Hush in the Storm

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  We waved as the rancher pulled away. Two secretaries returning from lunch gave us the twice over before proceeding up the concrete steps.

  “What do we do?” I hissed. “We can’t go to the police, can we?”

  Tom looked around. “No. Let’s head for a diner. I’m starved. You still have the wad well hidden, right?”

  I’d almost forgotten. “Yes, but we must smell and look a sight.”

  At the corner a block up and over was a convenience store and gas station. “Let’s go there.” He swallowed and pointed. “You know. Use the restroom. Wash up.”

  As we crossed the street and approached the gas station, he stopped. “If you can slip me the money, I’ll buy us new T-shirts. I see some hanging on a display in there.”

  Luckily the unisex restroom was on the side, and unlocked. I slipped in, retrieved the cash, opened the door a crack, and handed it him. A moment later there was a knock. “Psst, Jen. Here.”

  A pink Tony Romo jersey appeared along with a brush and hair clip. God bless the Dallas Cowboys...and Tom. I hissed back. “Don’t you mean Debbie?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  I slipped on the jersey, brushed my hair, and emerged feeling revived and a bit more civilized, even if I did smell of truck stop soap.

  He held up a T-shirt with Palo Duro Canyon on it, wiggled his eyebrows, and exchanged places with me. I’d just stepped away when the restroom door cracked open again. A twenty waved at me. “Oh, here. Buy us lunch.”

  I went inside to browse our choices, nodding to the clerk who leaned on his arms as he smoked a cigarette behind the counter. He barely acknowledged my presence, then went back to stare at the newspaper in front of him. Moments later, the bell on the glass door tinkled and Tom appeared, clean shaven, wet hair slicked back, sporting his touristy tee.

  I walked toward him, my arms laden with two ice cold bottles of water, two plastic wedges of egg salad sandwiches, two oranges, and two Snickers bars. His laugh disturbed our host behind the counter. He glared at us with a how-dare-you-interrupt-my-day expression. We slapped it all down on the glass that displayed cheap jewelry and lottery cards.

  He rang up our food and bottled waters, then held out a mammoth hand for our legal tender. “Ten seventy-five,” he grumbled. The toothpick in the corner of his mouth wiggled in a semi-circle as he crunched it between his molars.

  I handed him the twenty. The clerk huffed. “No exact change, huh?” He punched open the till, took his sweet time counting back the change, then returned to the sports section splayed out in front of him.

  “Have a nice day,” I responded with a sugar-dripping lilt I knew would set his toothpick on edge. Tom chuckled under his breath.

  We scooted into a once red Formica booth and chomped on our feast. I had no idea how famished I was until my taste buds felt the soft mayo and egg delight. Every ounce of inner strength was required to not cram the whole sandwich wedge in my mouth. My mother’s voice to eat slow and chew like a lady echoed in the back of my mind. Yes, ma’am.

  Tom pointed his sandwich at me. “Eat slow. Your stomach isn’t ready for a full meal, yet.”

  “I know. My mother was just telling me so.”

  He leaned in. “What?”

  I shook my head and swallowed another bite. “Never mind. Lame joke.”

  “Uh-huh.” He peered out the window between the taped advertisements. “It’s clouding up. Let’s see, exactly how much cash do we have?”

  He reached in his pocket, slipped the wad into his lap, and began to mouth the numbers.

  “Why?”

  He glanced at me then back to his counting. “We need shelter. And real baths. Possibly more clothes? And ointment and bandages for your feet.”

  I’m sure my expression revealed my shock that he knew more than I’d let on.

  His blue eyes smiled back at me. “I noticed you not trying to hobble. There just was nothing I could do about it. We wouldn’t have gotten far if I carried you.”

  I raised my chin. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I know” He reached in his pocket for the change from buying our T-shirts and asked for mine. “One ninety-two, fifty-four. We need to make it last. We’ll have to share a room.”

  “I figured that would be the case.” I refused to blink or look astonished. We’d shared just about everything else up until now, except...I wondered if he thought the same. We’d waltzed around it so often we could win first place in a dance competition.

