George looked at him doubtfully, but gave in. “Fine, I’ll make you some tea. Chamomile?”
“Chamomile would be nice, yes. Thank you.”
George muttered something under his breath and left the room. Andi tried not to think about how much he liked seeing George worry about him. Carefully he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He still felt a bit dizzy, but it was manageable. Scrunching his nose, Andi went first to the window to open it, then he took the bucket to the bathroom and emptied it into the toilet. For a moment, his stomach protested the wave of sour smell hitting his nose and he fought against throwing up again. He used the toilet, took a quick shower that eased some of the pain between his temples, and put on fresh clothes. When he got downstairs, he smelled coffee and the weaker aroma of chamomile tea coming from the kitchen. George had two Starbucks cups on the counter, as well as one of Andi’s own teacups.
“I brought your usual from Starbucks, but I think you should drink some chamomile for your stomach. Did you catch something?”
Andi sat down on the counter, warming his hands on the steaming cup. “No, I….” He wasn’t sure what to say. He found he didn’t want to lie to George but didn’t know what to tell him either. “I was thinking about the case. It got late, and I guess I was still affected by lack of sleep. I got sick and was too dizzy to empty the bucket.”
George sighed. If he had picked up on Andi’s hesitancy, he didn’t show it. “You were supposed to rest, not ponder the case. You look horrible.”
“Thank you very much.” Andi furrowed his brows. “How did you get into the house, by the way?”
“After I tried calling you and it went straight to voicemail, I started worrying. I tried your front door, and it wasn’t locked. That’s when I decided to go in.”
“Ah, I remember silencing my cell. And I probably forgot locking the door.”
“You must have been really out of it. I’m sure this is a pretty safe area, Andi, but still, forgetting to lock your front door?” George sounded like a loving father whose patience was sorely tested by his child’s antics. Not that Andi knew what a loving father sounded like.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember in the future.”
“And now you’re trying to placate me. I’d tell you where to stick it, but I don’t go after defenseless men.” George grinned broadly.
“Har, har. Nice joke.” Andi took a sip of his chamomile tea. His stomach approved. There were a few minutes of companionable silence while they both drank their beverages. Finally, George reached for the two paper bags which most likely contained his own breakfast and Andi’s plain bagel.
“Are you ready to go to the precinct?”
Andi shook his head and immediately regretted it. The pounding in his skull now resembled Scottish bagpipes backed up by at least a hundred war drums. He winced. “We’re not going to the precinct. We’re going to Berkeley.”
“What do we want in Berkeley? That’s outside of Charleston, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
The following silence wasn’t that companionable anymore. It grew more pronounced with each beat of Andi’s heart. Finally, George lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve got a hunch?”
“I’ve got a hunch.” Andi didn’t know what else to say.
George’s shoulders slumped a tiny bit, and it affected Andi more than it should have. “It’s the kind of hunch you can’t tell me about, am I right?” When Andi nodded, George rubbed his face with his hand. It was a tired gesture, laced with frustration. “I really don’t know what to think right now. I mean, you look like you’ve been through hell and back, you were sick like a dog, and now you tell me to go to Berkeley. Are you taking mind-enhancing drugs, Andi?”
For a moment, Andi was speechless, not knowing if he should laugh or be offended. He decided on the first. “I already told you I don’t do drugs and that my—what did Norris call it?—instinct isn’t illegal. The only drugs I took were two Advils to keep the migraine at bay. Can you trust me on this?”
George seemed torn. “I’ve got to admit this is more difficult than I thought. I want to trust you, hell, I think I already do, but not knowing where you get your information from is hard.”
At that moment, Andi was tempted to tell George his secret. Things would be so much easier if George knew what was going on—but no, he couldn’t risk it. “I’m sorry, George. I really am. But I can’t tell you.”
There was a brief flash of anger and hurt on George’s features, but he got it under control quickly.
“I understand. I do.” He gritted his teeth. “Doesn’t make me less angry, though.” George grabbed his coffee. “Let’s go.”
THE DRIVEto Berkeley was accompanied by aggravating silence, and their sparse dialogue was limited to “Can I switch to another radio station?”
“No.”
The farther they got, the more space there was between the houses—if one wanted to still call those mansions houses. The driveways reached farther and farther back until the buildings couldn’t be seen from the road anymore. Andi felt the familiar images from the evening before pressing against the back of his mind, telling him they were almost there. A quick check on his phone informed him this was the estate of the Castain family, who’d lived in this area for the past two hundred years and was old money. Andi contemplated the best course of action while they drove past the gated entryway. Simply ringing the bell was out of the question without a plausible backup story, which they didn’t have. Besides, it certainly wouldn’t help the poor victims trapped in the huge building hidden behind several bends in the driveway and a grove of massive old oaks that obstructed the view for anybody who tried to sneak a peek.
“Can you stop at the next possible place?” he asked George, who furrowed his brows but nodded in acknowledgment. He found a turning bay about half a mile farther down the road and stopped there.
“Could you explain to me what’s going on here? Why are we stopping in the middle of rich-man’s-land?” Apparently, the time it had taken them to get to Berkeley had brought George’s anger to a boiling point. Just what Andi needed after the night he’d had.
