The Photographer (12 page)

Robert agreed, so Megan's zoo trip was outvoted. It was probably just as well. She felt even more tired than she had that morning. She'd worked to keep her spirits up, and she could feel herself letting down.

An uneasy stillness filled the Camaro on the way home. Megan tried to think, to say something. She managed a couple of technical questions, but she didn't have the energy to keep a conversation going by herself. The morning's depression had come in on her, making her feel encased in a fog, in a quagmire of swirling questions and emotions.

“Want a Coke, Megan?” Robert asked when they reached the school.

“I thought you and Derrick had work to do.”

“I do, but I'll delay it for a few more minutes.” Robert flashed a smile at Megan that made her wish they were alone. “Okay, Derrick?”

Megan looked around. They were alone. Derrick was striding toward his van, forgetting that Megan and Robert existed. “There goes my ride home.”

“No problem.” Robert laughed then. “I'll admit I'm glad.”

They went to What's Up and found a table that looked out onto the mall.

“I'm sorry about today, Megan,” Robert apologized. “Even though I think you had a crazy idea, I think you've gotten to me. I didn't feel comfortable with Derrick. And to be frank, I'm worried about you. You didn't take any pictures.”

“My mom thinks I'm fighting depression. I just feel tired in general. I guess it's normal.”

“Please don't get sick, Megan.” Robert took both her hands in his.

“I promise.” She laughed. “After all, Derrick hasn't photographed me. Lucky I'm no school beauty, huh?”

“Here we are, two ordinary-looking, average, but super-talented people.” Robert teased her.

Having Robert care about her was the only good thing to have happened this semester. She needed to hold on to that. “You know, Robert, I think Derrick hates beautiful women. I've seen him looking at Bunny and Roxie, and he plain doesn't like them.”

“I don't think you can generalize. Maybe he doesn't like Bunny and Roxie as people. Hey, why are we talking about Derrick? He's gone. And I'm glad for some time alone with you to make this day better. Are you going to be okay—about Cynthia?”

“I already miss her terribly, but yes, I'll be okay. Having you for my friend, Robert, helps a lot. Let's take some photos on the mall. You aren't really in a hurry, are you?”

“Not anymore.” Robert grinned.

Megan got permission from a watching parent to take some pictures of children riding the stone animals on the east end of the Boulder Mall. For a few minutes, she became a child herself, laughing with them, doing funny things to make them laugh at her camera.

Then, just as she sat on the back of a white marble bunny, all her strength seemed to leave her. Quickly, she put her head between her knees to keep from fainting.

“Megan!” Robert was beside her instantly. “Megan, please, please don't be sick.” He held her tightly. “Tell me you're not sick.”

Bunny's words flashed through Megan's mind.
Suddenly I couldn't hold on to the lamppost any longer
. Megan felt no pain, but a total draining of her energy.

“Fight it, Megan, fight it,” Robert said all the way to the car. He kept his arm around her, almost carrying her.

Megan was scared, really scared. She had been wrong about Derrick causing people to get sick. He hadn't taken any photos of her. There really was a disease, and now she was getting it.

Her father was home alone, having returned from the airport. Her mother had left that morning for her Caribbean trip. Mr. Davidson helped Robert get Megan up to bed.

“I'm going to call Dr. Bartlett,” her father said, his voice in some kind of tunnel.

“Please don't call Mom,” Megan mumbled. “I'll be okay, I know I will. Don't spoil her trip.”

Megan lay back on her pillow gratefully. She was tired, so tired. Her bones felt heavy, her flesh like molten lead, which settled and solidified on the cool sheets. Her mind flickered up and back, up and back, like a candle flame in a mild breeze. All of a sudden, her consciousness latched on to one clear picture.

Derrick snapping pictures of the policeman without his knowing it. Derrick's hand, tensed on his telephoto lens.

Chapter 15

Megan knew she'd slept all night, but that her mind had been a kaleidoscope of dreams. Derrick photographing her mother. Robert saying “Fight” and offering her a camera. Children standing before her with their big eyes saying that the white rabbit did it. Get off the white rabbit. Cynthia, shimmering in her white dress, saying, “Go back. Fight. You can do it.”

