by Pat Warren
“I don’t want to leave you here alone, Terry.”
“I’ll be fine. Lock the door and I’ll put on the chain. And leave me your gun.”
“But you need to eat. You’ll feel better.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Please, Luke. I just can’t make myself go. Bring me back a sandwich, if you insist.”
He hesitated. He’d spotted a coffee shop next door and a Burger King across the street. One of them would do and neither was far. The room faced the street two stories up. No one would have access that way. He was uncomfortable about leaving her, but he’d be gone ten minutes tops.
He looked into her drowsy eyes. “All right. Come put the chain on and don’t open the door under any circumstances unless you recognize my voice.”
Sleepily, still shivering, Terry got up and padded after him to the door.
“I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”
“Okay.” He stepped through the door. “Oh, Luke?” She waited until he turned back. “Thanks. For understanding.”
He stared at her a long minute, nodded finally, and hurried down the hall toward the elevators.
He was in Burger King, standing at the counter, opening his wallet as the clerk set down the sacks of food when he realized that something was very wrong. His wallet contained not a single dollar.
It took a moment for the shocking truth to hit Luke. Muttering a foul oath, he turned on his heel and sprinted out the door, ignoring the surprised clerk calling out after him.
He hit the street running, dodged several cars crossing, raced through the lobby and took the stairs up two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator. The key turned in the lock and there was no restraining chain to keep him from opening the door. And he knew even before he stepped into the room.
Terry was gone.
Out on the street in front of the inn, Luke forced himself to breathe deeply as his eyes scanned the sidewalk, wondering which direction to try first. She had a scant ten-minute start on him at the most, and he could walk much faster. There were more people to the left, the block cluttered with storefronts housing a small boutique, a movie theater, a camera shop, a drugstore and so on. She’d probably figure she could be less easily spotted in a crowd. He started walking.
He tried to remember how much cash he’d had in his wallet. About sixty dollars, to the best of his recollection. It wouldn’t take her far. Not enough for much of a plane ticket and the closest airport was San Jose. She scarcely had enough for bus fare. Where would she head? he asked himself, trying to think as she might.
He’d already guessed why she’d taken off, or at least he thought he knew. Too damn much pressure too steadily applied. Fear had ruled her life since the moment she’d awakened in the hospital bed in October. Here it was January, and the fear was still a constant companion, a daily reminder that someone was stalking her. She’d seen what that someone could do when she’d looked at Don Simon’s bleeding body and heard about her cousin being burned alive in the wreckage. Who could doubt that the killer meant business?
The pressure of knowing she still had to testify, of trying to keep one jump ahead of the gunman, of staying alive long enough for the authorities to apprehend all of them. The pressure of living with strangers, of having to relocate because the pursuers might be getting closer. Then, the final pressure that caused her to blow: the heavy-handed suggestion that she undergo facial reconstructive surgery.
Damn, what had they been thinking of to put this woman through even more? How much was one individual supposed to take? Her only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and her life as she once knew it had been ripped from her, taken, changed, forever gone. Who wouldn’t crack under those circumstances?
His eyes narrowed as he walked briskly, searching the shapes and sizes and faces of people on both sides of the street, glancing behind him occasionally. What had she been wearing? A navy turtleneck, jeans, white Reeboks, and her corduroy jacket. He hadn’t taken the time to check the closet to see if she’d changed, but he doubted it. She’d probably taken the money while he’d showered, lain there making her plans, then slipped out as soon as she heard the elevator door close.
Luke ground his teeth, angry with himself. He should have seen this coming. She’d been so adamant about not having the surgery, then suddenly she’d done an about-face. He’d thought that strange, but he’d let it go. Hadn’t she asked on their hillside picnic if anyone had ever voluntarily left the program? Yes, he’d described the only case he personally knew of and it had ended badly. But Terry was distraught enough to believe her situation was different.
It was, very different. She was in even more danger now that he knew that Nick Russo was somewhere in California, and probably Ozzie Swain, too. She hadn’t ever seen Nick, except the picture he’d shown her. She might not recognize him if he sat down beside her. God, how could one innocent, naive woman elude those two pros?
He glanced in stores he passed, his eyes flicking over shoppers, strollers, anyone in blue. She’d probably worn her wig, maybe that floppy tan hat she sometimes wore. He stared through the hardware store doorway noticing a woman with auburn hair at the counter with her back to him. But when he stepped closer and she turned, he didn’t find the face he sought. He walked on.
Where would she go? he asked himself again. Surely she knew the money wouldn’t last very long. Would she hole up in another hotel room until she had a plan? Would she make the cardinal mistake of phoning her family or a friend? That would really upset the applecart. She had to have figured out that Russo’s men were watching them back in Phoenix. Surely she wouldn’t risk that.
But then, she wasn’t thinking too clearly just now. And neither was he. He’d come to the end of Beachside’s main shopping district. Angrily, he crossed the street and renewed his search, all but breaking into a run. She had to be somewhere. Panic was an unfamiliar feeling, one Luke seldom experienced because he rarely let things get out of his control. The one time he’d stepped more than twenty feet from her in weeks and it had to be at her weakest moment.
