X-PROOF

PART FOUR:

He’d asked her not to say a word of it to anyone, not Bud, not John, not Rachel if

she called, until they were able to at least sit down together that evening and catch

the two men up and get acquainted with what Bud and John surmised from the scene

of the crime.  He couldn’t confirm it until he spoke with Bud, but it looked as if the

mole to Mikol that they had been wondering about had met his maker, and it had yet

to be determined just how much he had filched from NanoCorp itself before doom

showed up.  It all lay upon the broken laptop computer at the scene of the crime and

considering how John was clamping down on every move they made with a lockdown

of the entire Emerald City campus, it would be some time before they knew for sure. 

Until then, he and Deidre would have to make do with what was there at Emerald

City on a Sunday afternoon. 

So she had slipped off to the second floor where a small individual office had been set

up for her as a private work station, right next to Rachel’s now darkened space, where

she had been encouraged to bring in her books and files and papers and other material

she thought pertinent to the job of researcher.  A window took up three-quarters of the

wall next to the doorway, covered by Venetian blinds, and the back wall was entirely

glass looking out on the center courtyard of the complex.  The other two walls, in her

short time with NanoCorp, had been covered with old ragged maps of Kenya and the

Middle East.  There was also a Masai spear propped up in the corner, a couple of

masks from the Congo stuck in the crowded bookcase, piles of books next to a couple

of office arm chairs, pieces of clothing she and Rachel had decided not to take, and a

tall torchier lamp next to a sleek computer desk.  A small refrigerator sat in another

corner, with a couple cans of soda water and a frozen dinner still remaining inside

from the day before they left to enter ‘Gladiator.’

Deidre locked the door behind her, making sure the blinds were as tightly closed off

as she could make them, more than a little freaked by the incident in the gym, and

pulled out one of the sodas, choosing to slide to the floor and lean against the wall…

and letting the pent up feelings unleash.

She was not noisy when she cried.  She had learned not to make so much as a sniffle

in the presence of her older brothers when they conveniently forgot for their own

purposes that she was just a girl.  Being a tomboy suited them best when an adventure

called for someone of her slight build and quickness; being a girl, especially a hurt

girl, suited them to dismiss her when they did not feel like dealing with her…and any

hint of a tear would give them that kind of excuse.  So she had learned to find ways

to leave them of her own choosing when it felt like she could not bear holding it all

in any longer.  Even though she knew no one else lurked in the rooms surrounding

her office and the hole that Rachel left by not being next door did little to assuage

her that she could have all the floor she wanted in vocalizing her feelings.  Instead,

she gasped as tears fell, stuffing low moans so that they came out in a fresh trickle

of saltwater, holding her hands to her head as she propped her elbows on bent knees,

trying very hard not to give any auditory hint that she was sitting in the dimly lit

room, crying her eyes out.

It wasn’t as though she was afraid to cry in front of Terry.  There had been private

tears shed late last night as they lay in bed, and that, only one or two, ones that were

more about the desire to strengthen the tenuous bond that had been forming than any

outside concern, which he had done much to dry away with tenderness and attention. 

Somehow, though, the murder, Sid’s ugliness and deception, the absence of Rachel,

worry about Cort, fear of the loss of Harkin, another message from Wilder, (more

contrite this time,) and Terry’s grim face...somehow it had all begun to fall in on her. 

Even though she had been trying to shove it away; even though her head kept arguing

with the lump inside her.  Somehow, at one point, she realized that if she did not leave

the office then and there, if she broke down right there in Terry’s office, he’d drop

everything to comfort her once more, forgetting everything but her, and she knew they

did not have a minute to spare in trying to crack upon the impenetrable shell Sid

created for himself and Maximus.  So she huddled in the one place in which she knew

she could retreat.

When it finally felt like she could breathe normally again without causing a monsoon,

Deidre wiped her face with one of the scarves next to her and drank some of the cold

soda.  Sweet syrup counteracted the salt quite nicely, gave her the energy she needed

to get back to her feet and stare around at her office; that strength wibbled a little as

she remembered how merrily she and Rachel had gone through her things when she

first brought them in, chattering away while Cort looked on in amusement from one

of the chairs. 

She was a stalwart agnostic when it came to matters of the spirit, but for the moment

she found that a fervent prayer for Rachel’s safety, Cort’s recovery, Terry’s need for

resolution, was the only thing that kept her from deciding to crawl under her desk and

not come out until Judgment Day. 

