Free Hidden Things by Doyce Testerman Page B

all I’m saying.”
    She nodded and leaned against him again. “He knows. He’s lectured me about it often enough.”
    â€œMmm.”
    â€œAnyway,” she said. “There’s the phone call. He’s not dead, even if he is in Iowa.” Tom’s low chuckle carried into Calliope’s chest, easing her worry a fraction. “It’s worse than that,” she said, riding the momentum of Tom’s amusement. “The only lead I’ve figured out might mean I have to go out there myself.” She let the statement trail off into a small laugh, but stopped when there was no answering sound from Tom. Around her, his arms had gone unresponsive, dead weight holding her down rather than a comforting embrace.
    â€œGo out to Iowa.” It was a statement, not a question.
    â€œMaybe?” The change in his mood left her off balance. “I’m not sure yet if it’s even—”
    â€œYou told me once you’d never go back there,” he said. “ ‘Not for anyone.’ ”
    Calliope’s breath went cold inside her chest. She stepped back out of Tom’s embrace; he let her go without a hint of reluctance. “That was something else entirely.”
    He nodded, moving slowly. “Well, it was me.” He said the words the way someone might say mostly cloudy . “Not Joshua.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “He might be dead. Definitely in trouble.”
    â€œAnd you’re running off to save him.” Tom’s mouth twisted, as though he’d just realized a new kind of pain. “Right into the same thing that he ran into. Blind.”
    â€œI don’t—”
    â€œNo.” He shook his head. “You can’t do this.”
    She sighed. “Listen—”
    â€œNo.” He leveled a long, calloused finger at her. “For once, you listen.” Incredibly, even now, he wasn’t raising his voice; Calliope wondered if he even knew how. “You—” His eyes came up to hers, and he stopped. For a few seconds, his finger continued pointing at her, then he lowered it. He took a breath as though he were about to say something, held it, shook his head, and let it out in a long exhalation. Calliope blinked when he turned to the door and opened it on the chilly morning.
    â€œWhat . . .” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but it was enough to make him stop, at least for a second.
    He turned just enough to look at her sidelong over his shoulder. “You’ve already decided you’re going,” he murmured. “I don’t know if you know it yet, but you have.” He turned back to the open door, straightened his shoulders from his subtle, perpetual stoop, and stretched. His next words were spoken to the open morning air. “And you’re going for Joshua, pure and simple, and I don’t know if you know that, either.”
    Her throat grew tight. “That’s not fair.”
    â€œI love you,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to be crazy worried about you until you come back.” He moved out onto the front step and turned back just enough to reach the door handle, without meeting her eyes. “So, please come back.”
    â€œTom—”
    â€œI love you. Be careful.”
    The door closed. The house might have been dead quiet, but Calliope couldn’t tell over the pulse beating at her ears.
    Â 
    When the phone rang, Calliope—still standing in the entry-way, staring at the door—jumped as though she’d been electrocuted.
    She fumbled the phone out of the pocket of her jacket where it hung on the back of a chair. The screen displayed a number she already recognized, and she thumbed the answer button. “Good morning, Detective.”
    â€œLikewise, M—” He paused. “Calliope.”
    â€œWell done,” she murmured, trying to inject some kind of amusement into her