“The blood in Eric’s car wasn’t his,” Horvath tells them. “It was animal blood.”
“What?” Kate says, trying to make sense of what he’s just told her.
“The crime lab confirmed the blood belonged to an animal,” he says.
Before Kate has a chance to process this news, Horvath adds that the police searched Eric’s office at work and found a book called The Paper Trip.
“Jesus Christ,” her father says, smacking the table and shaking his head in disbelief.
But Kate feels lost. What’s significant about the book?
“The Paper Trip,” Horvath explains, “is a notorious book about how to change your identity. It gives step-by-step instructions on what to do if someone wants to start a new life. How to obtain a new driver’s license, Social Security card, birth certificate.”
Kate stares at the detective, her emotions warring inside her. At first, she’s relieved to think Eric might still be alive. But that relief quickly turns sour and bubbles into anger.
Did he abandon me and his infant son?
What kind of person would do that?
Kate expects her father to argue with the detective—to defend his son-in-law—but he says nothing to object.
“Ma’am,” Horvath says to Kate, “we’d like your permission to search your residence. We want to see if we can find any additional evidence that supports our theory.”
“Your theory?” Kate says, still confused and seeking clarification.
Horvath clears his throat, as if he didn’t want to come right out and say what he’s about to.
“Ma’am, we believe your husband faked his own death so he could run away and start a new life somewhere else.”
Part 1
Chapter 1
Englewood, Colorado
October 1980
Thirty-year-old Kathi Spiars speeds to work through the streets of Englewood, Colorado, just a few miles south of Denver. She expects this to be one of the last warm days of fall, and she has the top down on her Chevy Impala convertible. The wind whips her blond hair around her. The song “Renegade” by Styx is blasting on the radio. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel and sings along. To the west, the Rocky Mountains are visible, the peaks white with snow.
What a great day to be alive! she thinks.
Too bad she has to go to work.
She skids into the parking lot of a bar and restaurant called Mr. Greenjeans. Before she can turn the key to shut it off, the engine coughs and the car shudders. The engine backfires loudly—like a rifle shot—and the vehicle dies.
The damn thing runs like a charm…when it’s actually running. But starting and stopping it is a challenge, and every time she catches a red light, she worries that the engine will fail on her. She hopes she can make enough in tips tonight to pay for a trip to the mechanic next week.
Kathi steps quickly through the parking lot; she’s wearing high heels, a short denim skirt, and a black short-sleeved sweater. She prays that her manager, Frank—a gruff, no-nonsense Italian guy who looks a lot like the character Clemenza from The Godfather—won’t give her a hard time about being late.
As she pushes through the front door, she’s relieved to see that Frank is distracted. He’s sitting at a table with a guy she doesn’t recognize. One glance and she can tell what’s happening: Frank is interviewing the stranger for a job.
She makes eye contact with the man, and he flashes her a big, almost goofy smile. Kathi can’t help herself—the corners of her mouth curl up and she returns his smile with just a hint of her own. His eyes follow her as she walks behind the bar to punch her time card.
“You listening to me?” Frank says to the guy.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says. “Got distracted.”
“Well, try not to get distracted when you’re on the clock. You’re going to be working with her.”
Fifteen minutes later, when Frank is holding the staff meeting to go over the table rotation and the night’s specials, he introduces the stranger.
“What’s your name again?” Frank asks.
“Steve,” the guy says, looking right at Kathi as if the two of them are the only ones in the room. “Steve Marcum.”
“Steve’s going to be busing tables and doing other stuff to help out,” Frank says. “Running meals. Cleaning up. If somebody clogs the toilet, let Steve here know and he’ll plunge it.”
This gets a laugh from everyone. Throughout his introduction, Steve keeps smiling. He has an expression on his face that’s so wide-eyed, it’s almost off-putting. Kathi doesn’t know what to make of him. The guy’s gotta be thirty-some years old, and here he is about to start a job as a busboy—yet he’s got a look on his face like he’s on some great adventure. What gives?
After the meeting breaks up, Steve approaches her and asks her name.
When she tells him it’s Kathi, his smile broadens as if he’s just gotten a great piece of news.
“Beautiful name,” he says, clapping his hands together and laughing. “Kathi with a K?”
“Yes, with a K,” she says, turning away.
“I’ve got a good feeling about you, Kathi with a K,” Steve calls after her. “I think we’re going to be great friends.”
What a weirdo, she thinks as she walks away.
Chapter 2
Throughout the dinner rush, Kathi keeps seeing Steve. It’s as if he always senses when she needs help. He’s there to clear her tables, fill her customers’ water glasses, empty their ashtrays. It’s a busy night, but she has to admit he’s helped make her life easier. She’s sure he helps her more than he helps the other waitresses, and she finds herself flattered by the attention. He’s starting to grow on her.
