Blind Rage (8 page)

The sergeant’s wife pulled up in front of a huge building and stopped. Travis got out and thanked them profusely for the ride. They seemed almost embarrassed by his gratitude, so he reined in his emotions and turned away with a wave. Inside, he found the rental counter and filled out the paperwork for a compact. He wouldn’t need much more than that to get around. He didn’t plan on keeping it long. In a few days, he’d exchange it for something more utilitarian for his new “assignment.” He got a map and directions along with his keys, and went out to find his car.

As he drove off the base, he wondered what it would be like to be a civilian again. On one hand, he’d had tremendous freedom in the army to perform his job as he saw fit. Though for the most part that had meant sleeping on dirt floors in huts without running water and cooking over an open fire for the past six years. The modernity all around him was a bit of a shock. The freeway was clogged with commuters driving personal vehicles, wasting gas and fouling the air. Everywhere he turned people were plugged into communications devices, talking or texting on cell phones, or networking on tablet computers. It was as if the world had passed him by.

Not that he hadn’t had the world’s best and coolest technology available to him in the Stans, courtesy of Uncle Sam and James’s company. Communications, weaponry, navigation—all were made possible by the latest in hi-tech gear. They could see at night with infrared goggles, shoot at unseen targets with smart weapons, narrow down locations to one square foot with GPS devices, find and disarm IEDs with ground-penetrating radar, and listen in on the enemy with cell phone interception equipment and decryption software. James had made it possible for Travis to do his job without getting anywhere near the enemy. But here, back in the States, all that gadgetry seemed to isolate people more than connect them.

He drove north, past Sea-Tac airport, along the shore of Lake Washington, admiring the beautiful terrain. Water glittered on one side, forested hills rose up on the other toward mountains in the distance. He’d never been to that part of the world, but he could see why James had been convinced to move up there from California. While California held its own appeal, with wildly different topography and natural beauty throughout the state, Travis couldn’t deny that Seattle was pretty, even in the rain.

After twenty minutes, he exited the freeway and meandered through a suburban neighborhood that felt almost rural. The area was hilly and heavily wooded, so the houses were hard to see from the road and unobtrusive. The curvy road wound between steep hillsides and deep ravines, both dense with towering trees and thick undergrowth, in spots blotting out the sun. He finally found the drive that led down toward the water. A house number engraved on a granite boulder at the edge of the drive matched the address he’d committed to memory.

Travis slowed and turned in, stopping momentarily. The property wasn’t fenced and the drive had no gate, making the house below about as secure as a box of tissues. That would be among the first things Travis changed. He eased down the pitched drive, keeping his foot on the brake, passing a tennis court and a small guesthouse surrounded by trees on the way down toward the lake. He pulled up under the porte cochere at the front door to the main house. Leaving his duffel in the car, he went up the steps and rang the bell.

Travis waited nearly a minute. As he reached for the bell again, the door suddenly opened, revealing a beautiful young woman. Travis nearly bit his lip to keep from sucking in his breath with a startled gasp. His niece had grown so much since he’d last seen her that he’d almost mistaken her for his sister-in-law Sally.

The girl gave him a guarded smile. “Can I help you?”

“Is your dad home?” Travis said.

Before the girl could reply, a man’s voice called out behind her, “Who is it, honey?”

“Someone for you, Dad.”

The girl turned and swung the door open, and James stepped into view.

“Hello, big brother,” Travis said.

James’s mouth dropped open in surprise, then a big smile spread across his face.

“Tess,” he said to the girl, “meet your Uncle Travis.”

The ride Alice gave me to chauffeur Tess to school was about as sweet as they get—a BMW 6 Series convertible in titanium silver. The drive wasn’t as pleasant as it should have been in a piece of machinery like that since Tess was as sour as the car was sweet. She hated me. Well, she didn’t know me well enough to hate me, but she hated the idea of me. And I had to admit that seeing-eye dog wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind when I signed on for the position. But I’d only been on the job for an hour, so I figured I’d at least give it a chance. Besides, I still got chills thinking about the call from Bigsby. I needed the money.

