Crazy in Chicago (26 page)

Roberta removed her sandals and walked in the wet sand at the water's edge. Cody, swinging his shoes by the laces, walked beside her.

They continued in silence for several moments. Far out to the horizon, Roberta noticed two lakers, bright pinpricks of light, approaching each other from opposite directions. She watched as they appeared to meet, one momentarily blotting the other from view and then reappearing on the other side. The space between them widened quickly as they continued on their separate ways.

Just like Cody and me. Tears sprang to her eyes as the unwanted thought bulldozed its way into her head. She bit her lip and blinked away the tears. No. I won't let it be like that. I won't. I can't let it be like that.

She jumped when Cody's grave voice interrupted. “I don't have a date with Tiffany. I'm not the least bit interested in her.”

“What? Oh, Tiffany.” Roberta turned to look at Cody. She had to block the sun from her eyes with her hand. “I never really believed that.”

“We still have to stop seeing each other.”

Roberta headed away from the water and to the grassy section of the park where the maples, oaks and willows offered some protection from the blinding rays of the setting sun.

When she reached the grass she stopped, turned and planted her feet. “Why?”

Cody sighed. “Look at me, Roberta. I'm so tired from lack of sleep I'm almost comatose. I have attacks of nausea several times a day, to the point where it's getting too dangerous to drive my car. I'm not a well man.”

Roberta stuck out her bottom lip. “So? Nothing's changed. You've been like that since I met you.”

Cody's face settled into grim lines. “No, something has changed. Last night—last night I had the most terrifying nightmare I've ever experienced. Now I not only can't sleep, I don't want to sleep, not if I have to face that again.”

Roberta's stomach churned. Why was everything getting worse for Cody? But she hid her concern. “What was the nightmare about?”

Cody's expression became guarded. “I can't remember. I just remember the feeling of terror, of helplessness. Of not being able to move.”

“Then it's about your disappearance, right?”

“I guess so.”

“But that's good.” Roberta started walking again, this time along the edge of the grass. “Things your mind blotted out are starting to worm their way forward, into your consciousness. Maybe this means you'll remember the whole thing soon.”

Cody followed her and frowned. “I don't think so. Seems to me all I'm remembering is fear, the fear that's apparently traumatized me. But what good does that do?”

Roberta didn't have an answer for that one. They walked several hundred yards before Cody spoke again.

“That's not all, either. Remember when I told you I'd heard a voice in my head?”

Roberta nodded. Actually, in the shock of Cody's announcement he was dumping her, she'd forgotten all about it.

“Well, a few days ago I went to see Allie. I didn't tell you that, did I? I didn't want to admit that the pyschic got to me, but she did. I kept thinking about what she'd told Allie about Erik being connected to the same strange place where I was held, and that she'd warned Allie about him.

“So I went to see Allie. I asked her about it. She didn't have much to say, which was more or less what I expected. I know her well enough to be sure that she wouldn't have married Erik if she'd discovered something, well, shady about him. But she didn't like me asking questions, either. I could tell that.”

Cody played with the laces of the shoes he held. Finally he lowered his hands and looked at Roberta, his face a mask of anguish. “The next day I was in my cubicle at work. I kept hearing this voice, a familiar voice, in my head.”

“You mean, like you were thinking to yourself?”

“No. Not like that at all. Someone else's voice, but inside my head.”

Roberta swallowed. “What . . . what did the voice say?”

“Leave it be.” Cody frowned. “Over and over, just ‘leave it be'.”

“Leave what be?”

“The voice never said. It didn't have to. Because I knew. It meant the messing around, looking into my disappearance. Asking questions. Following up leads.”

“How do you know that's what it meant?”

“I don't know. I just knew.”

Cody scowled. “Then something else odd happened. I got up to get some water. When I walked around the baffle, I sensed someone was watching me. I looked up. Erik stood by the water cooler, staring. Staring at me. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. He just stared.

“Then I heard the voice again. ‘Leave it be'.”

Roberta hesitated. She didn't know what to think of what Cody had just told her. Perhaps he'd become so exhausted he was hallucinating.

She frowned. But she didn't like the way Erik kept figuring in their investigations. First in the psychic's impressions, in this admittedly strange story, and in Roberta's own uneasiness since her meeting with Allie today.

For that matter, Roberta didn't like Erik's paintings. But was that merely a feeling, a reaction to a rather strange, cold man? Or was it something else, an indicator of a tangible connection to Cody's disappearance?

Roberta looked hard at Cody. They had stopped under a spreading maple tree. In the shade of the leafy tree, and in the fast-approaching twilight, she had to struggle to see his expression.

Their eyes met; Cody looked away. “I can't help but conclude I am seriously disturbed. It may be connected to my disappearance, it may not. Whatever, I don't know when, or if, I'll get any better. Perhaps I'll get worse.”

After a pause, he turned to look at her again. He dropped his shoes to the ground and took her hand. For a long moment he looked at it, then raised it to his lips. He squeezed her hand and kissed it, then dropped it.
 

“You're—I haven't met anyone like you ever before. But between our differences of opinion, and my illness, I don't think we should continue seeing each other. I don't want to do what my father did to my mother. Confusing her, upsetting and hurting her, and eventually abandoning her. I don't want to do that to you.”

Roberta winced. All the rationale in the world couldn't change how much the words hurt. Or the fact that she didn't plan to accept them.

She swallowed. “I don't care. I want to help you.”

