Gone Duck

by L. L. Muir

  Macey didn’t know which way to move. She wanted to kneel and comfort Dorothy Jean, but she knew the man standing next to her was crumbling inside. The moment he’d been dreading had arrived. Dorothy Jean remembered his complicity in her kidnapping, and he was sure she wouldn’t be able to forgive him.

  The two stared at each other, saying nothing. Maybe saying everything. Either way, Macey backed away to let them get it all out, but Shawn’s hand shot out and captured her wrist and pulled her back to his side without taking his eyes off Dorothy Jean.

  He let go. “What would you like me to do, Mrs. Lyman?”

  “I want you to tell me what Linda knows.”

  He breathed deeply and nodded as he exhaled. “Linda believes you died on the operating table. She had signed an agreement that if the worst happened, we were allowed to have your body cremated in order to protect our research.” His voice lost all emotion. “She was given an urn and told the ashes inside were your remains. She…grieved for a long time, regretting the day she’d allowed us to take you.” He carefully cleared his throat.

  Dorothy Jean’s eyebrows puckered, her face suddenly pleading. But then she schooled her features. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we were at that cabin,” she asked, in a voice as cool and emotionless as Shawn’s, “and I was struggling to remember?”

  Shawn’s weight shifted back and forth a few times, but otherwise, he stood like a soldier at attention. “I needed your cooperation,” he said simply.

  “That’s not true,” Macey said. “You said you didn’t want to hurt her unnecessarily.” She looked at Dorothy Jean. “If he told you the truth, you would have been hurt. And we didn’t know if you would remember it the next day anyway. You wouldn’t have wanted him to keep telling you, over and over again, right? Hurting you when there was no point?”

  Dorothy Jean’s brows puckered closer. She glanced at Shawn, then looked away. Macey looked at him too, but his eyes were closed and his jaw was jumping again. Clearly, he wanted her to shut up. But it was also clear he was in pain.

  “But now, since your memory is working again, we don’t need to keep any secrets, isn’t that right, Shawn?”

  He opened his eyes and scowled at her. She smiled back, pleased she’d at least changed the direction of the conversation. Dorothy Jean finally turned her head back to Macey. Her head wobbled when her freshly-bouffanted hair caught on the back of her collar. She wasn’t smiling either.

  “And we’ve got good news for you this morning,” Macey continued, ignoring Shawn’s sharp intake of breath. “Dave Wells is alive.”

  The old woman’s eyes bugged out. “David?” She looked at Shawn. “You told me he was dead.”

  “He is.” Shawn gave Macey a pointed look. “Someone is pretending to be him, that’s all.” He shook his head. “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry that he was able to sucker you in!” He said the last three words through his teeth. She suspected he’d have punched the wall, too, if he’d been standing close enough to it.

  “I don’t understand. You guys were best friends. I thought you’d be excited to even think there was a chance he was still alive.”

  “Look. I know you don’t believe me, but the guy can’t be Dave. You notice how they’re in no hurry to let me see him face to face? Why didn’t he come up to me when I was out shopping that day? It’s because I’ll be able to recognize an imposter in two seconds. He was my best friend for six months. We lived together, worked together. We were partners.”

  “Partners?” Maybe that’s why the guy didn’t want a relationship with her.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head impatiently. “Like cops. That kind of partners.”

  “Oh.” She tried not to show it, but she was relieved. No girl could enjoy kissing a guy that much and not hope for a relationship out of it. And if things went well and they married? Who wouldn’t want her husband to be a great kisser? Someone who could curl your toes and make you forget that your lives are in danger?

  She shook the image of his lips out of her head and realized that was going to be impossible with them standing right in front of her.

  “Macey. Are you even listening to me?”

  She bit her lips to keep from licking them. “Mm-hmm.”

  “My eyes are up here,” he said in a soft voice and she looked up, hoping he might have been thinking what she was thinking, but he scowled again and puckered those talented lips, and not in the way she’d hoped. “Are you kidding me? Now, you want to make out?”

