The Serpent's Kiss

49

Jill Church, lugging the gas canister and the computer disk case across William Harrington’s lawn to her car, was distracted, looking down the street. Was that…?

Behind her, she heard a crash. Spinning, she saw Derek burst out of an upstair window in a shower of glass. He skidded on the steeply pitched roof, tumbled to the edge, and grabbed onto the rain gutter as he went over.

She dropped the canister and disk case, running toward the house. Derek dangled from the gutter, feet kicking. With a muffled ker-whump an explosion blew out all the windows on the second floor. Flames flickered behind the windows. With a cry, Derek dropped into the bushes alongside the house.

Jill rushed over to him. His arms were covered with small cuts despite his coat, and a jagged gash on his forehead oozed blood.

“Are you all right?” she gasped. “What happened?”

Derek seemed slightly dazed. He reached out a hand and she gripped it, helping him to his feet. “I am having a really shitty day,” he said.

“Where’s your cane?”

He jerked a thumb toward the house.

“Lean on—”

A Honda Civic skidded to a halt behind Jill’s car. Michael Church leapt out and sprinted toward them.

“Michael! You were supposed to go back to school!”

“What happened? The house blew up?”

“Michael—”

Michael moved next to Derek and helped support him. “Come on, lean on me. Let’s get you away from the house.”

“Thanks,” Derek muttered, and let Michael assist him across the lawn to Jill’s car. Michael opened the front passenger door and helped Derek sit down.

Jill stood, arms crossed, glaring at the two of them. To Michael she finally said, “You were supposed to go back to school.”

“Mom—”

”Michael!”

“Mom, by the time I got there school would be over.”

Jill threw up her hands. “You need to leave,” she said. “I’m going to have to call the Birmingham Police and the fire department and I don’t want you here. You weren’t here. Understand?”

“You want me to lie?”

Jill scowled. “I want you to get in your car and go. Now. I’ll talk to you later. Go.”

Michael’s scowl matched her own, but he made a half-wave gesture to Derek, slouched over to his car, and with a growl of the starter, kicked it into gear and peeled away.

Jill punched 911 into her cell phone and got the fire department and the police out. When she was done, she turned to Derek, who was leaning over the back seat scrounging through one of his GO Packs.

“You opened the damned desk, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Derek said, finally finding a bottle of water and a packet of pills. He downed one of the pain killers.

“Dammit, Stillwater. Why? Why didn’t you wait?”

“We’re running out of time. And I didn’t want you to take the risk.” He gestured in the direction Michael had gone. “You’ve got a son. I’ve got no one.”

Jill turned to stare at the house, which was now engulfed in flames. Neighbors had begun to gather, watching the fire.

Derek, talking to her back, explained what had happened. She didn’t respond. Finally, she said, “I’m going to ask the neighbors what they know about William Harrington.”

“Good idea,” Derek said.

She turned to study him, looking him up and down. “Your head’s cut pretty bad. I’ve got a first aid kit in the trunk.”

Derek held up a small kit he had retrieved from his GO Pack. “I’ve got one.”

She snatched it from him and opened it. It was extensive and specialized. She held up a container. “Potassium Iodide pills?”

“In case of a dirty bomb or nuclear attack. For the thyroid.”

“Ciprofloxacin?” She held up another container.

“Anthrax.”

Jill took out an alcohol wipe, a Betadine wipe and a bandage. She dropped the first aid kit back in Derek’s hands, studied his forehead, then tore open the alcohol wipe and swabbed the gash.

“Ow!”

“Stop being such a wimp. You deserve this.”

Jill smeared the yellow Betadyne wipe on the gash, tore open the bandage and affixed it over the wound. She crumpled the wrappers and tossed them angrily to the ground. “I’d ask you to help, but you’re no help at all. You’re a train wreck. Do you have a death wish?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“Do you?”

He looked up at her. In a low voice he said, “Go question the neighbors. I’ll be right here.”

With a frustrated groan she backed away and went to interview the onlookers. Sirens were fast approaching. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Derek retrieve a tablet computer from one of his duffel bags. Good, she thought. Maybe that’ll keep him out of trouble.