Gone Duck

by L. L. Muir

  “So who’s the romantic? Macey or Morty?”

  “M…Macey.”

  “Good,” he said with a nod, “’cause I really didn’t want to have to kiss Morty.”

  “What?” She pulled back.

  “Black SUV, headed this way. Kiss me.”

  She stopped resisting, slid her free arm up around his collar, and waited.

  He darted a look down the street, then looked into her eyes. “I’m afraid I’m going to enjoy this more than I should.”

  She bit her lip to keep from admitting something similar. She’d imagined being in those arms before and she was happy to finally know what it would have been like to have caught his eye.

  “Now,” he said quickly and bent to kiss her. It was the strangest first kiss of her life. Exciting, because of his unfamiliar lips. Frightening, because Lacrosse’s men might be watching them at that very moment. Tentative, because they were still technically strangers. But passionate, like reunited lovers. He needed her to play the part of a lusty teenager? She was killing it.

  For a good five minutes, she forgot all the people she was. Eventually, she surfaced again. Car after car passed and she pulled back, hoping her heart would continue to beat after he let go of her.

  “You know,” she said with her voice wobbling as badly as her knees, “we’re not going to get very far when every other car is a black SUV.”

  He chuckled and they moved on. But every few steps, she felt the brush of his thumb against the back of her hand. He didn’t look at her when he did it though, so she wondered if he was even aware.

  Probably not. She had to remember not to read anything into it. They were just playing roles anyway.

  The wide sidewalk around the library was lit from recessed lighting in the eaves. A few low lights glowed from the inside. No one could walk up to the building and go unnoticed, but he acted like he had a plan, so she would try not to mess that up.

  The traffic on Center Street was light but constant, surprising for midnight in a town with an early curfew. But still, if Lacrosse’s men were looking for them, they needed to get off the street and soon.

  She was caught off guard when Shawn pulled her left, onto the walkway leading straight to the front doors.

  “Sorry to do this to you again, but it’s the only way we can get close to the building without someone calling the cops.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

  They hurried toward the doors, then he swung her around to face him again and pressed her up against the brick. They stood half in shadows, half in the light. He kissed her before she had a chance to argue.

  Macey pushed aside the fact that it meant nothing. For a minute, she could pretend that the fairy tale was finally happening to her and with a guy she’d been fantasizing over for months. His lips were much warmer and far more talented than in her fantasies, however. And the way their bodies fit against each other felt a little too perfect. If he was just some date, trying to seduce her, she’d be in trouble. If Shawn Parker wanted to convince a woman he wanted her, she couldn’t imagine anyone resisting. The sensation pouring through her veins wasn’t a rush, it was Niagara Falls.

  It was a good thing she knew it meant nothing.

  The problem was, it seemed like Hot Shawn had forgotten.

  She pushed him away. He was breathing hard, swallowing hard, but he was alert.

  “Come on.” He grabbed her fingers and led her around the building to the left, further away from the road.

  The walkway ended with the parking lot, and so did the lights. Casually, they strolled into the shadows. Then he stopped and pressed her back against the building again.

  “Don’t get excited. I’m just taking a look at this window.” He moved in close and reached beyond her. “I’m going to have to break the glass.”

  Don’t get excited? Was he kidding? He was lucky she didn’t throw him onto the grass and try to make him forget what they’d come for.

  What had they come for?

  Oh, yeah. Dorothy Jean.

  Something moved in the far corner among the trees. A landscaper had gone a little over the top for an island of plants no one would see.

  “Wait.” She grabbed his arm and whispered. “Someone is watching.”

  He turned just as two large forms scurried out from under the trees, ran along the fence line and around toward the street.

  “What the heck?”

  “Teenagers.” He smiled. “See? An empty building is a natural place for hooking up. No one would think we were here to break in.” He reached behind him and pulled a handgun from his waist, then he raised it, preparing to hit the window. And he would have, if an old face wasn’t screaming from the other side of the glass.

  Macey screamed too. She tried to swallow the sound, but it was no use. From a block away, people probably thought a cat was being murdered.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  The old lady smiled and waved at her. She threw Shawn a wink and then held up a pointer finger just before she disappeared back into the shadows.

  “Dorothy Jean Lyman, I presume?”

  “Yes. But what is she doing?” He stepped to the left and pressed his face to the glass. “Damn it!”

  An alarm went off. Macey jumped. While her heart pounded and her brain scrambled for a plan, Shawn took off running. He cleared the corner, then stepped back to give her a frown. “Come on.” Then he was gone again.

  For an old broad, Dorothy Jean could move.

  Her polyester jogging suit made her almost look like she was out jogging, but no old woman in her right mind would do so at midnight. Shawn ran up behind her like some college-aged perv with a thing for old ladies. It all looked so funny, Macey lost some of her oxygen from laughing while she ran.

  It wasn't funny when the sirens started, though.

  Shawn passed Dorothy Jean, then pointed to the right. “You two go that way! I'll pick you up on the next block!”

  Macey was a little surprised he expected the old gal to run even farther than the SUV, but she could see how they might all look a little suspicious if they were still there, getting situated, when the cops pulled up.

