After the equinox passed, Ro could finally relax. She would never admit it to Vicks, but she was happy to be looked after. It meant he cared, but more important, she was a tad nervous. She hadn’t signed up for espionage when she moved to New Mexico, but some part of it was exciting—there was a little thrill when she cracked open a surreptitious file.
But just as Vicks had to let go, it was time for her to say good-bye to sleuthing. After April Fools’ Day on the Saturday evening of the spring fling, she showed up at Vicks’s house, ostensibly to drop off Griff and Ezra so they could go to the dance with the little girls. But she had other plans besides carpooling. She had dressed in a tight pink sweater set and a black pencil skirt, patent leather pumps on her feet.
Ben’s mom said, “Thanks for dropping off the kids.”
“Not a problem. Are you sure you don’t mind doing cab duty? I’d be happy to pitch in.”
“If not me, Ben will do it.” His mom gave her a forced smile. “Ro, I know you two aren’t together anymore, but you know everyone. Maybe you could find a date for him next time . . . you know, fix him up?”
“Laura, I could make some phone calls and fix him up with at least three really cute girls within five minutes. It’s him. He’s beyond fix-up-able.”
“What is wrong with him?”
“He has his own tempo that only he can dance to.”
“You know he wasn’t always like this. Once he was much more social than Ellen.” Her eyes moistened. “Sometimes I feel like I lost them both.”
Ro gave her a hug. “This is my opinion . . . and it’s only my opinion, but here it is for what it’s worth. Ben is obsessive. We see it as a problem, but it’s not. It’s who he is. His brain was just designed to figure out the great mysteries of life. If it wasn’t Ellen, it would be something else.”
Laura nodded. “He’s like my father. And I never really got him either.”
“There you go.” Ro smiled. “Is he in his room? I’d like to say hi.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
She knocked on the door. A few moments later he stuck his head out, then stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “Hi.”
Their romantic encounter two weeks ago was still fresh in her mind. It was weird to be with JD and to be thinking about Vicks. By the look in Ben’s eyes, it was on his mind as well. He said, “Wow! You look nice.”
“Thanks, Vicks. You’re taking the kids to the dance, right?”
“Yep.”
“Just get them home before eleven or my mother will call the cops.”
“No problem.” A pause. “How’s JD?”
“This is our first official date.”
“Have fun.”
“Yeah, JD is a lot of fun.” She mussed up his hair. “Better than you, Mr. Dour.”
“Yeah, but can he figure out murder cases?”
“No.”
“Neither can I.” His smile was sad. “Have a great time.”
“Oh, I will. You don’t look this good and not have a great time.” Ro flashed him white teeth. “I need your help, Vicks. I have some heavy boxes in my car. Could you carry them in for me?”
“Boxes?” But she was already outside, opening the hatch to her Explorer. She pointed to two boxes tied together with ribbon.
Vicks hoisted them out of the trunk. “These are heavy. What’s inside?”
“Lots of paper.” Ro opened the front door so he could bring the boxes inside. “This, Vicks, is your birthday present.”
“You bought me paper for my birthday?”
“Kind of. Take the boxes to your room.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He did and put them down with a thud. “My birthday’s not until the end of July.”
“I know, but I might not be here. I’m giving you your gift early.”
“Where are you planning to be on my birthday?”
“In New York, where I belong.”
He nodded. “I’ll miss you.”
“Well, for the time being, I’m still here and you have yet to give me a call except when you’re worried about my safety.”
Ben said, “I just don’t want to bother you.”
“Oh please. You’re too busy. It’s okay. You’re not my problem anymore. I’ve got to go.”
“Should I open the boxes now or save them until the date.”
“No sense being a stickler. Open them after I leave. You’ll love it. It’s your favorite thing.”
“What’s that?”
She smiled and winked. “Data.”
Untying the ribbon, he opened the first box. There was a birthday card, which he put aside. He’d read it later. He lifted out a handful of paper, noticing that the pages weren’t numbered. If there was an order to the material, he had to be careful to keep things in place. His eyes began to scan the contents.
There were lists of names: hundreds of them, and not in alphabetical order. The majority of the names were single men but there were some couples and a smattering of single women. Along with the names were street addresses, cities, states, and phone numbers. Beside each name and personal information were dates and numbers.
The lists were in chronological order starting with yesterday’s date. The numbers beside the dates kept repeating themselves but in no discernible order. And then it hit him.
Ro had given him these boxes. She worked the desk at the Jackson Lodge.
Okay.
What she had given him was a massive printout of the hotel’s registry: from yesterday’s guests to God only knew how far back. The next obvious question was why.
Maybe it was time to read the card.
He picked it up and opened it.
Look at the groups circled in red. Didn’t have time to check much but it’s a start. Will talk to you later.
He started leafing through the pages until he hit the first circled group. In Ro’s handwriting, he read:
Received the discount rate for Los Alamos. Group from MIT.
Ben’s heart started pounding as his head flooded with thoughts. He frantically paged through the papers until he found the next circled group.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Fermi Lab.
