Knowing

by Laurel Dewey

  “You gotta see her, Jane! She’s family.”

  “She’s not family. The only family I have is a younger brother. And he’s sitting in the Amazon jungle right now with his new wife enjoying a shamanic cleansing celebration.” As crazy as that sounded, Jane figured Mike’s plans for his day were infinitely more satisfying than her intended strategy.

  Half an hour later, her cell phone rang. “Hey, there,” she answered.

  “I’m sitting here in the parking lot. Where are you?” Hank stated.

  “Go to the front office and check into room number fifty-one.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I can’t check into the room. Remember? I’m the one with no cash? Room fifty-one. I’ve already scoped it out. It’s private. Call me when you get there.” She hung up before he could respond.

  Harlan stared at her silently.

  “What?” she asked him, irritated.

  “How come you can’t be honest with him?”

  “Oh, Jesus, Harlan. I’m not even going to answer that question.”

  “Maybe if you told him the truth, he could—”

  “What? That I’m harboring a fugitive? But don’t worry, because he didn’t do all the shit they’re saying he did. Really, Harlan? Really?”

  He studied the carpet silently. “How do you play someone you love?”

  “I’m not playing him,” Jane stated, nervously getting up and discreetly checking out the window.

  “Yeah. You are. It’s not right.”

  She let out a derisive snort. “I’m doing this for you, Harlan. It was time to do something desperate. We were sitting ducks in that car. And no money? What am I supposed to do, huh?”

  He considered it for a few seconds. “You don’t set up the people you love, Jane.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” She checked out the window again. “So, maybe I don’t love him?”

  He eyed her like a hawk before walking over to the window. “Don’t do it, Jane. Please don’t.”

  “Don’t do what?” she asked with a flinty edge.

  His eyes filled with tears. “Don’t turn into one of them. You got a good heart.”

  She smiled in a dismissive manner. “What’s that gotten me, huh?” She turned back to the window. “You do what you have to do in this world, Harlan.” Anger rose in her throat. “I’m trying to fucking save your life! Does that count for anything?!” She moved back into the room. “Stay away from the window!” she ordered him.

  Harlan sauntered back to the bed and sat down. He stared at her as she avoided his eyes. After several tense minutes, her cell phone rang.

  “Yeah?” she answered with a quick clip.

  “Okay. I’m in room fifty-one. Where are you?”

  “Be right there.” She hung up and scanned the room for her leather satchel. Finding it, she stopped, took a breath and gathered her racing thoughts. “Don’t use the phone or leave this room,” she quietly offered, without looking at Harlan. Collecting her overnight bag, she took another necessary breath to calm her mind and walked out the door.

  She was careful not to make a lot of noise as she walked the thirty-foot distance to room fifty-one. Jane was shaking as she rapped on the door. Hank swung the door open and paused for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to make of it so she waited, staring at him with lying eyes.

  “Jesus, Jane,” he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his room. He drew her toward him and passionately kissed her. Coming up for air, he glanced at her up and down. “You look like hell, Chopper,” he stated, using his pet name for her. “What happened to your lip?”

  She weakened as she dove into his blue eyes. “Stop talking, would you?” Tossing her satchel and bag on the table and chairs by the window and drawing the front curtain, she tugged at his denim shirt and eagerly kissed him as if they’d been apart for decades. God, it was like coming home, enveloped in his arms and feeling secure for the first time since they parted.

  His face colored with worry. “Please, Jane. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. “Not now. Please.”

  Their clothes quickly littered the floor and they crawled under the covers. Like excited teenagers, they consumed each other, moving in perfect harmony and reaching feverish crescendos that felt as if the angels were conducting their erotic symphony. As they melted into a divine rhythm, Jane felt as if she merged into his heart. Within that place, she soared in the exquisite beauty of that singular moment, willing it to never end. She felt his essence inside her and as her body relaxed for a brief moment, she forgot all the struggles, the fears and the strategies. In that moment, there was only sweet peace and devotion.

  Hank kissed her gently as he rolled onto the bed, drawing the covers toward them. He might have been thirteen years older than Jane, but to her, his body and mind seemed twenty years younger. However, the easygoing guy she knew was not completely there. His face was mapped with apprehension and prickles of fear.

  “You were right,” he finally said, turning on his right side and looking at her. “I did get your message.” He reached under the covers and cupped his palm on her breast. “I kept telling myself it wasn’t real. But every time I started to worry about you, something inside of me put out the fire.”

  “Where’d you feel it? Your head or your heart?”

  Hank gave the question a serious moment of contemplation. “My heart. My mind chewed it but my heart digested it.”

  Jane stared at the ceiling, blown away by his comment. “The heart and the mind,” she whispered.

  He drew his finger between her breasts. “Hey,” he said, reeling her back into the moment. “I need to know, Jane. What happened?”

  She’d rehearsed it in her head so many times over the past few hours but for some reason, it was all garbled now. Each time she reached for the lie, it eluded her.

  “Jane?”

  “Got a cigarette?”

  “I don’t smoke. And last I heard, you quit.”