  “Good.” His shoulders eased. “Thanks for not putting up a fuss.”

  I leaned in. “It’s the only thing I’ll put up with tonight, mister, okay?”

  His eyes twinkled back at me as he handed me the wad of money. “I figured that would be the case.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Our choices were limited since we were on foot, and mine were killing me. The first motel we saw was the Buffalo Inn near the campus of West Texas A&M. The room rate was cheap, and it came with a microwave, mini-fridge, and “Cable TV.” The motel sign on the glass door stated they provided a free all-you-can-eat continental breakfast.

  “We’ll take them up on that.” Tom grinned as he held it open for me. His attention turned to a middle-aged man behind the counter who was busy eyeing us from head to foot. Tom told the man our story to explain why we were without any wallets, car, or IDs. “We do have cash, though. My, uh, assistant hid it...in her shoe.”

  Well, it was the place I’d stashed the money when we left the gas station. The extra padding felt good against my swollen heel. I took off my shoe and produced the folds of bills.

  “How much is it for one room?”

  He eyed us again. “Forty-five for a single. Fifty-five for two beds. Did you tell the sheriff?”

  Tom shook his head. “Not sure it will do any good. They’re long gone.” He scratched his head. “Insurance will want a report though, right? We will in the morning.”

  The manager continued to eyeball us. “We’re not supposed to check you in without proper ID, per Homeland Security.”

  Tom gave him the most sincere smile I’d seen yet. “Right now, my colleague and I are just dead on our feet. We both need baths and a good night’s sleep.”

  The manager shifted his weight to his other foot. “Well, I guess I can make an exception.”

  “We’ll take the double.”

  “Okay. Your choice.” His gaze moved rapidly between us as a sneer curled the side of his mouth. “But you two don’t need to pretend. If you want the single…well, I don’t ask questions.”

  I started to protest his innuendo, but Tom held me back. “It’s okay. The man can think what he wants.” He narrowed his eyes to the manager, then tipped his imaginary Stetson in a thank you.

  Down the road a few blocks was a Walmart, so we decided it would be cheaper to shop and fix dinner in the room. We walked to get groceries, underwear, jeans, and two new T-shirts. We also purchased socks, bandages, Neosporin, toothbrushes, and paste. The hotel provided soap and shampoo. All total, after paying for those and the room, we had $52.13 left.

  “You’re quite a bargain hunter.”

  “Robert used to tell me Lincoln squealed every time I held a penny. I’m that tight-gripped with my money.”

  “Robert. Right.”

  I scrunched my brows. The fond tone whenever he’d mentioned Robert’s name had disappeared. I wondered if Tom would tell me why if I asked. Probably not.

  Tom shifted his load—he’d volunteered to carry back the majority of the packages to our lodging since I was hobbling. Beads of new sweat formed on his temples and dampened his curls. I swung the two smallest ones on an arm, enjoying this latest expression of chivalry.

  He cast his eyes away to the navy tinted skyline. Rumbles cascaded, then a fork of white blitzed across the horizon. A veil of lighter navy filtered to the ground like a bed skirt under the clouds. The wind lifted the distant smell of damp prairie grass into the air, swirling bits of roadside debris in a miniatu
re waltzing dust devil. “We’d better pick up the pace.”

  “Race ya.” I laughed and took off, unburdened by heavy groceries and forgetting my feet hurt like crazy.

  “Hey, no fair.” His voice faded behind me, then his footsteps quickened to catch up.

  The first nickel-sized drops splattered on the driveway as we entered the motel parking lot. Sheltered from the shaking of thunder and the rush of water as it gushed off the eaves of the breezeway, Tom unloaded our newly-acquired wealth into drawers, the fridge, and countertop as I massaged my feet.

  He glanced over at me as he slid the remaining bills into the Gideon Bible, and then snickered. “Serves you right.”

  I stuck out my tongue as he tossed me the bandages and ointment.

