CHAPTER 46

  

Lane maneuvered Rupert’s car from the Edinburgh suburb of Leith into the crowded center of the city.

“I’ll come check into the hotel with you,” he said, “but then I should take off before it gets to be much later.”

“You never told us what the bleeding hell you intend to do!” Rupert said.

“I have a friend in Aberdeen,” Lane said coolly. “I’m not going to get him mixed up in this, but he would gladly go to the inn and get some information about what’s going on.”

“Oh. Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Lane did the talking at the front desk, and we went up to our two adjoining rooms.

“Two rooms,” Rupert commented. “I wonder who’s sharing.”

We didn’t enter the second room. Lane and I didn’t have any luggage to unpack. Besides my messenger bag, our belongings were still at the Fog & Thistle Inn. Rupert tossed his bag on the floor and lay down on one of the beds on top of the covers. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

I stepped out into the hallway with Lane. I looked down the empty corridor with checkered carpeting and cream-colored walls, and then into Lane’s face. He looked so different without his glasses, even with his hair falling over his face in the same manner. The same intense hazel eyes gazed at me. How could anyone mistake those eyes?

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

He smiled confidently, but sadly, and kissed my forehead. I watched him disappear down the hallway. If he was as good at disguising himself as he claimed, I also had to accept another possibility. How easy would it be for him to walk away? I wasn’t sure I would ever see him again.

I took a few deep breaths before returning to the room, then closed the door softly behind me so as not to disturb Rupert. God knew he needed the rest.

“Are you in love with him?” Rupert said from the bed. I walked over to him. His eyes were still closed, and his face was more drawn than before.

“You need to sleep,” I said. “Do you want me to get some supplies to change the bandage on your arm again?”

He opened his eyes and sat up, moving the pillows so he could lean against the headboard. His blue-gray eyes had all but lost their bright blue vigor, and the gray stood out next to the grayish tint of his sunken sockets.

“We know each other too well for that,” he said.

“For me to buy you disinfectant?”

He smiled weakly.

“For you to get away with ignoring me,” he said.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “The answer is, I don’t know,” I said.

He smiled again, and took my hand in his. I didn’t object.

“Your fingernails,” he said. “They’re still short. How are those drums of yours?”

“Still got them,” I said. “Transatlantic flights are no match for my tabla.”

“Why did we ever break up?” he asked.

“I left the country, remember?”

“Yes, I know that part. Long-distance relationships are way too romantic and impractical for either of us. But you could have stayed.”

“You never asked me to.”

“What if I’m asking?”

“You’re a little late.”

He held my hand, looking at me in silence for a few moments before his eyelids drooped. He sank down onto the pillows. I covered him with the blanket from the other bed.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, before falling into a restless sleep.

I sat on the other bed for what seemed like hours. I had my headphones with me in my messenger bag, so I listened to music as I scribbled notes on the hotel stationery about who could possibly have killed Knox and left Rupert in such bad shape. I think the bhangra beats I was listening to must have been overly complex, because I ended up with two lists. One that included everyone at the inn as a suspect, and one that excluded everyone because it didn’t seem possible for them to have done it. I wadded up the sheets of paper and quietly left the room to get some food. I returned a short time later with some new clothes, including a new pair of heels, fish and chips, and refreshment.

The scent of the fried fish and pungent condiments woke Rupert, but only long enough for him to eat a piece of fish and wash it down with a lager I’d picked up at the off-license down the street along with a bottle of Macallan whisky for me. I was momentarily worried that I shouldn’t have given alcohol to someone with an injury, but then I remembered that bit of advice concerned head injuries rather than infections. The alcohol would probably do him good.

I turned on the television at a low volume and flipped among the five channels of reception while drinking the whisky before I fell asleep to news about the dental crisis in Scotland.

  

I woke to the smell of kippers under my nose. I’m told that most non-Brits can’t stand the smoked fish that’s saltier than anchovies, especially as a breakfast food. I love it. It took me a moment to remember where I was, before sitting up in my clothes from the day before to find the room full of daylight and Rupert standing next to me. He looked somewhat better than he had the night before. His eyes were no longer as sunken and dark, and his smile approximated a hearty one.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Always.” I looked across the room. “Room service?”

“You really do sleep through everything, love.”

For a few moments I could almost imagine life was back to normal. The familiar smells and the familiar sight of the man in front of me brought me back to a time when life made sense. The illusion quickly faded as I looked at Rupert’s sickly pallor. He and Knox would never again be able to go on a crazy adventure together.

“Where’s Lane?” I asked.

“He didn’t come back.”

“You checked the other room?” I asked.

He nodded. “He probably stayed over at his friend’s house in Aberdeen,” he said, taking a bite of eggs from the tray. His eyes watched me intently.

I forced myself to speak. “I’m sure you’re right.”

After eating far too many kippers, I took a long shower and got dressed in my new clothes. Lane still wasn’t there when I came back into the room.

As I stood at the window, looking out at a view of a cobblestone alley, Rupert came up beside me.

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

“You used to be a better liar.”

“Right now I feel like I used to be better at a lot of things.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What the bloody hell has happened to our lives?” he said. He held me tightly with his good arm around my waist, but didn’t attempt to do more than that. That made it all the more difficult to push him away.