Her eyes fell on the phone on her desk.  She needed to call Wilder back.  He really did

sound subdued in his message; but Wilder was the more emotional of her two brothers,

the oldest child, and less inclined to dismiss her.   He’d always seemed to know her

reaction to things and understand…which made his rebuke of her silence even more

upsetting.  But when it really came right down to it, she wasn’t entirely certain she

could do what he had commanded she do: and that was to drop what she was doing

and go to Germany with him.  She also wasn’t entirely certain as to how she was going

to explain that to her brother.

“Wilder?”  She flinched when the receiver picked up.  The phone still felt foreign after

a month of no such technology.

“Oh, thank God, Deeder, its you!  I was on the verge of walking out on the phone,” her

brother replied.

“You…you sound frustrated,” Deidre ventured cautiously. 

“The press!  The damn press has been hounding us all morning!  A bunch of land sharks

looking for a drop of blood to put in their rag!”  Wilder steamed.  “I don’t know whose

idea it was to tell them that Harkin was wounded, but I've had nothing but phone calls

and paparazzi-wannabes hovering around like flies.  How are you?  I take it you got my message?”

“I got that you were trying to give me an update on Harkin, but you didn’t say much,”

Deidre said, sliding back down to her original position propped up against the wall. 

She had no  desire to sit in the chair  at her  desk; she had developed a hate-hate

relationship with the thing from the first day.  “How is he?”

“Okay…here’s what’s going on…he’s been upgraded from critical to stable and is

resting, although one nurse told me he made a pass at her…”

“Harkin did?”  Deidre yelped in surprise.  Harkin, the Silent Type, whose version of communicating was often an amiable grunt, sometimes with inflection, sometimes not.

“What’d he do…waggle his eyebrows at her?”

“No…asked her out.  She sounded like she didn’t think he was serious, but I told her

about him, so she might be having second thoughts.  You know, that boy owes me now! 

Anyway, I think it's safe to say he’s recuperating.  That’s the good news…”

Deidre groaned. 

“Bad news is they are now looking at transferring him back home.”

“But that’s good…!” 

“Deeder, he’s a Marine.  You know how he feels.  He’s trying to talk them into sending

him back.”

“I know, I know.  I’m just being selfish.  I miss our little family.”

“Even Aunt Ginny?  She’s been asking about you.  Keeps forgetting you’ve been away,”

Wilder hedged, a slight tone telling Deidre he was still nursing confusion over her

reasons why.

Deidre took a deep breath.  The moment of reckoning.

“Wilder…Wilder, are you sitting down?  This may take a few…” she began.

“This has to do with that Aussie, doesn’t it?  You’re not really holed up with him in a

Peruvian hotel somewhere, are you?”  Wilder asked.  “Sorry…just joking...maybe.”

“No!”  Deidre found herself laughing, remembering the baffled message Wilder had left

on her answering machine.  “And yes.  To the part that it has to do with the Aussie, I

mean.  His name is Terry Thorne and he’s…,” oh dear, was she really going to have to

say it?  “He’s kind of…sort of…my employer.”

It was Wilder’s turn to groan.

“Hell’s bells, Deidre, didn’t you learn the first time?”

“It’s not like that…and David was a professor!  And that was after I graduated!”

“I’m not gonna try and re-cross burnt bridges…” Wilder proclaimed.

“No, you’re not,” Deidre agreed emphatically.  “Now listen, Wilder, ‘cause you want

me to catch you up and I’ve got a lot to tell you and you’re going to have to understand

there are lot of things in flux right now.”

“I’m all ears, princess,” Wilder told her, using a childhood epithet.

Deidre glared momentarily at the receiver of her phone.  She had always adored Wilder,

but he also drove her crazy, knowing exactly what buttons to push.

“I was in Peru,” she conceded, “a few months back.  I was doing a personal favor for one

of my archaeological professors…no, not David!  Wilder, I think you like the smell of

burning sulfur…shut up…and Terry and I…well, we ran into each other.”  The truth

was more along the lines that she ran into a thorn bush and Terry inadvertently stumbled

upon her, much to their regret…or so it had seemed at the time; but she wasn’t in the

mood for that much detail.  “And…we hit it off…and he told me who he worked for and

that they were looking for someone with my experience and education, so I came to

NanoCorp to work in their research department.”