  She straightened, offended. It sounded so stupid when he said it out loud. “Of course not. What’s your problem? Are you worried, now that Dave is back, you have a little competition?”

  He grabbed her arms and let his head drop back like he was begging. “That’s not Dave, I’m telling you. He’s not your old boyfriend. He’s not my former partner. He’s an imposter with a well-crafted copy of Dave’s face.”

  “Are you sure?” A deep voice that had the hint of rasping paper to it came from the doorway. Dave was standing there, smiling with three layers of dimples bracketing his face.

  Macey smiled at Shawn. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. He sounds just like Dave Wells too.”

  Shawn pushed Macey behind him and pointed his gun at Dave’s head.

  “David!” Dorothy Jean popped out of her chair and hurried over to the supposed imposter, put her arms around his waist and hugged him until he grunted.

  Dave patted her back a couple of times, then noticed the gun and lifted his hands into the air. “Hello, Shawn.”

  Shawn cupped the butt of his gun with his left hand and focused his aim, but said nothing.

  “Oh, come on, Shawn. You know it’s me. You just can’t stand to be wrong about anything, can you?” Dave smiled down at Dorothy Jean, then gave her a wink and gestured with his chin for her to move back.

  The old woman turned and gave Shawn the stink eye. “Shame on you.”

  Shawn ignored her. For once, Macey stood very still so she didn’t distract him. If something bad happened, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be her fault. No matter who got hurt, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

  “Go ahead,” Dave said, “test me.”

  Shawn gave his head a quick shake.

  Dorothy Jean threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “Why in the world can’t you admit he’s really alive?”

  “Because,” Shawn said, “I’m the one who killed him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dave pressed fingers against his heart. “Three to the chest. I remember clearly.”

  Still, Shawn kept the gun trained on Dave’s face. “Do you remember why?”

  Dave laughed and slowly lowered his hands, though he held them out from his sides a little, palms wide open. “Because I begged you to.”

  “Why?” Shawn pressed.

  “I didn’t want Lacrosse to take me alive.” Dave spoke carefully, like he finally believed Shawn might shoot him. “I knew he’d torture me, and I knew I’d break.”

  Shawn gave a little nod. “So, buddy. Where have you been for six months?”

  Dave sneered. “Screw you, buddy. That’s where.”

  Shawn straightened and lowered the gun.

  Macey got out from behind him and moved over to the bed where she sat on the edge with her back to the headboard. She pulled a pillow onto her lap and tried to stay out of it. It was like standing in the middle of a football field between two teams just before the ball was snapped. She would rather have been anywhere else, yet she didn’t want to miss a thing.

  Dorothy Jean finally tore her eyes off Shawn and hobbled over to join her.

  “You must have worn a vest,” he growled. “Why?”

  Dave’s hands relaxed and the sneer melted slowly away. “Lacrosse thought one of the other agents might not appreciate a traitor. He made me put it on before taking me outside.”

  “So, he got you alive after all.” Shawn raised his chin and narrowed his eyes when Macey expected them to be hug
ging already. “What information did you give up?”

  The sneer was back. “Well, obviously I didn’t tell him about Macey McDaniels or the duck. Otherwise, they’d have found you a long time ago.”

  Shawn nodded. “True. So?”

  Dave shrugged. “I surprised myself, okay? I didn’t break. I trusted that you’d get my message and go for the duck. I told Lacrosse that it was too late, that you had the files and it didn’t matter where they’d been hidden. The Underground helped me escape soon after. I’ve been with them since.”

  The gun went up again and everyone in the room but Shawn gasped. Dave lifted his hands again.

  Shawn bobbed the end of the gun once, but it wasn’t necessary. He had Dave’s attention. “Then why didn’t you come looking for the duck? I’m sure The Underground would have been giddy to get their hands on those files.”

