31. Tallus

31

Tallus

I hopped off the loveseat and aimed for the door. In my world, visitors were the norm. I didn’t flinch when my buzzer sounded. Memphis showed up at random and rarely gave me a heads-up. My mother tended to stop by with leftovers regularly, knowing my poor budgeting skills meant my fridge was perpetually empty. Plus, my online spending habits meant I had developed a close acquaintance with the UPS driver in my area.

If someone knocked, I answered. All quite routine.

It didn’t dawn on me that people showing up at Diem’s office after hours was irregular or suspicious and should be treated with caution until I flung the door open and had a six-inch filet knife pressed against my abdomen.

“Get inside. Now,” hissed Hilty as he nervously glanced down the deserted hallway. “Hurry up. I’m not playing games.”

Extending my hands submissively, I backed up, a cold sweat blistering to life along my upper lip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on.” I chuckled nervously. “We’re cool. Put the knife away.”

“Shut up and move.”

I did as I was told.

Hilty entered with me, slamming the door behind, gaze flicking nervously around the room. “Where’s your partner? The big guy.”

“D-Diem?” I shouted. “You, um… You have company.”

A large shadow appeared in my peripheral vision, blocking the entrance to Diem’s personal quarters and casting a long, bulky shadow across the floor. I shifted, intent on offering a warning, but the instant I moved, Hilty grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me in front of him, using me as a shield and pressing the thin, curved blade to my throat.

“Stop,” the doctor hissed. “Don’t get any closer.”

Diem froze, fingers splayed at his side to show he didn’t carry a weapon, face the picture of pure, undiluted rage. He looked like a man who could single-handedly take on an army of thousands. A vein pulsed at his temple. His nostrils flared. Every muscle along his arms, from wrists to shoulders, pulled taut, bulging and filling with blood in preparation for a fight.

Diem was a bowstring, waiting to release amassed energy on a target. He was a bull, readying for the moment to charge. He was a rocket, seconds from blasting into oblivion.

Diem was a bomb set to explode.

For the first time, I saw the fa?ade of the dangerous man he’d warned me about.

“W-what do you want?” I stammered, doing all I could to keep my neck away from the blade’s razor-sharp edge. But with every swallow, cold metal met skin, threatening to cut.

“Do you have any idea the shit storm you two have created?” Hilty asked, spitting his words.

“Put the fucking knife down right now.” Diem enunciated each word in a low, dangerous tone. “I won’t ask twice.”

“Guns. Don’t do anything stupid.” The Diem he’d warned me about would raze the ground if provoked, uncaring of casualties or consequences. And he was who stood before me.

Diem’s hands curled into tight fists, knuckles popping, lip hooked in a snarl.

“D… Diem. Please. Don’t do anything stupid. Think.”

“Listen to your friend,” Hilty said. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if I have to. Right now, I want to talk, so stay over there. If you get any closer—”

“Diem,” I shouted, cutting Hilty off when the enraged man, my protector, stepped forward. “Diem, no. Look at me. Guns. I know you hear me. Look at me.”

It took a painfully long moment, but Diem’s gaze shifted from Hilty. Storms. Turbulent oceans. Violent and perilous. Ones feared by sane sailors. That was what I saw reflected in his irises. I wasn’t sure I had the power to take the wind out of his sail, to bring him back to solid ground.

“Count, D. Back from ten. Let go of the rage and think. For me.”

Could he hear me? Did he understand?

“Breathe. In and out. Hilty won’t hurt me. He promised.”

I hoped it was true. Based on the deep, resonating tremble vibrating through the doctor’s body and into mine, I thought the man’s bravado didn’t match his actions. In fact, if I had to guess, Hilty seemed as frightened as me. It was a terrifying notion. What if, with his nerves on edge, the doctor accidentally nicked me with the knife. He could hit an artery. I could die. Diem, who cared for me more than he could admit, would unleash the fires of hell. The elderly hypnotist wouldn’t survive.

But neither would Diem.

“Ten,” I prompted, hoping he would copy. “Nine… Come on, Guns. Eight…”

By seven, the snarling mammoth of a man was mouthing the numbers along with me through gritted teeth.

By five, the bear let go of his hold, and Diem’s fists loosened.

By three, his breathing evened out.

By one, he refocused on Hilty, voice calmer, more negotiable and less threatening. “Put the knife down.”

“I can’t do that. No offense, buddy, but I don’t trust you, and I need you to listen to everything I’m about to say.”