Cody stiffened. “I don't want your pity. You have many admirable qualities, among them a tendency to act like Florence Nightingale. But I don't want to be a cause—not to you. I don't want to be a cause, any more than I wanted to be a case that you write up in one of SUFOW's journals.

“Believe me, I'm a selfish man. This is probably the least selfish thing I've ever done. Go away, Roberta. Go away.”

Roberta stared. How could she combat what he said, his belief he was doing a chivalrous thing? For a man who'd never made sacrifices, who'd never done a chivalrous thing in his life, this was a new departure.

But she didn't want his chivalry, his unselfishness. She wanted him, with all his flaws, all his illness, if that indeed was what it was. She didn't care.

She licked her dry lips. “I'm sorry I ever approached you as an abduction case,” she whispered. “Even then, I had trouble keeping you at arm's length. You're not a cause to me. You're a . . .”

She swallowed as she searched for the right words. Her eyes found his and held on, as she tried to tell him with every part of her body and soul exactly what she meant.

“You're not a cause,” she repeated slowly. “To me you're just a man. A man who's always been delighted to see me. A man who teases me, and loves me. A man who wants me ravenously, who keeps shoving aside any defenses I set up.

“Do you have any idea how appealing that is? How wonderful it is to have someone want you that much? I don't care if you have problems. I don't care if you're ill. I don't like you for your problems, for your illness. I like you because you're exciting. You're sexy. You're fun. You make me feel all those things, too. Sure, I'd like to help you resolve your problems. But if we can't—or if you won't let me help you—that's okay too.

“But I'll tell you one thing. I'm not going away. You can't get rid of me that easily. You can't get rid of me because . . . because I love you.”

Cody frowned. “You love me?”

Roberta grinned. “And you have kisses to die for.”

“Kisses to . . .” His frown deepened. “I don't think that'll be enough, not when . . .”

“It's enough for me. More than enough. Besides, I don't think you're mentally ill. I don't think you really believe that either. I'm positive that once we discover what's behind your disappearance, or at least more about it, your symptoms will disappear. Together I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this.”

Slowly his frown turned to a smile, one that stretched across his face until its light reached his eyes.

Simultaneously they reached for each other. Their lips met, just touching at first, and then with the hunger and passion and joy of two survivors, finally home after the worst storm of their lives.

They came together, body against body, mouth to mouth, heart to heart, as if they'd never been apart and never would part again. Roberta clasped Cody's cheeks, kissing him with all the tenderness in her soul. She kissed him with a giddiness and wildness sparked by the pain of almost losing him.

Cody kissed her back, pressing her softness against his hardness, taking her acceptance and love, giving her back his heart and soul, with a freedom and willingness he'd never thought or hoped to possess. The taste and smell and texture of her flooded his senses, his heart and his soul.

They clung to each other oblivious to passersby, to surroundings, to the sun that was sinking quickly in the west, leaving behind a trail of gold and red in the darkening sky.

It took a moment before Roberta realized that Cody had stopped kissing her, before she realized that his body had gone slack, and his hands had fallen from her body, leaving her bereft.

She stepped back. Cody raised one arm to cover his eyes.

“Ohh.” He staggered. “The light. It's . . . it's that blue light. I can't see.”

Like a blind man he stretched out one arm and staggered to the tree. His hand slapped at the air before connecting with the rough texture of the trunk. He fell against the tree, his head between his hands.

* * *

Each second seemed like an hour as Roberta clung to Cody against the tree. Anxiously she waited for him to bounce back from the attack. He always had before, hadn't he?

Finally he raised his head and pushed himself away from the tree. Even in the fading light, Roberta could see the beads of sweat on his forehead, the disorientation in his expression. He blinked and shook his head, then looked around, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Are you okay now?” she asked.

“Yeah. The light's gone. So is the nausea.” But he didn't appear to be paying attention to his words. Instead he gazed about the park, looking from the water, over the sand to the grass, and then back out to the distant roadway.

He blinked again and smiled, not very successfully. “Better watch that. If your kisses provoke that kind of response in everyone, you won't be popular for long.”

Roberta grasped his arm. His skin felt cool to the touch. “Maybe we should—”

“There's something familiar about this place,” Cody stated, still looking around.

“Sure,” said Roberta. “You've probably jogged past here a dozen times since moving into your apartment.” She started edging towards the sand. “Come on, let's go.”

“No.” Cody gazed from side to side. He frowned. “It's something else. I can't explain. It's as if . . .”

“As if what?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. He bit his lip. He exhaled sharply. “I know this place.”

“Yes?”

“This—” Cody's face hardened into grim lines. “This is where they found me.”

Anxiety gripped Roberta anew. “Well, yes,” she said slowly. “The stories did say you were found in a park near the lake.”

“I know that. The police confirmed it. But not where, exactly. This is it. The exact spot. Here, near this tree.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

Roberta shivered in the breeze to the lake. When had that come up?

Cody took one final look around. Then he picked up his shoes and reached for Roberta's hand. “Let's go.”

“All right. We . . .” Roberta halted, in the thrall of a crazy proposition. “No, wait. I've got an idea.”

Cody waited.

“You know how I said that your nightmare could mean more memories from your disappearance are surfacing?” The words tumbled over each other in Roberta's eagerness to get them out.“Well, maybe we should try some more hypno-regression. Garnet took you back to your actual disappearance and what happened during that period. But we never looked at your return. Now we know where it happened, we could try to recall memories from your return. That might tell us something new.”