  We took turns showering, ignoring the old wives tale about lightning traveling down the pipes to electrocute you if you bathe during a storm. As I towel-dried my hair, he spread the hotel curtain back with one hand. “Wow, look at it coming down out there.” He turned and smiled. “Like the night we―”

  “But now you aren’t dripping all over my computer.”

  He displayed his fake hurt little boy face. “Did I do that?”

  My apple core missed his left ear by a smidgen. He chucked it back at me, then flopped onto his designated double bed.

  I plopped onto the other one and studied the bedspread pattern with my fingernail. I took a breath through my nostrils and decided now was the time for the answers he’d promised. “Tom. Why did you kidnap me? Really?”

  He fluffed the pillows piled behind his head and started at the ceiling. “Robert didn’t have an accident, Jen. He was killed.”

  “So you implied. But they did an autopsy. The insurance company went over the car, what was left of it, with a fine-toothed comb. Nothing”—I emphasized the last word with my finger pointed at him—“ever showed anything else than an accident.” I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  Tom waggled his head. “Yeah, yeah. He’d just been going too fast and lost control. I know.” He glanced in my direction then back at the ceiling. “Less questions that way.”

  “Was it all faked, Tom? I mean his death. The way you planned mine. Is that why they wouldn’t let me see the body?”

  I’d tossed the question out. Tom caught it. His jaw twitched, but he continued to stare at an old water stain etched on the acoustical tile, sort of resembling an amoeba. For a moment, silence stagnated between us.

  Then, after a quick sigh, he volleyed it back to me. “Jen, don’t ask questions like that. You’d never believe the answers anyway.”

  “Why? I’m tired of all these clouded secrets.”

  “It’s how these people work. They’re professionals who can make almost anything happen. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

  I slammed both hands on the bed and yelled, “For Pete’s sake. Who are ‘they’?”

  “I honestly can’t tell you.” His voice remained controlled.

  “Arggh.” I leapt up and paced in front of the black TV screen. The storm had wiped out the satellite signal. I stopped in front of his bed. “You mean you won’t.”

  He sat straight, hands on his crossed knees. “No, I mean I’m really not sure who they are. Robert ruffled a lot of illegal feathers in his job.”

  “As an advertising exec?”

  He shot me a get-real glance. “It’s above my intel level. I do have an idea who ‘they’ might be, though.”

  I tried another avenue. “Who is Mae Lin? I gather she really isn’t a teenager.”

  “True. Asians can pull that off. They have an ageless look of youth until late in life.” He glimpsed in my direction and shifted his weight. “She’s another asset, er, freelancer, with the same government agency that hired Robert and me. Well, sort of.” In response to my rolled eyes he offered another tidbit. “We’d crossed paths before. She’s kinda my boss in this. Or was, until I escaped with you. As I said, I didn’t run point.”

  “In my kidnapping and alleged death, you mean.” I didn’t say it as a question. I sat on my bed and looked as deeply as I could into the layers of this man. Reading tea leaves through an onion would have been easier.

  “Yes, and my getting the job at your company so I could keep my eye out for you.”

  I saw the bait and yanked the line. “Wait. You said Robert made you promise to look after me. But you came a good two months after his accident.”

  He huffed. It seemed he was searching for patience with me. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “He knew his life was…let’s just say, precarious, after the last job he did for the good ol’ U.S of A. He contacted me and made me promise if anything happened…well, you know.”

  “And when it did—if, like you say, it did—that convinced you it wasn’t an accident?”

  “I notified our contacts and told them I thought it wasn’t. I conveyed what he’d made me promise. Then I was read in as much as they’d let me know. Basically, all I was given was the instructions on how to proceed.”

  I scooched back onto my elbows. “Go on.”

  “I was just supposed to keep a watch on you. Stay low profile. I had your house tapped, by the way.” He held up his forefinger. “Audio only.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He made a slight bow with his head. “It’s not like I stayed up all night listening. It’d pick up if the phone rang, or if certain words were said. Then it would kick in and record. I’d check it every morning before I left for work.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He gave me a superior, know-it-all look. “No. It’s true. The government uses the technology to monitor cell phone use across the borders all the time. It’s how they monitor drug lords. Certain words trigger a beep. Like an alarm.”