“We’re listening,” I assured him. “Diem, tell him we’re listening. Tell him you aren’t a threat.”

“I’m not the one with the fucking knife,” he spat, temper momentarily slipping.

“I know, but you’re the bigger risk.” I laughed nervously. “Trust me, Guns.”

“I’m listening,” Diem said to Hilty, never taking his eyes off the blade at my throat.

“Good. I’m going to lower the knife, and you’re going to stay over there, understand?”

The scent of sweat and fear poured off the old doctor, but when Diem nodded, the press of the blade vanished. Hilty kept me as a shield, one hand wound around the back of my shirt, securing me in place.

He pointed the knife at Diem, reminding him to keep a distance.

“I don’t know who you two are or what you think you’re doing, but it needs to stop right now. Do you hear me?”

Diem narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Who hired you?”

“What?”

“Who hired you?” The knife in Hilty’s hand trembled along with his voice. “You said you were investigators. You said you were looking into my ex-wife. Who hired you?”

Diem’s gaze flashed briefly to me. “No one,” he spat.

“Don’t lie to me.” Hilty returned the knife to my throat, pressing harder.

“I hired him,” I squeaked. “It was me.”

“Tallus!” Diem took a step forward.

“Stay back,” Hilty shouted, retreating with me in tow. The movement jarred the blade hard against my throat. A sudden sting erupted along my neck. He’d nicked me.

I jerked, trying to escape the knife’s edge, but Hilty countered the movement, and again, the blade scored my flesh.

My glasses were falling. They sat at an odd angle, warping my vision. I couldn’t distinguish Diem’s features, but he’d stopped moving. I got the sense he’d noticed the injury.

A slow rolling bead of blood ran from the blade’s edge to my collar. I felt its slow journey and wanted to cry, fearing it would set Diem off and the next cut would be worse.

I pleaded wordlessly for Diem to stay back. Hilty might not want to hurt me, but in a panic, if cornered, he might not have a choice.

“Tallus.” Diem’s voice was thick and quiet. Pain radiated from his stormy eyes.

“I’m okay. Stay calm.”

“Why are you looking into my ex-wife?” Hilty asked, extending the blade at Diem to keep him at bay.

“It’s stupid.” I tried for a nonchalant chuckle, but it failed on every level. “Honestly, I was making fun of a friend who wanted to go see her. I looked up her reviews to dissuade him and prove psychic readings were bogus. I fell down a rabbit hole. It wasn’t on purpose. It was… I only did it because…”

“Why?” Hilty shook me, and my glasses slipped from the bridge of my nose, tumbling to the ground.

The world became an indistinct blur.

There was too much to explain, and it would sound too unbelievable to Hilty, who skated the edge of panic. Too fabricated.

Maybe Memphis was right and I’d blown Madame Rowena’s reviews out of proportion because I’d wanted an excuse to see Diem. But it hadn’t been for nothing. Look what we’d found.

“Diem’s a… friend,” I explained, wishing I could see the big guy and judge his reaction. “I asked him to check her out for fun. It was… stupid. I didn’t think we’d find anything, but…”

“Who have you told?” Hilty asked.

“About what? The dead clients? No one.”

“Bullshit.” He swung the knife back at my throat, and that time, the tip pierced the underside of my chin, forcing me to raise my head, exposing my neck. More blood trickled from the previous cuts. “Who knows?” Hilty asked again.

“No one.” Diem’s voice came out calmer than I expected. Closer. He was on the move.

Hilty backed up, dragging me with him until we collided with the wall.

“Why are you here, doc?” Diem asked. “So far as we were concerned, this had nothing to do with you. We eliminated you as an active participant about fifteen minutes before you showed up.”

“I’m not involved. That fucking liar of a woman. I didn’t know she was still in contact with Row. I never would have hired her. I felt bad. We were friends once. Goddammit. I was blissfully ignorant until last week, but you idiots got me involved. I want nothing to do with this.”

I caught movement in my periphery as Diem inched closer.

We couldn’t retreat.

“Diem, stop,” I whimpered, quietly placating the man. Pleading.

The blurry movement stilled.

“Lower the knife, William. Let’s chat,” Diem said.

An extended silence filled the room. Diem’s use of the doctor’s first name seemed to have brought him to his senses. After a moment, Hilty lowered the knife arm.

No longer having to crane my neck, I blinked unseeingly at Diem before scanning the floor for my glasses, but I was too blind to locate them.