  The dark purple of Dorothy's ensemble blended in with the shadows, but her gray hair was like the floating head of a ghost. Macey pulled the woman's hood up over her head as they hustled along and neither of them looked back when the sirens converged a hundred yards behind them.

  They reached the corner.

  “Let's cross the street,” Macey gasped, then reached for Dorothy's elbow, but the old woman pulled it away.

  “Who are you?” Dorothy frowned.

  “I'm with Shawn, remember?”

  “Shawn?”

  Oh, shit.

  “You know, the good-looking guy who wants to help you?”

  Dorothy shook her head and took a step back.

  “Look.” Macey started walking backwards so she didn't scare the woman any more than she already was. “I'm not sure where we are, and I'm not sure where we're going, but I trust Shawn.”

  The black SUV started down the street and she prayed it was the right one.

  “And even if you don't trust me, you should trust him.”

  “Why?” Dorothy scrunched her face up, like she was trying really hard to remember.

  “Well...” Macey was halfway across the street already. “Because he's cute. Didn't you ever go with a boy just because he was cute?”

  The woman grinned. “Definitely.” She stepped out into the street carefully, then took off jog-walking. They reached the other side of the street just as Shawn stopped the car.

  He stayed put, watching mirrors, while they climbed in. Dorothy got in the back seat. Macey jumped in and the car started rolling before she got her door shut. Shawn drove sedately the two blocks to Main Street.

  “You want to tell me what you two were doing back there? In the road?”

  Macey didn't want to embarrass the woman by explaining in front of her so she gave an exaggerated sigh. “We we
re trying to decide whether or not we trusted you.”

  “We? What—”

  She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Yes. We.”

  Shawn frowned for a second, then gave a slight nod. “Well, thank you for trusting me, Mrs. Lyman. I promise to take very good care of you.”

  The old gal snorted. “Oh, I didn’t say I trusted you, young man. But I think I trust her.”

  He grinned and nodded in Macey’s direction. “Well, thank goodness she trusts me.”

  Another snort. “Nope. This gal doesn’t trust you either.”

  “Then why did you get into my car?”

  Macey grimaced and faced the window.

  “Because you’re cute. And this young woman reminded me that sometimes, cute is enough.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  From the occasional and lengthening snores from the back seat, Macey was satisfied Dorothy was asleep. She’d been waiting for a chance to get a few things straight with Shawn while the old woman wasn’t listening.

  “When Dorothy Jean came to the window, I thought she recognized you.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. She did. I’m pretty sure of it. But at night, she has bad spells. That’s why they sometimes call it Sundowner’s. Once the sun goes down, you never know.” He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you suggested the library. Who knows how long she might have hid out in there, waiting for someone to find her?”

  “The news report said she’d been missing since ten this morning. That’s what I don’t get. How would she have known Lacrosse would be coming for her?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask her. But we’d better do it in the morning.”

  A few minutes later, he sighed loudly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’d been hoping the microchip was working, that the research wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded. That maybe she would get better.” He shook his head, then reached for his bottle of water.

  After a minute of silence, she thought he was finished, but then he laughed.

  “The horrible part is, when I really think about it, it might be best if she didn’t get better—at least to the point they could access all her memories—so she didn’t remember anything about Lacrosse’s people.”

  Macey hated to see him get all negative when he was her only hope for getting her normal life back.

  “You never know,” she said lightly. “Maybe it has been working. Maybe the stress and excitement just wore her down. And maybe remembering everything she’s gone through might not be so bad. At least she survived it, right? I mean, that’s probably a pretty naïve way of looking at it, but if given the choice, I’d rather have my memories, good and bad.”

  “You mean even memories of your apartment being blown apart by the Bozo next door? And having to leave your life behind to run for your life?”

  “Yes, I do. Can you imagine, realizing you’re in a car with strangers, headed who knows where, and not remembering how you got here? At least I know how I got here.”

  Shawn smiled at her. “You’re such an optimist, Morty.”

  She forced a smile, but on the inside, a little balloon of hope deflated. It was no fun hearing him be so cheerful about her male alter ego just an hour or so after he had her plastered up against the side of the building checking her tonsils.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “North.”

  “So you have a plan?”

  “My plan was to get you and that duck out of Salt Lake and to get Dorothy out of Rexburg. I’m working on the next step. Trust me.” He chuckled. “And if you can’t trust me…trust the face.”

  She took off her jacket to use as a pillow, turned her back to the window, and tried to get comfortable.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” She closed her eyes. “You didn’t want me to drag her to the car kicking and screaming, did you?”

  “Ah. Macey’s back.”

  Well, at least he didn’t sound like it was a bad thing.

  She stuck her tongue out, hoping he would see it. She was too tired to open her eyes to make sure.

  * * *

  Macey woke when her head bounced hard into the window.

  “Sorry.”

  She put her palm between her skull and the glass, then sat up straight when the previous twenty-four hours dropped back into her lap like a heavy bag of cement.

