by L. L. Muir
A shiver ran through her and she didn’t want to talk about Lacrosse anymore. “Tell me about the note, the one this dying guy wrote to you? Who was he? And how did he get his information into my duck?”
Hot Neighbor swallowed and stared out the window for a minute, before turning back. She was pretty sure he was going to claim the information was top secret, that he couldn’t share it with her.
“Because,” he said, “he’s the one who gave you the duck in the first place.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Dave?” Macey laughed, relieved.
If the guy was wrong about Dave, he might just be wrong about a lot of things. The entire day might have been just some unfortunate misunderstanding. Maybe they had the wrong duck!
“Dave Wells isn’t dead,” she said. “He’s flying rescue helicopters in the Alps, skiing his brains out and pulling the injured off the mountains in his quest to be a hero.”
Shawn just stared at her. Evening shadows stretched from the side of the red brick church over the SUV, making him look somber.
She shook her head in denial. “Dave can’t be… Is he?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, but… Yes, he’s dead. He was working for them, too. We both decided to get out. He didn’t make it.”
“He said he was going to fly—”
“I know. That was his cover story. He was a pilot for rescue choppers. Those guys have to be absolutely dead-on when it comes to placing IV’s. They can take blood without missing a vein. Most patients don’t feel a thing. That’s what the WHOSO needed. Someone who could steal blood samples,” he said. “After we realized what kind of place we were working for, we had to get out. And we didn’t dare leave without taking some insurance, some proof of what we’d learned. In case one of us was caught, we decided it would be safest not to know where the other had hidden it. We thought that would keep us alive. Maybe if we’d been dealing with someone besides Lacrosse, it would have worked.”
“What happened to Dave?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“He must’ve realized they were onto him, must have wanted me to find his insurance policy because he left me that note. Something only I might understand. We already knew our place was being watched. He would’ve known others would read it too.”
“And what was the message?”
“It was just a note. Left on the counter. If our place had cameras, it would look as normal as could be. ‘Need more coffee. Most important thing in the world.’ Only he left the e off more. Mor coffee.”
Wow. “And you got Mortimer Coffee out of that? Really?”
He smiled. “No. I didn’t. It drove me crazy until I remembered him saying he was dating a chick once who wrote kids’ books under the name Coffee.”
Her mouth dropped open. “He didn’t! He swore he’d keep my secret.”
Shawn grimaced. “I’m sorry. I can only tell you we were dealing with a lot of secrets at the time. I wouldn’t have kept any secrets from him, especially ones that weren’t very important.” He checked the mirrors again.
“It was important to me,” she murmured.
He dropped his arm and gave her hand a squeeze. “I know it was. But we were dealing with life and death there.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. A penname sounds like a pretty pathetic secret in comparison.” She watched a dog pacing back and forth along a vine-covered fence. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“You and I both.”
She turned in her seat and faced him. “You’d better tell me the rest. You remembered the name Coffee, and…?”
“And I had to find you, then find out what the most important thing in the world was to you, which turned out to be a duck. You saved your file, then kissed him on the beak. That’s when I knew. I just wish you would’ve finished that latest book about a week sooner.”
“Yeah. So. You and my editor have a lot in common.”
He rolled his eyes. “You never discussed Dave on the phone, not with anyone. I never saw you mention him, or anything he might’ve given you, even in your emails. Nothing. The only thing I could do was to watch you and try to figure it out. For a while I wondered if he was telling me you were the most important thing in the world to him. But if that was true, you would at least mention him now and then. But you didn’t. Finally, this morning, you kissed the duck.”
“And if I’d done that sooner…”
“I could’ve taken it while you slept and gotten away before they ever looked twice at you.”
“I guess that’s what I get for missing my deadline. And for going on that first date with Dave.” But if she were being honest, she couldn’t regret those weeks. “We didn’t date long,” she confessed. “He was pretty obsessed with saving the world. I guess that’s what he thought he was doing, working for the World Health Organization. Or maybe by leaving it, huh? I was really surprised when he stopped by during the holidays last year, with a gift. And it was so perfect. Just what I needed. He said one day he’d like to see everything I put on it. Made me promise to hold onto it until he did. It wasn’t a serious conversation, but I kept it anyway.” Then she remembered. “Kind of like when someone suggests you straighten your shoes. Subliminal. Sneaky. Like cutting a hole in the floor of someone’s closet for a quick getaway. A hole that anyone could have found and crawled up—”
“Whoa, now. I know your imagination well enough, I think. And I promise you, that basement was secure. No one knew about the hole. If someone would’ve broken into the basement and searched hard, they wouldn’t have noticed that hatch. I promise. I would never have left you in any danger.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry it came to this. I don’t know what I might’ve done to lead them to me. They might not have ever learned about you.”
She shrugged again. “What do we do now? Go to the FBI? The CIA? There’s a new NSA building in Utah County, right?”