Tess sat silently in the passenger seat. I thought she was staring out the window, but then I remembered that she couldn’t see. It would take some getting used to; she didn’t look blind. I mean, she didn’t have that weird visor that was supposed to look like some hi-tech X-ray specs that the blind guy on
Star Trek
wore. What’s his name—Geordi. She didn’t wear shades to hide atrophied eyes like Stevie Wonder. In fact, she had some of the most gorgeous eyes I’d ever seen. Not that I was swayed by her looks.

I could get used to the silence, too. A mopey, quiet teenager seemed better than a rebellious, loud one. If I was going to spend a lot of time with her, though, it would help to be on speaking terms. I flipped on the charm switch.

“Okay,” I said, “here’s one for you. How many elephants will fit into a Mini?”

“What?” She turned her head.

“How many elephants will fit into a Mini?”

“I don’t know.”

“Four. Two in front, two in back.”

“Oka-a-a-y.”

“How many giraffes will fit into a Mini?”

“How many giraffes?”

“None. It's full of elephants.”

Silence.

I tried again. “How do you know there are two elephants in your refrigerator?”

“I bet you’re going to tell me,” she said in a way that indicated she really didn’t care.

“You can hear giggling when the light goes out,” I said. I motored on without waiting for a reaction. “How do you know there are
three
elephants in your refrigerator?”

“I’ll bite. How?”

“You can't close the door.”

I heard a snort that could have been suppressed laughter and risked a glance at her. She’d turned her head, but I thought I saw the corner of her mouth curl up just a skosh.

“How do you know there are
four
elephants in your refrigerator?” I said.

She sighed. “Oh, please. Not more elephants.”

“There's an empty Mini parked outside.”

She exhibited no reaction, but I think it took all of her self-control to maintain a poker face.

“Okay,” I said, “last one. How can you tell when an elephant’s sitting behind you?”

“Duh! Like everybody doesn’t know the answer to that one,” she said, her tone about as acidic as espresso. “When you smell the peanuts on its breath.”

“No, actually. I was going to say, ‘When everyone ignores it.’”

“That’s random.”

“I was trying to be subtle.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“The elephant in the room—or the car in this case—is the fact that you’re blind. Want to tell me how it happened?”

“Not really.” She folded her arms and leaned back in the seat.

“I’m sure I can find out from Alice.”

“A car accident, okay?”

“You don’t want to talk about it. How come?”

She sat up and said vehemently, “Because . . .” But before she finished the thought she shook her head and slumped back in the seat. “Just because.”

“How long ago was this?”

“I said I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Hey, just trying to make conversation as long as we’re stuck with each other.”

“I’m not stuck with you.”

“Until Alice says otherwise, I think you are.”

She was silent for a moment, apparently absorbing the truth of my statement.

“Is that how you see this situation? You’re stuck with me?”

“Let me rephrase it. I’m stuck with this situation because I need a job. I don’t live in a ritzy house with rich parents.”

“My parents are dead!” She burst into tears.

I’m not sure which took me aback more, the shock of her admission or the crying. I was just glad she couldn’t see me trying to wrestle my size-twelve foot out of my mouth. Judging from how hot my face felt, I was sure I turned a bright shade of vermillion.

“Tess, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

But with the amount of time I’d spent in school I should have been smart enough to figure it out—the interview with the housekeeper, no sign of parents in the house. Though they could have been the type who were too busy with their own lives to bother meeting the latest household hire. Maybe I’d been parentless myself long enough that the absence of hers hadn’t registered. At least I’d had Nana and Pop-Pop. And now I’d made her cry twice in the first hour on the job.

Her sobbing eased. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and screwed them in tight. I rummaged around in the center console, found a travel pack of tissues, and managed to pull one out. I reached over and tickled her hand with it, keeping my eyes on the road. She tugged it out of my fingers.

“I really am sorry,” I said. “I’m usually not this big a jerk. Could we maybe start over?”

