As they stepped out of the Uber, Jeff explained to Emory, “This is a mixed club of universal acceptance. They play experimental music that’s a fusion of folk instruments and trance – unlike anything you’ve ever heard before.”
Emory could hear Jeff speaking, but he felt no need to respond. He stared at the neon sign above the door to their destination, “If Tomorrow Comes.”
Jeff grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Emory made vague eye contact with him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You seem a little…off.”
Emory looked like he was going to speak, but the sound didn’t come for several seconds. “I feel, I don’t know, weird. Guess I’m nervous.”
Jeff laughed and moved his hand to Emory’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I’m here.”
After a short wait in line, the two left Knoxville behind and entered a fantasyland. As Jeff pulled him through the crowd, Emory’s eyes danced around the club to take in the whole spectacle. Knotty wood walls reached up to a ceiling of unnatural blue, streaked by laser spectrum lights in frenetic succession. Bar pods shaped like perfect dew drops were interspersed on the leaf-colored floor, and inside each pod stood a crimson-shirted bartender.
Emory’s gaze shot to the stage, which looked like a pier that had been built in the wrong place. The word “Timbrance” glowed above the performers, and he assumed it was the band’s name. Apart from the female singer, dressed like a lake nymph, the remaining members played instruments – an electric dulcimer, a synthesizer, an accordion and Cherokee drums. The ethereal yet driving beat impelled the dancers on the floor. Couples of same and opposite sexes, as well as singles and groups, moved together like budding fields bending to opposing winds.
“Wow!” Emory exclaimed, but he couldn’t even hear himself over the music.
Jeff turned a happy face toward him. “What do you think?”
“It’s really ama-a-a-azing!” Emory yelled back in a tone both animated and odd. His eyes drifted to the wait staff, who wore iridescent uniforms as they glided through the crowd like fairies, bringing nectar for the visitors to their forest sanctuary.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m great.” Emory didn’t want to say it, but he wasn’t nervous. In fact, he was on the verge of euphoria – as if his blood cells had stopped flowing and started dancing through his veins. He was focused yet adrift, the same as when attempting to accomplish even the simplest task within the fluidity of a dream.
Jeff said something to him, but he had no idea what it was. He nodded anyway as Jeff left his side.
Emory started watching the band from the edge of the dance floor, which was silvery blue like a mountain lake with a giant yellow strobe light hanging overhead to simulate the sun. He found himself fixating on the spidery fingers of the dulcimer player as he taunted the melody inside the silky strings. The rhythm permeated Emory’s skin and attached to his muscles like strings on a marionette, moving them with each confident pull of the beat. He had forgotten all about Jeff by the time he popped up with a drink in each hand.
Jeff handed him a gin and tonic. “Looks like you’re ready to get on the floor.”
Emory sipped half the drink with a single suck on the straw and shook his head. “I don’t dance.”
Jeff looked down at Emory’s hips pivoting on his legs. “You might need to tell your body that.” He grabbed Emory’s drink and placed it alongside his on a nearby table.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that.”
“Let’s dance.” Jeff took his hand and led him to the floor. Emory didn’t want to go, but he seemed unable to make his body stop walking. Once they reached about one-third of the way into the crowd, Jeff stopped to face his partner, releasing his hand. He began to translate the music’s rapid tempo into a charmingly masculine dance that pulled Emory’s lips into a sweet grin. Emory danced with moves harmonious to Jeff’s, prompting a matching grin. Emory’s attention shot up to the streaks of laser light overhead. He lost himself staring at them. Eventually Jeff put his hands on Emory’s face and turned his attention back to him.
As he watched Jeff, Emory thought about Wayne’s suspicions. Could Victor have had another reason for hiring him, this hyper-hot PI? Is he friends with Pristine? Is he my friend now? God, look at him. Why do we keep spending time together? Is he keeping tabs on me, on the investigation? Emory’s head spun. Without warning, he slipped from the dance floor and zigzagged to the front door.
Once outside, he lost his balance and had to put a hand on the burly bouncer’s chest to keep from falling. The bearded man, who looked like a scary mountaineer, placed a steadying hand on Emory’s shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Fine.” Emory stood on his own.
The bouncer took out his cell. “Stay here. I’m going to call a ride for you.”