  “I told you. I thought you would already have found them. We spent all our free time looking for you.”

  Shawn wasn’t buying it. The gun remained frozen, along with his arms. Dave’s head broke out in a sweat while he waited for the gun to go off.

  “Tell me,” Dave said quietly. “How long did you hesitate? How long did it take you to pull the trigger last time?”

  Shawn took a breath and held it for a second. “No time at all.” Then suddenly, he dropped his arms and straightened again before he swung the weapon behind him and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

  Dave’s hands came down a bit slower. It took a minute for his smile to return.

  “I don’t know how I feel about that,” he said.

  Shawn quirked a brow. “And I don’t know how I can trust a guy who asks me to shoot him and then wears a vest.”

  Macey stood up and dropped the pillow back on the bed. “Oh my gosh, you guys. Come on. Give it a rest already. We’re going to have to open the windows to let the extra testosterone out.”

  “I know you’re joking, babe, but don’t open the windows.” Dave gestured to Shawn. “Lacrosse freaked out when he realized you were no longer in the suite. They’re checking the building now. Room to room.” He shook his head and chuckled. “You picked a fine time to catch on, buddy.”

  Shawn started for the backpacks. Dave put a hand on his arm to stop him. They both spun around and landed against the long mirror on the wall. Shawn held Dave’s arm behind his back.

  “I was just going to say,” Dave slurred, with his face against the glass, “that we have a plan to get you out. A costume for Dorothy Jean. In the bag by the door.”

  Shawn didn’t move.

  “Shawn!” Macey hissed. “We don’t have time for this now. Let him go.”

  “Not until he explains how he knew which room we were in.”

  Dave laughed, then grunted when his arm was raised higher. “In the makeup. A tracking bead.”

  “And?”

  “That’s all. I swear. We were lucky to be able to drop the bottle into her purse.”

  “But no trouble getting the bug into her bra?”

  Dave laughed again. “Just straightening her maid outfit, bro. It was a joke. The question is, how did you find it?”

  Shawn gave him an extra shove, then backed away. He scooped up the strange bag and pulled out blue clothing, a cap, and a thin rubber thing. He ran his wand over them quickly, but the little red light never came on. He tossed them on the bed and looked over at her.

  “Maybe you can help her get dressed.” Then he stomped around the little wall, back to the vanity, and turned on the water.

  “As soon as she’s dressed, Shawn can help her with the bald cap. Then call the front desk and tell them you need an ambulance. It will be our guys who show up. We’re taking you out separately. You and Shawn will stay in the bathroom until they take Dorothy Jean out the door. Two of my guys will come for you first. Do you still have the black wig?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Wear it.” He turned toward the door.

  “Wait!”

  He turned back.

  “Shawn and I go together. No arguing.”

  Dave first looked alarmed, then he hid it with surprise and turned to study Shawn, whom she couldn’t see from where she sat. “Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll let them know. But you must understand your chances of being recognized are greater if the two of you are together.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “All our chances are greater if the two of us are together.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Okay. Let’s get a move on, people. You’ve got about five minutes before they start tossing this floor.” Dave nodded Shawn’s way before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him.

  Dorothy Jean didn’t mind the blue men’s jumpsuit, but she griped while Shawn stretched the rubber cap over the hairdo that had taken her an hour to create that morning while the two of them snored away.

  Not knowing when they might eat again, Macey shoveled cold breakfast food into all three of their mouths while the finishing touches were made. Then they laid Dorothy Jean-turned-old-man out on the bed with her backpack, and put the rest of their things in the bathroom. With nothing but a dirty tray visible, Shawn picked up the phone. Using a weak, gravelly voice, he asked for an ambulance.

  “This is Mister Nalder, not Missus. Your records must be wrong.” Then he coughed and said he needed to lie down.

  Macey blew Dorothy Jean a kiss and headed for the bathroom. Shawn followed her inside, then turned off the light but left the door open about four inches.

