The Edge of Recall (27 page)

“I’ll ask next time he appears. Nan thinks he’s following me.”

Smith frowned. “I don’t like that.”

“Neither do I. I have enough monsters in my life already.”

“I don’t like that either.”

“It’s unanimous.”

After breakfast, they drove out to the site. She could not help glancing over to the spot where something had seemed to watch her. Shady woods and nothing more. Smith held the office door open, but she shook her head. “I’m going back to work. There’s a gnarly vine out there I want to get up.”

“Gnarly?”

“Gnarly.”

His grin faded. “Tess. Be careful.”

She nodded. “I always am.”

But she hadn’t been. The thought that Bair had become attached and she hadn’t guessed distressed her more than she had wanted Smith to see. Why had she not realized that Bair’s attention was more than friendly? Because he’d been interested in Katy—speechless over her. He hadn’t been speechless at all in their interaction. Should that have told her something?

She pressed her hands to her face. If he started drinking again, would it be her fault? Dr. Brenner was very firm that each person had responsibility over his or her own issues. Maybe it was better she hadn’t known. If she had, things would have been unbearably awkward, even more than being alone with Smith, the pressure of which already had her in a heightened state of anxiety.

CHAPTER

24

Alone in the office, Smith debated calling Bair and demanding he return Katy. In this tight-knit county, they could not afford enemies. But Ellie thought her granddaughter the instigator, and maybe there was something to that. Bair had acted in anger, but Katy had been making her move since she’d first laid eyes on them.

They were two adults capable of their own decisions. Maybe it was even a good thing. By going off alone with her, Bair had overcome an obstacle—unless he turned back to drink in order to communicate. Smith sighed. Bair had said himself when he’d come out of rehab, “You can’t be responsible for me, Smith. I have to do it myself.” He’d helped where he could, but ultimately it was up to Bair. Like the rest of them, he’d stand or fall by his own choices.

Smith opened his CAD software and sent the base sheets Bair had completed to the electrical and civil engineers. He produced a schedule for their return drawings, complete with specs, and looked over the budget—well within the dollars already allocated. Then he pulled up materials and suppliers he had tentatively selected for the first concept and went over each item for suitability in the new adaptation.

After several hours, Tessa came in for a drink. As she started back out the door he stood up and stretched. “How is the gnarly vine coming?”

“I’m going to tackle it as soon as I’ve cleared the outer perimeter. I want to see the labyrinth in its entirety.”

“Still planning to do it yourself?”

“As much as I can. It feels personal, Smith, like a mandate.”

He’d thought it a job. An important one, a great opportunity, but a mandate?

“Possibly a swan song. Dr. Brenner wants it to be the last labyrinth I build.”

“Really.” Would she let her therapist decide her career direction when it had been so crucial to her? He wondered again what kind of power the man wielded.

“He always says that. But now, I wonder. If I can trap the monster once and for all …” She sighed. “I see what you’re thinking.”

He had not shown a thing, he was sure. “How can you trap a nightmare into a hedge? It’s too … mystical.”

“I know.”

“And the monster, Tess—I admit I’m confused. There’s Gaston, the ghost, and the monster in your dreams.” He hadn’t realized labyrinths were so tied in to her psyche. Would he have called her if he’d known the emotional landscape she’d be tearing up with each drag of sod?

“I can’t explain it. I just know I have to build this labyrinth, that it matters, somehow, more than any other.”

That was better than the refusal she’d voiced in Laughlin, but he worried. “I’ve just about completed what I had for today. Would you like some help?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You want to get your hands dirty?”

He’d once boasted that he would never do a single day of physical labor. He was the idea, the concept, the conceiver. Others were out there to labor. There was no doubt in his mind she remembered his words. “Why should you have all the fun?”

She scrutinized him, then shrugged. “Okay. If you’re serious. Bring gloves. I might have some cutting for you.”

“My favorite.” He smiled. “Especially gnarly vines.”

“It’s kudzu.”

“The bane of the south? Is that even destructible?”

“Over miles of countryside, no. But in my labyrinth? Absolutely. I’ll just have to be thorough. Not leave any remnant of crown or seed. If it reestablishes, it could cover the hedge and deprive it of sunshine.”

