Going Twice

by Sharon Sala

  According to the reporter, a fourth agent had been added to the team: a woman by the name of Jolene Luckett. Wade Luckett’s ex-wife. Hershel couldn’t help but wonder what would prompt the FBI to do something like that, and then he wondered how he could use it to his advantage.

  But as intriguing as the news was, it also made him leery. He began thinking of little safeguards he’d let lapse, and one of them was changing the license tags on his truck. As soon as he finished eating, he was going into the big gift shop and picking up a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt to change into, and then he was going to steal a new license tag from some unlucky vehicle in the parking lot. Without camping equipment, he needed shelter, but with his face all bandaged up, he could safely choose about any place he wanted. And then there was that problem of no Stormchaser victims. Tonight he would do something about that, too.

  * * *

  Wade unpacked, set up his computer equipment, and then checked the room service menu before suggesting a change of venue.

  “Let’s go downstairs and eat in one of the restaurants. We can do room service tonight. Okay?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tate said. “Cameron, you up for it?”

  “Sure, whatever. What about Jo?”

  “I’ll go ask her,” Wade said, then patted his pocket to make sure he had his key card and left.

  Cameron glanced at Tate. “This feels like déjà vu.”

  “What do you mean?” Tate asked.

  “This is pretty much how you and Nola danced around each other last year.”

  Tate smiled. “Oh, that.”

  “I’d like to see Wade and Jo back together,” Cameron said. “I think Wade would, too.”

  “You have to remember we’re just bystanders here, so whatever you do, don’t take sides. We have to work together,” Tate said.

  “Absolutely. Just making an observation.”

  * * *

  Across the hall, Wade knocked on Jo’s door.

  The moment she opened it, he began to explain his presence, as if he needed an official excuse to be there.

  “We’re going to go down to one of the restaurants here in the hotel to eat. Do you want to come, too?”

  Her hand automatically went to her hair, as if checking her appearance.

  “Yes. Give me a second to get my purse.”

  He stood in the doorway, watching as she walked back to the bed. She’d been unpacking. Her underwear and a makeup bag were lying next to the open suitcase. Once upon a time his things would have been there, too. When she turned around, he made a point of looking elsewhere.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  He stepped aside as she came out and then quickly opened the door to the suite across the hall to let her in.

  Tate looked up as she entered.

  “Good, you’re coming, too. I stopped at the front desk and got an extra key for the suite. No need for you to knock. You work in here, too.”

  “Thanks,” Jo said as she dropped the key in her purse.

  “So, are we ready to go?” Wade asked.

  Cameron rolled his eyes. “Lord, yes, we’re ready. Let’s get some food in this man before he withers away.”

  “Good idea,” Jo said. “We can’t have People magazine’s Sexiest Man losing his good looks.”

  Tate blinked. “What’s that mean?”

  “The other day two girls thought Wade was Channing Tatum and asked for his autograph,” she said.

  Wade glared at her for bringing it up.

  They were still laughing as they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

  * * *

  Hershel found a room at a Motel 6. It was on the backside of the building, away from the eyes of cops in patrol cars and with access to a quick escape via an alley. He’d found a Walmart and stocked up on some clothing to replace what he’d lost. He’d also discovered that while the battery in his cell phone was down, the phone itself was okay. It was a relief to know he hadn’t lost his best means of contact with Benton.

  His belly was full, and he’d finally had a bath, being careful not to get his facial bandages wet. Now he was lying on the bed in his underwear, watching the news. This was a huge relief compared to living in the tent. He was getting too old for roughing it. The local news came on, and he saw the same footage he’d seen in the café. Agent Benton sidestepped nicely when asked if there were any new victims here in St. Louis, he’d answered, “We’re not sure.”

  Hershel snorted lightly. What he meant was, none had been identified, and Hershel knew that unless he did something about it, none would be.

  He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, letting his mind relax. Obviously most of those who had survived last night had already been found, so he had no viable options here. He needed to think about how to proceed, but a solution would come to him. Of that he was sure. The room was quiet and cool, and he was so tired and drifting closer and closer to sleep.

  What happened to your face?

  Hershel flinched and then sighed. He should have known this was too good to last.

  “I got caught in the tornado last night.”

  It wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed home.

  “And done what? Lived in shame knowing how I’d let the government get away with killing you?”

  The government didn’t kill me. Diabetes killed me, because of a hurricane, neither of which was the government’s fault.

  “If they’d rescued you in time, you wouldn’t be dead.”

  Listen to yourself. There were thousands of us in peril, and only so many available to help.

  “Go away, Louise. My face hurts, and I want to rest.”