  They rolled to a stop about twenty yards from an ancient A-frame cabin with a dull blue boat leaning against the right slope of the roof like an improvised shingle. Dorothy’s door slammed shut behind her and the spry old woman drummed her fingers on the passenger window and grinned before she joined Shawn on the path to the front door.

  Macey was just glad the old broad didn’t need babysitting at the moment. She wasn’t awake enough to worry about anyone but herself. And hopefully, when Dorothy did have another bad spell, she’d be in a place where someone else could take care of her. Chances were, Dorothy Jean Lyman wasn’t going to be around much longer. Even if Lacrosse and the WHOSO folks didn’t get a hold of her, the woman’s disease came with an expiration date. And the only other expiration date Macey planned to be around for was her own. Her grandpa had had one. So had her mom. It was only fair Macey didn’t have to deal with any more of them. Call it a consolation prize for not having any family left. No more family, no more disease, no more funerals.

  She pried her stiff body out of the car and walked to the cabin. Shawn and his geriatric girlfriend had gone around behind. Macey found them jimmying one of the windows open.

  “Really? You’re breaking in?” A quarter of a mile away, along the mountainside, a dozen luxurious cabins looked down on the river below. “You couldn’t have chosen a better cabin? One with maybe a hot tub?”

  Shawn glanced over his shoulder, not looking at the cabins on the hillside, but at Macey. From her shoes, to her head, then back down again.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Dorothy Jean, this is Macey McDaniels. She’s a children’s writer.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The old woman gave her a wink. “You Dave’s gal?”

  Macey shook her head. “We dated.” She wouldn’t give Shawn crap for telling her secret because the secret was already out. Besides, the old woman would probably forget it again by nightfall.

  “He was a good man.” A tear rolled from Dorothy’s eye and onto her cheek. She shook it away with a toss of her head.

  Macey nodded but didn’t respond. She refused to think about Dave Wells being anywhere but flying in his chopper rescuing skiers. Young people dying was just too sad to think about. Mentally, she was pretty sure she couldn’t handle sad and scary at the same time, and if they were starting the morning with breaking and entering, the scary parts weren’t over yet.

  Shawn slid the window open. “You want to climb through or give me a boost?”

  “Ha,” Macey said. “Jason Bourne never needed a boost.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, well, if I was just jumping across an alley and through a window, I wouldn’t need one, would I?” He looked from her to the window and back again. “Keefer would do it.”

  “Keefer?” Dorothy frowned. “Who the hell is Keefer?”

  “Just a character in my books,” Macey said. “Shawn’s teasing me.”

  Shawn looked at the woman. “You don’t know the Keefer Boone books? The Gladiator Diaries?”

  Dorothy shook her head. “My library days were a long time ago.”

  He turned back to Macey and nodded toward the window. “Well? Who are we this morning?”

  Hot Shawn was right. Sneaking into a cabin—even a rundown lean-to—was the kind of thing the Keefer in her couldn’t resist.

  “Down on all fours, old man,” she said and pointed at the grass beneath the opening.

  Shawn grinned and got on the ground. “Hello, Keefer,” he murmured when she stepped onto his back.

  “Bite me.”

  * * *

  Macey carefully a
imed her fall and rolled onto the bed that was wedged up against the window. The mattress was hard enough to knock some wind out of her, but she recovered by the time she was on her feet. She had to lean to keep from hitting the slanted ceiling covered in cheap white paneling. The room was small and cold, but fairly clean. From the looks of the outside, she’d been expecting plants to be growing up through cracks in the floor.

  Shawn pulled the window shut from the outside and put the screen back into place. She went looking for a door to let the others inside. Just outside the bedroom was a closet with a toilet inside. It was one of those small plastic things they put in camping trailers. It sat on a raised platform covered with the same pale paneling. There was no way she was going to use it.

  Then she realized the shower curtain, pushed to one side of the doorway, was to act as the door itself.

  Even better.

  She shuddered and hurried to the front of the cabin. The entrance didn’t have a deadbolt or anything, just a simple lock on the knob. She pulled it open.

  Dorothy gave her a grin and rushed inside. “Indoor plumbing,” she mumbled.

  Shawn followed, then turned around and closed the door. He, too, noticed the lack of security.

  He wiggled the doorknob. “Is this the only way in?”

  “Unless you count the window out back.”

  “Good.”

  Macey frowned. “Why is that good? If someone comes charging through the door, there’s no way out.”

  “You’ll only have to defend one entrance while I sleep.”

  She was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t spent any time worrying about whether or not Hot Shawn had been too tired to drive. Then she’d complained about the size of the stupid cabin!

  “I’m sorry. You must be exhausted.” She looked at the floor. “I should have offered to drive.”

  He gave a low laugh that made her tingle in troublesome places. “Do you even know how to drive?”

  “No. I don’t.” She tried not to smile. “But Morty does.”

  He laughed and headed for the kitchen side of the room, straight to a small refrigerator that stood on top of a broken Formica countertop. “We’ve got electricity, apparently.” He started pulling out food and checking the labels. “Uh, oh. We can’t stay long.”