She sniffed. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

I didn’t have an answer for her. I focused on driving for the next few minutes and pulled into the high school lot about eight minutes early. All the visitors’ parking spaces were filled, so I pulled into the handicap space.

“We’re here,” I said.

I got Tess’s pink book bag out of the backseat and went around to open the passenger door for her. She swung her legs out of the car and extended a hand. I took it, helped her stand, and handed her the bag. She slung it over her shoulder. I closed the car door, took her elbow, and walked her across the drive to the walkway leading to the front entrance. I dug into my pocket for her class schedule.

“Okay, so your first class is—”

“I know what it is. I’ve been in school, just not
at
school.”

“Right. Wait, you mean you’ve been homeschooled? Who’s your tutor? Alice?”

“Alice and Yoshi.”

“And Alice has been teaching you in the same order as the school schedule? English history block with Prescott first? Curb.”

“What?”

I stepped over the curb onto the walkway, but Tess stubbed her toe and would have done a face-plant on the concrete if I hadn’t tightened my grip on her arm and pulled her upright. Her momentum swung her in a semicircle and she crashed into me. I grabbed her other arm and held her steady. When she realized she was all right and standing toe to toe with me instead of lying on the ground, she turned pink and her pretty face twisted up in fury. She wrested one arm loose, stepped back, and took a swing at me, landing a fist hard on my arm.

“Ow!”

“What the heck is wrong with you?” she cried.

“I said ‘curb.’”

“That’s it? No warning? Just ‘curb’ and I’m supposed to get it?”

“Well, yeah. You just pick up your feet. Why don’t you use a cane or a stick, anyway?”

“Why don’t
you
use one? Then maybe you could find your way over a curb without leading me right into it.”

We’d turned a small crowd of heads, but since class was about to start curious onlookers gaped for only a moment and kept moving.

“I don’t use a white cane,” she said, “because they take a lot of practice, and I haven’t had the time yet. And even if I could use one, I wouldn’t last long before I got laughed out of high school. Bad enough I have you.”

“Kids are that mean?”

“What are you? Have you never been to high school?”

I was glad she couldn’t see my reddening face, and I mumbled a reply. “Well, yeah, but I skipped a lot of it.”

“What do you mean? How did you get into college if you skipped high school?”

“It’s not important. So, high school kids aren’t so nice.”

“They’re worse.”

“Okay, so we should have talked about this. Developed a system. When we’re two steps away from an obstacle, I’ll tell you what it is. Like ‘curb,’ or ‘stairs.’ If it’s stairs, I’ll tell you how many. If it’s a door, I’ll tell you to stop until I open it.”

“What about a hill or a slope?”

“We can add things as we go.”

“Okay, I guess.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Look, this is new to both of us, so we’re going to have some trial and error, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. And I’m your assistant, so you call the shots. If it’s not working for you or you’re uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll figure something else out. Okay?”

She bit her lower lip. “All right.”

“Then let’s go, or else you’ll be late for class.”

She let me take her arm again, and we managed to get to her classroom without incident. But the day had only started—plenty of time for things to go from bad to worse.

“Who are you?”

Tess recognized Mr. Prescott’s voice even though she hadn’t been in his class since freshman year. But it was his scent that immediately clinched his identity. He had a reputation in school for “going natural” and not using deodorant. Tess had always done her best to ignore it and sit as far away from him as she could. But the sharp-sweet odor seemed stronger now than ever, and wasn’t as innocuous as she’d once thought. He sounded close enough to touch, and for a moment she thought he was speaking to her. She opened her mouth to remind him of her name, but before she could speak, Oliver answered him.

“My name’s Oliver Moncrief, sir. I’m Tess’s personal assistant.”

“You can’t just roam the halls, Oliver. You’ll need a visitor’s pass from the office. Maybe they can see about getting you a permanent ID badge.”

“I’ll get one right after class, between periods.”

“No, you’ll get one now.”

Tess heard a muffled snicker from a few feet away. Then she felt someone lean in close, and she caught a whiff of Oliver’s shampoo.