Shawn shook his head. “I’m afraid they can’t help us. We’ve got to wait until we see what’s inside that duck before we can make a move. And there is something else you should know.”
She braced herself as best she could. “What?”
“I took some evidence too. And we’ve got to make sure they haven’t discovered where it’s hidden. If they were able to find me, I’m worried what else they know.”
“Is it back at the house?” If so, she might be able to sneak a peek at her mother’s angel.
“No. I had to hide it out of state, just in case they found me. I couldn’t risk them finding her.”
“Her?”
“Yes.” He looked at her directly. “I kidnapped a woman.”
“And she’s your evidence?”
“Yes and no.”
Macey quirked her brows and waited.
“The evidence is in her head,” he said.
“Don’t tell me. She’s old and has Alzheimer’s and sometimes can’t remember it?”
“Kind of like that. She’s old. She does have Alzheimer’s. But the evidence is a micro-chip, in her brain. And taking it out might kill her.”
“That’s terrible! So we have to wait until she dies to get it? I think I’m going to be sick.”
He shook his head. “You know, you say that a lot, but you never get sick.”
Macey frowned at the reminder that she’d not been leading the private life she’d thought.
He waved a hand. “Pretend I never said that. And no, she’s not going to die. She’s carrying around the possible cure for Alzheimer’s. If it continues to work, she’s not going to die of that disease, at least. She might live a long time.”
“Are you telling me they’ll kill her if they get her back?”
“Yes. No one outside WHOSO knows about her. Human trials were not expected for at least another two years.”
“And she would have to die for you to get this evidence?”
“Yes.” He exhaled loudly. “I have to admit, it’s nice to share a little bit of that burden. I’ve had it all to myself for a long time.”
Macey wished the role of confidant wasn’t such a dangerous one, but it was too late to change that. She wasn’t going to be able to slide back into her life, even if the pieces of it were put back together again, including her lovely bookcase. But one thing was familiar—the key to her future was contained inside a little rubber toy. Only this time, it wasn’t a manuscript.
She tucked it back inside the pack and zipped it shut. “You know what I think?”
“No. What?” He looked doubtful, but hopeful at the same time.
“I think we’d better take real good care of this duck.”
CHAPTER SIX
Macey took the bottle of water Shawn offered and drank greedily. One would’ve thought they’d been parked at that church for a day and not an hour. They’d rolled the windows down, but September was not a cool month in Utah.
With everything Shawn had told her thus far, she still believed she could get her life back. She could let Shawn copy the files in the duck, then let him do whatever he needed to do with it. She could just turn herself in, act dumb, and when they took her duck away, she wouldn’t need to put up much of a fuss. Her files were backed up in other places too, including her email files. The duck had just been her last line of security in case her computer and her terra-byte of storage crashed in the same day. The chances were slim, but it had also been a slim chance that someone would blow a hole in her bookshelf, or confiscate both devices while pretending to be cops.
The duck wasn’t so important. Getting her quiet, private life back was. Although that wasn’t going to be as easy as rebuilding a bookshelf, she could at least start by turning herself in. But first, she’d have to escape the guy sitting next to her.
He capped his own water and tucked it into a drink holder. “I can’t believe Lacrosse didn’t catch on right away when he realized your pen name was Coffee,” he said, frowning. “But he will.”
A voice tumbled out of the two-way radio. “Canada? Canada, you copy?”
“Yeah, I copy.”
“Any sign of her?”
“Negative. No sign.”
“Roger that.”
Shawn sighed. “I was hoping to hear their next plan before we head north.”
“Greenland. Greenland, come in.”
“I’m here. Whatcha got?”
“One of ours. Tied up in the basement. Grumpy’s been back.”
The radio squawked with feedback and snippets of cursing.
“Greenland?”
“Yeah.”
“They just found a trap door. Guess where.”
“Her apartment?”
“Yeah. In that closet. I wonder why she didn’t escape when she had the chance.”
“Don’t let her fool you. She’s in on it. She kept us busy so he could sneak back in. Whatever might’ve been there, you can bet Parker’s got it now.”
Macey looked at Shawn. He pointed to himself and nodded.
“You mean Grumpy, sir?”
“Yeah. Whatever. Same orders as before. First sight of Grumpy, shoot to maim.”
“And…Snow White?”
“She’s Mor Coffee. We need her in one piece. For now.”
Macey glanced up into Shawn’s eyes. He hadn’t missed it either—the emphasis Lacrosse had placed on those last two words.
For now.
* * *
Macey tried not to fidget as they merged onto I-80. After all, they were putting some distance between themselves and the bad guys, and the fastest way to do that would be the freeway. But she’d never had anyone want to hurt her before—really hurt her. Plenty of people, kids and grownups alike, wanted to hunt down Mortimer Coffee, but most of them did it out of love for the books. None of them meant harm.
But when they found out she wasn’t a man, that might all change. If she and Shawn managed to get through this little side-track of intrigue, would she find her old life to be just as dangerous?