“Uhm-hmm,” Wilder’s tone was rife with suspicion.  “And he’s someone you just happen

to be dating, as well.”

Deidre pulled in another breath, this time to quell the surge of frustration and annoyance;

but there was no getting around that little factoid.  “Yes.  And with a few minor bumps,

we’re doing quite well.”

“Bumps?  As in – ‘wife and kid’ bumps?”

“No!  Never ever something like that!”  She found she was gripping the receiver to the

point where her knuckles turned white.  Tears threatened to spill out again.  “Shame

on you!  You know me better than that!”  She added, wishing he was in the room so she

could strangle him.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry…I was looking for a cheap shot.  Guess I’m a bit jealous that

someone other than your family has your attention again,” Wilder replied, grudgingly.

“Wilder, you’re so unfair,” Deidre said, managing to blink away the moisture.  “This is

why I got so angry and hung up on you yesterday.   You talk to me as if you cannot

possibly fathom that I might have my own life, my own career to follow, while you and

Harkin go off into the blue and do heroic things like…”

“Like get blown up in Baghdad?  Deeder, now you’re being unfair.”

“So let’s stop this argument and let me finish explaining myself.”

“He’s someone who treats you well, then?”  Wilder asked after a few moments of silence,  blessedly taking the strong hint in her voice to heart.

“Very well.  He…,” Deidre hesitated, because her next thought was one that had flitted

through her mind more than once…several times, “he kind of reminds me of you.  Well,

of Harkin, too.  Both of you, actually.  A combination.  Does that make sense?”

“Girl, you need help!”  Wilder burst into laughter.  Deidre laughed with him, but could

not help wondering if it was true.  The bump she referred to was the characteristic wall

that Terry seemed to have around him at all times, a wall that he had willingly lowered

for her; she recognized it, though, because it was similar to the wall that Wilder had

when he spoke of their parents.  Harkin had only been a baby when their father left and

a terrible fire consumed their home, as well as their unconscious mother.  Deidre had

vague memories of a night of bright orange and pain and fear, but she was never sure

if the details were ones filled in by Wilder later or if her memory of it was sharper than

she wanted to admit.  Harkin’s wall was more inclined to his easy-going personality, but

Wilder always had a certain…edge to him, an edge that was a component of Terry’s wall

that made her heart hurt in more ways than one, especially knowing why it was there in

the first place.

Oh God, the last thing I need is a psychological analysis of why I’m in love with someone,

she scolded herself.

“Anyway,” she went on, to regain control the thread of confession she had begun

unraveling.  “The company he manages is NanoCorp and you would not believe how

incredible this place is!  The whole building it's in is nicknamed ‘Emerald City’ and

the people here are amazing…”

She spent the next half hour telling her brother in fragments about meeting Rachel and

other co-workers (leaving off of course the fact that a handful of them looked very much

alike each other), finding it easier to explain the retrieval aspect of her job description

than she had anticipated, as Wilder automatically assumed it had to do with archaeology. 

“So, you’ve been gone for a whole month then…completely out of touch with the modern

world, and reality, all because they want to retrieve something?”  Wilder summed up. 

“Do the words ‘cell phone’ mean anything?”

“I told you, Wilder.  Where we were, cell phones would not have helped,” Deidre replied. 

Please don’t ask any more questions!

There were several seconds of silence, a long pause that seemed like Wilder might have

just set the phone down and walked away after all, but just when Deidre was thinking

she would have to hang up and dial back, Wilder sighed and spoke again.

“Well, I’m just glad its not as drastic as I had thought,” he admitted.  “You know, Harkin

and I don’t think twice about the kind of stuff we do, but when it comes to you going off

into the wild…I’m sorry, little sister, we’re just too damn protective.  It would kill Aunt

Ginny if something happened to you.”

“I know, Wilder, I know,” Deidre replied, softly, now wishing he was there so she could

hug him, suppressing a laugh at his obvious deflection of who it was that would suffer the

most.  “Is she there?  Can I speak to her now?”

“Nah…off to have luncheon with the Red Hat League…you know that sort of thing old

ladies do.  All primped up in her hat and gloves.  Bought one just for you, too!” 

Amusement filled up his voice once more.  “Bright cherry red, don'tcha love it?”

“She’s not gonna give up making me a debutante until the day she dies,” Deidre replied. 

“Wouldn’t that be something?  Alabama’s oldest failed debutante…”

“Bite your tongue!”

ON TO PART 5

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