  What does it look like?

  He frowned. “I don’t know. It’s bandaged up.”

  Aren’t you curious? I mean, you’re going to have to live with the results, just like the burn scars.

  “Go away,” he said. He tried to find that restful zone, but she’d put a bug in his ear that wouldn’t stop buzzing. Finally, muttering beneath his breath, he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  He’d purchased some fresh bandages and tape, and he laid them on the counter in case he couldn’t get these back on properly, then looked up at himself in the mirror and frowned. Hiding behind the white gauze had given him a false sense of security. Taking the bandages off was suddenly scary. His hands were shaking as he reached up for the first piece of tape and began to pull. One by one, he removed the squares of gauze and the pads beneath until his face was revealed.

  He gasped.

  “What the fuck?”

  Every place where the doctor had dug out debris had either a black stitch with tiny ends sticking up like mini-rabbit ears or tiny butterfly bandages holding the skin together. It looked like he had cactus spikes embedded in his face, and, coupled with the old burn scars, he was a monster straight from a horror movie.

  He watched the blood drain from his face as shock set in, and then all of a sudden he was hanging over the commode, throwing up. He puked and gagged until there was nothing left, and finally staggered back into the bedroom and collapsed.

  “I shouldn’t have asked God to save me. I’d rather be dead,” he muttered.

  It’s punishment for your sins.

  He closed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Louise. Can’t you see how I’m suffering?”

  I have no sympathy for you. The people who pulled you out of the storm didn’t have a Taser and a rope waiting to choke the life out of your body, now, did they? This is your punishment. Deal with it.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Hershel screamed, but Louise was gone.

  Just like a woman to throw down the last word and run out before anyone could respond. As soon as he could pull himself together, he got up, went back into t
he bathroom, and began doctoring the wounds and then putting on new bandages. They weren’t as professional looking as what the doctor had done, but his face was covered, and that was all that mattered. The release papers were lying in the sack with the meds. He picked them up and read them again, pausing when he got to the last line.

  See your local doctor in seven days for removal of stitches.

  “I’ll take the damn things out myself,” he said, and stuffed the meds back in the bag with the bandages, popped a pain pill and went to bed. “It is what it is,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  He had to rest now, to be ready for tonight.

  Seven

  Wade was still up watching television after the others had gone to bed. Spending the day with Jolene had pretty much shredded his composure. What he was trying to come to grips with was how a man could still feel something for a woman who’d cut and run as fast as she had.

  He needed to get some sleep, but right now going to bed would be futile. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the blood all over her body when they’d brought her into the E.R., and all he could hear was the EMT yelling out she was pregnant.

  They’d tried so hard that afternoon to save the baby, but the bullet that had gone through her had gone through their unborn son, as well. When he died and Jolene lived, she never forgave herself.

  Wade shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t the kind of person who hid from a job that needed to be done, and yet he’d let her run their marriage into the ground, too damn afraid to fight for her for fear she would come the rest of the way apart.

  He slowly became aware of a beep beep beep sound and realized it was a weather alert. He upped the volume, listening to a forecaster giving the latest news on the approaching storms. Meteorologists predicted lightning, thunder and the possibility of small hail, but no circulation in the clouds, which meant no tornado cells were building. He thought of the people who’d been trying to clean up today and knew the additional storms would delay their progress. It was a bad situation all around, but nothing anyone could control.

  So far five bodies had been recovered after last night’s storm, and all day he and the others had expected to get a call from the police, but at least so far, none of the deaths had been attributed to the Stormchaser.

  Wade wanted to think the guy was gone, but he knew better. If God was into payback, it would have been justice to find Hershel Inman’s body among the dead. But that hadn’t happened, either. Still, this was only one day, and there were still people unaccounted for.

  He got up and moved to the windows, fascinated by the wild play of lightning shooting across the sky. He could hear the faint rumblings of thunder, and then moments later heard someone at the door.

  He turned to see just as Jo came in looking a little sleep-tousled and anxious. He guessed the oncoming storm had awakened her and she’d panicked, because she was still in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, and her feet were bare.

  “I knew someone was up. I heard the television.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Wade said.

  She sighed. “The storm woke me up. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a tornado.”

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Do you have any Diet Dr Pepper?”

  He smiled. “On ice?”

  “Please.”

  She sat down at one end of the sofa and curled her feet up beneath her as she waited for him to come back with her drink. Normally she would have been fixated on the television weather map, but right now watching the muscles flex in Wade’s back as he put ice in her glass and poured her drink was better. She still had anxiety, but on a different level.

  Wade came back with her drink, a Coke for himself and a package of peanut butter crackers.

