“Here,” Constance Mandalay said, nudging me once again as she held the bi-focals out to me. “I rescued them earlier before they ended up on the floor.”
The petite FBI special agent was parked in the aisle seat next to me. She was my official escort for this emergency trip to FMC Carswell, the Federal Medical Center in Texas that housed female prison inmates in need of treatment, both mental and physical. The individual I was on my way to interview definitely fell into the mental category.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking the glasses from her and sliding them onto my face. “Anyone ever tell you that you have sharp elbows?”
“It’s been mentioned a time or two.”
Why I needed an escort was still a mystery to me, but I wasn’t about to complain. Fortunately for me, Constance was more than just a federal officer doing a job. She had been a good friend for several years as well, which made traveling with her far less stressful than it would have been with a stranger.
“Feeling better now?” she asked, augmenting the question with a quick smile.
“I’m not sure just yet,” I replied, rolling my shoulders and turning my head slowly side to side. “But I think the crick in my neck is saying no.”
“I’m not surprised. You really didn’t move the whole time you were asleep.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t out all that long was I?”
“Well over an hour,” she replied. “Pushing two, actually. We’re getting ready to land.”
“We are? Already?”
“Did you think the flight attendant was just picking on you or something?”
“Honestly, it didn’t even register. Guess I was still half asleep,” I told her with a shake of my head, then winced and mumbled, “Almost two hours? Damn…”
“Almost. You were out cold before the landing gear was even all the way up; and we’ve been circling for a bit because of a delay on the ground.”
“Man…” I sighed heavily once again. “Sorry about that. Guess I wasn’t very good company.”
“At least you didn’t snore.” She chuckled lightly then added, “Not too much, anyway.”
“Great…” I mumbled. “Well, in my defense, I didn’t really get any sleep last night.”
She nodded. “I figured as much, which is exactly why I didn’t wake you. Besides, it’s okay. It gave me a chance to finish a trashy romance novel I’ve been reading.”
“Well, at least you had…” I started then paused and scrunched my brow at her. “Wait… Did you just say you’ve been reading a romance novel?”
“No. I said I’ve been reading a trashy romance novel. There is a difference believe it or not.”
“I hate to tell you this, but adding that particular adjective just makes the sentence even more unbelievable.”
She shrugged. “We all have our guilty pleasures.”
“Yeah…” I agreed. “I just figured yours would be Guns and Ammo, or something of that sort.”
“That sounds like something Storm would say,” she countered.
The Storm to whom she referred was Detective Benjamin Storm of the Saint Louis police department’s homicide division. Ben and I had been friends for more years than I wanted to remember. He had even been best man when Felicity and I married.
Where he and Constance were concerned, however, the road to friendship had been paved with potholes and speed bumps. In fact, they clashed worse than plaids and stripes from the moment they met. To this day, the image of the petite federal agent going toe to toe with the six-foot-six Native American cop over a jurisdictional issue was not one I would ever forget-nor would most anyone else who had been there to witness it. Of course, with volatile chemistry like that to drive them, it was almost inevitable that they would end up in an on-again, off-again romance. Near as I could tell, as of last night they were still entrenched in an on phase of that seesawing dynamic.
“I guess after all this time he’s rubbing off on me,” I offered.
She shot me a quick grin then quipped, “I’m sorry to hear that. One of him is more than enough for society to deal with.”
The moan of active hydraulic pumps rumbled through the cabin, followed by the clunk of the landing gear locking into place. I turned to gaze out the window as the landscape below steadily grew from a miniature diorama to a nearly life-sized sprawl of buildings and streets. Moments later the passenger jet thumped and shuddered as the pilot dropped it onto the end of a runway at DFW and began braking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas Fort Worth International Airport, where the local time is 9:42 a.m.” A flight attendant’s voice issued from the overhead speakers as soon as the airplane had slowed. She was barely audible over the warbling turbines as we taxied toward our arrival gate. “The current temperature is seventy-eight degrees under clear skies with a slight breeze from the southwest. You may now use cell phones, however all other portable electronic devices must remain off and stowed. On behalf of your Saint Louis based flight crew, I would like…”
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked Constance, ignoring the rest of the attendant’s corporate spiel.
“Doctor Jante said someone from Carswell would be meeting us at baggage claim,” she replied.
“So they’ll be taking us to the hotel, and we don’t need to rent a car or anything?”
She shook her head. “We shouldn’t need a rental. But considering the rush Jante put on this for the flight and everything else, my guess is we’re heading straight to the facility, not the hotel.”
“No rest for the Witch, eh?” I grunted.
“My guess would be no,” she replied. “But if it’s any consolation I’ll make sure the bureau buys you a nice dinner this evening.”
“I’ll take you up on that if I’m not already asleep,” I replied as I dug out my cell phone and thumbed it on. “I might need a rain check though, depending on how all this goes.”
“We can do that,” she said as she imitated my actions with her own cell. “Maybe you can grab another nap on the way. Carswell is about an hour from DFW.”
“An hour, huh…” I grunted.
“A little over actually, according to Jante,” Constance added. “She tried to get us on a regional flight into Meacham since it’s closer, but DFW was the best she could do on short notice.”
“So we get the dollar tour instead.”
“Pretty much,” she answered with a nod.
“Lovely,” I sighed, watching my phone as the bars indicating signal strength appeared one after another. I shot a glance out the window then turned back and added, “Looks like we might be another minute or two getting to the gate. I’d better call Felicity and let her know we made it okay while I actually have the chance.”
“Good idea.” Constance nodded. “I need to call Ben too.”
I hit the speed dial for my wife’s number. Two rings later her mellifluous Celtic lilt poured into my ear.
“Row?”
“Yeah, honey, it’s me,” I told her. “Just wanted to let you know we’re on the ground at DFW.”
“Good. How was your flight?”
“Okay, I guess. I can’t really say. According to Constance, I slept through most of it.”
“Aye, that’s a good thing then. You needed it. But you still sound tired.”
“I am.”
She paused for a moment then pressed with, “Your headache is worse…isn’t it?” Her voice put audible quotes around the word headache to let me know exactly what she meant.
“It’s not that bad,” I told her.
“Don’t lie.”
My wife always seemed to know when I was holding things back from her, although she didn’t usually point it out unless she was truly worried. She was also far more aware of what was really happening with me on a preternatural level than she tended to let on, but then, she too was a Witch. The simple fact of the matter was that I knew better than to try sheltering her from my ethereal curse with a mundane lie. However, protecting Felicity was a hard habit to break, especially after everything we had just been through, combined with the fact that it wasn’t quite over yet. If it were that easy, I wouldn’t even be making this trip.