  She managed a weak smile. “Right. I forgot.”

  He waited. “You’re stalling. Why?”

  Why wasn’t this easier, she wondered. She turned to him. “I found my car.”

  “You’re kidding. Where?”

  “A few miles from the Quik Mart.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I got it parked a block west of here in a wooded area. If you know what you’re looking for, you can’t miss it.”

  “Jane, you have to get it wiped for prints—”

  “He wiped it clean. Totally clean. And he took everything in the car except my badge, and pistol. My bag and satchel were in the trunk.”

  “Wait a second. It’s been four days, Jane. How does your driver’s license show up at a bus explosion?”

  She turned back to the ceiling. “I’m not sure. When I found the car, he’d already changed the plates. The right rear tire had a flat. It was out of gas. So, I trekked back to the Quik Mart and bought a couple gallons and I guess it was either on the way there or back that I somehow dropped by license.” She let out a tired sigh. “By the time I got to the car and filled the tank and changed the tire, all I wanted to do was get on the road, find a gas station, top off the tank and keep going to New Mexico.”

  “Okay,” he quietly offered. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t report it?”

  She turned to him because she could tell the truth for a moment. “I didn’t know Harlan Kipple stole my car. I wasn’t listening to the radio. Jesus! I just found out in the last twelve hours that I died at some bus explosion.” She shook her head and stared back at the ceiling. “I just needed to get out of town.”

  He never took his eyes off her. “So, how’s Wanda?”

  She swallowed hard. There was no way she was going to concoct a story that wild. “I haven’t seen her y
et.”

  Hank studied Jane’s face. “Uh-huh. So what have you been doing for four days?”

  “Jesus, you sound a fucking cop.”

  “That’s ironic. Because you don’t sound like one.”

  She turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your story has more holes than an old t-shirt.”

  Jane gathered some attitude. “I didn’t know I was being interrogated.”

  “Jane, please don’t make me pick apart your story.”

  She threw back the covers and sat up in bed. Maybe, she thought, if there was greater distance between them, she could lie more convincingly. “I can’t believe this—”

  He sat up. “That makes two of us. Let’s see, you don’t report the theft because you didn’t know it was Harlan Kipple who did it—”

  She spun around to him. “I wanted to get back on the road and not have my car impounded for who knows how long while they sort it all out.”

  “But you said you didn’t go to New Mexico. And if all he left you was your gun and your badge, that means he took your computer. The one with all your case files? If Kipple has your computer, he has access to hundreds of sensitive files. That alone would make you report it.”

  She turned away as her heart raced. Her mouth went dry. She could fabricate another story that her computer was in her bag or satchel but she quickly realized she didn’t bring it with her from the other room. “Those files are backed up three different places—”

  “That’s not the point, Jane, and you know it.” He waited. “You want me to continue?”

  The walls were caving in quickly. “Continue what?”

  “How about the fact that the bus crash was more than twenty miles from the Quik Mart? Didn’t you think I might look into that? You said you lost your ID between the Quik Mart and the car and you said that was a three mile trek.”

  Jane stood up and slid her shirt over her head. “You know, Hank, you should shut down The Rabbit Hole and get back into fraud investigation. I think you miss it.” She plopped her bare ass on a chair and stared into the wall.

  “Come on, Jane. Where have you been staying at night? Don’t they have televisions? Phones?”

  “I’ve been living in my car, okay? Remember? I got my cash and credit cards stolen—”

  “Yeah. How’d that go down?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How’d you get ripped off?” His tenor was direct and impatient.

  “I was parked in a vacant lot, trying to get some sleep and I hear a knock on the window and there’s a guy with a gun, demanding my wallet.”

  “You know, I realize we haven’t known each other a long time but I would bet my sports bar that if you slept in your vehicle overnight in a vacant parking lot, you would have one eye open and your hand on your gun.”

  God, he was right. That’s exactly what she’d do. “Well, I guess I fucked up then.”

  “And still, you don’t report the theft? Wow. Remind me to start ripping you off.”

  “I’ve had a shitty four days, okay?”

  “Right. Who smacked you in the mouth?”

  She was about to blame the vacant parking lot bandit for it and changed her mind quickly. “Nobody smacked me,” she said proudly. “It happened when I was changing the tire.”

  “Four days ago?” he asked calmly.

  Right away, she saw the problem with her lie. “It keeps breaking open. That’s why I asked for the antibiotics.”

  “The fish antibiotics.”

  “Yes.”

  “Normally, people go to doctors and get antibiotics that are made for humans.”

  “That fish stuff is the same exact shit. And it’s cheaper.”

  “Great tip. I’ll mention it to the next survivalist I meet. But as far as I know, you’re not one of them.”

  “Oh, fuck. I’m the original survivalist.”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Jane. Somehow, over the last four days, something’s happened to make you not want to get too deep into the world. I’d like to know what that is.”

  She shook her head. “So, a person just can’t take off anymore? Is that what I’m hearing? Is that what this world has come down to? You just can’t say, I need a break and disappear for a bit? There’s got to be a mystery attached to it?”