  “Thank you,” she said, opening the package and, without thinking, handed him half.

  Wade’s hand was shaking, but she didn’t see it as she dropped the little sandwiches into his palm. Just for a moment it had been business as usual between them, sharing cold pop and crunchy crackers in the middle of the night.

  As usual, he put one whole cracker in his mouth.

  “Don’t forget to chew,” Jo said absently, and then looked up with a startled expression on her face. “Sorry. That came out before I thought.”

  He wanted to laugh but felt more like crying.

  “Old habits and all that,” he said, and swallowed, then chased the cracker with a sip of Coke.

  Jo was staring at the screen. “It’s going to storm again, isn’t it?”

  “Not anything that will hurt us. Just a lot of wind and noise. Maybe some hail.”

  “Okay.”

  He ate his last cracker without tasting it because he was watching Jo. She felt his gaze, and when she turned her head, she was lost. Her eyes welled. Her chin quivered. When the first tear rolled down her cheek Wade felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

  “Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “This is hard.”

  “Being here with me?”

  She nodded.

  “Why did you come, then?” he asked.

  She wiped away the tears with an angry motion.

  “You know why! Women in the Bureau can’t be weak. Working with an ex-husband should not be a deterrent, and refusing a job is like asking to be fired.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sorry you’re so mad at me. If I knew how to help you, I would.”

  Jo was stunned. “What do you mean, mad at you? Why would I be mad at you? I’m not mad at you.”

  Wade frowned. “Then why the hell did we get a divorce?”

  “Because I killed our baby. I saw the anger in your face every time I looked at you, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  Wade was stunned. “What the fuck, Jolene? You didn’t kill our baby. I never once thought it was your fault. Where did you get that stupid-ass notion? Every time I tried to get close to you, you pushed me away and looked at me like I was the perp who’d pulled the trigger.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “You told me not to go to work, and I did anyway. I put my career ahead of our baby’s welfare.”

  He couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth, and crawled across the sofa and took her in his arms. She was trembling so hard it scared him.

  “No, no, I suggested you call in sick because you were sick, don’t you remember? You were getting the flu. It was going around the whole office. People were dropping like flies. Everyone was using up sick days like crazy.”

  “No, I don’t remember it like that. You said don’t go, and I did. I did, and I went out with my partner on a call, and he and our baby died. If I hadn’t been trying to be a superwoman…” The sobbing took over, and she couldn’t even talk.

  “Sweet Lord,” Wade muttered, and just let her cry.

  There had been so many misunderstandings between them. They’d been great together in bed, but their communication skills as a couple were obviously appalling. At first he’d been so scared he was going to lose her as well as their baby, and when she recovered, he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

  “I’m so sorry. I was so relieved you survived that I never thought you would feel guilty. You never mentioned any of this when we went to counseling.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, still sobbing. “I think I was a little bit crazy back then. I’d lost the baby, and I could see I was losing you, too. The only thing I had left was the job, and I hung on to it with everything in me.”

  The thunder was coming closer. He could hear rain beginning to blow against the windows.

  She sat up, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her T-shirt, and began a slow physical withdrawal from his arms.

  But it was the emot
ional withdrawal that hurt Wade most.

  “We should have said all this three years ago,” he said.

  “Three years ago I couldn’t have had this conversation. I was way too close to a nervous breakdown for logic.”

  He reached for her again, but she pulled away.

  “Thank you for listening,” she said, and stood up.

  Wade followed. “Well, hell, Jolene, is that all you think I was doing? Just listening?”

  “No, but—”

  He shook his head. “It’s late. We’re tired. This has been an emotional breakthrough for both of us, but I want you to sleep on this. I never wanted a divorce. You weren’t the only one who lost a child, and you never acknowledged my grief. When you said you were divorcing me, I had to face losing you, too. It was like you died anyway, because first you were there, and then you were gone. I don’t know how you feel about me anymore, and I know I’m still pretty mad at you for dumping my ass, but I didn’t stop loving you, okay? So if you’re even remotely interested in a relationship with a slightly used ex-husband, I would probably be available.”

  Thunder rattled the windows.

  Jolene eyed him curiously, almost as if she didn’t trust what he was saying.

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he said. “Got your key?”

  She picked it up from the side table.

  “I’ll see you to the door,” he said, then opened it wide and waited until she was inside her own room.

  She looked back. “I’m interested,” she said, and closed the door.

  Wade took a deep breath, then stepped back inside the suite, shut the door and turned the dead bolt.

  He was so stunned by the night’s revelations that her last comment barely registered. It wasn’t until he crawled into bed and closed his eyes that he let it all sink in.