Read Online Unraveling by Elizabeth Norris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Norris
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possibility of burns. I shut the laptop and toss it back onto the bed before I run to the kitchen.
Thankfully, nothing is on fire.
But the muffins in the oven are burning—and smoking—and my mother is standing in the center of the room looking at a broken coffee mug, black eyeliner tears streaking down her face.
16:19:58:49
“A nd you’re sure it was the same guy?” Alex asks.
I shake my head and take a sip of the mocha frappe I grabbed from It’s a Grind, thankful I managed to get out of the house and away from my mom’s latest episode. I worry a little—or sometimes a lot—about leaving her alone, but every once in a while I also just have to get away. Since Alex’s house is next door, I tell myself I won’t be gone long, and I won’t be far in case she needs me.
Alex and I are sitting at the dining room table in his house with just about every textbook he owns spread out on the table, and he’s buried in a slew of physics problems.
I can’t talk to him about Ben Michaels, so I’m focusing on the accident.
“They could have mixed up the bodies…” There could be more than one John Doe who died in San Diego on Monday. It’s less likely than people would think, but it’s possible. And despite the eighty-seven different conclusions my brain latched on to the moment I started reading the autopsy, it has occurred to me that I’m supposed to be looking at evidence and letting the conclusions fall into place as a result, rather than speculating.
“But if it is him, it means he crashed because he was already dead.”
Alex doesn’t even glance up from his physics book. “And then you could stop being a moron and blaming yourself.”
I don’t want to get into that again. “Just listen to me,” I say. “Three still-unidentified victims in San Diego thirty years ago, COD severe radiation poisoning. Then nothing. Now suddenly there are at least three new cases, all in the span of less than two weeks. And one of them might have died while driving.” Driving the truck that killed me.
I don’t say that because Alex has made it clear he thinks the whole Ben Michaels thing is in my mind. Instead I say, “Think about it. My dad’s got all these case files, and now by some freak coincidence a truck hits me and the driver might be related to the same case.”
This time Alex closes the book and leans back in his chair. “What do you think’s causing the radiation?” he says, reaching for the espresso I brought him and lifting it to his lips. Only it’s empty because he downed it the second I got here, and caffeine isn’t going to magically appear just because he hopes it might.
“Sorry, I should have gotten you a double.”
He shakes his head and tosses me the empty cup. “No, it’s cool. Hide it before my mom comes in here and sees it.” I crumple it and stick it in my purse with a smile. “So the burns?” Alex prompts.
“Right. The burns are severe—hard-core severe.”
“So the obvious answer is some kind of nuclear radiation.”
I shrug. “Right, but from what?”
He’s chewing his lip, and I know my mission has been accomplished. Alex Trechter has completely abandoned his homework. A little contraband caffeine and something interesting to distract him is all he needs. “Could it be some kind of virus?” he asks. “Like an injection of something radioactive?”
“You watch too many bad movies.”
“I do not—”
“You still owe me for the two hours of my life that I lost watching Mission Impossible 2 . I can never get those back.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious.”
“Um, I’m serious too. What is with John Woo and those slow-motion doves?”
“Janelle, a virus would explain the late onset.”
I shake my head. “Not really. And wouldn’t the gamma burns manifest on the inside of the body, in the organs and body tissue?” I shiver a little at the mental image. “These burns were on his face and hands—exposed skin.”
Alex shakes his head.
Thankfully, nothing is on fire.
But the muffins in the oven are burning—and smoking—and my mother is standing in the center of the room looking at a broken coffee mug, black eyeliner tears streaking down her face.
16:19:58:49
“A nd you’re sure it was the same guy?” Alex asks.
I shake my head and take a sip of the mocha frappe I grabbed from It’s a Grind, thankful I managed to get out of the house and away from my mom’s latest episode. I worry a little—or sometimes a lot—about leaving her alone, but every once in a while I also just have to get away. Since Alex’s house is next door, I tell myself I won’t be gone long, and I won’t be far in case she needs me.
Alex and I are sitting at the dining room table in his house with just about every textbook he owns spread out on the table, and he’s buried in a slew of physics problems.
I can’t talk to him about Ben Michaels, so I’m focusing on the accident.
“They could have mixed up the bodies…” There could be more than one John Doe who died in San Diego on Monday. It’s less likely than people would think, but it’s possible. And despite the eighty-seven different conclusions my brain latched on to the moment I started reading the autopsy, it has occurred to me that I’m supposed to be looking at evidence and letting the conclusions fall into place as a result, rather than speculating.
“But if it is him, it means he crashed because he was already dead.”
Alex doesn’t even glance up from his physics book. “And then you could stop being a moron and blaming yourself.”
I don’t want to get into that again. “Just listen to me,” I say. “Three still-unidentified victims in San Diego thirty years ago, COD severe radiation poisoning. Then nothing. Now suddenly there are at least three new cases, all in the span of less than two weeks. And one of them might have died while driving.” Driving the truck that killed me.
I don’t say that because Alex has made it clear he thinks the whole Ben Michaels thing is in my mind. Instead I say, “Think about it. My dad’s got all these case files, and now by some freak coincidence a truck hits me and the driver might be related to the same case.”
This time Alex closes the book and leans back in his chair. “What do you think’s causing the radiation?” he says, reaching for the espresso I brought him and lifting it to his lips. Only it’s empty because he downed it the second I got here, and caffeine isn’t going to magically appear just because he hopes it might.
“Sorry, I should have gotten you a double.”
He shakes his head and tosses me the empty cup. “No, it’s cool. Hide it before my mom comes in here and sees it.” I crumple it and stick it in my purse with a smile. “So the burns?” Alex prompts.
“Right. The burns are severe—hard-core severe.”
“So the obvious answer is some kind of nuclear radiation.”
I shrug. “Right, but from what?”
He’s chewing his lip, and I know my mission has been accomplished. Alex Trechter has completely abandoned his homework. A little contraband caffeine and something interesting to distract him is all he needs. “Could it be some kind of virus?” he asks. “Like an injection of something radioactive?”
“You watch too many bad movies.”
“I do not—”
“You still owe me for the two hours of my life that I lost watching Mission Impossible 2 . I can never get those back.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious.”
“Um, I’m serious too. What is with John Woo and those slow-motion doves?”
“Janelle, a virus would explain the late onset.”
I shake my head. “Not really. And wouldn’t the gamma burns manifest on the inside of the body, in the organs and body tissue?” I shiver a little at the mental image. “These burns were on his face and hands—exposed skin.”
Alex shakes his head.
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