“I had no idea she was up to anything,” Hilty said. “When you two showed up and asked if I’d been in contact with her, I told you the truth. I knew she was in the city. I knew she was practicing legally, but we hadn’t spoken in decades. When Sandy came to me… She seemed genuine. I was conned. Please. I’ve remarried. I have three children. Grandchildren. My life is calm. I’m settled. I was toying with the idea of finally retiring so the wife and I could travel while our health was still good. Then, I discover my goddamn lying secretary is stealing specific client files right out from under my nose, copying them, and selling them to my ex-wife. When I looked up those old patients and discovered almost half of them were dead, I knew… I knew that… Row has always been… She has a dark side to her. I fired Sandra the next day. But I couldn’t report it. Do you know how that would look?”

“You knew she was Sandra?” Diem asked.

“Yes. She told me she changed it to hide from her ex. I didn’t question it. She was always a sweet girl.”

Like we’d assumed. Hilty’s old ties to Rowena compromised his situation. Eleven dead people, all his old patients, would look suspicious as hell. Hilty would be investigated. Even if they found him innocent, his reputation would be ruined.

“How is she killing them?” Diem asked.

“I don’t have a clue and don’t want to know. You two need to stay out of it. Back off, or you’ll ruin my entire life. Please.”

“How does us backing off save your reputation?” I asked.

“If the cops come for her, she threatened to drag me into the whole mess. Make me complicit in her big scheme. I have a family. Whatever she’s done, whatever she’s doing, I want no part of it. So I’m asking you, I’m begging you, to stop investigating her. Let it go.”

“People are dying,” I said.

“I know.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care. They were my clients at one point. They were preyed upon. They were lured into the cage of a cunning and manipulative woman. They didn’t deserve to be targeted. They only wanted help.”

“Hilty,” Diem interrupted. “Not all of them are dead, but they might be soon if we don’t stop her.”

Hilty frantically shook his head. “No. She’ll ruin me.”

Diem’s shadowy form moved closer again. “If we can figure out what she’s giving them, I will personally make sure you are absolved of any wrongdoing.”

“Giving them?" Hilty’s voice warbled. “What are you talking about?”

“We believe she is drugging them with something. Possibly an untraceable herbal substance of some kind. Whatever it is, our labs aren’t in the habit of testing for it. It could have mind-altering properties. We believe it conflicts with the drugs they are already on, causing heart issues. Was your secretary, Sally or Sandra, friendly with the naturopath next door?”

Hilty’s hold on me loosened another fraction. He was too invested in the conversation to remember his hostage. “Janek? No. Sandy’s son worked for her, but I’m the one who helped him get the job because I’ve known Janek for years. Newt’s a troubled kid. Always hanging with the wrong crowd.”

“Newt?” I said.

“Brodie’s his legal name. Newt’s a nickname. Short for Newall. Sandra’s always called him that.”

“Did you know he was arrested last week for dealing?” Diem asked.

“No.”

Diem asked Hilty another question, but I didn’t hear it. My mind drifted back to our visit with Hilty at his office. To the kid in the parking lot, sitting in a rusted Chevy Caprice. To the night in the cemetery when Sally’s kid had been arrested. The cemetery. Near Rowena’s. Drug dealing in the cemetery. A rusted Caprice. Newt or Brodie or whoever working for Janek.

We’d returned to Hilty’s office the following day, and I’d witnessed Sally in the same rusted car, hauling boxes from the office to the dumpster, which I now figured meant she’d gone to clean out her desk after hours. She’d been fired. According to Janek, Sally’s son had been fired as well.

Same day.

But it was what I’d seen after that suddenly made more sense.

As I’d waited for Diem to calm himself with a cigarette, I’d observed Sally take several garbage bags from the back of the car to the dumpster.

The car her son had used to make deliveries for Janek.

“D? I think I know how we might find answers.”

I’d been dazed out, thinking, so I missed what was happening.

Hilty had fully relaxed.

And Diem was a loaded spring.

The second the words left my mouth, Diem’s fuzzy, oversized form moved in for the attack, swiftly breaking Hilty’s hold on me, wrapping me in a one-armed hug, heaving me against his chest while effortlessly unarming the elderly doctor and stepping out of harm’s way.

“Get out,” Diem bellowed, pointing at the office door with the confiscated knife.

“Please,” Hilty stammered. “My career. I have a family.”

“Get. Out. Now.” Diem’s deadly tone was enough to fell an army.

Hilty moved like his ass was on fire.

Before he got to the door, I heard a familiar c runch .

“Motherfucking fucker,” I spat. “Tell me that wasn’t my glasses.”