The Jack Hammer

by Derek Ciccone

  But Sam reached into her purse and pulled out what looked like a police badge. “Roxie Foye—NYPD. If you don’t want me to rip apart your dorm room, and then have a little discussion with the university about what I find, I think it would be in your best interest to cooperate.”

  Cam was again surprised by the metamorphosis. But he just rubbed his cop mustache and played along—what choice did he have at this point? “It’s one thing to get kicked out of college, Courtney—it’s another thing to get kicked out of a college with more pools than libraries. No palm trees in … where are you from?”

  “Minnesota—fine, what do you want to know?” they broke her. Cold Minnesota winters can do that.

  “Natasha Kushka’s visit. Tell me everything you know.”

  “Not much to tell. She had all of these VIP requests that we had to agree to before she’d even show. So we roped a whole section off. It was just her and a friend—some Russian chick. No bodyguards or posse, or anything like that, which surprised me. She said her boyfriend was going to be meeting them—we were excited, thinking it was going to be Brett Modino. But it was just some redheaded loser.”

  Sam looked like she wanted to adjust Courtney’s perfect, button nose, so Cam stepped in. “What were they talking about?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You look like the eavesdropper type.”

  “They weren’t even here that long. She made us jump through all these hoops, and kiss her ass, and then she bailed like ten minutes after her boyfriend showed.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Not sure, but her friend, the Russian chick, she asked me for directions to a place called Dessert Oasis in Scottsdale. That’s my best guess, but I can’t say for sure.”

  When they returned to the Pathfinder, Cam looked at Sam like she had two heads. “Where did that come from?”

  She looked embarrassed. “I don’t know—that’s so not me … it’s not even Roxie. It’s like I had an out-of-body experience. I know it sounds weird, but I think I was channeling Tim.”

  Crazy, perhaps, but also effective. And the exact reason he wanted her to come. To see and hear what Tim would have. If she actually turned into him, all the better.

  Dessert Oasis was the antithesis of Butte Head’s. It was dark and quiet, and had a ‘hotel bar at last call’ feel to it. It was much less crowded, but its patrons were well past drinking age, and mostly couples—a country band twanged away in the background. It was a much easier place to hold a conversation, which would benefit Tim’s agenda that night.

  They hadn’t eaten in a few thousand miles, so they cozied up to the bar. Cam offered to buy Sam an actual meal—the airplane snack just wasn’t cutting it at this point—but she informed him that “real” New Yorkers only eat the appetizers because they’re in too much of a hurry to wait for the main course to arrive.

  “You would think working in a bar, the last thing you’d want to eat is bar food,” he commented.

  “It’s my comfort food.” She thought for a second, and added, “Sometimes it’s not about the fanciest or the priciest things in life … but the ones that fit the best.”

  She had a point, and not just when it came to food. And Sam looked in need of some of that “comfort” food, as she appeared out of sorts, and now more resembled the nervous woman he’d met just yesterday, than Roxie the cop.

  “Is anything wrong?” Cam asked. A stupid question really—what wasn’t wrong at this point?

  “It’s just that I was hoping to hear back from Anna about something. And there’s no way I can contact her now.”

  “Is it anything I can help you with?”

  “No, but thanks for offering,” she said, seemingly a million miles away.

  Cam turned his attention to the bartender—a forty-something named Rebecca, who looked like she’d seen a lot of life. He asked her if she’d seen Tim and Natasha that night.

  “Are you from the Skeleton Closet?” she asked.

  Being thought of as a tabloid reporter wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it worked for their purposes.

  “What gave me away?”

  “Well, with that cheesy mustache, I figured you were either a sleazeball reporter or a porn actor. I took a shot.”

  “Porn is just a hobby, this pays the bills,” he said with a smile. “So can you help out a poor tabloid reporter, and give me the scoop on Natasha?”

  “The cops were in here last week asking about her being here.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  Chapter 77

  “Natasha Kushka came in here with a couple of no-names—a girl, and some redhead guy who looked like he’d lost a battle with a tanning bed. They had some drinks, some conversation, and the guy left. The girls stuck around until closing time. The only thing strange was the questions the police were asking.”

  “What was strange about them?”

  “Not the questions themselves, but the fact that the guy was the focus. You would think it would be all about Natasha.”

  “Did they tell you why they were interested in him?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. I figured he was up to no good … maybe trying to extort money from her or something along those lines.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “My memory is a little fuzzy these days—I think it’s from spending so much time out here in the Arizona sun. Have you seen the price of sun block these days?”

  Cam reached into his wallet and slid a large bill across the bar.

  She scooped it up and shoved it into the pocket of her khakis. “Because he was scheming. When I’d bring them rounds of vodka, he had me make sure his was water. Usually a guy is doing that to get the girl into bed, but he took off alone.”

  “How do you know they didn’t meet up, and just didn’t want tabloid reporters like me see them leaving together?”

  “Because when closing time came, I’m the one who drove the girls back to the Phoenician Resort, where they were staying.”