The idea was silly—horribly silly, she understood that—but she felt completely unequipped to deal with the cloud of hate hovering over her head. She’d always been a pleaser, and apart from the obnoxious kids who lived above her, she’d never been able to handle it well when someone was angry with her. She equated anger with hate, she always had. That was why she was happier having no relationships at all.
“Hey, Crazy Chick Next Door.” Shawn split his attention between the road and her. “Whatcha thinkin’?”
No way was she going to tell him. “Where are we going now?” she said instead.
“Idaho. You ever been to Idaho?”
“I’ve never needed potatoes that badly, I guess.”
Shawn chuckled. She tried to lighten up.
“Is that woman in Idaho? The one you kidnapped?” Suddenly it didn’t seem like a harmless pile of potatoes just north of the state line.
“Her name is Dorothy Jean Lyman.” His voice gave away how he felt about the woman.
“I don’t think I want to know about her,” Macey said, the truth of it hitting her as the words left her mouth.
“Why not? Dorothy is wonderful. You’ll like her.”
She turned to look at the lights turning on in the city as they were flying past it. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured. Her breath made a little cloud on the window. Maybe it was going to be a cooler September than usual.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said sharply. “If we have to kill her, I won’t make you watch.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
For the next ten miles Macey’s eyes failed her. She couldn’t clearly see the blacktop, the lines, or the headlights shining along them because the most prominent picture in her head was of two sets of legs tucked behind massive potted plants. And four big black shoes reflected in the shiny surface of a police station corridor.
Were Lacrosse’s men dead? Had those Martial Arts moves been lethal? Had she already been a witness to murder by the man sitting beside her?
If anyone would have asked her the day before if her hot neighbor was capable of violence, she would have laughed. He was kind to the kids upstairs. He mowed the lawn for the old woman who owned the place. Macey wouldn’t be surprised if he had a Scout leader uniform in his closet. And she would’ve thought he was joking about killing the old woman in Idaho. No matter what he used to do for a living, there was no way Hot Neighbor was a killer.
But as the miles rolled by beneath them, that certainty slipped. By the time they reached the Idaho boarder Macey realized she didn’t know him at all. Maybe he was capable of killing an old woman if he needed to remove evidence from her…skull.
She was going to be sick.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I won’t let anything happen to Dorothy Jean. I promise. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She smiled at him briefly and went back to concentrating on the road, watching the little lines flash by, trying not to think of potted palms. A minute later, the shaking stopped. She would have to do a better job of breathing if she was going to hide the fact that she was scared to death.
* * *
They pulled off an exit for the small town of Malad. Wasn’t Malad the French word for sick?
Sick, Idaho. She hoped that wasn’t a sign.
They pulled down into the canyon and turned into a large gas station with a couple of cars and four big rigs. She needed a Coke. There wasn’t a chance she’d be able to fall asleep until she felt safe again, but she also wanted to be alert. Her body had probably spent all its adrenaline, though, so a Coke would have to do.
Then she realized she had no money.
“Hey, um…”
He turned off the engine. No smile. Nothing. She figured he was still pissed she didn’t want to get chummy with the old woman.
“I, uh, have zero money. No credit cards. No driver’s license. They took my purse.”
He just sat there. He was going to make her ask.
She sighed. “So may I borrow some cash? Just
so I don’t feel so…powerless?”
He reached behind him and dug through his own backpack, then pulled a few hundred dollar bills from a stack of cash. She tried not to imagine him as a bank robber. The guy was just well prepared, that’s all. She expected him to be smug when he handed her some money, but he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have thought of this earlier. My mind was just on…other things.” He pointed to the far side of the station where the semi trucks were parked. “I’m going to grab a quick shower and get all this glue and stink off me. Just make sure you don’t make any phone calls or anything.”
“Like in the movies?”
“Yeah.” He finally smiled. “Just like in the movies. Think Big Brother times a thousand.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
The night air was a cocktail of cool grass and diesel fuel. A chill raised the hairs on her forearms beneath her leather sleeves. The temperature was ten degrees cooler than it had been in Salt Lake that day. She was glad she’d thought to wear the jacket.
Inside the mini-mart she went straight to the ladies’ room. There was no way she would’ve asked her dangerous neighbor to pull over at the rest stop a way’s back, but she couldn’t have lasted much longer.
While she peed, she decided she couldn’t afford to be afraid of Shawn. Trusting him had gotten her out of Lacrosse’s hands. And he’d risked his life to go back for the duck, even though he’d needed it worse than she had. But he hadn’t needed to pull her out of that police station. He could have taken the duck, headed for Idaho, and never looked back. And she’d have disappeared…taken somewhere and held until Lacrosse was ready to turn Mor Coffee—children’s author, into Mor Coffee—that author who was never heard from again.
Not a pretty headline. Great for sales, maybe, but only for a while.