  He pointed to the tub filled with luggage. “I think we’d better sit on the bags and pull the shower curtain, just in case.”

  A minute later, they were sitting in the near-darkness, facing each other, listening intently, hearing nothing but their own breathing. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, but they quickly looked away.

  A minute later, knuckles rapped sharply on the door.

  “Mr. Nalder? This is the manager. I’m coming in, sir.”

  The snick of the lock echoed in the bathroom. “Mr. Nalder?” The man’s voice was clear and loud. “An ambulance is on its way. Can I get you anything while we wait for them?”

  “Yeah,” Dorothy Jean choked out. “You can wait in the hall. If I’m going to die, I want to do it alone, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. But you’re not going to die. They’ll be here any minute. Just hold tight.” The man headed out the door mumbling, “Please don’t die, please don’t die.” Then the door clicked shut.

  “Dorothy Jean’s a bully,” Macey whispered.

  Shawn grinned. “Let’s just say the part comes easily to her.”

  “How long was she at the research hospital?”

  “Five and a half months.”

  “And how long were you assigned to her area?”

  Shawn looked into her eyes, then looked away. “Five and a half months.”

  Macey suddenly realized that Dorothy Jean was so hard on Shawn because they must have become incredibly close. Five months was a long time. The fact he’d added the half to it meant the time had been important to him too.

  She reached down and gave his hand a squeeze. He quickly turned it over and laced her fingers with his, then rested both their hands on his knee before he looked up.

  “Six months is a long time too,” he whispered.

  She smiled and her face warmed, but she was pretty sure he couldn’t tell in the dim light.

  “Yeah, but we didn’t see each other very often. Not every day, like you and DJ.”

  He grimaced, and she remembered the cameras in her apartment.

  “Oh,” she said. “Well…”

  “I’ll be honest, CC. I miss watching you sleep.”

  She shook her head and the fake, black hair swung back and forth around her cheeks. “I’d have never been able to sleep if I’d known you were watching.”

  “I know. Too bad we couldn’t have met on the ski slopes or something.”

  “Ski? Me? I only went for research. I s
at in the lodges and people-watched. I had to pick up some jargon for Keefer.”

  He nodded. “I just wish we could have met normally, that’s all.”

  “I wouldn’t have believed it, if you’d simply walked up and spoken to me. Guys who look like you… Well, maybe if you were lost and needed directions.” She chuckled quietly.

  He waved away her joke. For a minute or two, they sat in silence while she wondered what he was thinking.

  “What would you imagine for our first date?”

  The question surprised her, and she scrambled for a clever reply.

  “A private plane to Cedar City, for the Shakespearean Festival.”

  He grinned, his teeth easily visible in the shadows. “All right. But I wouldn’t have understood much.”

  “I would have translated.”

  He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I suppose they have good food, though.”

  She nodded. “The plane would’ve been heavier on the return trip.”

  “I would have taken you dancing, I think. Western dancing.”

  It was her turn to wrinkle her nose.

  “I have cowboy boots. You would’ve fallen for me before the first song was over.”

  She peeked down at his shoes and shook her head. He had to be teasing her. There was no way he wore cowboy boots.

  “I would have laughed the whole time,” she said.

  Dorothy Jean shushed them and they immediately stopped smiling, then went back to trying not to look at each other. It didn’t last long.

  “I like watching you laugh,” he whispered, “almost as much as I like watching you sleep.”

  It was incredibly strange sitting behind a curtain with him, in the dark, whispering silly things while Lacrosse was closing in on them. But she knew, for the rest of her life, she’d remember every word of it—every time she smelled the plastic of a shower curtain liner, or tasted the faint, mouth-watering tang of bleach.

  It was surreal. It was romantic.

  “I changed my mind,” she whispered. “This is the perfect first date.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her, but the bag beneath him scraped against the metal tub. Dorothy Jean shushed them again. Shawn grinned and eased back. They giggled quietly like children caught sneaking out of their beds.