  “You gave them a lift? No offense, but you don’t seem like the charitable type.”

  “I’m not. Mr. Sunburn paid me to deliver them back to the hotel—must have felt bad how wasted he got them. My boss also tossed a few bucks into the pot—he didn’t need the bad publicity of a celebrity getting a DUI leaving his bar. I drove their rented Jeep, and my boyfriend followed us, then took me home.”

  “Anything said on that ride that might interest me?” Cam reached into his wallet, and sent another hundred her way.

  She surprisingly sent it back in his direction. “Nothing worth paying for. They were so wasted they weren’t even making sense. Natasha did tell me that she was going to retire from tennis to run off with this guy she was with, the one trying to get her drunk, if you can believe that.

  “But the best part was when I asked her where she planned to run off to with this guy, she told me Mars.”

  This thing got stranger by the minute. Cam hadn’t thought to expand their search beyond earth.

  “And when I laughed at the answer,” the bartender continued, “she got deathly serious, and said that her father had once brought her to Mars on vacation, and he had gone on his honeymoon there. Luckily, she passed out not long after that. Girl was wasted.”

  When the food arrived, Sam devoured mozzarella sticks and nachos like she’d never eaten before. Just watching her made Cam never want to eat again, and he was glad they wouldn’t be flying anywhere this evening. But the food seemed to invigorate Sam. When he asked if she wanted anything else, she enthusiastically said, “Yes, I’d like to dance with you.”

  Cam was startled by the request, but before he had time to think about it, they had made their way to the dance floor.

  Sam pulled herself close and wrapped her arms around his neck, as the band played “You’ll Think of Me” by Keith Urban. He awkwardly gripped her around the waist. Now he was the one with sweaty palms.

  She moved her mouth right beside his ear and whispered, “I
didn’t really want to dance with you.”

  “Then it’s a little odd that you dragged me out here.”

  “Don’t get me wrong … I’d probably really like dancing with you.”

  It didn’t clear it up, but he soon realized that she saw the dance floor as the best place to have a private conversation.

  “I read up on Natasha after finding out that Tim was following her. And supposedly her father got married to her mother when they were poor teenagers in the Soviet Union, just before he went out on his military service,” she said softly into his ear.

  This still didn’t clear things up, which she picked up on.

  “Don’t you see—there was no way they went on some exotic honeymoon halfway across the world. I don’t even think you were allowed to travel here from the Soviet Union back in those days.”

  “When she said Mars was the destination, it sort of gave it away that it was the alcohol talking. I didn’t think they really went on their honeymoon to another planet.”

  “But I think what she said is true.”

  “If they took a honeymoon to Mars, then we are onto a much bigger thing than we thought.”

  He could feel her head shaking on his shoulder. “He might have told little Natasha that he went on his honeymoon there without thinking, and she might have taken it that he honeymooned in Mars with her mother. But if you remember, he had at least two other wives before Natasha was born.”

  “What was in those nachos?”

  “You really don’t see it—if Tim was right, Natasha’s father was also your father.”

  “Don’t remind me. So you’re saying he took my mother to Mars on their honeymoon?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Like I told you, my father’s hero was Jack Myles. So when I was growing up, I read everything there was to know about him. But it had little to do with learning about your father, and everything to do with impressing mine. So I would learn the most obscure facts about Jack Myles that I could find—the ones that my father might not know. Like how many chickens there were on the farm in North Dakota he grew up on, or where he went on his honeymoon with Katie Barrett.”

  She pulled away from their dance, and stared at him, her bright green eyes glowing with excitement. “Think about it, Cam—where did your father take your mother on their honeymoon?”

  He had to think about it—he’d spent most of his life forgetting his father, not retaining facts about him. “Let me see, I know they eloped to Vegas, because my grandfather was trying to keep them apart. And went on honeymoon somewhere out west …”

  It hit him. She was right. “They went to Sedona.”

  “Which is known for it’s red rocks … and is often referred to as the Red Planet.”

  “And it’s on the way from here to Las Vegas.”

  “And if Natasha’s father really did bring her on vacation there, all the way from Russia, it must really be a special place to him.”

  And for the first time Cam had to admit that it was actually a possibility. His mother popped into his head—as a kid he would declare a task impossible, she would reply that there was no such thing, and the only thing that separated possible and impossible was two little letters.

  They practically ran to the Pathfinder and headed north. They made one stop along the way—Dead Man’s Wash. As Sam stood alone at the dark gully where the crash supposedly took place, he wondered if Tim was sending her any more vibes. Cam didn’t believe in such things up until a couple of days ago, but now nothing seemed impossible.

  He gave her as much time as she needed, no matter the consequences. She was speaking out loud, but he was too far away to hear—he thought of what he would have said to Geoff if they ever got another chance to talk.

  She eventually returned, and they drove off again. By the time they hit Prescott, she was out like a light. Her time with Tim had sapped whatever energy she’d had left.

  He peered out into the darkness of the lonely road, and mentally prepared for their Mars landing.