He glanced into the darkened windows of a beauty shop, berating himself with every step he took. His fault. This was all his fault for bringing up the surgery against his better judgment. He’d known how she felt, and he’d still done it. If something happened to her, if Russo’s people found her before he did, he’d never forgive himself. He hurried around a strolling threesome and marched up to the ticket booth of the theater.
A blond teenager who looked barely sixteen was standing with his back to the street, flirting with a short redhead with large dimples. Luke knocked on the window. Quickly, he described Terry to the kid, asking if he’d sold her a ticket recently.
“Hey, man, the show’s packed, you know. I was too busy to notice anybody. Sorry.” He turned back to the girl.
Dare he take the time to go into the theater—the darkened atmosphere an ideal place to hide—and run up and down the aisles, searching for her? Luke asked himself. Probably not.
The streetlights were on and businesses closing, one by one. The crowd was thinning, the night breeze cooling and picking up. Still, he walked, searching, fuming, hoping.
At the opposite end of the main drag, he spotted a motel sign. He rushed into the small lobby and found a tall, husky man badly in need of a shave seated behind the counter watching “Seinfeld” on a small television set. He glanced up as the bell over the door clanged, his pale eyes none too friendly. Slowly, he got up and moseyed to the counter.
“I’m looking for a young woman,” Luke began as he flipped out his ID. “She’s about five-five with auburn hair, slender. Wearing jeans and a navy corduroy jacket. Has anyone like that checked in recently?”
The man’s eyes slid from the ID to Luke’s face where he took his time looking him over. “Nope. What’s she done?”
“Nothing. We think she’s in danger. Are you sure you haven’t seen her? It would have been within the last half an hour.”
“I’m going to leave my card here on the counter. I’m staying at the Seafarer Inn across the street. Would you please call me if you see her? You could save her life.”
The clerk didn’t even look up. “Yup.”
Damn backwoods jerk, Luke thought as he slammed out of the office. Probably wouldn’t recognize Madonna if she strolled in nude. He crossed the street again.
Only a handful of people were out now. It was ten and most residents were in their homes, visitors back in their rented quarters. Where could Terry be? It was cold and dark.
He remembered fragments of their last conversation. I’m sure I’m doing what’s right for me at this time, she’d said. That had to have been when she’d decided to run. Then, at the door, she’d said Thanks, for understanding. Had she been trying to tell him that she was aware the surgery hadn’t been his idea, that she knew he wanted to protect her? Or was his guilt over letting her get away making him see things differently?
He wanted to hit something with savage force. He wanted to blame someone and could only wind up blaming himself. He wanted to find her, whole and unharmed and ready to return. Grim-faced, Luke reached the inn and went inside to question the desk clerk there. Moments later, he was back outside, having been told that no one had seen anyone looking like Terry’s description. She had to have come through the lobby. Were they all blind? Had she vanished into thin air?
Hurrying to the parking lot, Luke unlocked the van. He’d cruise the streets, and, if that didn’t work, he’d hit the truck stops in both directions and see if she’d hitched a ride out of town. He thought she might be too frightened to do that. But then, he’d thought she would be too frightened to leave him, too.
Apparently some fears took precedence over others.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The movie was about to end. Scrunched down in her seat in the middle of a row of people, Terry strained to see her watch. Nearly eleven. This had to be the last showing. The people would be filing out, the ushers and clerks closing up. Then where could she go?
It was warm in the theater and yet she felt chilled. Fear did that to her. She’d left the inn hurriedly and without time to formulate a plan, escape the only thing on her mind. She’d huddled in her seat for two hours trying to tune out the inane comedy on the screen and trying to think, yet she still hadn’t come up with a viable plan.
What was she going to do?
Lost. She felt utterly lost without Luke beside her. Never mind that he’d been her protector for ten weeks now; he was also the solid presence who’d been there for her. Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But she felt certain in her heart that it had been the right thing. Because he was a man who’d sworn to follow orders, and he’d been ordered to get her face altered. Oh, he’d said that it was her decision and that they couldn’t force her to have the surgery. But they both knew that the Feds held all the cards where she was concerned.
She simply couldn’t handle that. She’d hated deceiving Luke, hated taking money from his wallet, which she fully intended to repay. But she’d seen no other way out. It wasn’t that she thought she was so all-fired beautiful. But it was her face, her identity, the way she perceived herself. She’d lost so much that the thought of changing the way she looked was unbearable.
The audience around her was laughing and several people nearby were putting on their outerwear. The movie was ending and she had nowhere to go. She’d half-expected Luke to come charging into the theater, having persuaded the manager to stop the show and turn on the lights, then thundering down the aisle and dragging her out bodily. He was undoubtedly searching for her this very minute. In her present agitated state of mind, could she outwit him?
Terry noticed that the credits were rolling and people were straggling out into the aisles. Pulling the collar of her jacket up, she shuffled out, insinuating herself into the midst of a trio of chattering teenage girls. If Luke was in the lobby watching everyone who walked out, perhaps she could somehow be swallowed up in the crowd.
