Missing Lynx (5 page)

Striker stood over me, breathing heavily from his workout. “I’m getting in the shower. Are you sure you want to get up now?”

“I’d better or my sleep patterns will be all off. I’ll be fine. Are you going to the hospital with me?” I pulled his T-shirt down modestly before I threw off the blanket.

Twenty minutes later, Striker steered an Iniquus Hummer onto the highway. I stared out the window at the mountains of black snow shoved aside by the plows to let the bumper-to-bumper traffic pass.

“Lynx, I know you’re exhausted, and your mind’s on fast forward, but I’m going to throw something else into the mix,” Striker said. I twisted my body around to face him and waited.

“I got a call from Lynda, yesterday.” This got my attention. Striker’s sister, Lynda, and his three-year old niece, Cammy, narrowly escaped from a drug lord’s rage back in October. They beat Lynda until she was all but dead, with a dozen broken bones. Iniquus saved them with sliver thin timing. Now Lynda was learning to walk again with extensive medical treatments.

“Is Lynda doing any better?” My eyes scanned over Striker. His body seemed relaxed. He looked his usual calm self except for the tightening at his jaw and the tension under his eyes.

“She’s doing better than expected; it’s still a long road. She’s moved back down to Miami with my dad and stepmother. Mimi and Dad are taking care of Cammy.” Striker took a sip from his coffee and set it back in the cup-holder. He shot me a glance. “Lynda is hoping you and I would come down to celebrate Cammy’s fourth birthday.”

“Oh?” The invitation surprised me.

“Cammy’s been talking about you since you rescued her, and Lynda thinks it would be good for her to see you.”

“I can’t believe Cammy has any kind of memory of that night, especially of me.”

Striker looked over at me; a funny kind of emotion flickered in his eyes - it came and went too quickly for me to figure out what it could mean.

“What did you tell her?” I asked.

“I said I’d be there, and I’d invite you.”

“When is this?” I picked at some imaginary lint on my pant leg. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see Lynda. I knew I’d end up re-living the horror of that night in my head.

“Cammy’s party is on New Year’s Day. We could fly down and celebrate New Year’s Eve in the city with some of my old friends, and go to Cammy’s party on the first. We’d fly back that evening.”

“Do you think it’s important for me to see Cammy?” I was stalling for time to think. “I’m not sure I understand my invitation.”

“Cammy’s having some trouble separating reality and fantasy right now. She believes you’re a fairy godmother. She’s wondering why you aren’t showing up to help her anymore.” Striker flicked on his signal and slid in front of the semi. “But you’ve got a lot of responsibilities here with Spyder and Mrs. Nelson in the hospital.” He was giving me an easy out.

“…Yeah, well.” I felt like a coward for not saying yes right away. I pushed my hair behind my ears and leaned back, looking up at the gray ceiling fabric while I tried to balance all my obligations in my mind and come up with a plan. I breathed out and refocused on Striker. “Okay, I’ll go if at all possible. I can’t promise to go to the party until I know more about Spyder. I will promise if I can’t go for Cammy’s birthday, I’ll go as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.” Striker’s voice was gruff. He has always treated his niece like a daughter since Cammy’s biological father never stood in the picture. This must be incredibly hard on him, but he wasn’t going to talk to me about it. Striker had gone into stoic-mode; I was locked out. Which I hated.

Miami. Huh. I rubbed my thumb into my palm and looked out the window. What roll would I play in Miami? Co-worker? Friend of the family? Girlfriend…? How all this would unroll might just prove enlightening.

Five

S
triker and I arrived at the hospital and headed straight to Isolation to check if the nurse had an update. She told us that Mr. McGraw had been moved to the step-down unit on the sixth floor. Step-down unit? What did that mean? She didn’t have any further information on his status. Up on the sixth floor, Spyder was getting vitals checked, someone would come get us when he was ready for us.

I rested my hip against the nurse’s station outside of Spyder’s room, wringing my hands. Worry for him made my palms sweat. Striker leaned against the wall and watched me from across the way; his face was relaxed but his eyes smiled with warmth. My anxiety charmed him. I turned my shoulder to the wall and looked in the other direction.

