No Man's Land

by David Baldacci

  He locked the front door, walked up the stairs, and found the door to the room unlocked. He opened it and flicked on the light.

  Davis was not in the first room, so he passed through into the bedroom. And there she was, sprawled on the bed and without a stitch of clothing on.

  He drew closer, looked around, found a blanket draped over a chair, snatched it up, and threw it over her.

  Then he sat down in the chair and waited.

  He heard a ding from somewhere and instantly sat rigid in his seat.

  Then he noticed her phone on the nightstand. It had lighted up when the text came in.

  He looked at the screen.

  Had to leave, babe. Early meeting tomorrow. Paul the bouncer taking you home to NC when you wake. See you soon. J

  Rogers sat back down and watched her. She tossed and turned in her sleep and several times pulled the blanket off herself. Each time Rogers put it back on.

  Finally, at about four in the morning she sat straight up, pulled the blanket off her, and looked straight at him.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  She didn’t seem to be embarrassed that she had no clothes on.

  “Your phone will explain.”

  “What?”

  “A message from Mr. Quentin.”

  She looked around, seized her phone, and accessed the message.

  “You’re Paul?” she said groggily.

  “I was at the front door when you came in. I’m the bouncer.”

  She looked down at her bare chest. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  “I don’t know. I covered you with the blanket.”

  He got up and looked around. Then he got on his knees and pulled her skirt, top, and a bra and underwear out from under the bed. He dropped the articles of clothing on the bed and said, “I’ll wait for you in the other room while you get dressed.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  He heard her get up. He also heard her stumble, apparently hit her knee, and loudly curse. A minute later the door opened. She was still zipping up her skirt.

  “Any idea where my shoes are?” she said crossly.

  He reached behind a sofa pillow and pulled out a pair of stilettos.

  “Thanks.” She sat and put them on.

  As they walked down the stairs he said, “I’m afraid I’ve only got a crappy van.”

  “If they had Uber in this shithole I’d use them. I’m in North Carolina. It’s two hours.”

  “Mr. Quentin told me.”

  “Mr. Quentin just fucking left me?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Asshole!”

  “Do you want me to drive you to a hotel here instead? You can make arrangements to go home tomorrow. Well, it’s already tomorrow, but I mean later in the day.”

  “No. I’m wide awake now. Let’s just get on the road.”

  He locked up the bar after setting the alarm system and they walked to his van. They climbed in and, to her credit, she didn’t complain about the condition of the interior. She curled up in her seat and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll need directions,” lied Rogers.

  “Get on Sixty-Four going towards Norfolk. I’ll tell you from there.”

  “Okay.”

  He drove onto the interstate and settled back in his seat.

  She gave him directions as needed, though he knew the way and they were soon nearing the Outer Banks. Traffic was nonexistent at this time of morning.

  “Have you known Mr. Quentin a long time?” Rogers asked.

  She looked at him with puffy eyes. “Why?”

  “No reason. Just making conversation.”

  “Well, stop. I don’t know you.”

  “Sorry.”

  He gazed out the windshield at the coming dawn, thinking that she was right around the same age as the dead women.

  “About five years,” she said abruptly.

  He glanced at her. She was staring at him.

  “I’ve known him about five years.”

  “Ms. Myers says he’s very successful. A real up-and-comer.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Guy obviously has money.”

  “Oh, he’s got money all right.”

  “How’d you two meet? Must have been after college. I know he’s thirty.”

  “Why do you think I went to college?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t most young people these days go to college?”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “If I did I probably wouldn’t be a bar bouncer at my age.”

  “How old are you?”

  He told her. “How old are you?” he asked.

  “You’re not supposed to ask a woman her age.”

  “Didn’t know that.”

  “I’m thirty-one.” She reached out and felt his shoulder. “You look old in the face. But you’re jacked like an athlete. You ever think of having a face-lift?”

  “May be hard for you to believe, but it’s never crossed my mind.”

  Her interest obviously growing, she felt his bicep. “I’m serious, I bet you don’t have any body fat at all.” She tugged at his shirt. “You got a six-pack under there? Guys your age always have potbellies. But not you.” He felt her fingers flit over his crotch.

  He gently nudged her hand away and said, “How’s your head?”

  She straightened and stared out the windshield. “I don’t get hangovers. I just pass out when I drink too much. I’m fine. And I’m hungry.” She looked out the window. “There’s an IHOP a half mile up ahead. Let’s get some breakfast.”

  He pulled into the parking lot and she led him into the place, which was about half full at this hour. They ordered coffee and food. She played with her paper napkin and stared over at him.

  “Why are you a bouncer?”

  “Only job I could find.”

  “I don’t have a job, not really.”

  “What do you do with your time, then?”

  “Pretty much whatever I want.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “You think?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always had to work. But I guess it’s good to have some purpose.”

  “Josh is a dick.”

  “I thought you were friends.”

  And lovers, he thought.

  “We are, but he’s still a dick. Don’t you have any dick friends?”

  Rogers shook his head. “I don’t have any friends.”

  Their coffee came, followed by their food a minute later.

  As they ate Rogers said, “Why is he a dick?”

  “He thinks way too much of himself.”

  “But you hang out with him.”

  She shrugged. “We sort of got thrown together. We’re sort of in business together.”