“Can’t have a kudzu labyrinth?”

She shot him a glare.

“Then it’s death to the kudzu. I’ll wrap up some things and join you.”

“All right.” She shook her hair loose before recapturing it in an unconscious gesture that made him wonder whether anything he had to do was even close to important. He exhaled deeply. He did have calls to make, a fax to send. After she had gone, he successfully shifted focus, but before he’d finished, she came back.

He looked up. “Something wrong?”

“I thought I left the key in the Bobcat, but I must have brought it in.” She went into the kitchen, where she had filled a bottle with the green tea she kept in the refrigerator. Puzzled, she came in and searched around his desk.

“Bathroom?” he suggested.

She rejoined him, shaking her head.

He rose. “Could you have dropped it on the way here?”

“I guess, but I can’t imagine.”

“I’ll help you look. Just let me grab those gloves.” They went around the back of the trailer to the small portable shed. He got a pair of work gloves. “Need anything else?”

She took down the narrow pruning saw she had brought in days ago. “This’ll do, if you’re serious about helping.”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” A gust of moist wind caught them as they started across the field, searching the ground as they went.

“I just don’t think I dropped it.” She shielded her eyes and stared out toward the site. “I’d have put it in my pocket if I took it, but I remember turning the engine off and leaving the key in the ignition.”

“Could it have fallen out?”

“I searched all over the Bobcat.”

They reached the field and scoured the ground around the vehicle. No key. He straightened and looked into the woods. “Our prankster could be at it again.”

“The ghost?”

“Tell me once more what you read.”

“It seems there’s a prowler who goes through locked doors and helps himself to things.”

“Why do they think he’s a ghost and not a burglar?”

“He gets into impossible places and he’s perfectly silent.”

“No wailing or clanking of chains?”

She shot him a glare. “People described a thin, pale figure moving through the woods, loping like a wolf, only erect. He goes through walls and smells like the grave.” She shuddered again. “I smelled him, Smith. The night I called you and again last night.”

“If he’s corporeal enough to stink, I would guess he’s not a ghost.”

“Then how did he get into my room?”

“I don’t know and I don’t like it.”

She looked up at him. “You thought I was dreaming that night, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t
you
?” He met the challenge.

“I don’t know what to think anymore. When it’s happening, it’s so real.”

He looked around the field. “It is real. Someone is messing with us. The question is why.”

“I’m not imagining it?”

“No. And you’re not the only one he’s disturbing. While we were in Laughlin, he got into the trailer and nicked our toothpaste.”

“Did you report it?”

He slanted her a look.

She frowned. “How did he get in?”

“Through the window with the air-conditioner.”

“That’s a small window.”

“Quite.” He scanned the woods around them, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched. Or at least that someone was aware of them, but who, and from where?

She sighed. “I’ll have to call for a replacement key. In the meantime we can see what we’re up against with this.” She kicked at the woody vine. “I’m not giving up. He’ll have to do worse than take away my toys.”

“You think it’s you he’s trying to stop?”

“All I know is what I’ve felt. Like someone—or something— wants me gone.”

They’d all felt it, then, that resentful watching. Smith’s discomfort increased.

She raised the pruning saw. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I have a labyrinth to build.” She gripped the vine and cut a rooted part of the kudzu. “This is a young vine, recently established. Left to itself it’ll spread to the woods and take over, but it hasn’t had time to get vast and vigorous enough that I can’t remove it.”

He looked over at the trees surrounding the field, the rest of the meadow itself. “I don’t see any more. I wonder where it came from.”

“Probably a seed, blown or carried and deposited.” She straightened. “Whoever takes over as topiary gardener will have to watch for residual growth, but I intend to do my best to see that there’s nothing left of it.”

“Have you decided what to plant?”

“I saw some hawthorn in the woods that could have been seeded from the original. The monks would have valued its berries as an antispasmodic and cardio tonic. But the thorns make it a better choice as a deterrent hedge to keep trespassers out than a path intended to draw pilgrims in.”

“So no hawthorn.”