He’s not bad-looking. At first, she hadn’t given his appearance much thought. But the more she studies him, the more she realizes he’s kind of cute. His hair is a dirty blond and his hairline is starting to recede. He has a square jaw and looks as though he could handle himself in a fight. But it’s his perpetual grin—his constant good humor—that makes him attractive. He always has a look on his face that suggests he’s in on some big private joke.
As the night goes on, the dinner crowd clears out, leaving customers lingering to drink cocktails and beers. After midnight, when business really starts to slow down, Frank invites the new guy to join him behind the bar in order to teach him how to mix drinks.
“You don’t want to be a busboy forever, do you?” Frank says.
When Kathi approaches the bar and relays an order for drinks, Steve takes it as an opportunity to flirt with her.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Getting drinks,” she says, stating the obvious.
“No,” he says. “I mean what are you doing here? In this bar. You should be on TV.”
Kathi rolls her eyes, but secretly she’s pleased.
“You should be on Charlie’s Angels.”
Kathi makes a pfft sound with her lips.
“I’m serious,” Steve says, setting the drinks on her tray. “You’re as pretty as Cheryl Ladd. Prettier.”
“Do these lines normally work for you?” Kathi asks, turning to leave.
“I’ve never used them,” Steve says. “I’ve never seen a woman like you before.”
Kathi struts away, keeping her back to him. She doesn’t want him to see how much she’s smiling.
She can’t help herself.
Chapter 3
At the end of the night, Kathi heads out to the parking lot. The cool air feels good on her skin after being cooped up in the stuffy, smoke-filled bar all night long. She decides to drive home with the top down.
Inside the car, she takes off her shoes—her toes are killing her—and presses the clutch with her bare foot.
Of course, the car won’t start.
The engine sputters and stalls. The clutch whines loudly as she tries again.
“Can I help?”
She lifts her head and sees it’s the new guy, Steve, approaching
her car. He’s wearing the same shit-eating grin he’s had on his face all night. But as soon as he arrives at her door, the engine roars to life.
“Got it,” she says, and can’t help but return his smile with a smug one of her own.
She feels a small swelling of pride. See? she thinks. I can take care of myself—I don’t need a man to come to my rescue.
“Have a good night,” she says, shifting the car into reverse and preparing to take off.
“Say,” he says, looking around as though he has just woken up and doesn’t know how he got here, “do you know if the buses run this late?”
“You don’t have a car?” Kathi asks, shifting back into neutral.
“Not at the moment,” he says, again with that smile.
“Get in, Mr. Charlie’s Angels,” she says. Look who’s rescuing who!
They cruise up South Broadway toward Denver, the cool air pouring in around them. Steve tells Kathi that he only recently moved to Colorado.
“I love it here,” he says. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“Oh, here and there. Everywhere.”
“You move around a lot?”
“I’ve just been looking for the right place to settle down,” he says. “I think Colorado’s the place.”
“Make it through the winter before you commit to that,” she quips.
He tells her where he’s staying, which turns out to be a motel over by the South Platte River. The place has seen better days. The color scheme was probably popular in the 1950s and hasn’t been changed since. Beer bottles line the railing on the second floor, and it looks as though a few of them fell and shattered on the sidewalk below. Two letters are burned out on the VACANCY sign.
“This is just temporary,” he says when they’re in the parking lot, his grin faltering for the first time that night. “I’ll be getting my own place soon.”
He seems embarrassed for her to see the place where he’s staying, and she wants to put him at ease.
“I get it,” she says. “My place is no palace. I’m saving all the money I can. I’ve got plans.”
“What are they?” he asks.
She’s nervous the Impala’s engine is going to die, so she shuts if off. They sit in the parking lot, talking. She tells him of her aspirations to open a hair salon in Glenwood Springs, Colorado.
“Have you ever been there?” she asks. “It’s amazing. It has hot springs and skiing. Hiking and fishing.”
“Sounds like you’ve got big plans,” Steve says. “Any room for a man in those dreams with you?”
She gives him a sly smile. “Maybe.”
His grin is gone, and now he stares at her, deadly serious.
“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” he says.
“Maybe,” she says again, her tone sending a message that what she really means is yes.
Chapter 4
A month later, Kathi wakes up in the morning next to Steve. There is enough sunlight slipping in through the blinds that she can see him clearly. She watches him as he sleeps, studying the calmness on his face. When he’s awake, he’s usually smiling or laughing—or at the very least has his eyes glued on her.
It’s interesting to see him with a blank expression. He looks different. Tougher. Seeing him like this, she can imagine what he would look like if the smile ever goes away. She thought people were supposed to look more innocent when they slept, but he almost looks the opposite—he looks just a little bit mean.
A tiny bit sinister.
But if she’s being honest with herself, she kind of likes that hint of roughness. Steve is a mysterious man, and she finds that mystery intriguing.
