High Energy by Joy, Dara (ink book reader .TXT) 📗

won't tell anyone."

She laughed. "All right; I missed you too."

"I know you often drive into Stockboro just to use the word processor in your

office. I thought it might be easier for you, especially when winter comes and

the snow starts piling up, if you had a lap-top."

"I'd love a lap-top, but they're too expensive. I can't afford one on my salary.

I have a confession to make: I'm not exactly a Rockerfeller."

"And here I thought I could woo you for your money."

She dug into her pocket, withdrawing thirty-five cents in change. "Will that

suffice?"

"Yes. I can be had cheaply." He hugged her. "Seriously, let me buy you a

lap-top."

"That's very sweet, Tyber, but far too grand a gesture. Besides, I'm sure we'll

figure out LaLeche's scam way before then, so I'll be back in my cozy in-town

apartment just a hairsbreadth from the office."

He stilled a moment.

"Christmas is only a few months away and it's our first case—it might take us

longer than you think." Might take years, he thought.

She placed her hands on top of his, which were laced together resting on her

stomach. "Oh, I couldn't let you do that, Tyber, really. It's so sweet of you,

but please don't. Anyway, if I had a lap-top, I'd be tempted to do what I've

always wanted to do."

"Which is?"

"You promise you won't laugh?"

"I'd never laugh at someone's dream. After all, I happen to live in one of my

own." He gestured to the house.

"Yes, you do. Do you know how lucky you are, Tyber? To live your dream?"

"I do. But some dreams lend themselves to creation, Zanita. Take the atmosphere

of this house, for instance. Atmosphere is not tangible, but can arise out of a

collection of tangible things. I created the atmosphere, so in a sense, I

created the dream."

"Tyberius Augustus Evans, dream-weaver extraordinaire." She cuddled into him.

He smiled faintly. "Then there are the other dreams, the ones that cannot be

created. They're dreams of hope and desire. Should those dreams become reality,

a person is indeed lucky." His arms tightened around her. "So what is your deep,

dark secret?" He kissed her behind her ear.

"I would love to just… well, I've always wanted to investigate… the unusual and

then write about it."

Tyber was not at all surprised. Somehow this was very Zanita. "Care to define

unusual?"

"No, that's just it—whatever I think I should write about. I would take these

unusual subjects, like the paranormal for instance, and write about them

honestly. Seriously. No tabloid journalism. No slant on sensationalism. I mean

real, serious exploration. If it wasn't so, I'd unveil it; if it was, I'd reveal

it."

"Isn't it being done?"

"Not the way I would do it. Most articles out there are either not completely

factual, or else the reader feels that the author left out a chunk of the story

to support his or her particular slant. I want to do it in a totally unbiased

way—report exactly what I found, whatever the subject. That's why I was so

excited when the LaLeche story presented itself to me."

"Yes, but you did have an opinion about him before you met him," he pointed out.

"True, but one has to have a healthy dose of skepticism and that story is

somewhat different. I still would have endeavored to write an unbiased article,

regardless of my personal feelings at the outset. It's just that he's an eel and

we both know it."

"So, what you're saying is, you want to explore paranormal topics, do your own

investigation, and write about it." My God, she's found the perfect mathematical

formula for trouble, he thought prosaically.

"Exactly! It's different when you observe someone doing the investigation and

write about it. It's not the same as actually doing the investigation. Being

there." She sighed contentedly. "I could really get into that."

Tyber gazed down at the top of her head, something close to horror crossing his

features.

"But that's not my favorite dream."

Endless Zanita possibilities for danger rapidly traversed his mind.

She blithely continued, "If I had more time, I'd like to—" She stopped suddenly,

aware that she was about to reveal another secret.

"Like to what? C'mon, you have to tell me now." While I'm still numb.

"Well, if I had a lap-top, I might like to give fiction writing a try; you know,

using some of my stories as background…." Now that sounded like an excellent

idea to him.

She half-turned, gazing earnestly up at him. "So, what do you think?"

I think you're going to get a lap-top for Christmas. "Don't ever give up your

dreams, Zanita." He placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting her face

for the tender press of his pirate mouth. "I promise you; I won't ever give up

on mine."

"This wasn't too bad a drive."

Tyber threw her a look. "How would you know? You slept most of the way."

She straightened her skirt, swallowing painfully. She had been right about the

scratchy throat—it hadn't gone away. In fact, it felt distinctly worse. "Did I

miss anything?"

"Just a perfectly good UFO sighting."

"Ha-ha."

"Red, cylindrical object, pulsating in the sky, seeming to appear from out of

nowhere…"

Her violet eyes widened. "You are joking aren't you?"

"I'm not going to tell you. Maybe from now on you won't fall asleep on me." He

glanced her way. "Although it does give you a lovely glow when you wake up."

It was probably the beginnings of a fever, but she wasn't about to tell him;

he'd probably insist they return home and there was no way she was going to do

that. They had a toehold on LaLeche; she wasn't about to lose it now.

The South Town meeting hall was about a quarter the size of Kingston Hall. As

they took their seats, Zanita noted that Tyber had been right about the

audience, too. It seemed only the most devout followers from the last seminar

had chosen to come to this one.

She recognized a few of the faces, surprised when several of them remembered her

by saying hello to her by name. Most of them were men.

"I can't believe they remembered me," she whispered to Tyber.

He stared at her stonily.

"What?"

"Nothing."

LaLeche entered the room, going behind the podium on the raised dais. "Good

evening. Thank you for coming. This is much nicer, isn't it? Smaller, less

formal—I prefer it, how about you?" Everyone applauded.

Except Tyber.

Zanita elbowed him