Thin Air Page 0,69

had definitely changed from flat desert to hilly desert. The rain had stopped, but the weather was still cloudy and-by the feel of my window glass-blood-warm. Eamon, still driving, looked tired and annoyed. Sarah was asleep again. I felt in the pocket of my jeans to be sure I still had possession of her Oxy. She was whimpering quietly to herself-bad dreams or withdrawal, I couldn't be sure.

"Doesn't matter where we are; we're not where we're going," Eamon snapped. "Someone's following us."

No kidding. Well, I hadn't thought he'd miss it. "White van?"

"Yes." He glanced at me with hard, shiny eyes like wet pebbles. "You knew."

I shrugged and stretched. "Didn't matter," I said. "Right? Plus, I didn't want you solving the problem with a bullet."

"The first problem I solved for you with a bullet is buried back there in the desert, love, and if I hadn't, we'd be identifying you on a cold steel slab," he said. I was ominously afraid he was right. "We need to find out who might have an interest in tailing us. One of your Warden friends, perhaps. Or someone from the police."

"It's not the police. At least, not official. They wouldn't be following us across state lines. Besides, I think it's probably about you, not me. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who makes a lot of friends, Eamon."

He evidently found that logic to be slightly persuasive. He even looked a little thoughtful. "They do tend to have a short shelf life," he admitted. "Friends, lovers, relationships of any sort. I've often regretted that."

Just when I thought it was possible to really work up a decent hate for him, he had to disarm me with self-deprecation. Dead guy, I reminded myself. Shot in the head. Remember who you're talking to.

"Speaking of short shelf lives," he continued in a far too casual tone, "I'm surprised you're not traveling with your beau."

"Beau," I repeated. Was he talking about Lewis? David? Somebody else altogether?

"How soon they forget. And I thought it was true love." Eamon's smile became positively predatory. "Oh, come now. You do remember him, don't you? I wouldn't think amnesia could wipe out that."

"Just because I don't want to talk about it with you doesn't mean I don't remember," I said hotly. "Back off."

"He made quite a production of telling me to stay away from you, once upon a time," Eamon said. "I've got the scars to prove it. Thoughtful of him to leave them-although to be fair, he did keep me from bleeding to death. So, shall I worry about your somewhat supernatural boyfriend charging to your rescue?"

"Maybe," I said, and smiled back at him. One good menacing pseudo-grin deserved another. "Nervous?"

"Terrified," he said, in a way that indicated he wasn't. But I wondered. "What about the girl?"

I stayed quiet. Girl covered quite a lot of territory.

"Don't tell me you don't remember your own daughter."

Imara. He was talking about...How did he know her? What had happened between the two of them? I glared at him, trying to find a way to phrase questions that wouldn't reveal my ignorance, and failing miserably.

"Let's agree to stay off the subject of my personal life," I said, "because I swear to God, if you mention either of them again, I'll rip your tongue out and use it for a toilet brush. Please tell me we're getting close to wherever it is we're going."

"Yes," he said. "We're getting close."

"Then explain to me what it is you want me to do."

"Nothing too terribly exciting," Eamon said. "I'd like a building destroyed."

I gaped at him. Honestly. Gaped. He what? "Are you insane?" I asked. "No, strike that; the answer's pretty obvious. What makes you think I'd do a thing like that?"

"For one thing, you've done it before-and, of course, so have more than a few of the Weather Wardens, for fun and profit. I told you I had a construction investment in Florida-it was more of a construction investment designed to experience catastrophic failure during some natural disaster or other. Florida's quite prone to them, but California...well. It's the mecca for that sort of thing, isn't it?"

"Eamon-"

"It's perfectly simple. I know you can do it without even breaking a sweat. I won't bother threatening your life, Joanne. You've amply demonstrated to me how little your own survival means to you." Eamon shrugged slightly. "I'd almost admire that, if I didn't find it ridiculous. Sacrificing your life for others is nothing but a socially accepted version of suicide. It's just