Hiding Place

by Meghan Holloway

  It was long minutes before the vehicle finally slowed to a stop. The engine cut off, and the door opened and closed.

  When the trunk opened, I blinked rapidly, eyes watering as I struggled to adjust to the sudden painful flare of light after the long minutes in the dark. The pulse in my head and churning in my stomach reminded me of my own concussion and the additional blow my skull received today. The old woman held out a hand to me, and I was careful not to put too much pressure on it as I climbed from the trunk. We were in a garage.

  “Come inside for a spell,” she said. “I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but you need that checked out.” She nodded to my head, and I felt another bead of blood roll down my cheek. “My son makes sure I have a good first aid kit. I can take you somewhere later. Perhaps a women’s shelter?”

  I left her offer unanswered and simply said, “Thank you for helping us.”

  Her gaze bounced between us, her tissue-paper face soft. “Come inside,” she repeated, voice gentle.

  Sam and I followed her into a small, tidy home filled with indoor plants and the smell of cookies. A massive cat greeted her as soon as she walked in the door, and she spoke to the beast lovingly.

  “This is Rachmaninoff,” she said. “He’s very friendly. Have a seat here in the living room. I’ll just go get my supplies and see about that wound.”

  I stood in the doorway, taking in the room, the photographs hung on the wall, the piano situated under the window. This was a happy home. One that was filled with light and frequently with family, it seemed.

  It reminded me of Mary’s parents’ home.

  Sam took one of the chairs, and the cat immediately jumped up and made himself at home in Sam’s lap. For the first time since he awakened today, some of the tension in Sam’s face eased and he smiled.

  I crossed the room slowly and lay on the couch, unable to remain upright any longer. I tried to take a deep breath, but a shard of pain pierced my side. I remembered the popping sensation when I hit the ground and knew I had damaged my fractured ribs even further.

  The measured thump of the woman’s cane announced her return. She dragged an ottoman to my side and splayed the first aid kit across her lap as she sat.

  Her hands were steady and cool as she cleaned the area and then secured the cut on my head with butterfly strips. She took the sock off my hand, cleaned the ragged wound I made by yanking out the IV line, and then bandaged it as well.

  I did not think anyone had ever tended to me with such care before. I knew my emotions were frayed from the events of the last days when her ministrations made my eyes burn.

  Exhaustion threatened to pull me under as the adrenalin wore off. I had been on my own for so long that it took me fading in and out of consciousness as the light playing against the wall waned before I remembered I had an ally.

  I struggled upright and realized more time had passed than I realized. Darkness was encroaching outside. Sam slept in the chair with the huge cat draped over him like a blanket, and the old woman sat in the opposite chair knitting.

  “Do you have a phone I can use?” I asked.

  “Of course. There’s a landline in the kitchen.”

  I pushed myself up off the couch and had to hold on to the arm for a moment as the room tilted. I braced my hand against my side as I crossed to the kitchen.

  The phone attached to the wall seemed like such an antique in this day and age. I collected the receiver from the cradle and moved to the kitchen table. The chair caught me when I sagged into it as the strength went out of my legs.

  I always made a point to memorize the phone numbers that were important to me, but my head swam and I had a hard time focusing my eyes on the numbers on the phone. It took several attempts before I managed to punch the number in correctly.

  Evelyn answered her phone on the second ring.

  “It’s me,” I said, voice low. “I need your help.”

  twenty-eight

  HECTOR

  The phone on my desk rang as I powered down my computer. I glanced at the clock and considered ignoring the call to get out of the station on time. The ringing was insistent, though, and I snatched the receiver from its cradle.

  “I need to speak with you, but not over the phone,” Evelyn said softly on the other end of the line when I answered. “And not at the inn or at the station. The inn is being watched.”

  Between Larson and Hastings, they had a veritable army between them. “Meet me at the diner in five,” I said.

  I whistled for Frank, and we strode down the hall. Joan had already left for the day, but I made a mental note to tell her that if Kevin Hastings showed up again, she should make him wait in the lobby.

  The man given the task to follow me made no secret of his presence. He leaned against a nondescript sedan and stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking as I approached my truck. He pulled out of the parking lot behind me and followed me through town to the diner. The man parked in the corner of the lot, but he did not follow me inside.

  The dinner rush had not yet arrived, and most of the booths were empty. I slid into the booth behind Evelyn.

  “Don’t turn around,” I said to the empty table in front of me, voice pitched low for her ears. “Not sure if it’s one of Hastings’s men or Larson’s, but I had a tail coming from the station. He’s parked outside and can see in the windows.”

  “Faye told me someone would be watching,” she said, voice just as quiet.

  “Is she safe?” I asked.

  Maggie caught my gaze across the diner, brow wrinkled, and I shook my head to deter her from approaching.

  “For right now. But she has nowhere to hide.”

  I thought over it for a moment. “I have a place in mind. But you and I can’t go.”

  “Can Maggie go get her and Sam?”