Emory took a few steps and waved at him. “That’s okay. I’m going to walk.”
Jeff bolted from the club. “Where are you going?”
“I need to go home now.” Emory’s eyes looked everywhere but on Jeff.
Jeff ran in front of him and forced him to stop walking. “Why?” Emory swayed away from him. “Are you drunk?”
Emory shook his head and slurred, “I don’t understand. Why are we here?”
“We were dancing. Would you look at me, please?”
Emory focused on him as best he could. “From the moment I first saw you, you know, when you smiled at me, it was like you had decided our fates.”
That statement brought a confused smile to Jeff’s face, a look Emory could no longer resist. With both hands he pulled Jeff’s face to his and kissed him full on the mouth. As soon as their lips parted, Emory told him, “God, I hate your eyes.”
Jeff scowled at him. “What?”
“Your eyes, they make me do things I shouldn’t want to do.”
“Hey guys.” Jeff and Emory looked at the bouncer, who was pointing his thumb toward the door of the club. “You should get back inside if you’re going to do that. Not too safe out here.”
Jeff waved to him. “We’re just going to head out now.”
Emory pushed away from Jeff. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me about Pristine!”
“You know, you are totally confusing me tonight. What about Pristine?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re friends with her?”
Jeff’s face froze like a child caught in a lie. “We should get you home.”
“I can get myself home.”
“No you can’t. Your keys are at my place.”
The bouncer held up his cell phone. “Ride’s coming now. He’s right down the street.”
As Emory thought about what to do, he stared at the bouncer and told him, “You know, you have a great beard.”
The bouncer snickered at the remark. “Thanks buddy.”
Jeff waved at the arriving cab. “Time to go now.” He helped Emory into the back seat and got in the other side.
During the short ride, Emory nodded off, and his head rolled until it came to rest on Jeff’s shoulder. His next conscious moment came when Jeff slapped him awake once they arrived at Mourning Dove Investigations. Jeff walked behind him up the spiral staircase and helped him to the couch. When Emory saw his clothes where he had left them, he remembered something Jeff said earlier. “How did you know I left my keys here?”
Standing in front of him, Jeff didn’t answer his question. “You seem more than drunk to me. What are you feeling right now?”
Emory thought for a few seconds as his head bobbed side-to-side. “I feel…” He squinted like he was trying to think of the right words. “Really weird. I’ve never done drugs, but I imagine it would feel…” With sudden realization, he looked up at Jeff through half-closed eyes. “Did you drug me?”
Without hesitation, Jeff answered, “Yes.”
Panicked, Emory looked for his gun underneath the pile of clothes. He found the holster and reached for the gun, but it wasn’t there. “What did you do to my gun?”
“Why? What are you planning to do with it? You should rest.”
Emory fought his way to his feet and tried to leave.
Jeff wrapped an arm around him and forced him to the bed. He pulled off his boots and clothes, except for his underwear, and made him lie back.
“No,” Emory protested and tried to get up, but he was so woozy now, he could no longer keep his eyes open. He could feel something tightening around his wrists.
Sheriff Rome awoke in freezing darkness with the roar of running water above his head. He could move, but he found the act of ordering his body to do so almost insurmountable. His mind tangled itself into strings of random, unfinished thoughts that seemed beyond his control. He struggled to open his eyes, and when he did, the information filtering through a single slit of vision took him more than a minute to process.
He was lying in the snow with his back to the sky and his head turned to his right. He tried to lift his face from the ground, but he couldn’t keep it up. The few seconds of elevated vision did allow him to see the back of the water factory. He now realized he was in the woods behind it, somewhere near the natural spring. He also noticed that the black van was gone.
The sheriff heard something that panicked some clarity into his head – the yipping of coyotes approaching from the woods!
He willed his right hand to slide over the snow to his waist. He ran his fingers along his belt to find the gun in his belt holster. It was gone.
The yipping grew louder.
With his right hand, he pushed against the ground with all his might. His elbow buckled twice, but he kept pushing until he rolled onto his back. He bent his right knee above him and reached a shaky hand toward his ankle. His spatial perceptions were deceiving him, so he missed his ankle three times before connecting.
The coyotes growled from mere yards away.
The sheriff found the pistol hidden inside his ankle holster. He fired three shots in the general direction of the coyotes before blacking out again.