Page 22 of 44.1644° North
My legs folded, and I sat down on the bed. “I remember… It’s a little fuzzy at the end, but I’ve still got most of it.”
He nodded once, consideringly. “I can’t say for sure, but I think your last drink was spiked.”
I frowned at him, trying to remember that final sequence of events.
“You think so too,” Rory said.
“I… But to what end?”
“To isolate and incapacitate you. At the least.”
I didn’t like the sound of thatat the least.
“I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink either, but I could have had more than I realized. I was tired. The drinks could have hit me harder.”
I was trying to be objective—or maybe I just didn’t want to believe what he was telling me. The truth was, I’d been pretty careful how much alcohol I’d consumed. I’d stuck to beer, and most rounds I’d cut the beer with ginger ale. There’s nothing like anonymous threats to give you a case of situational awareness.
“Do you usually throw up your guts after drinking?”
“Thank you for noticing,” I said irritably. “No. Not since college. Well, and right after my divorce.”
His brows rose, but he said only, “You went from tired and mostly sober to falling down drunk in the space ofmaybeten minutes.”
“That’s how it felt,” I agreed.
“I don’t think you’d have made it to your cabin last night, and that right there could have killed you.”
“Killedme?”
He shrugged. “It was well below freezing. Alcohol affects the blood vessels—”
“No, I know thecircumstancescould have proved fatal. I just don’t understand why—”
“Don’t you?”
The dark morning stubble and heavy-lidded eyes gave him a hard sexiness I hadn’t previously noticed.
“Did you say you were FBI, or did I dream that?” I hastened to add, “Not that I dream about the FBI.”
“You wrote the Bureau asking for help, right?”
“I wrote everyone. I wrote New Hampshire State Police, Fish and Game, Grafton County Sheriff’s Department, Hastings Police Department, and yes, the FBI. Twice. Mostly I got form letters in response. I got nothing from the FBI.”
“You got me,” Rory said.
“Which, honestly, is more confusing.”
He said with a trace of apology, “The fact is, your letters were shuffled around for a bit before they landed on my boss’s desk.”
“Uh-huh. Excuse me.” I lay back on the mattress and closed my eyes, breathing slowly and carefully.
“You okay?”
“Probably.”
“Can I get you something?”
I moved my head in slight negation. He threw the ancient coverlet over my legs and feet, which got a twitchy smile from me.