  “No. I don’t want Maggie involved any more than she already is.” I gazed across the diner and lifted a hand when Maggie glanced my way. “But I know who we can send.” She crossed to my side, concern etched into her face. “May I get two club sandwiches? One of those sandwiches is to go.” I had never ordered. She always brought me what she wanted to cook for me.

  “I’ll have the same,” Evelyn said at my back.

  “And she’ll need the check right away,” I said.

  Maggie glanced back and forth between us. “Sure thing. That will be coming right up.”

  “You have the address for where she is right now?” I asked quietly once Maggie walked away.

  “Yes.”

  “Write it on the check for Maggie.”

  When Maggie returned with two plates, she left a blank receipt and a pen beside our plates. She caught on quickly.

  “Enjoy your meal,” she said, holding my gaze for a moment. “I’ll have a treat for Frank and the extra sandwich ready in a few minutes.”

  The club sandwich tasted as phenomenal as always, but I did not take time to savor it. I ate in quick bites, one eye on the vehicle at the edge of the parking lot. I stood before Maggie came back to clear away my plate, and as I turned to leave, Evelyn pushed the pen Maggie left for her off the edge of the table.

  I paused and knelt to pick it up.

  “She’s my friend, Hector,” Evelyn said, voice low and fierce. “I don’t know what she’s been through, but I will help her in any way I can.”

  I placed the pen back on the table. “We’ll get it sorted.”

  Instead of leaving the diner, I cut down the hall. Out of sight from the front windows, I glanced back. Maggie pocketed the receipt beside Evelyn’s plate without even looking at it. She turned and caught my eye. I tipped my head toward the end of the hallway where her office was located.

  She met me in her office several minutes later with two to-go boxes. “What’s going on?” She pulled the receipt from her pocket and handed it to me.

  “Kevin Hastings is the reason Faye and her boy are in Raven’s Gap.” I moved to her desk and grabbed the desk phone. Lo
uie, the little Bichon, was curled up in her desk chair, and he gave me a disgruntled look at waking him.

  “The Kevin Hastings?” she asked, eyes wide.

  I nodded and dialed William’s number. “Did you find her?” I asked when he picked up on the third ring.

  “No, but I found my car where she abandoned it. If she skipped town, she either caught a ride or stole a car. I haven’t heard any reports of a stolen vehicle across the scanner, though.”

  “She didn’t skip town,” I said, and read off the address Evelyn had written. “Wait until tomorrow to go get her. The area will be crawling with men searching for her and her boy right now.”

  He repeated the address back to me. “Will do.”

  “She’ll be wary,” I warned. “And I’ve never seen her unarmed. Don’t get yourself shot.”

  “I’ll do my best, but it wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

  “I had a visit from Hastings today. He wants to hire me to help him look for the pair. Whatever went on between the two of them, he’s not here to kiss and make up.”

  “Yeah, I got that when they almost snatched her and the boy off the street,” William said. “I can take her back to Denver.”

  “No.” I needed her son to bring Larson down. “Take her to Jack’s.”

  The silence on the other end of the line crackled. “You trust Decker?”

  “Not any farther than I can throw him,” I assured him. “But she and the boy will be safe there.” I felt Maggie’s presence at my side. I glanced at her, and she held her hand out for the phone. “Call me if things go sideways. I’m passing you to your mother.”

  I stepped away and tuned out their conversation until Maggie put a hand on my arm as she hung up the phone.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Don’t vary from routine,” I said. “Hastings and Larson are both powerful men with a wealth of resources. Whatever secrets they think that woman and boy will reveal, they think they are worth killing over.”

  She hesitated and then moved behind her desk and opened a drawer. “There are Winona’s secrets as well.” She slid the safe deposit box key I found hidden in the Airstream across the desk to me.

  I put my finger on the key, but I did not pick it up. Hector, if something happens to me… I swallowed. “Where?”

  “Pinnacle Bank in Bozeman. Safety deposit box 219. Both your name and Winona’s are on the box. Hector…” I dragged my gaze from the key. Maggie stared at me, expression tight. “Whatever you find in that box, I want you to remember how much she loved you.”

  I picked up the key and slid it in my pocket before grabbing the carry-out boxes. I turned back to her in the threshold. “I remember that every day, Mags.”

  What haunted me was that I had never been able to return her love. Whatever she had endured, she had not known with absolute certainty that I would never stop fighting to find her and our daughter.

  And when I allowed myself the honesty, I was not certain that what I felt for her now was love. What I felt for her now was a sharp twist of shame at never knowing how to give her the love she needed and a razor’s edge at the remembered resentment and anger I felt for her in the end for having needed that from me.

  It ate me up inside. I had never known how to love, and remembering Winona’s love was not what spurred me out of bed every morning. It was the bitter reminder that she had never known mine, not even now. So I gave her what I had to give. Obsession. Love paled in comparison.

  I crossed the parking lot in ground-eating strides, and the man leaning against the car parked in the corner of the lot straightened warily. He pushed the jacket of his suit aside as I approached but did not reach for his weapon.

  I tossed the box containing the extra club sandwich to him, and he juggled the container in surprise.

