"You said she'd be gone overnight?" Emma wanted to know.
"Yeah, she'll be back tomorrow." He hoped that was true.
"We're not going to leave Harvey here by himself all night, are we?"
"He'll be okay, sweet pea. He's stayed here by himself before." But she didn't look convinced. She was petting him as he licked up the last remnants, orange bits of carrot stuck to the black part of his nose.
"If we take him with us it'll save us a trip in the morning to feed him."
She gave him that look, that "pretty-please" look.
"And tomorrow's Saturday," she said."I'll stay home and watch him."
"What if your friends call?" He knew she hadn't thought this out. Emma? Home all day on a Saturday? Tully was sure it'd take more than a dog, even a dog she adored, to keep her from hanging out at the mall or going to a movie on a precious Saturday.
"I'll just tell them I can't. That we're doing a favor for a friend. They'll understand. That's what you do for friends, right?" She gave Harvey's neck a hug and the dog's tail thumped against the wall. "And Harvey and I are buds, right, Harvey? Besides, I don't have school on Monday either. Fall break, remember?"
He liked the idea of having Emma home, though he'd have to see her actually stay home for three days in order to believe it. Next weekend was the wedding and she'd be distracted and gone. But she was right. If they needed to come back it was a forty-minute drive from here to their home in Reston. Tully was pretty sure Maggie would not be released tomorrow, probably not all weekend. He only hoped she didn't realize that.
"That's kinda cool," Emma said and Tully had no idea what she was talking about until she pointed to the flowers again. "It's sweet, you know, to have someone send you flowers." Then she sideswiped him with her follow-up, "Did you ever send flowers to Mom?"
Tully's cell phone interrupted before he could answer.
Saved.
He shrugged an apology as he glanced at the phone number but it wasn't one he recognized.
"Agent Tully."
"So what do you have for me?" a man's voice bellowed.
"Excuse me?"
There was dead air for a few seconds then, "This is Sloane, for Christ's sake.You called me, remember?"
Tully had left a message for George Sloane earlier in the day. He hadn't worked with Sloane for a while and had almost forgotten about his brusque, rude "why are you bothering the mighty Oz?" manner.
"And I appreciate the quick call back," Tully said, getting in his own dig, although he already knew Sloane wouldn't catch it or acknowledge it. Actually it was a cheap dig, really sort of beneath Tully, but something about George Sloane always brought out the worst in Tully. "Assistant Director Cunningham would like your expert opinion on a special delivery we had this morning."
"So why isn't Cunningham calling?"
Tully suppressed a sigh and shook his head. It wasn't about protocol with Sloane. It was about entitlement. If prodded he would insist he was important enough to be asked by the top-level people, not a "grunt like Tully."
"He's a bit tied up right now," Tully said and was reminded that he hadn't been able to talk with his boss since morning. He had tried to see Cunningham at USAMRIID. They wouldn't allow it. Seeing Maggie was grudgingly allowed and even then as a sort of consolation prize. He hadn't been able to reach Cunningham by phone, either.
"How soon could you take a look?" Tully asked.
"I've got time right now."
"Tonight?" Tully saw Emma flinch at the word and wondered how many times he had left her to make her involuntarily flinch at the interruption. "Where are you?"
"Here at the university."
Tully watched Emma shove dog food into a plastic container. She was pretending to not listen in. "He'll need more than that, Em," he told her. She nodded and started searching the kitchen pantry.
"Oh, I see," Sloane said and Tully could hear the smirk. "You have a hot date. I understand."
"Emma is my daughter, George."
"Of course, your daughter, Emma. How old is she now? She must be in high school."
"This is her last year," Tully said and caught Emma rolling her eyes at him. She hated when he talked about her.
"I have a class at Quantico tomorrow morning at nine. My forensic documents for dummies in law enforcement. I can take a look at Cunningham's stuff before class while the retards are finding their seats."
Though Sloane was being his snide self Tully was surprised to have him compromising without a challenge. The two of them went back a lot of years and Tully could count on one hand the times George Sloane had cut him some slack. It felt like this time might be because of Emma.
"That'd work great. Thanks, George."
"I'll see you in the morning."
Tully closed his cell phone and turned to find Emma staring at him, waiting.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight except home with you, sweet pea," he told her.
She rolled her eyes like it didn't matter, but the smile was genuine. Harvey, however, was the one who got the hug.
"Help me shut off some of these lights."
Tully flipped the backyard switch and headed to the entryway to reset the complicated alarm system. He passed a side window and noticed a car parked up the street. He shut off the nearest light and backed up enough to glimpse out the window again, this time without being seen. In this neighborhood with circle drives and houses set back off the street no one parked on the street. Especially at this time of night.
CHAPTER
21
Artie heard the monkeys down the hall, screeching again. It was late and whoever was supposed to feed them had probably forgotten or figured no one would notice on a Friday night. Assholes. And no one would notice. No one ever came down here on weekend evenings. That was exactly why he was here. The place was quiet and he didn't have to worry about anyone walking in on him, wanting to know what he was doing.
He decided if the monkeys were still screeching when he was ready to leave he'd use his key card and at least throw them some biscuits. They were sneaky little bastards and Artie didn't like being around them. They reminded him of little old men with bright eyes and beards and they looked at him like they knew something he didn't know. He couldn't explain what it was that gave him the creeps. He didn't trust them but he did feel sorry for them. He couldn't imagine being stuck in a cage all day, depending on someone else.
Artie let the monkeys screech at his back as he walked all the way to the opposite end of the hall. The door had a metal sign attached that said: QUARANTINE in red letters. He used his key card and let himself in to the small deserted lab. No one used it anymore except for storage.
They used to keep sick, contaminated monkeys in here while they tested them. He wondered if they'd made the monkeys sick just so they could do their tests. That's what they were doing with the ones down at the other end of the hall. But the ones that occupied this little lab had been different. He wasn't sure how. No one talked about it. Probably because every single monkey ended up dying.
Ever since then, the lab remained unused, untouched. The monkeys' cages still lined up against one wall. It was as if whatever happened here was beyond repair. At least everything had been washed down and sterilized. The smell of bleach lingered, helped along by Artie's recent contributions. He thought it was silly that science-minded people, logical thinkers, would be superstitious.
That made him smile.He actually liked that people—even scientists— were so predictable. In fact, that was one of the things he could pretty much count on. It didn't matter what social class, what background and upbringing, what occupation, there were basic factors like greed and suspicion—even superstition—that everyone had a small dose of.Like it was engineered into human DNA. And Artie freely admitted that he included himself.Yeah, he was a little superstitious. It certainly didn't hurt to be a little. If he did something a certain way and good things happened, then he repeated those steps. Maybe that was more of a ritual than superstition.