He clamped his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from panting, turning one page after another as his vision blurred. Her handwriting continued:
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Lawrence Livermore Lab.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Berkeley Lab.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Princeton Lab.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Oak Ridge Lab.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Brookhaven Lab.
Discount rate for Los Alamos: Lawrence Livermore.
And on and on: circling science conferences in red ink, not only for the Jackson in Santa Fe, but also for its sister hotel in Albuquerque near Sandia NL. At this point, his heart was pounding out of his chest.
Haley knocked on his door. “Ben? Are you ready to go?”
“Give me a few minutes!”
He went through name after name until his head started spinning, until he came upon another circle in red ink:
Date of Katie Doogan’s abduction.
Immediately he paged back in time until he saw what he was looking for: the date of his sister’s abduction and the lists of names from weeks before and weeks after.
“Ben?”
“I said just a few minutes.”
“It’s been ten minutes. We’re late.”
“Hold on!”
His eyes couldn’t focus. He could barely breathe. He felt nausea and elation. He was euphoric and dizzy.
Because he knew that somewhere—among those pages and pages of personal information—was the name of his sister’s murderer.
It was the reason why Ro took the job.
And she did it for him.
Chapter 19
He bounded out of his room, shirtless and sweaty. Haley and Lilly were dressed in twin poodle skirts. Griffen and Ezra were garbed in cuffed jeans, black T-shirts, and leat
her jackets. They were all staring at him.
“What are you doing?” Haley asked. “We’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be ready in a sec.” More loudly, he shouted, “Dad?” He turned to Haley. “Is Dad home?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He yelled out for his mother and found her in the kitchen. “Is Dad home?”
“Not yet.” She stared at him. “What’s going on?”
Ben said, “Does he have a black turtleneck I can borrow?”
Haley came into the kitchen. “Mom, can you take us? We’re real late.”
Laura said, “Why do you need a turtleneck?”
Ben looked at Haley. “The theme is fifties, right?”
“You’re going to the spring fling?”
“Yeah. Give me five minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to go. Any other questions?”
“Jeez Louise, I’m just curious. You never go . . .” But Haley was talking to air. Lilly materialized. Haley said, “God, how rude. What is wrong with him?”
Lilly said, “Did you see Ro wearing that tight skirt? That’s what’s wrong with him.”
“It has to be more than that.”
“I don’t think so, girlfriend.”
Ben came out a few minutes later wearing his father’s turtleneck, which was two sizes too big and his mother’s black beret.
Laura laughed. “Where’d you find that old thing?”
Haley said, “You look ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous? The theme is fifties and I’m going as a beatnik.”
Lilly said, “It’s supposed to be a sock hop, Ben, not a poetry slam.”
“Do you think I should pencil in a little mustache?”
Lilly said, “I think you should lose the beret. You look like a French movie director of questionable sexuality.”
“Can we go already?” Haley said.
They piled into the car and arrived at the gym fifteen minutes later. Immediately the kids went inside, having prepurchased tickets, leaving Ben behind. Lisa Holloway was selling tickets at the door. Her black eyes were made up somewhere between ghoul and Goth. Her hair was in a ponytail. She wore a tight black sweater and had painted her lips ruby red. She said, “I don’t believe my eyes.”
“How’s it going, Lisa?”
“Okay. Not that you care. What in the world are you wearing on your head, Vicks?”
“My fifties costume. Do I have to buy a ticket? I’m only gonna be a few minutes.” When she didn’t answer, he smiled boyishly. “Please? I promise I’ll be right back.”
“You need a ticket.”
His face fell. “Fine. How much?”
“Thirty bucks.”
“Thirty bucks?” It was clear that Ben hadn’t been to a dance in a very long time.
“There’s a big spread in there.”
“I promise I won’t eat.”
“Vicks, it’s thirty dollars. Them’s the rules.”
He pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got twenty-three dollars and . . .” He reached into his pocket. “And twelve cents. I need gas money. Do you take credit cards?”
“Really, Vicks? Credit cards at a school dance?”
“How about a beginner’s discount?”
“Give me three bucks and take me to a movie and we’ll call it even.”
He was still looking for hidden cash in his wallet. “I can make that happen.”
“Try not to sound too thrilled.”
At the hurt in her voice, Ben looked up. “Any movie you want, Lisa.”
Her smile was wide. She gave him a ticket. “Nice to see you somewhat normal again, Vicks.”
“‘Somewhat’ is a loaded word.” He winked at her and barreled into the crowd, his eyes taking in the room with a few sweeps. Ro was sitting on JD’s lap. Once again, she had taken up her position as rightful queen with her minions glomming on to her every word and action. And she did look happy, as did JD. The two of them were a natural couple. They radiated popular.
Ben wended his way through the crowd, through the ribbons and decorations and bunting and the multicolored strobe lights and the loud, off-key doo-wop fifties music pumped out by the local school band, Onionfeather. There was a spread, and a big one, but the real party would be afterward at Weekly’s house. Ro would probably get drunk or stoned and she and JD would probably wind up in bed. He had no one but himself to blame.
