Page 120 of High Society

“Koala!” Walter mumbles, and Reese glances over to him, unconcerned. His eyes drift back to the ceiling.

“Why, Reese?” Holly motions to Walter. “This isn’t necessary.”

“I wish,” Reese says wistfully. “But you weren’t ever going to let this go, were you? I thought maybe if you found out your husband had ambushed JJ on the night she died, that might divert you. I even called his office from Liisa’s phone to muddy the waters.” She sighs heavily. “But no. You kept pressing and pressing. And once Salvador let it slip to you that I had plans to meet JJ that night… well, if you hadn’t already figured out my connection, you would’ve soon enough. I saw it in your eyes yesterday. Your single-mindedness. It’s like mine. Unrelenting. And I couldn’t take the chance. Not with that detective already poking his nose around.”

Holly takes another step toward her grandfather. “I don’t care about any of it. I just want to make sure he’s OK.”

“Get back,” Reese growls.

Holly again notices the old towels and rags on the floor near the hookah. And then it hits her. A fire! From a hookah pipe. That’s how Reese plans to cover up their deaths.

“Now that I’ve poured out my soul, I have a few questions of my own.” Reese levels the gun again. “I’m going to borrow your technique for cutting through all the BS. Like how you did with JJ and Simon. Your little truth serum.”

Reese opens a small container beside her hip, scoops up a spoonful of whitish powder, and feeds it into the hookah. As she’s focusing on the task, Holly slips a hand into her bag until her fingers wrap around the pepper spray canister. She eases her fist out of the bag, praying Reese hasn’t noticed.

As the stink intensifies and the smoke begins to rise from the top of the hookah, Reese gets to her feet and takes a few steps away from Walter. She motions with the gun. “Please, Dr. Danvers. Have a seat beside Grandpa.”

Keeping her fist closed, Holly lowers herself down beside the beanbag. With her free hand, she rubs his shoulder. “It’s OK, Papa.”

“More than OK, Koala,” he says, slurring his words, a thin line of drool running from the corner of his lip.

Reese tosses her something that Holly recognizes as a blindfold as soon as it lands by her leg. “Put it on, please. But don’t cover your eyes yet.”

Holly struggles to keep the canister tucked in her palm with her fourth and fifth finger, as she slips the blindfold over her forehead.

Reese motions to the tubing with her gun. “Grab ahold of it, please.”

Reese is still too far away to be sprayed. Reluctantly, Holly lifts the tube and brings the tip to her lips.

“Blindfold down, please.”

Holly reluctantly complies, plunging the room into darkness.

“Set and setting, Dr. Danvers. Isn’t that what you always tell us? Go to your happy place now. Maybe best to pick a time before the tribe, huh?”

This used to be my happy place, Holly thinks with bitter irony.

“It’s time to smoke,” Reese instructs.

Holly hesitates.

“The gun is pointed at your head!” Reese barks. “Grandpa’s next.”

Holly inhales a tiny breath, pretending to take more.

“Deeper!” Reese cries.

Holly inhales again, this time feeling the burn travel all the way down her throat. She coughs, and the smoke seeps out of her mouth and nose.

“Another!”

Holly complies. And she chokes again. As the DMT kicks in, Holly sees flashing lights in her periphery.

“Who have you told about me?” Reese’s voice sounds as if it’s coming through a tunnel.

“No one.”

“Have you mentioned me to that detective yet?”