Her dad dozed in Megan's over stuffed chair. He'd sat beside her all night. When she opened her eyes and stared at him for a minute, wondering what he was doing there, he woke up.

“Megan, baby. How do you feel? Dr. Bartlett came over yesterday afternoon, but you were so sound asleep he said to leave you alone. He'll come back or put you in the hospital for some tests.”

It took all of Megan's strength to sit up. “Yes, yes. I'm better, Daddy. I was only tired.” She didn't want to go to the hospital. She didn't want anyone worrying about her, either, but she knew her dad had been really worried or he wouldn't have sat by her bed all night.

“You didn't call Mom?” Megan asked.

“Not yet, sweetie. Should I? I don't want her to return unless it's really necessary. Maybe what I'm saying is that I don't want to believe you're sick, sick enough to tell her. Robert called twice last night. He asked me to call him the minute you woke up today. Do you want to call instead?”

“Yes, I'll call him in a few minutes. And thanks for not telling Mom. Can I have some orange juice?” Her mom couldn't help her now. Neither could Robert. Could she help herself?

When her father went to the kitchen, Megan willed herself out of bed. It had never seemed so comfortable. She was dressed when he returned.

“Are you sure you should be up?” He handed her the juice.

She sat on the edge of her bed to drink it. “Yes, I'll be all right.” She had to be. She had to find out. Last night she'd thought of Derrick's telephoto lens. He had taken pictures of Cynthia at a distance. Why not of her? She had to get back in his darkroom somehow to find out—to destroy the pictures if they existed.

Did she have to wait for tonight? How was she going to get in? Sunday. It was Sunday. If she could wait for tomorrow, Derrick would be in school. Tomorrow. As soon as she decided she couldn't get into Derrick's lab until Monday, she felt like lying back down.

Almost immediately she was asleep. The smell of perfume, Cinnabar, filled her nostrils. Cynthia was floating, shimmering in a swirl of clouds. “Go back, Megan. Go back!”

“Cynthia? Is that really you?” Megan reached out to touch her friend. The clouds swirled and billowed up, covering the image.

“Megan. You don't have to come here. Fight. Go back.”

Megan ran toward Cynthia, every step slow and difficult, as if she were in a slow-motion film. She wanted to go with Cynthia. It would be so easy to go. Robert's hand touched her shoulder.

“Megan, please wake up. You keep crying out, but I can't get you to wake up.”

Slowly Megan focused on Robert's worried face. “Oh, Robert. Hold me, Robert. Hold me close. I'm so cold.”

Robert put his arms around Megan. After a minute the warmth of his body crept into hers. The chill she felt gradually disappeared.

“You were dreaming about Cynthia.” Robert kissed her cheeks, her temple, where her hair lay flattened by sleep.

“No, she was here, Robert. Here with me. She told me to go back. What do you think she meant?”

“I've read that when people die, their friends or relatives come to help them over. Cynthia sent you back, Megan. She sent you back. Please don't die, Megan. I couldn't face that.”

Megan hugged Robert closer. “I'm not going to die.” To herself she added, Because I'm going to destroy Derrick's pictures of me.

“I've been so worried about you,” Robert said. “Your father said you slept all day.”

“All day?” Megan struggled to sit up. It was dark outside. She had slept all night and then all day Sunday. She'd never done that before.

“Would you like something to eat?” Robert stood up, ready to go get Megan some food.

“Funny, I'm not hungry. But I would like a cup of tea. Strong and hot, with one spoon of sugar.” Megan usually took her tea or coffee unsweetened, but she felt the need for something to restore her energy quickly, if that was possible.

Robert stayed after he brought the tea, helping Mr. Davidson prepare hamburgers, bringing a tray to Megan. She ate half a hamburger, but it tired her to eat, to sit up. She never mentioned her fatigue, though. Just said she wasn't hungry.

“If you aren't better by morning, Megan,” her father said, “I'm slapping you in the nearest hospital and calling your mother.”

“Is that a threat?” Megan smiled.

“No, it's a promise. I should have put you in for tests yesterday. Apparently all the others who are sick started out by feeling tired, the same as you. And Robert said both Bunny and Roxie are back in the hospital.”

“Okay, Daddy. But let's wait until morning to decide.” Bunny and Roxie sick again?