Growing up unschooled — that’s home schooling on steroids – had its advantages and its disadvantages. My parents were pretty avant garde; they followed Leonardo da Vinci’s philosophy, “Study without desire spoils the memory, and retains nothing it takes in.” Far be it for my parents to spoil my memory with the drudgery of rote memorization. A smile tickled my lips. Yup. I got to follow my heart’s desire when it came to learning. And fortunately, I ended up being mentored by Spyder McGraw.

Of all my mentors, I was most enthusiastic about studying under Spyder. I had this fantasy of growing up to be a modern day Nancy Drew. I wanted nothing more than to spend my life puzzling out crimes, which was exactly what Spyder trained me to do with computer simulations, brain exercises, and a little sleight-of-hand thrown in for good measure. God I loved it. I absolutely loved everything he taught me. And I loved him. My second dad. Tears stung the corners of my eyes.

Last September, a little over a year ago, when Spyder got called off-grid, he took off to go save our world as we know it. Left me hanging in the wind like wet laundry. I had no more partner, no more crimes to solve. I floundered; I re-thought everything. Maybe my life was too crazy — Mom was dying; Spyder was gone. Things kept changing. I desperately needed the Earth to stop spinning so fast; it made me dizzy.

I shifted around against the wall remembering vividly the overwhelming emotions of last year still alive, though muted now, in my body. Yes. I could almost taste the engulfing bleakness from when I ended up all alone. Everyone left me in one way or another. My neighbors dispersed from the fire that destroyed my apartment building, my parents dead, my husband at war, Spyder…

I wasn’t built to be alone. By nature I wanted to run with a pack. Thank goodness for Iniquus and my team. I worked hard every day to prove I belonged and was up to their standards — which was a lift of monumental proportions.

I scowled. I had almost left. Did I really think quitting would calm my world, and I’d get to lead a normal life? Something. Something tickled in my brain. The white leopard. I recognized her from when Dave told me about the new neighbor. She peeked out from under the bush, watching me with shining onyx eyes, baring her razor sharp teeth, with a low throated growl. Fear prickled my nerve endings. Shit! What sparked that?

A cart rolling past roused me. I shifted my purse strap on my shoulder as the nurse gave us the all-clear. I offered Striker a weak smile, and we went in. Spyder was thinner than I remembered him, and Spyder was always a rail. The sight of him shocked me — in the bed with his arms full of IV tubing, wrapped in a hospital gown. This man seemed antithetical to everything Spyder. He jostled my spirit and left it dangling at an odd angle.

Spyder folded into at a hundred degree angle. The huge pile of pillows at his back forced him to lean slightly forward, his torso sandwiched between more pillows, stacked on his lap. I knelt down beside the bed, so I could see his face, and he could see mine. His breathing was labored and obviously painful. I waited. We just stared at each other.

“I missed you fiercely, Lexicon.” Spyder’s accent, slow and golden-rich like maple syrup, filled my homesick heart.

I nodded solemnly. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“Good thing Striker brought you to the airport. Had we waited for the surprise…They tell me your quick action saved my life.”

“Please don’t, Spyder. I can’t think those kinds of thoughts.” My words stuck in my throat, and I had to force them out. Striker sat on the chair behind me with his hands supportive on my shoulders.

“Striker. You’re looking fit.”

“Yes, sir. Glad you’re home.”

“We have much to talk about in the days and weeks ahead. Right now, remember - walls can hear, and the things I will tell you from my travels must wait.” Spyder’s words floated lightly in the air, then made him cough.

“Spyder, what’s going on with your health?” I reached out for his hand. His skin felt papery.

“Many tests. I don’t expect answers for a few days.” He coughed, turning his head toward the wall. We waited while he caught his breath. Spyder turned back to me. “Striker told me you followed my advice and sought help from him. Since then, you’ve become the first Iniquus Puzzler. You must have performed brilliantly to gain such an accolade.”

“Did Striker tell you any of our stories?”

“No, Lexicon, he said he would leave those for you. Let’s start at the beginning. I have been much concerned with your mother’s health. How does she fare these days?”

“Mom passed away just weeks after you left.” My voice sounded rusty and seemed to stick and squeak as I tried to push it forward. “Mom had your dogs by her side, and they brought her comfort at the end.”