“Bay laurel, myrtle, and privet are all possible, but I was leaning toward yew.”

“Me?”

“
Taxus baccata ‘Fastigiata.’
Irish yew.” She looked across the labyrinth field with a narrowed gaze as though picturing it there already. “It’s a densely growing conifer perfect for topiary. Thrushes and waxwing and other birds eat the seed cones, though the rest is famously poisonous.”

“Famously?”

“Rulers are recorded as having chosen its poison over surrender to Caesar and other conquerors.”

“You’re not thinking …”

“Of poisoning Rumer Gaston?” The look in her eyes had disquieting elements. “Of course not.”

“I mean you’d warn him,” he pressed.

“Not to eat the bark and leaves or boil up any tinctures?”

“Stop teasing, Tessa.”

The corners of her mouth deepened. “I’ve actually settled on boxwood.”

“Glad to hear it. What other herb lore do you know?”

“All kinds. Dandelions aid liver function. Sarsaparilla increases blood circulation and stimulates breathing. Combined with sassafras and burdock root, it cures syphilis. Thyme is effective against Staphylococcus, E. coli, and tuberculosis. And quite useful in killing hookworms.”

He grimaced. “You learned that where?”

“From my mom.”

“The earth mother.”

“Don’t knock it.” She scowled.

“I’m not. Truly.” But he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “You’re a wealth of … unusual knowledge. Labyrinths, ghosts, herbs. I’m fascinated just thinking what else you might know.”

She shot him a dubious look.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you know plenty of odd things yourself.”

“Ogee arch, quatrefoil, voussoir.”

“I don’t mean weird terms and definitions.” She swiped the windblown hair from her face. “I mean stuff.”

“I think I’ve lived a very ordinary life with a very ordinary body of … stuff.”

“I don’t know what fork to use for oysters.”

“It’s a rather small, three-pronged affair shaped like Neptune’s trident.”

She laughed. “There you go.” She stooped and took hold of the vine. “Anyway, before I can think of planting, I have to be rid of this vine.” She tugged, then looked closer. “Huh. These leaves have been torn off. The property must have been recently and regularly grazed.”

“Do deer eat kudzu?”

“Seasonally, I think, when there’s nothing they like better. Goats especially like it. Even people. Ever had kudzu jelly?”

“Can’t say that I have. Am I missing out?”

“Tastes like bubblegum.”

“Not quite the thing for toast, then.”

She smiled. “It decreases the desire for alcohol.”

He raised his brows. “So this weed people want to annihilate could cure alcoholism?”

“I’m not claiming that. And even if it cures cancer, this particular vine cannot remain in the middle of my labyrinth. I wanted to use the skid loader to clear the matted surface and sever as many root crowns as possible. The roots themselves don’t regenerate. Once I’ve cleared all remaining crowns by hand and painted the stalks with glyphosate, I’ll only need to watch out for seeds.”

“And since we haven’t the Bobcat?”

She frowned. “We’ll have to cut it by hand.”

He looked at the mess of vines. “Let’s search the field. The key might’ve been tossed, not taken.” Futile without a metal detector, but he didn’t mention that.

“We’ll never see it in there. It’s too thick.”

“Too thick, as well, to attack by hand.” No sense at all in that. He caught her hands and pulled her over. “And there are so many better things to do.” He’d intended to be professional during the working day, and pursue their relationship after hours, but that didn’t ever really work.

She raised her chin. “Are you giving up already?”

“Only suggesting alternatives.” Her mouth tasted of moist air and pollen.

“I thought you came to help, not distract me.”

Liking her throaty breathiness, he sank his hands into her hair, making the band slip down. “I thought this was helping.”

“No, it’s … well, it isn’t helping. You said you wanted to get your hands—”

“My hands are exactly where I wanted to get them.” He made the band slide the rest of the way off her silky, silky hair.

“Smith,” she rasped. “I have to do this.”

“Wait until you have the equipment you need.”

“I can’t let him stop me.” Her gaze drifted someplace far that he couldn’t see, a place of nightmares and monsters. She thought she had a mission, a mandate, some assignment she hadn’t received from him, the architect, but from … God? Her therapist? Her own mind?