He felt blood rushing to his head. Despite his jealousy, he enjoyed the emotion—the righteous indignation and the martyrdom. He broke into the tight circle and took Ro’s arm. “I need just a minute alone with her, JD.” A statement, not a question. “Maybe two minutes.”
“What’s going on?” JD asked.
“Nothing.” Ben dragged her through the crowd until he found a relatively unpopulated spot in the corner. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.” He looked into her soulful and somewhat moist blue eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“I take it you liked my gift.”
“It was the most perfect thing ever. I don’t know what else to say except thank you.”
“Think for a moment. It should come to you.”
“I love you.”
“Got it on the first try.”
“No, I really, really love you.”
“I know you do.” She stroked his cheek. “And I love you too. That will never, ever change.” Her eyes leaked tears. “I’d better get back to my date. You look ridiculous in a beret.” She took it off his head and fluffed out his curls. “Much better.”
His hands were still on her shoulders after Onionfeather announced they were taking a break. When the PA music started up, Ben recognized the song. It was one of his grandmother’s favorites, sung by one of her favorite singers: Buddy Holly, “True Love Ways.”
Ben grinned. “Dorothy Majors, before I leave this stately event, would you please honor me with this dance?”
Her smile lit up her face. “Yes, I will honor you with this one dance. But no hip grinding.”
“Damn, you’re onto me.” He placed one hand around her waist and took her right hand in his left. He started with a slow box step and she immediately stepped on his foot.
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem.”
“How come all you boys know how to dance?” Ro leaned her head into his chest. “I mean, like, real dancing?”
“Because when we were all twelve, our mothers got together and tried to civilize us with real dance lessons.” Ben smiled. “We didn’t mind. It was a cheap way to get close to the girls. You’re fighting me, by the way. Just relax and let me lead.”
“That’s what JD always says. I’m not used to real dancing.”
“You mean you’re not used to letting someone else lead.” He tightened his grip around her waist and brought her close to him. “Simple box step. Back, side, forward, side. Just close your eyes and follow me. I won’t let you fall.”
“This is nice.” She snuggled into his arms. “Really nice.”
“Yeah, you’re feeling it now.”
“I certainly am.”
Ben felt himself go hot. “Stop that!”
“I meant the dance.” She smiled. “You always think I have dirty thoughts on my mind.” A pause. “I do, of course. What can I say? Some of us are just randy.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way . . .” He smiled. “Whether or not I’m the recipient.”
“You made your decision, Vicks. Sleep alone in your own bed of your own making.”
“Touché,” Ben told her.
At the end of the song, Ben was planning on a chaste peck. Instead he took her mouth and gave her a passionate, movie-worthy kiss. He felt the heat of the spotlight on them. In the background, he heard collective oohs and aahs until Mr. Gomez came up and pulled them apart. “You know the rules.” He could barely keep the smile off his face. “Next time it’s detention.”
Ben grinned. “I need to go outside for some air . . . before I faint.”
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“Can I join you?” Ro asked.
“You’re the problem.” He stroked her cheek. “Go back to your date.” Ben walked through the gymnasium, beret in hand, and into the night, under a black sky filled with a thousand stars—a thousand wishes. His head was buzzing with music and lust.
“Hey, Vicks!” Ben turned around just as JD landed a solid punch on his jaw. “That’s for making an ass out of me in front of everyone.” Ben touched his bloody lip and glared at JD, who said, “You don’t belong here, Vicksburg. Get the hell out.” He turned around, heading back to the gym.
Something deep inside welled up. Without conscious thought, Ben charged, almost sacking the quarterback. JD was solid steel with a solid center of gravity, but Ben knocked the wind out of him.
“You motherfucker!” Ben screamed as he landed a punch on his face. “You screwed my girlfriend.”
JD took a blow to the jaw, reached up, and used his height to get Ben in a headlock. He screamed back, “She was my girlfriend before she was your girlfriend.” He tightened his arm around Ben’s neck. “I should have screwed her first.”
Ben grabbed JD’s arm and clawed at it with his nails. He slammed his foot on JD’s instep as he wheezed out, “I not only screwed her before you did, I screwed her before anyone did!”
Suddenly the pressure eased from his neck and Ben pushed JD off, stumbling over his feet, holding his throat and coughing. JD had a weird look in his eyes.
“She was cherry?” Silence. “No, no, Vicks. That’s an old trick. It was probably her period.”
“Fine, JD.” Ben was breathing hard. He touched his split lip, which was still bleeding. “Have it your way . . . whatever.”
JD suddenly turned bright red and charged him, tackling him to the ground. His hands encircled Ben’s throat, squeezing as Ben tried to break the hold. Pinpoints of light were flashing through Ben’s brain but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He freed his right hand and punched straight up at JD’s nose. Red, fresh blood spewed from JD’s nostrils, covering Ben’s face. He felt the pressure ease from his airway. He heard a lot of screaming in the background as he rolled over and held his own throat, coughing as hard as he could. His breathing was labored, his head still woozy.
Killing Season Page 38
