The Messenger

15

I saw what I saw.”

“You had been in an accident,” Ron said gently. “And for someone who survived a really horrible car wreck just eight years ago, that must have been traumatic.”

“I didn’t even think about that-I swear I didn’t. I was too worried about him. Besides, you know I don’t remember anything about that other accident.”

“All right. But tonight, you might have been a little dazed. The airbag went off, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“And you had just seen something awful, and then these assholes came over to your car and terrified you, right?”

“I admit I was scared, but-”

“And to top off everything else, a big dog comes loping up to you. Don’t you think all of that could have caused you to be a little confused?”

She paced across the room, then back. “He stopped breathing. He had no pulse-no heartbeat. His skin was cold and gray. His wounds weren’t bleeding.”

“What wounds? There’s hardly a mark on him.”

“I can’t explain it. That’s what I’m telling you!”

Ron sighed in exasperation.

“He was dead!”

“Which is how he just had a conversation with us.”

“Ron!”

“Okay-which was why you began CPR. You thought he was dead. One hundred percent croaked. Total goner.”

She had no answer to that.

“Look, Amanda, maybe you’re right. Maybe he was dead, briefly. But you obviously revived him.”

“But how did he recover so quickly?”

“How should I know? Just exactly what are you getting at, Amanda?”

“I don’t know. None of it makes sense to me.”

“Well, then, that’s two of us.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re tired. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe in the morning…”

“Yes.”

“Don’t get that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that is supposed to fool me into thinking you are docile.”

She brooded for a few minutes, then tried another tack. “Okay, tell me this-how old is he?”

“I don’t know. He looks about our age, maybe a little older. Somewhere in his twenties anyway.”

“Have you listened to him talk? He doesn’t sound like anyone our age.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed he’s not like anyone we went to school with. Neither am I, so it’s really nice to find someone weirder than I am.”

“I’ve been replaced, huh?”

“Ha, ha. And if this is jealousy, no-of course no one has replaced you, Amanda.”

“It’s not jealousy.”

“Good. But you seem to have some problem with Tyler. Other than not acting his age and rising from the dead, I mean.” He suddenly grew serious. “Did he…hurt you in some way? Try to put a move on you?”

She blushed. “No.”

“Oh, ho! So that’s the problem!”

“No!”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me.”

“So you don’t find him at all attractive?”

“Oh, for-yes, he’s attractive. Very attractive. Satisfied? And he doesn’t have the slightest interest in me, which makes him like half of the men I meet. The other half know I have money.”

“That’s so untrue-”

“Let’s not argue about it.” She smothered a yawn. “I should go home and get some rest.”

He hugged her and said, “I really do think you’ll feel better about all of this after you’ve had some sleep.”

“You’re probably right.”

She sat in the chair Tyler had recently vacated, pressed the button on the intercom line, and dialed seven. A woman answered, and Amanda asked for Alex.

“This is Alex,” the woman said.

“You’re…” She managed to prevent herself from saying “a woman.”

“Is this Ms. Clarke?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to leave?”

When Amanda said she was, Alex said she’d be right up. Amanda hung up.

The head of Tyler’s security was a woman. Named Alex. Well, why not?

She looked up to see an expression of unholy glee on Ron’s face.

“You could have warned me!” she said, but laughed.