  I shrugged. “Okay? What words?”

  “Whatever it is programmed to.” He leaned back again on his pillow, hands laced behind his head. “Oh, you know, like help, don’t hurt me, gun, knife, etc.”

  I rose to pace again. “I don’t believe you.”

  Tom’s gaze traced my footsteps back and forth. After a moment, his voice softened with a sigh. “Try, Jen. Please.”

  I stopped, turned back toward him, but stayed on my half of the room.

  He motioned to my bed. “Will you sit? You need to stay off your feet.”

  I obliged.

  Tom turned over on to his side to face me. “Look. I didn’t know things were going to turn nasty. But they did. They tried to get to you twice. That massive short in your computer keyboard before you moved to the basement? The break-in of your apartment?”

  I waved my hand at him. “Uh-uh. The police said it was a random burglary. There had been several in the area.”

  Tom gave me an incredulous look. “And you believed them, huh?”

  I sat back against the headboard. “Why me? Because I was Robert’s wife?”

  “Yes. They have no idea he kept you in the dark. They think you are an asset as well.”

  I pounded the bed. “Then tell ‘them,’” I cupped my fingers, “I’m not.”

  He sat up to face me, mirroring my posture. “You think they’d believe me? I’m a pawn, too, Jen. Honest. I am way down here.” He lowered his hand a foot off the floor.

  I grabbed a pillow and held it close to me. “You said you two had planned this kidnapping thing months before.”

  Tom came to sit on the edge of my bed. “Look, Jen, we did. We were to fake both of your deaths. Robert knew that’d involve kidnapping you. Your Irish head is too hard to come peacefully.”

  I gave him a daggered look. Outside, a rumble of thunder responded as well.

  He glanced through the curtains at the lightning flash that followed, then turned his face back to me. “When I heard he’d died, I asked for permission to carry it out, for your sake. At first the agency said no. Then things began to happen to you. I got permission to go undercover at your work.”

  “And...” I hugged the pillow closer.

  “And, let’s say some pretty
shady guys were observed tailing you. I reported it and got the go-ahead.”

  “To kidnap me?”

  He shrugged. “I had a job to do. I was told to keep you safe until the coast was clear, so to speak. Get you to trust me, then escort you out of town to a safe house. Sort of a prelude to the witness protection program.”

  I threw the pillow aside and shoved my arms into a pretzel in front of me. “Trust you? Was pretending to care for me part of the master plan? Play on the widow’s vulnerability?”

  His face registered pain. “No. That wasn’t part of the plan. It just happened, Jen. And I do care for you. Really.”

  I threw him a mental dagger. “Oh, so that explains why you’re the one who drugged me at Bob’s Burgers, huh? And why you let Mae Lin shove the needle in me at the bus stop. Oh, and how many times was I gagged and shackled?” I jerked back my shoulders. “Because you care for me.”

  “Are we going over that again?” He sat erect, his hands palms up in front of him. “Look. I asked you to cooperate first both times. The syringe was plan B like I told you before.”

  It was my turn to waggle my head. “But since I tried to run, you had to take drastic measures. That’s your justification?”

  “I didn’t approve of the hand tying and gagging. I never meant you to be hurt in any way.” He stood and shoved his hands under his arm pits. “They figured I’d messed it up. Not gained your trust. So, Mae Lin and company got involved when you put up a fuss.”

  “And what is her angle in all of this?”

  He sucked in air through his nose. “I told you, she is sort of my boss. She’s higher up. I report to her.”

  “Was Robert?”

  “Higher up? Yes, I guess. There are layers, hierarchies. He was recruited before he left the military, then later he recruited me.”

  It still didn’t make sense. Especially my husband leading a secret life which required him to fake his death. “So you were really just following orders, is that it?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Yes. That’s it.”

  “To kidnap me and drug me. Then fake my death. What a way to protect a gal.” I slid off the bed to stand opposite him. “Next question. When did you two install the cameras in the ceiling, and why?”