“Take a couple of days off from school, Megan. You need it.” Robert talked about the newspaper for a few minutes, taking Megan's mind off herself. Then he kissed her and turned to leave. “I know you'll be all right, Megan. I know you'll fight this. I can feel it. I feel closer to you than I ever have.”

“I will, Robert. I promise I'll fight.” Tomorrow, Megan promised herself. Tomorrow I'll fight. I'll go to Derrick's. See for myself if this is a real sickness or … or … what?

Waking from another twelve hours of deep sleep, this time with no dreams that she could recall, Megan felt soggy and restless. Eight o'clock, but not very light. Megan turned toward the window and found the cause of the dim light. It was snowing. The sky was dark, overcast, and fine grains of pearlized snow pelted the ground.

“You're feeling better, aren't you, Megan? You look better.” Was her father trying to talk her into being better, as Robert had done the night before? She felt no better, not rested for all her time in bed; but then, she felt no worse.

“Yes, I'm hungry. Can you manage a soft scrambled egg and a cup of tea?”

“Coming right up.” Mr. Davidson smiled and hurried off to the kitchen.

Megan stumbled toward her bathroom and a hot shower. That was what she felt she needed. She let her anger take over, anger that Derrick could do this to her. The anger sent adrenaline coursing through her body, giving her the strength to shower, dress, and appear normal by the time her father appeared. She had even put on a little makeup, rouged her pale cheeks.

She sat at her desk to eat breakfast, hating the sight of her bed. Then she insisted she go downstairs for a second cup of tea. Loading the cup with sugar, she grimaced at the sweet taste. She needed a sugar high, any high, just for an hour.

Then her dad solved the problem of her getting away from him to go to Derrick's.

“Megan, would you be all right for an hour or so while I go down and get some papers at my office? This snow is supposed to keep up, so I'd rather go in before it gets too slick. I can easily work at home for a couple of days, but I need some files and my appointment book.”

“Sure, Daddy. I'll be fine. I don't think I'll go to school, but being here alone is no problem. Thanks for not calling Mom. I'll bet she's enjoying the sunshine. Envy, envy.”

Her dad gave her a big hug, put her into a big chair in front of a cheerful fire, and tucked an afghan around her legs. She sat, sipping the second cup of tea. She hoped she looked settled, comfortable enough to convince him she'd stay right there while he was gone. He had the TV news on, and she pretended to be interested in that.

She waited until she heard the roar and hum of her dad's Honda fade away. Not even bothering to turn off the TV, she tossed off the afghan and headed for the hall closet and her warmest coat. Just in case it was super-cold outside and she had to wait in front of Derrick's house, she had dug out her long underwear when dressing.

Having planned while she showered, she now walked slowly to her dad's downstairs office. She crossed her fingers that his cigarette-pack-size tape recorder was there and not in his office in town. She was in luck. Taking it from its case, she tucked it into her flannel shirt pocket, the on-off switch at the top of the flap. If she got into Derrick's house and needed to, she could turn it on to get evidence.

Getting inside was going to be the problem. If Mrs. Ames was there, and the only way she could get in was to lie to her, she had a story. She'd tell Derrick's mother that Derrick had called her and asked her to bring in some photos when she returned to school at noon. She'd talk her way out of whatever situation arose. She was determined to get into Derrick's darkroom. Once inside, it would take only seconds to grab any pictures of herself and the ones she suspected she'd find of Bunny and Roxie. Now she knew that the two cameras held the answer. One was normal, the other … Whatever it did, it worked. It was the one doing the damage. Derrick's second camera had the ability to make people ill—to steal life.

Even prepared for the drop in temperature, Megan gasped as she stepped outside, leaving the door unlocked so she could get back in quickly if necessary. November's preview of winter was piercing. By the time Megan had walked one block, she wasn't sure she could go on. Stopping, she took a deep breath. The icy air didn't replenish her oxygen, it burned her throat and lungs instead.

Waves of dizziness washed over her. She fought the blackness of sleep that was so desirable. “Fight.” She remembered Cynthia's words, Robert's commands. “Fight!” she said aloud, as if it were a mantra or a school cheer, egging her on beyond her endurance. Then, anger at the possibility of this being Derrick's fault helped her again.