cried, it was as if Melisandre had colic, too.
Showered, she changed into clothes that were really just a more luxurious version of her gym gear—velvet leggings, an Armani T-shirt, a loose cashmere sweater, soft ankle boots—and fluffed her hair, an entity with which she had made peace long ago, although she still sometimes resented it for all the attention it received. She did not wish to be loved for her curly hair alone. Checked her phone:Brian had texted that he would be three minutes late and, knowing Brian, that meant he would be two minutes, fifty-nine seconds late. She hoped—
Just then, she heard a thump from the living room, then the sound of something breaking. Clumsy boy. That sugar bowl was an antique.
But it was not just a bowl that had fallen. Silas was on the floor, body in spasms, surrounded by fragments of his morning treat, the rug soaked with tea.
Melisandre was still standing there when Brian arrived. He dropped to his knees and felt for the young man’s pulse, then called 911.
“I froze,” Melisandre murmured. “I just—froze. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just froze.”
She had no idea how much time had passed. And that frightened her even more than the young man convulsing on the floor.
11:00 A.M.
Tess Monaghan believed no one should speak on a phone while driving a car, no matter what device was used. Hands-free, headsets, earpieces, Bluetooth—all of it took one out of driving. It was unsafe at any speed.
Still, she did it all the time.
She supposed that made her a hypocrite. And a really crappy mother, too, as she did it even when Carla Scout was with her. But Tyner had called her three times this morning and she had ignored the first two. When his number flashed in the dashboard caller ID a third time, she decided it must be urgent, possibly even personal.
“What’s up?”
“There was an incident with Melisandre this morning. It appearsthat someone tried to drug her or poison her—we’re unsure. At any rate, her trainer drank something while in her apartment and he went into a seizure. He’s going to be okay, but it was clearly meant for Missy.”
That nickname again.
“Why ‘clearly’?”
“Remember, Melisandre told us the notes she’s been receiving are from someone who knows things about her past, things that not everyone knows. Well, she was a sugar fiend once. Used to pour tablespoons of sugar into her coffee, over her morning Rice Krispies. Remember, I was surprised that she didn’t want the sweets at breakfast?”
Tess remembered. She almost drove through a red light, thinking about how well Tyner knew Melisandre’s breakfast habits.
“So?”
“We think someone doctored her sugar. Her trainer used it, she didn’t. Could have been the tea, which was loose, but the sugar seems more likely, as it was in a bowl. The doctor thinks it could have been a large helping of one of the date rape drugs—they don’t normally see seizures from those, but it can happen.”
“What do the police think?”
Did paraplegics squirm? There was a squirm in Tyner’s long pause, Tess was sure of it.
“She didn’t call the police. The boy stabilized quickly, was breathing and alert within minutes. Melisandre chose to take him by private ambulance to her doctor. She goes to one of those boutique practices, one that’s available to its clients around the clock.”
Of course she does .
“The doctor attended to the boy as quickly as any ER would have,” Tyner added. “Faster. Melisandre made the right choice.”
“So why are you calling me? Sandy and I are not responsible for the security in her current location.”
“She wants to move as soon as possible. She doesn’t want to spend another night in the Four Seasons.”
“Then tell her to call a moving company. Anyone but Mayflower, though. Then people in this town really won’t be able to forgive her.” Mayflower had been the company that had moved the Colts out of town in the dead of a snowy night.
Showered, she changed into clothes that were really just a more luxurious version of her gym gear—velvet leggings, an Armani T-shirt, a loose cashmere sweater, soft ankle boots—and fluffed her hair, an entity with which she had made peace long ago, although she still sometimes resented it for all the attention it received. She did not wish to be loved for her curly hair alone. Checked her phone:Brian had texted that he would be three minutes late and, knowing Brian, that meant he would be two minutes, fifty-nine seconds late. She hoped—
Just then, she heard a thump from the living room, then the sound of something breaking. Clumsy boy. That sugar bowl was an antique.
But it was not just a bowl that had fallen. Silas was on the floor, body in spasms, surrounded by fragments of his morning treat, the rug soaked with tea.
Melisandre was still standing there when Brian arrived. He dropped to his knees and felt for the young man’s pulse, then called 911.
“I froze,” Melisandre murmured. “I just—froze. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just froze.”
She had no idea how much time had passed. And that frightened her even more than the young man convulsing on the floor.
11:00 A.M.
Tess Monaghan believed no one should speak on a phone while driving a car, no matter what device was used. Hands-free, headsets, earpieces, Bluetooth—all of it took one out of driving. It was unsafe at any speed.
Still, she did it all the time.
She supposed that made her a hypocrite. And a really crappy mother, too, as she did it even when Carla Scout was with her. But Tyner had called her three times this morning and she had ignored the first two. When his number flashed in the dashboard caller ID a third time, she decided it must be urgent, possibly even personal.
“What’s up?”
“There was an incident with Melisandre this morning. It appearsthat someone tried to drug her or poison her—we’re unsure. At any rate, her trainer drank something while in her apartment and he went into a seizure. He’s going to be okay, but it was clearly meant for Missy.”
That nickname again.
“Why ‘clearly’?”
“Remember, Melisandre told us the notes she’s been receiving are from someone who knows things about her past, things that not everyone knows. Well, she was a sugar fiend once. Used to pour tablespoons of sugar into her coffee, over her morning Rice Krispies. Remember, I was surprised that she didn’t want the sweets at breakfast?”
Tess remembered. She almost drove through a red light, thinking about how well Tyner knew Melisandre’s breakfast habits.
“So?”
“We think someone doctored her sugar. Her trainer used it, she didn’t. Could have been the tea, which was loose, but the sugar seems more likely, as it was in a bowl. The doctor thinks it could have been a large helping of one of the date rape drugs—they don’t normally see seizures from those, but it can happen.”
“What do the police think?”
Did paraplegics squirm? There was a squirm in Tyner’s long pause, Tess was sure of it.
“She didn’t call the police. The boy stabilized quickly, was breathing and alert within minutes. Melisandre chose to take him by private ambulance to her doctor. She goes to one of those boutique practices, one that’s available to its clients around the clock.”
Of course she does .
“The doctor attended to the boy as quickly as any ER would have,” Tyner added. “Faster. Melisandre made the right choice.”
“So why are you calling me? Sandy and I are not responsible for the security in her current location.”
“She wants to move as soon as possible. She doesn’t want to spend another night in the Four Seasons.”
“Then tell her to call a moving company. Anyone but Mayflower, though. Then people in this town really won’t be able to forgive her.” Mayflower had been the company that had moved the Colts out of town in the dead of a snowy night.
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