The Devil's Elixir

56

Tess wasn’t sure what to do.

She felt hyperalert, and her pulse was raging wildly. It was like an awakening, like her mind was suddenly unchained and set free to roam through uncharted territory. She’d spent a couple of hours roaming through Stephenson’s website, and by the end of it, questions were accosting her from all sides while competing insights jostled for supremacy inside her, all of them demanding she push them through to their rightful conclusion.

She didn’t know where to start. The one question that was foremost on her mind was the one she was too scared to ask—and yet, she knew she had to do it. She wasn’t sure she could. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

He was only four years old.

As if to pry her out of her torment, her phone rang. She stared at it absentmindedly, then recognized the area code.

510.

Berkeley.

She leapt at the call.

It was Dean Stephenson’s assistant, Marya.

“I just got your message,” she told Tess. “I’m so sorry to hear about Miss Martinez. That’s just . . . awful. What happened?”

Tess simply told her that Michelle had been killed by an armed intruder at her house, and that Alex was now in the care of his biological father. She then explained who she was.

“I’ve been talking to Alex’s teachers,” she added, “and they told me that he’s been going through a tough time. I was hoping I could talk to Professor Stephenson about it.”

“Given what’s happened, I’m sure Dean would absolutely want to help you with Alex,” Marya replied. “The thing is, he’s away.”

“Oh?”

“I’m afraid so.” The woman sounded uncertain.

Tess paused, unsure about why she was perplexed by her tone. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Marya’s tone was still hesitant. “I’m not sure.”

Tess’s antennae spiked up. “Well . . . can I call him? Do you know where I can reach him?”

“No, I’m sorry. He . . . he didn’t tell me where he was going, and his cell’s just going to voicemail.”

Tess was picking up all kinds of alarming signals. “How long has he been away?”

“About ten days, I guess. Since the beginning of last week.”

“And he didn’t tell you where he was going?”

“No. He just left me a message saying he had to go check out a new case and would be away for a while.”

Which sounded odd. “Does he do that a lot?”

“Well, no, not really. He usually sends one of his researchers first. And it’s not like him to be rash like that. He’s got a full calendar and I’ve had to field some tough calls and reschedule everyone.”

“Isn’t there anyone you can ask about him? Does he have a wife, someone he lives with?”

“He’s divorced,” she said. “And he’s not living with anyone.”

Tess’s mind was on fire. More insights were crashing in, more associations linking up.

She swallowed and asked Marya, “Tell me something. Does Professor Stephenson wear contact lenses?”

“Yes, he does.” Marya sounded perplexed. “Why do you ask?”

Tess felt the pressure push up to her temples. She didn’t know what to say. She needed to end the call. “Let me get back to you. I need to check a few things out. Thanks, you’ve been a huge help. And please let me know if you hear from him in the meantime.”

She ended the call and took in a deep breath.

She couldn’t avoid it anymore. It was kicking and screaming at her.

She steeled herself and went into the house.

She retrieved the drawing from her bedroom and found Jules in the kitchen, preparing Alex a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk.

“Is he in his room?” she asked.

Jules nodded. “Yeah, I was about to call him to give him these.”

“Give me a second with him, will you?”

Jules gave her a confused look, then just nodded. “Sure.”

Alex was on the floor of his bedroom, playing with his figurines. He glanced at Tess as she came in, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey, what’s Ben up to today?”

Alex shrugged. “He’s helping his grandpa Max save Gwen.”

“Sounds like he’s got his hands full.”

She sat down on the floor, next to him. “Alex, I need to talk to you about something.”

He didn’t look over.

“I’ve asked you about this before, but I really need to ask you again and I need you to answer me, Alex. It’s really, really important.” She hesitated, then added, “I talked to your mom’s friend, Dean. He said it’s okay. He said you can talk to me about it.”

Her heart was kicking against her chest, her veins throbbing with tension as she pulled out the drawing and set it on the floor in front of Alex.

“I need to know, Alex.” She pointed at the other figure in the drawing, the one that seemed to be threatening Alex. The one that now looked like it was holding a gun at him.

She tapped it with her finger.

“I need to know who this is, Alex. I need you to tell me who this is.”

He just stared at it, without moving—almost without breathing.

“Alex, please,” she insisted, gently. “I need to know. It’s just between you and me. There’s nothing to be scared of. Nothing at all. I’m your friend, Alex. You have to trust me on this.”

His mouth slid open a touch, and he glanced at her sideways, his expression mired with hesitation.

She met his gaze and gave him a warm, comforting smile. “Tell me, Alex. I’m here to help you.”

Alex’s eyes were wide with fear. “But he’s your friend,” he mumbled.

The words tore through her.

She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it. She felt breathless, felt she could barely utter the words, but she steeled herself and asked, “Who, Alex? Who’s my friend?”

He twisted his lips and curled in on himself, like it was the last thing on earth he wanted to say, then he said, “Reilly.”

He looked up at her, fear and confusion playing across his face.

“Reilly killed me. He shot me.” He raised his hand to his head and pointed his finger at the middle of his forehead. “Right here.”

She nodded, her entire body numb to the world, like she was in a trance.

“Tell me what you remember, Alex. Tell me everything.”

And he told her.

Everything.

When he was done, she edged closer and took him in her arms and hugged him. She kept him there, close, hugging him tight against her, caressing his hair gently, feeling his little heart beating against her chest.

After a long moment, she gave him a kiss, got up, and headed out of his room. She walked into the living room, slowly, feeling like she’d fallen through a crack in a frozen lake and was floating around aimlessly in the icy darkness.

She found her phone and dialed Reilly’s number.

“Sean,” she told him, “I need you to come over. Like, as soon as you can. We need to talk.”

He said he’d be back as soon as he could.

She put the phone down and stared out into the fading light and wondered how she could have been so wrong about everything she thought she knew about her world.