A lot has changed since they first met. Steve was quickly promoted from busboy to bartender. He bought a used pickup truck so he can drive back and forth to work. And he’s also rented a small apartment, although he’s been spending more time at her place than his.
He’s wanted to explore Denver, get his bearings in the new city, and she’s had a lot of fun being his tour guide. But what she’d really like is to learn more about him. She knows he’s got a tragic past. A week ago over dinner, she finally got him to open up about his parents, both of whom died when he was in his midtwenties. When she asked if she could see a picture of them, he said his childhood home burned down when he was in high school—no one ever figured out the cause—and that’s one reason he has so few possessions. His apartment contains no pictures of his parents, no family heirlooms, no items with any sentimentality attached to them at all.
“I don’t get attached to things,” Steve said, and then added pointedly, “I get attached to people.”
Kathi was touched by the line at the time—she was smitten with him, too—but she still wants to learn more about him. To her, this is an important part of falling in love with someone—telling stories, sharing histories. Steve’s been happy to get to know her. He asks her about her life all the time; it’s when she turns the questions around on him that he becomes quiet or distracted.
She gets up to use the bathroom, and on her way past the window, she peeks out. Snow blankets the ground and more is falling from the sky in large flakes. As she slips back into bed, Steve begins to stir.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, his signature smile spreading across his face.
“It’s snowing,” she says. “What do you say we spend the day in bed?”
“I like the sound of that,” he says, and he moves his body toward hers.
“Not doing that.” She laughs as he takes her into his arms. “Or not just that. I want to talk, too. I want to learn more about you.”
Steve frowns and lets her go. He rolls onto his back.
“You never talk about yourself,” Kathi says, leaning over him. She runs her fingernails through his chest hair. “I want to learn more about you.”
“And then we can do the other thing?” he says, his ornery grin back.
“Yes,” she says. “And then we can do the other thing.”
He sits up in bed, leaning a pillow against the headboard for a backrest. He tilts his head, looking at the ceiling, apparently thinking hard about something.
Finally, he looks Kathi in the eye and says, “Look, Kathi, I’m really falling for you. So I’m just going to be honest with you. The whole truth. No secrets.”
Kathi is touched. That’s the kind of commitment she wants—no secrets.
“The truth is,” Steve says, “I’m on the run.”
“On the run?”
Kathi is shocked. What the hell is he talking about?
“I don’t want anyone to find me.”
Kathi feels sick with worry.
“Who are you running from?” she asks, not sure she wants to know the answer.
“My previous employer.”
“And who’s that?”
“The CIA,” he says.
“The CIA? You mean the Central Intelligence Agency?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” he says, and she can tell from the serious, unsmiling expression on his face that he’s telling the truth. “I used to be a hit man for the government.”
Chapter 5
Are you kidding me?” Kathi says, her mouth dropping open. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“I’m afraid not,” Steve says in the most serious tone she has ever heard him use. “I used to kill people for a living.”
Steve explains that he was drafted into the Marines and served as an infantry soldier during Vietnam. The government must have seen something in him, he tells Kathi, because when his tour was almost up, a guy in civilian clothes approached him on base and asked if he’d considered what he was going to do afterward.
“I told him I was going back home to California to find a job. He said, ‘That would be a real waste for a man with your talent.’ He handed me a business card with nothing on it but a first name and last initial. And a phone number.”
Kathi doesn’t know what to believe. Part of
her wonders if Steve is full of crap. Another part of her thinks that she should dump him right away, quit her job, and do everything she can to make sure she never sees him again.
And yet another part—a part that she can hardly admit is there—is excited by the possibility that he’s telling her the truth. Steve is a lot more interesting than the guys she’s dated before. He has always seemed mysterious. He came to Colorado out of nowhere. He had hardly any possessions to his name, not even a car. Being an ex-CIA assassin actually makes a little bit of sense.
“I don’t want to tell you the things I’ve done,” he says to her now. “I’m putting you at risk enough as it is. But I want you to know two things. I never took a contract on a person who didn’t absolutely deserve it. We’re talking the worst kind of people on the planet. The world is a better place without them.”
Kathi feels some measure of relief when he tells her this. At least he wasn’t an assassin for the mob.
“Second,” he says, “I’m done with that kind of work. I never want to go back to that world. I just want a normal, ordinary life.”
Kathi stares at him. As preposterous as it sounds, everything he is saying makes sense. Steve always seems so damn happy—but now she gets why. He’s been given a second lease on life. He’s escaped the life he lived and now he’s been given a do-over.
No wonder he always has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I don’t know what to say,” she tells him. “I’m speechless. You swear you’re telling the truth?”
“I swear on my mother’s grave,” he says, looking into her eyes with a puppy-dog expression. “I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me. But if you break up with me, I’m going to have to ask you to keep this information quiet. I could be in real danger if it gets out.”
Till Murder Do Us Part Page 2