“I am sorrowful to hear of your loss, my girl. And yet, I am much relieved. Your mother was exhausted from her fight, and in a great deal of pain.” Spyder’s head rested on the pillow and his breathing seemed to be easing. The pinch of his face smoothed.

“Yes, sir, her passing was a blessing. Though I miss her every day.”

“Of course you do, my dear.” Spyder patted my hand. “Striker says you’ve made many changes in your life. I need to catch up. Tell me some of your news.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, in September of last year Mom died. I finished my classes over at the community college and graduated with an Associates in Criminology. I planned to start my bachelor’s degree this semester, but Striker told me I needed to take a break while we teamed up on a special project.”

Spyder squeezed my hand. “Indeed, an extremely important project.”

“At the end of last January, almost a year ago, a fire at my apartment building burned it to the ground. Everyone relocated. Some around the city. Some far away. Nona Sophia is up in New York City, and Abuela Rosa went back to Puerto Rico.” I took a deep breath. “And, I got married.”

He lifted my hand with a smile. “When did you and Striker wed, Mrs. Rheas?” Spyder asked, twisting my wedding and engagement rings on my finger.

“We’re not married, Spyder. We’re just…” I turned toward Striker, confused, and stopped. I wasn’t sure what ‘we just’ were. Striker waited for me to finish the sentence. How would I define our relationship? My mind went completely blank.

“I don’t understand,” Spyder said. “Striker, I can clearly see in your eyes that you are in love with my Lexicon. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir. I am very much in love with Lexi.”

“And, Lexi?” Spyder asked turning to me.

My head whirled. Striker had never said anything to me about his feelings. Ever. And now he was saying ‘I am very much in love,’ like this was a known fact. A given? My gaze swung back and forth between Striker and Spyder without a clear thought visible.

Finally, Striker spared me — “Lexi’s new surname is Sobado, sir. She married an Army Ranger, Angel Sobado, last February. He deployed to Afghanistan. Unfortunately, at Thanksgiving, his truck hit an IED. He didn’t survive, sir. Lexi is in mourning for her late husband.” 

“Lexicon. I am grieved to hear this.” Spyder gazed deeply into my eyes. I couldn’t stand the intensity of the emotions that he radiated. I lowered my lashes to shield myself from his pity and nodded. “Thank you, sir. I need to excuse myself. Spyder, I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? “ I gave him a kiss on the cheek, too distracted to say anything more. Spyder nodded but said nothing to me while I gathered my things and hustled out the door.

I all but ran down the hallway to the exit. I hid in the empty stairwell grateful for the cool darkness, sitting on a stair supported by the green cinderblock wall. I breathed deeply for a few minutes, trying to get my whirling emotions under control.

The door creaked open. I glanced over my shoulder; Striker stood framed by the hall lights. I turned my back to him, leaning my forehead against the wall.

He came and sat next to me. “This was not the way I meant for you to hear that I’m in love with you, Chica. I imagined better timing and a different setting.” He kept his hands to himself. “Though I’m sure you’re not surprised, I imagine hearing it said out loud so abruptly is what has you upset.”

I shook my head. I wanted him to go away.  

“This wasn’t the right time,” he pressed on, “but Spyderman asked me a direct question, and you told me you think of him as your second father. I respect him too much; he needed to hear my intentions are honorable. I needed to be clear with him.”

I sat in silence, staring at the green wall. Numb.

“There’s no pressure on you. I mean…you don’t have to love me back. I’m not asking anything from you.”

I turned to him. “Striker, I need to get out of here.” I said under my breath.

“Okay. Sure.”

We walked in silence to the parking garage. Striker opened the car door for me and walked around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and sat with his hands on the wheel. “Chica, I’d really like you to say something. Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

I took a deep breath in and let the air hiss back out. “I never saw his body.”

Striker stilled.

“Do you know how weird that is? Here we are in December. Angel left me at the end of February last year, and I knew I wouldn’t see him again for a long time. I steeled myself for the long haul.” I swallowed and rubbed my thumb into my palm. “At first we got to talk and pass messages sporadically. Then he went on a mission. He was gone for months with no communication. Every day I imagined where he went — what he did.”

Striker’s unwavering gaze warmed me with his concern.