you and I will interview the widow and stop by the police station,” Joe said.
“Oh, really, and what about the rest of us?” Genevieve demanded, looking none the worse for wear. She’d apparently had a pretty decent sleep while he’d been driving, Joe thought.
“We should look into Poe’s history in the city,” Nikki suggested. “Maybe find another tour to take.”
“Joe is right,” Adam said. “He and Brent won’t be able to get much out of the police or the widow if we all come in like a traveling circus.”
“Another Poe tour,” Genevieve mused, cradling her coffee cup. She looked up at Joe. He expected an argument, but got a smile instead. “Good. I keep thinking that…”
“That Edgar will make an appearance?” Joe asked dryly.
“I keep thinking that maybe one of the guides will say something to give us a real clue to what’s going on,” she said.
“Maybe,” Joe agreed. He didn’t believe it for a minute, though. The current killer had a modern agenda. Either he planned to accomplish it by the murders, or he was psychotic, and Joe didn’t think it was the latter.
He was convinced that the killer was Jared. And that the agenda was greed.
Except that…
Was he behind the deaths in Richmond and Baltimore, as well? If so, the motive couldn’t have been greed. Jealousy? That was the most logical second choice. But jealousy over what? Poe? Why? Thorne, not his son, had been the scholar.
Joe excused himself while they waited for their food and called Raif Green. They’d talked the night before, as Joe was on his way to the pub, and this seemed like as good a time as any to check on what they’d talked about.
“Joe,” Raif said, and it sounded like a groan.
“Were you able to get anyone assigned to follow Jared Bigelow?” Joe asked.
“I’m doing my best. This is a city of millions, you know. And the police department is always understaffed. I’ve already got plainclothes people at the hospital.”
“Someone has to watch Bigelow,” Joe insisted.
“Easier said than done.”
“Bull. You know how to work the system.”
He heard Raif laugh. “Quit worrying. Yes, I’ve got someone watching him. I’m working things from here, I swear. And as soon as you can give me something solid from another state, we’ll have FBI access, as well. The chief’s already called the bureau. Seems they’d already been called by someone. Someone with clout,” Raif said.