  “Really? I thought he had his own company.”

  “He’s the head guy. But that doesn’t mean he actually runs it.”

  “What’s the company?”

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  “Damn, hey, baby!”

  They looked up to see three large young men in jeans and T-shirts standing next to their table. One of them said to Davis, “I know you, sweet cheeks.”

  “I don’t think you do,” she said sharply and turned back to her cup of coffee.

  “I know I do. A party couple weeks ago at a frat house at East Carolina. We got it on. You telling me you forgot?”

  “I’m telling you I don’t know you.”

  His face flushed and then creased in anger. “Is that right? Shit, all you talked about was how big and hard I was. Screaming like a bitch. You telling me you don’t remember that?! Your name’s Suzy, right?”

  She stared back up at him. “Go away! I don’t know you.”

  “Look, you—”

  Rogers interjected, “Just move on, guys, the lady’s not buying.”

  Now all three men turned their attention to Rogers. The first one said,
“Did I ask for your two cents, Gramps?”

  “No, but I’m giving it anyway.”

  Their waitress, who had been watching all of this, rushed over. “Look, we don’t want no trouble here. Just leave these folks alone or I’ll have to call the cops.”

  The man turned, gripped her face with his hand, and shoved her away. She staggered back, hit a table, and fell to the floor. The lady working the cash register picked up the phone and punched in 911.

  The man turned back to Rogers. “Well, let me give you some advice, old man.” He put his big hands on the table and leaned in close. “Mind your business before you get hurt.”

  Rogers sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He’d been having a nice breakfast and was finally getting some useful information when the Three Stooges had shown up.

  Just dial it back. Only enough to get their attention.

  When his hand came back down on the table, it landed on top of the young man’s.

  And he pressed down.

  “Shit!” yelled the man. “Let go. Fuckin’ let go of me.”

  Rogers pressed down even more.

  The man dropped to his knees screaming.

  Rogers finally let go, gripped the back of the man’s head, and slammed it against the table. He fell to the floor unconscious.

  The other two men leapt at Rogers.

  He caught the first one with a punch in the gut. He had to consciously pull back most of the force, so the man merely fell to the floor holding his belly and throwing up.

  The third guy got behind Rogers and put him in a chokehold.

  Rogers reached a hand up, effortlessly peeled the man’s fingers away from his throat, stood, and turned. He planted a vise grip on the man’s wrist, spun him around, and torqued the arm up so high that the man’s shoulder popped out of joint. He fell to the floor howling in pain.

  Rogers put some cash down on the table. “You ready to go?” he asked Davis.

  She looked up at him openmouthed and nodded.

  Rogers had seen the lady at the cash register phoning what he knew was the police. He did not want to be here when they arrived.

  Some of the customers, mostly elderly folks, clapped in appreciation as they passed by.

  They reached the van and got in. Rogers put it in gear and sped out of the parking lot.

  “That was freaking amazing,” gushed Davis. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “School of hard knocks, I guess.”

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Paul.”

  “Paul what?”

  “Just Paul.”

  She sat back and looked out the windshield. “I did know that guy.”

  “Okay.”

  “I sort of make bad choices with men.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “Where do you come from?” she asked.

  He shot her a glance. “What, family, you mean?”

  “Whatever you want it to mean.”

  “Then I don’t come from anywhere. I’m just…here. I’ve got nobody. Just myself.”

  She nodded. “I can relate.”

  “Come on, you’re way too young and pretty to be alone.”

  She waved this off. “My dad died in prison. He popped a drug dealer who gave him some bad coke. My mom smoked crack for breakfast till she croaked.”

  He shot her another glance. “You’re shitting me?”

  She grinned. “Maybe I am.” Her smile vanished. “Or maybe I’m not. I know I’ve been on my own since I was thirteen.”

  “So you didn’t go to college, then?”

  “I went to East Carolina. And let an idiot screw me because I was bored. But then you know about that.”

  She laughed but then turned serious. She reached her hand across and laid it on top of his. The look on her face was crystal clear as to her intent.

  Still, it took Rogers a few moments to pick up on this. He was taken aback. “Come on, I’m an old ugly fart who needs a face-lift. Said so yourself.”

  She just continued to stare at him and stroke his hand.

  Rogers looked back at the road.

  “When was the last time you were with a woman?” she asked.

  He glanced over to find her watching him.

  “It’s been a while.”

  “I could tell.”

  Rogers looked back at the road. He didn’t know this woman. She was working for Ballard. She was screwing Quentin. Apparently she was screwing whoever wanted to do her. He didn’t know why he’d defended her at the breakfast place. It was none of his concern. But he had done it nevertheless.

  “Paul?” she said. “Maybe we should pull off the road.”

  He parked behind a boarded-up strip mall, put the van in park, and looked at her. For the first time he really looked at her. Not as a potential lead. Not as a way to get to Jericho. Not as someone he might kill. He looked at her the way a guy is supposed to look at a woman in certain instances. And he found a beautiful young lady who wanted him, staring back.

  He blinked. A memory flickered across the horizon of his brain. A young man. A young woman. Flesh on flesh. Bodies as one. The rise, and fall, and the aftermath. All…something wonderful. Something he’d never experienced since.

  Her hand stopped stroking. She leaned over and kissed him. “Come on,” she said. She slipped between the seats and into the