Asp of Ascension (A Nefertari Hughes Mystery #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Hey," Zach said. "I tried you earlier, but your phone was off."

"I...uh, thought you were someone else," Terry said shakily.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

'Okay' was the last word Terry would use to describe her current status. She had to switch gears from crazy Egyptologist to hot guy with crazy girlfriend. Terry tried to picture an Egyptian sunset, concentrating on the three colours. That image always calmed her down. "I'm okay," she said, not wanting to complicate things further. She was sick of complications.

"You sounded a little—" He changed his mind mid-sentence. "I mean, is it a good time to talk? I can call later."

The clock radio on the side table read ten thirty. Terry felt like it was past midnight. "No, I can talk." She left the bedroom and walked into the sitting area. The floor-to-ceiling windows boasted a spectacular view of Devonshire's nightscape. Beyond the city's expansive park, the business towers of downtown stretched up to the stars, creating thin columns of light along the horizon. If she weren't alone and afraid, the view would have been inspiring. "What's up?" she asked.

"I just wanted to let you know your idea worked."

"What idea?"

"The eyebrow trick," he said. "I did it in practice this afternoon before every free throw, and I made every one." His tone was even, but there was an underlying excitement.

She imagined him standing at the line with everyone in the crowd watching him. Then smoothly, deliberately, he'd touch the edge of his eyebrow—just like she'd told him. "Of course," she said. "I'm a basketball genius."

He laughed. "It freaked the guys out a bit, but it worked." Then he repeated more softly. "Every time."

Terry smiled against her phone, his words vibrating against her ear, tickling the skin there. "Every single time?" she teased.

"Coach made a big deal about it. He even made up a new game plan for me to get fouled as much as possible."

"Is that good?" she worried. "That seems like a lot of pressure to dump on your shoulders. What about the other players?"

There was the dim background noise of a television. "I'm used to pressure," he said. There was a rustle, and the sound grew quiet. "Sorry, I was just watching a movie."

"Oh," Terry imagined Zach watching a sportscast or something. "Is it about basketball?"

"Seriously? Is that all you think I'm interested in? Have you already forgotten about my piano concerto talents?" There was a playful flirt to his voice.

"So the movie is about piano players?" she teased.

"Of course not, it's about football."

Terry limped closer to the window, her knee brace creaking. She'd forgotten to take her anti-inflammatories after dinner. Now it would be another hour before the pain would subside. "Zach," she sighed. "You're such a..." Terry paused, wishing she could tell him what she was feeling, but her head was so messed up tonight.

"I'm such a what?" he prompted, his voice gentle.

A frustrating enigma. Terry stood in front of the window, her reflection staring back at her. She combed her long bangs to the side with her fingers, thinking about what Prince Kamal had said about carrying a burden.

She took a deep breath, then quickly said, "Did you put that sketch in my locker?"

Terry knew she was going out on a limb. She had no proof. He could have been drawing stick figures with boobs on his notepad for all she knew.