  He observed her with precision. “Considering your luck over these last few days, I’d say the gods are working against you. None of what you’re telling me makes a damn bit of sense. You want me to believe that for four days, you had no clue that they liked Harlan Kipple, a high profile criminal, for your car theft?”

  “Yes! That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

  “Never turned your radio on in the car?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you don’t care that your computer is in the hands of a killer?”

  She studied the floor. “Yeah, like he could even figure it out,” she mumbled.

  He looked at her carefully. “What does that mean?”

  She turned to Hank. “Back when he was first arrested after the motel incident, it filtered down to us that he was pretty much an idiot.”

  “Funny. You never mentioned that to me.”

  “I didn’t think it was important. Lots of comments are made about lots of perps. And this is not about Harlan Kipple.”

  “What is it about?”

  “It’s about me getting some space.”

  “I see. So you never intended to go to New Mexico?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Who are you wanting to get some space from? Me?”

  She paused a little too long. “Perhaps…”

  “Humph. Okay. You need some time away. But then you call me for help. That’s not your M.O. When you decide you want space from somebody, you’ll die before you call them at three in the morning for help.”

  Jane felt her lower lip trembling. “Maybe I was desperate. Ever consider that?”

  He eyed her carefully. “Yeah. You were desperate. I get that. I want to know why you’re desperate. I want to know why you need a rental when you’ve got a perfectly good vehicle parked in a wooded area a block from this place? The only reason you’d ask for a rental is because you know your Mustang is on the radar. And why ask me to get you a van that blends in? Didn’t you mention to me that the day you drove a van was the day you officially gave up on life? I believe your exact words were, ‘If I ever decide to buy a van, shoot me.’”

  Jane was operating on fumes. “It’s a rental. I’m not buying it.” She stood up and marched across the room with no place to go.

  There was a thick, horrible silence between them. Jane felt her soul being ripped out.

  “If you wanted to get away, why didn’t you just say it? Why tell me to check on Wanda’s location? Why did we make all those calls to confirm her background? You not going to New Mexico makes no damn sense. You’re the type of person who makes a decision and follows through to the bitter end.”

  “And how do you know this?” she asked with a nasty edge. “How long have we known each other, Hank? What? A month? Actually, a little less than that.”

  “I know you and you know me,” he stressed. “We obviously have a strong enough connection that I knew you weren’t dead.”

  “Yeah, well,” she turned away. “You don’t know everything.”

  He waited and when she didn’t move or speak, he spoke. “So tell me.”

  It was pointless but her pride prevented her from admitting it. She flung her shirt off. “I’m taking a shower.” Storming into the bathroom, she slammed the door.

  Standing at the sink naked, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. At first, she didn’t recognize herself. Her eyes held a steely coldness. She turned away from the mirror and then back, hoping to see warmth reflected back at
her. But it wasn’t there. How many dark holes had she fallen into when she was a drinker? And how many of them did she crawl out of and, each time, leave a part of herself behind until she was left with only a skeleton of her existence. It had taken her two years of struggle to finally retrieve all the parts of herself that mattered and feel somewhat whole again. But now, here she was, and the woman in the mirror was shattered. It was astounding how quickly she could go backward and lose the ground she’d fought so hard to conquer. What was next? She’d already started smoking again. Was liquor just a heartbeat away?

  She heard rustling outside in the room and wondered if Hank was leaving. He’d say goodbye, wouldn’t he? She turned to the closed bathroom door and waited for him to knock or turn the knob but nothing happened. Okay, fine. If that’s the way he wants to end it, she could handle it. She examined her lip in the mirror and chastised herself for trying to convince him it was four days old. She always thought her stories through when talking to the hardcore perps and was able to creatively back up her lies. But the task was more difficult when she lied to someone she cared for.

  Turning on the shower, she got in and held the vibrating pulse of the water against her spine. She closed her eyes and imagined herself far away from there, cocooned in an empty fortress. It was there that safety resided. Apart from the masses and the petitions for her service, she could exist with a modicum of sanity. The hot water pounded against her skin in a syncopated rhythm. She pressed her eyes closed even tighter and continued to visualize her uninhabited sanctuary. The pulsating friction drew her into the beat until she felt hypnotized and as if she were floating from the room. In the distance, another sound merged. It started gently but grew with intensity. As it came closer, she recognized it as a drum beat. With her eyes still closed and lost in the moment, the drums became louder until that’s all she could hear. Just as it reached a fevered crescendo, the sound of a young child’s terrified scream broke through. Jane opened her eyes and pulled her body out of the hammering stream of water. For a second, she had no idea where she was. Turning off the faucets, she pressed her back against the tile as the water spiraled into the drain. Looking around, she felt trapped. She whipped back the shower curtain and secured a heavy towel around her body. Leaning over the sink, she wasn’t sure if she was going to vomit or pass out. After a minute, she wiped off the steam from the mirror and checked herself one more time. Her hope was that the water had washed away the coldness in her eyes. But it was still there and unbroken.