  “You’ll want to eat,” I said. “Keep up your strength for whatever fight Larson and Hastings thinks they are bringing to my doorstep.”

  Frank could smell whatever Maggie had cooked for him, but I made him wait until we were back in our hotel room before I let him eat.

  If the man followed me to the motel, he did so with more stealth and care than he had used thus far. The next morning as I headed to Bozeman, I did so without a tail. I glanced into my rearview mirror often, but the road behind me remained empty of all traffic but local, battered pickup trucks.

  A dusting of snow gleamed blue under the morning light, and mule deer intermingled with a herd of elk grazing on the sparkling plain. I slowed for a coyote to lope across the road, his gaze keen on the young elk and deer in the herd.

  The streets of Bozeman were busy with morning traffic. Bridger Range and the Spanish Peaks were still capped with snow.

  I had left Frank with Cheryl, the woman who worked the front desk at the motel. They had developed a mutual admiration of one another since we began staying at the inn. I was not certain how long this would take me, and while I could sneak a dog into a hospital, a bank was another matter.

  The bank was located on the west side of town, and two women manned the front counter. No one was in line ahead of me, and the teller’s smile was polite when I approached the counter. “How may I help you today, sir?”

  “I’d like to get the contents of a safety deposit box.”

  “Certainly. Box number?”

  “219.”

  “I’ll just need to see some ID.” I fished my wallet out of my pocket and slid my driver’s license across the counter. She glanced at it and then clicked away at her keyboard. “I’m seeing here there are some delinquency charges on the safety deposit box.”

  “You still have the contents, though?”

  “We do. But the yearly rental fee has not been paid in…” She squinted at the screen, and then her eyes widened. “In fifteen years.”

  “How much?”

  The clack of her nails on her keyboard as she typed grated on my nerves. “It totals to four hundred dollars.”

  I drew the bills from my wallet and handed the cash to her. It took her several minutes to complete the transaction, and then she glanced at me and smiled. “I’ll take your key and will bring the box out to you if you would like to wait in room four.”

  I relinquished the key and strode through the lobby to the small cubicle labeled 4. It consisted of a pair of chairs and a narrow table. I stood to wait, and five minutes later the click of heels brought me to the doorway.

  “Here you are, sir,” the woman said as she approached. “Once you are finished going through the box, you can come back up to the counter.”

  I closed the door as I retreated into the room and placed the box on the table. It was not heavy, and I pulled up a chair and sat staring at the box for a long moment.

  Hector, if something happens to me…

  I lifted the lid. There was only one item within the safety deposit box: a bulky manila envelope. I unwound the string from around the buttons and opened the envelope, upending the contents onto the table. A disposable camera slid onto the tabletop, so cracked that it looked as if it had been thrown against a wall or run over by a vehicle.

  I thought that was the extent of what the envelope held, but when I shook it, slips of paper fluttered free. Several spiraled to the floor. I leaned over and picked them up.

  The neatly typed words froze me in place. I straightened slowly and placed the pieces of paper on the table. The paper was unlined, the words typed in an unassuming font. I read each one and then read them again.

  Don’t do anything foolish.

  Remember, we know where you live.

  Emma should grow up knowing her mother.

  A police officer’s job is always dangerous. Don’t make your husband’s more so.

  What do you think would happen to your brother if you aren’t careful? Helicopters crash all the time.

  Blacks can still be lynched. How would your friend look with a rope around her neck?

  My hands shook as I
gathered the threats and tucked them back into the envelope. I slid the battered camera inside as well and took the safety deposit box back to the teller.

  “Would you like to renew the box for another year?” she asked when she saw it was empty.

  “No,” I said shortly. “Where can I get film developed?”

  Her polite smile stayed in place despite my abrupt tone. “I believe the pharmacy across the street develops film.”

  The scrawny kid behind the photo desk at the pharmacy eyed the camera I handed him. “Man, that’s gnarly. You toss this off a cliff?”

  I ignored his question. “I need to know if you can recover and develop the photos off the film.”

  “I can send it in and find out. Man, I haven’t seen one of these cameras in forever.”

  “Send it in?” I asked. “You can’t develop it right now?”

  “No, man, we don’t deal with film onsite any longer. We can do digital prints here. But we have to send film off to a lab.”

  “How long does that take?”

  He shrugged. “About two weeks usually.”

  “I don’t have two weeks. This is…” Hector, if something happens to me… I let out a breath and rubbed the back of my neck. “This is important. Is there anyone in town who can develop these for me today?”

  “No, man, everyone I know of sends them off. No in-house development any longer. That’s old school.”

  I accepted the camera back from him and turned away.

  “Hey, man, wait,” the kid called when I reached the exit. “How important is what’s on the camera?”

  I hesitated for a moment. “I think whatever is on this camera may have gotten my wife and daughter killed fifteen years ago.”

  His eyes went wide. “Fuck, man.” He glanced at his phone. “I get off of work in an hour. I have a dark room in my apartment. Photography’s my hobby. I can develop those for you.”