  Chapter 78

  The morning sun streamed through the window of room 10-C at the Sky Lodge Motel. The bright rays hit Sam’s face like a laser beam and slowly woke her from her slumber.

  Cam watched as her eyelids opened and she surveyed the room. Her attention eventually landed on him, sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. He hadn’t slept a wink. And while Sam slept through the night, it was anything but peaceful—her emotions were as transparent during sleep as when she was awake.

  “Where are we?” she asked in a groggy voice.

  “Sedona—the Sky Lodge Motel. You conked out about halfway here, and I didn’t want to wake you.

  The previous days events seemed to be rushing back to her. He understood why she might have thought it was a dream—the whole thing was surreal.

  “We stayed in the same room?”

  “Well, we are married, so it seemed to make sense.”

  She tore off the covers to find she was in the same clothes as the day before.

  “Don’t worry, I was a perfect gentleman—didn’t even take your shoes off.”

  A look of concern came over her face. “You spent the whole night in a chair? That must have been horrible on your back.”

  He shrugged. “My rest was more peaceful than yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you were having a nightmare. And you were talking in your sleep.”

  “What was I saying?”

  “I couldn’t really make it out, probably just typical dream rambling—you were calling out to a Mildred or Millie, or something like that.”

  She sat up. “No idea what that was about—I just hope I didn’t keep you up.”

  “I slept great,” he lied. “But we better get going—we have a long day ahead of us.”

  She got up and found her tote bag resting on the end-table beside the bed. She took out a travel-size bottle of contact lens solution and revived her eyes. She reached in again and this time pulled out a plastic object. She handed it to Cam—it was another driver’s license. “If Tim was here, he most likely used his Peter Foye identity. So your new identity will be Shane Connors, the boyfriend of Peter’s sister, Roxie.”

  Cam studied his new identity. It seemed as if he’d been downgraded from husband to boyfriend, but the good news was that this Shane person looked more like him.

  “Shane is actually a guy I work with at Nellie’s. He’s an actor, who bartends to make ends meet. Or he is a bartender who acts on the side. I get confused.”

  “You stole his ID?”

  “I didn’t steal it—he left it behind one night last week when I was closing. I planned to return it to him the next night, but then all the stuff hit the fan. I’d forgotten about it until just now—I’ll return it when we get back.”

  Cam held the fake mustache out for her. “Do you want this back, or is it disposable?”

  “Wow—I didn’t even hear you scream when you took it off.”

  “I just cried silently. I think part of my lip came off with it.”

  She stepped close to him and inspected it with her finger. “No, it seems to be all there. Just a little red.”

  They stood inches away from each other for a long moment, before her stomach let out a loud grumble. It sounded like it was coming from a person who was living off airplane snacks and mozzarella sticks.

  An embarrassed look came over her face. She grabbed the mustache. “I’ll give our friend a proper burial,” she said on her way to the bathroom.

  When she returned, she took a look around the room as if seeing it for the first time. It was a look full of disappointment.

  “Not up to your expectations, princess?”

  “It’s not bad—I just always imagined spending a day with Cam Myles would be all about private jets and five-star hotels. All I got was flying coach and a motel without hot water.”

  They headed for the door. “Looks can be deceiving. But to make it up to you, what do you say I bu
y you a new outfit and then take you out for the best breakfast in Sedona.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  They found a thrift shop off 89A, the main road that linked Sedona and I-17. By the look on Sam’s face, it wasn’t what she had in mind when he mentioned the new outfit.

  The store’s owner greeted them, and Cam explained that they’d arrived last night from New York, on vacation, but the airline lost their luggage, and therefore they needed an outfit to get them through the day.

  The owner flashed Sam a quizzical look. “You look familiar to me.”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” she replied. “This is my first time here. My brother, Peter, was here about a week ago, and he raved about Sedona so much, we just had to come.”

  She snapped her fingers as if the light-switch went on. “Peter Foye, right?”

  Sam looked surprised. “How would you know that?”

  “He came in here looking for some warmer clothes. He’d come from Scottsdale, and wasn’t prepared for the cooler weather in Sedona. You look so much alike, and your mannerisms—it was like I’d seen you before. But it was your brother I was thinking of.”

  “That’s quite a coincidence,” Cam added. He’d been worried he’d be the one recognized, which is why he continued wearing the cap and sunglasses.

  “Not really,” the owner responded. “Sedona’s a small place—everyone runs into everyone at some point. Did he ever make it up to the canyon?”

  “The canyon?” Sam asked.

  “He’d asked me about going up to Oak Creek Canyon while he was here. He was a little hesitant, because he ran into some local guys who told him some tall tales about the danger up there.”

  “He didn’t mention it, no,” Sam said. Cam was pained by the look on her face as she was forced to talk about Tim as if he were still alive.

  But the conversation had borne fruit. They had confirmed that indeed, Tim had been in Sedona. And since he told Anna he was on his way to Las Vegas this weekend, then he would have had to backtrack to end up in Dead Man’s Wash. Why would he do that? The answer was, he probably wouldn’t have.