Her eyes darted every which way as she scanned the lobby for the tall, lean figure. He was nowhere in sight, thank heaven. The teenagers strolled in the direction of the ladies’ room. She followed along. Inside, she went into the last stall and locked the door behind her. She listened while a young mother insisted impatiently that her cranky daughter wash her hands. The teenagers were freshening their makeup and discussing whether or not to stop at Burger King before heading home. Terry sat down and waited.
Did the cleanup crew work after the last viewing or did they come in before tomorrow’s first showing? Maybe, if she sat cross-legged on the seat, if the manager made a swing through the lavatories to check for anyone lingering behind, he wouldn’t spot her. When she heard the last of the girls leave, she wiggled into position and waited, praying silently that no one would find her.
It seemed like hours and she could still hear voices coming from the vicinity of the nearby lobby. The counter girls were closing up, the young man at the ticket machine was talking about counting and bagging the money, and a deep-voiced male whom she guessed to be the manager was giving a few clipped instructions. Feeling stiff and tense, Terry bent her head over her crossed arms and wished they’d hurry.
Suddenly, she heard the bathroom door swing open and brisk steps march in. Seconds later, apparently whoever was checking was satisfied, for the light went off and the door swung shut. It was pitch-dark. Terry listened to the hammering of her heart.
A final round of good-byes drifted in from the direction of the lobby. Then there was only silence.
She was afraid to move, afraid that she’d missed the arrival of a night watchman or a janitor who’d catch her the moment she stepped out of the ladies’ room. So she waited for what seemed an eternity, until her legs were numb from remaining in the same cramped position for so long. Finally, she dared untangle herself and stealthily unlock the stall door.
It was too dark to see much, but a faint light leaked from beneath the swinging door. Moving carefully, she crept out, blinking in the light of the Coke machine, which apparently stayed on all the time. There was also a low fluorescent glow behind the candy counter reflected in the mirrored back wall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that she wasn’t completely in the dark.
Terry stood back, away from the double glass doors leading outside. That was the only way someone could see in, should they be walking by. Peering around the window’s edge, she peeked out. From where she stood, she could see only one young couple strolling hand in hand across the street. As she watched for several minutes, two cars drove by. She decided to take a chance and scoot past the glass doors.
Reaching the far side of the lobby, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She eyed the Coke machine, but she had no loose change. Stepping behind the counter, she opened a drawer and found only papers. The next one apparently was petty cash, the key still in the lock. She opened it, took out four quarters and shoved in a dollar bill from her pocket.
She flipped the tab on the Coke can and drank deeply. Her limbs ached from tension and she felt drained and tired. Carrying her drink, she walked past the curtains into the darkened theater. Two red exit signs glowed above rear doors on either side of the screen, affording the only light in the large room. It was enough.
Terry made her way into the second from last row, sat in one seat and swung her legs over the arm. It wasn’t ideal, but she was safe and warm. She took another swallow of Coke, then placed the can on the floor. Wearily, she scooted down and laid back her head. Maybe if she could sleep a little, she’d awaken and a plan would occur to her. With an expansive yawn, she closed her eyes.
Three o’clock in the morning and he was wide-awake. Luke turned over restlessly in the narrow twin bed, unable to turn off his mind. He was exhausted from walking, driving around, asking about, searching a
second time along the same route. Tired but too wired to sleep.
Where in hell had Terry gone?
He’d been over every conversation they’d had yesterday, every action and reaction he could recall. And he still came up with the same conclusion: that she’d left because of accumulated pressure and the fear of more surgery. Yet not in anything she’d said in all their time together could he find a clue as to where she might go if she left him. Probably because, arrogant fool that he was, he’d never dreamed she would.
She had to be scared to death, wherever she was. Even with him beside her, she’d jumped at every little unexpected sound, cringed at sudden movements, flinched at passing shadows. Of course, she was damn gutsy when she had to be. She’d endured pain he could scarcely imagine without complaining.
Still, this was different. Men with guns and live ammo were hunting for her, and she knew it. He had to find her and he didn’t have much time. If Jones was right that both Nick Russo and Ozzie Swain were somewhere in California, it would only be a matter of time till they tracked her. He had to find Terry before those killers did.
Another hour passed slowly before Luke gave up on sleep, rolled out of bed and quickly showered. Dressed again, he reached for the phone. Though it was the middle of the night, he needed to talk with Bob. He knew that his commanding officer was used to receiving calls at all hours.
Bob Jones listened to Luke’s terse recital of the events of the past few hours, and struggled not to groan aloud. He’d personally selected Tanner for this important assignment. How could he have taken his eyes off the girl, even for ten minutes? It wasn’t at all like his best agent to be careless. He waited to speak until he was certain his voice didn’t betray his disappointment. “What’s your plan on finding her?” he asked quietly.
“Go over the same ground at first daylight. I’ve talked to a few people. I need to question more. The problem is, I’m hesitant to reveal much about her, not wanting anyone else to pick up the trail.”
