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He was nauseous and felt like he was fading, his energy waning with every teeth-rattling heartbeat as he made his way back. But Nelson could feel Nox, warm and soothing, beckoning and reaching for him through the cold, crushing darkness. Nox gathered Nelson in his arms, shielding them from the bitter chill and blocking out all the terrible racket so Nelson could think. And he wasn’t sick as they helped each other back to the Continental.
The slow drive down the mountain was draining as Nelson struggled to see through the fog rolling toward the car and blanketing the already treacherous winding road. When they blew past New Castle and reached the highway, he had been too rattled to do more than soak up Nox’s joyful warmth, his nearness and soft chatter recharging Nelson’s critically depleted batteries.
When they returned to Georgetown, Nelson was rewarded with another healing visit to Nox’s tranquil chamber. And Nelson felt like he was being rewarded and revered as Nox helped him undress in the bright white bathroom. Nox had declared that they both needed to be purified and had shed his clothes and pulled on a robe before filling the room with the heady smell of frankincense. He lit a bundle of herbs and berries, chanting and wafting Nelson with fragrant smoke as he stood in his boxers. Nelson repeated the salted moonwater rinse and took a hot shower before Nox anointed his scratches with oil.
“What is that?” Nelson asked, raising Nox’s hand to sniff the shallow crystal bowl.
“Mostly chamomile oil with helichrysum, lavender, geranium, and cedar wood oils,” Nox murmured as he worked. He used his fingertips, tenderly dripping and smoothing the oil onto the cuts on Nelson’s legs and arms from the concertina blades. Afterwards, they dressed and Nox refused to leave the house until Nelson consumed a cup of tea, a bowl of oatmeal, and half a pint of mixed berries to restore his energy.
Nelson had felt like a new man and had his head in the game when he drove Nox to Healy Hall to take over the morning’s lectures. He heard Nox apologize to the class for being late, confiding that he’d been in the mountains earlier in the morning assisting the FBI with an investigation, setting the room ablaze with excited whispers.
Just after lunch, Nelson had learned that Adam Tipton was a dead end.
In a way, Nelson was relieved that Tipton had been found and had a solid alibi that put him in North Carolina the days before and after Elsa died. The case was already so much bigger than Nelson had imagined and he was still emotionally winded from his visit to the MacCrorys’. Learning that Adam Tipton was “just” a garden variety creep and not connected was one less piece of their nightmare puzzle to reckon with.
Nox was equally philosophical when Nelson broke the news about Tipton as they drove back from the university. Nelson filled Nox in on all the details while he prepared a quick dinner for them. “It isn’t a bust,” Nox decided while heaping a scoop of brown rice pilaf into a wide bowl for Nelson. He topped it with roasted vegetables and a dollop of yogurt sauce and passed it to Nelson before preparing his own bowl. “Adam Tipton is alive and well.” He paused and pulled a face. “Unfortunately. And he has an ironclad alibi.”
“It turns out Mr. Tipton was on a yoga retreat, but got kicked out yesterday for making inappropriate advances towards one of the instructors and a guest.”
“So, he’s a predator, but not our predator. At least we don’t have to waste any more time worrying about him,” Nox said with a sarcastic cheer, earning a snort from Nelson.
“We had a long talk since I had time to kill while I was waiting for you. I told Mr. Tipton that the FBI was watching him and that I’d be at the next orientation if he signed up for a club or joined an organization and that I’d know if he so much as opened a dating app. He won’t be able to sign up for a subscription without me breathing down his neck.”
“Holy—!” Nox was staring at Nelson like he was made of crystals and moonbeams again.
Nelson looked to see if he’d spilled something on himself. “What?”
“I get tested regularly,” Nox announced.
“Tested? Is this for your teaching—?”
“No!” Nox gave him a loaded look. “Nelson. I’m on PrEP and I get tested every three months to make sure I’m clear and negative of any STIs.”
“Ah.” Nelson was quiet for several moments, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “I do know what that means,” he began, wondering why Nox thought that was relevant. “I wasn’t aware that we had changed topics but you are a teacher and spend most of your day in an academic environment so I assumed you meant…that sort of testing.” He shook his head, giving up. “Why did I need to know that now?”
Nox smirked as he swirled his fork through the yogurt sauce in his bowl. “I had the wild urge to go down on you while you were talking about your chat with Tipton.” He raised the fork to his lips and licked the yogurt off the tines. “I just thought you should know in case I break and things get messy. In the most pleasant way.”
“As long as I’m not buried in dirt,” Nelson said and took his dinner to the study to look at the boards.
“What are you thinking?” Nox asked excitedly, right on Nelson’s heels.
“Tipton isn’t our predator, so we need to go back to Elsa Hansen. She’s the key.”
“Why do you think she ended up at the MacCrorys’ by herself?”
Nelson shrugged, but his instincts told him she was too much of a risk. “She tried to escape before or she was a problem in some other way so she had to be moved. The MacCrorys weren’t ready for her. They chained her to a nail on a post and she was able to unhook herself and get out with her hands bound.” He had memorized every detail of that one picture he had dared to take while he was waiting for Nox at Georgetown. He could still see it when he closed his eyes and Nelson swore he would not fail those other girls, that he’d get to them before it was too late. “Let’s take Adam Tipton out of the equation,” Nelson said as he peeled Tipton’s photo off the board, crumpled it with one hand, and tossed it at the wastebasket next to Nox’s desk.
“Kobe!” Nox cheered when it went into the basket. “We were looking at the league connection. It turns out they were all members.”
Nelson rubbed his temple as he heard the whisper of a memory. It was a muffled question about a shiny picture and colored ribbons. “What’s a lanyard girl?” He asked as he replayed the conversation while staring at the picture of Elsa on the chalkboard. She was smiling and wearing a dress, but Nelson pictured her in the dark purple polo shirt from her Literacy League lanyard photo.
“We told you,” Nox said as he joined Nelson at the board. “Elsa collected lanyards. A few of the other girls do too.”
“But they all had lanyards from the league.” Nelson’s hand stretched across his lips to hold back the hysterical laugh building in his chest as the pieces began to slide together.
“They never went to meetings or even knew each other, though,” Nox reminded Nelson. “How did our kidnapper know all these girls were in the same literacy league and how to get to them? It couldn’t have been through the Facebook group. Most of them don’t use their real names.”
“They all had lanyards,” Nelson repeated. “With photos.”
