Authors: Stan Crowe
“So,” she said, not looking at him, “what do you suggest we do?”
The man she wished she could own stared at the floor while the minute hand moved around the clock a few degrees.
“Well,” he said at last, “what do we know?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
He half smiled. “You’re the private investigator. Isn’t organizing your facts standard procedure?”
Lindsay harrumphed. Clint could pretend to be nice for a few days, but that didn’t change who he was. “Of course it’s standard procedure. I simply had no reason to think you would be aware of such a thing.
“As far as what we know,” she added, “we know that Fey is—or was—in this vicinity. We know you’re capable of walking normally again. And we know that our liquid assets are a small puddle waiting to be stepped in.”
Clint laughed. “Sully! You made a joke!”
Through gritted teeth she replied, “This is hardly the time to make light of this situation. Aren’t you the
least
bit frustrated that you came all this way only to have her slip through your fingers at the last second?”
A shrug. “Sure, I’m bugged. That’s why I told you I’d let you find her first and then give me a call. I mean, before I lost the Graphitti job and you ended up bailing me out of Jane’s abduction. And, yes, it’s worse because we
saw
her and then
lost
her. I sort of figured that was inevitable once you pulled that U-turn of death.”
Lindsay whipped her head up at the remark, but he held up a warding hand. “I don’t blame you for it,” he said solemnly. “You were doing exactly what I hired you to do, and to be honest, I don’t think I would have had the guts to even
think
of a stunt like that. Had things been even a bit different, you might have pulled it off. That would have been a great story for posterity.”
He smiled, almost wistfully, and Lindsay felt her heart flutter slightly at the sight. Before she realized it, she found herself standing right in front of him. He hunkered defensively into his chair. She stopped short, embarrassed by the lapse in judgment, and then stalked pointedly back to her seat to stand behind it.
Clint eyed her warily, smiled cautiously and added, “We’re not down yet. If you think about it, we’re lucky to have made it
this
far. I’m not sure how you pulled it off, but you tracked her out of state. That suggests to me that you can find her again. Care to clue me in on your secrets?”
Lindsay relaxed slightly, and contemplated smiling. It was still painful to be this close to him without actually touching him, but she found that resistance was still possible, if she fought it moment to moment. Maybe.
“That’d be telling,” she said. “But, yes, I do have some additional resources I haven’t tried. In fact, I’m going to spend some time this morning tapping them. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I have hopes that today will really be the day.” She glanced around. “By the way, I hope this place isn’t boring you to tears.”
Clint shrugged. “Sleep. Watch TV. Walk around the lake across the street and dodge female joggers. I guess it’s something.”
Lindsay felt suddenly sorry for him. She fished a small wad of cash from her purse, and set it on the table between them. “That’s a customer courtesy,” she said with a wan smile. “Why don’t you go enjoy Seattle for a bit. Who knows? Maybe you’ll see Fey in town. Just don’t get yourself arrested. Or mugged. Or shot.”
Clint’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, Sullivan. You
actually
care. Maybe I really will have to ask you out once this is all over.” He shot her a wink, and she nearly lunged for him. Clint started from his chair and took a long step backward. “Yeah, uh…, maybe I should save those comments for once you’re safe again. How about that?”
She nodded curtly, and hurried off toward the motel’s business center to get some distance from him. This close to the end, there was no room for distraction. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, and watched him disappear through the front door.
A ream of paper had exploded on her motel bed. Since shortly after Clint’s departure, Lindsay had been sorting through sheaves of information downloaded from the Internet, looking for patterns. RV parks still showed nothing, and phone and billing records were frighteningly sparse.
Maybe she’s as paranoid as I am, that way
, Lindsay thought, sourly amused.
Deep inside, a small voice reminded her that her luck was bound to run out sooner or later. Tracking Fey this far had burned a ton of karma. One more look through this pile, and another peek at that pile, and still nothing. She looked in the mirror, and frowned at the results of too little sleep and too much time staring at pages and computer screens. Dark purple smudges drooped beneath her normally blue eyes that were shot through with capillaries. As if that weren’t enough, the remnants of her bruising from San Francisco’s car crash hadn’t yet gone away. She hooked a finger in each corner of her mouth, and half-heartedly tugged upwards; it was the only way she could get herself to smile.
A light rap at the door caught her attention, and a small wave of panic washed through her. She glanced at her watch—4:55 p.m. already? How was it possible to squish seven hours of work into what felt like only fifteen minutes? There was no way she was ready to receive company looking like this. Thinking quick, she grabbed a few items to hide the facts of her unfortunate appearance, took a deep breath, and made for the door.
FIFTEEN
Standing in front of Sullivan’s door, Clint straightened his tie for the fifth time. His trip to the heart of the Mariner’s home turf had yielded some massive and pleasant surprises that he was eager to share with his sometimes-prickly traveling companion. After he knocked on the door, he heard a muffled “One moment,” and took to rocking on his heels while he waited. He smoothed out his new duds, checked to see that he’d done all the buttons on his shirt properly, and made sure his fly had been zipped. Check. Check. Should he button the sport coat or not? What was protocol? A quick hand through his hair again, and then a surreptitious nose cleaning, just in case.
Calm down, man.
When Sullivan’s door opened a few moments later, Clint had to bite back a wolf whistle. A pair of driving shades and that baseball cap really added to her image (not that she was bad to begin with), and his pulse raced. This might be harder than he’d thought.
Man up
, Clint, he told himself. “Are you ready to go, Sully?”
She gave him a slow once over. “I
know
I didn’t give you enough money to buy
that
. Where’d you get it?”
He shook his head. “Some store.” He could tell she was hardly satisfied with the answer, but ignored the follow up question in her eyes. “Let’s try again. Are you ready to go? It’s five o’clock.”
She glanced at her watch. “Go? Where are we going?”
He grinned. “Where they went.”
A blank stare. “What?”
Clint laughed. “Never mind. It’s an inside joke. But you
are
hungry, yes?”
“Maybe,” she said cautiously. In reply, her stomach gurgled, “Absolutely I’m hungry, you idiot,” and Lindsay blushed crimson.
Clint pretended not to notice the sound, and jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “C’mon. Even if
you’re
fine, I’m dying for something better than the burgers from the joint next door. I was thinking about something, you know, upscale. Just the two of us. Think of it as my way of starting to pay off my debt.”
She cocked her head. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been watching a dwindling budget lately. And, besides, I’m not dressed to go anywhere nice.”
Clint turned and jogged for the stairs. “No worries,” he called back to her. “Dinner’s taken care of, and I’ve got your evening wear sorted out, too. Let’s go!” He was down the stairs and in the lobby in under a minute. She appeared seconds later, frowning—probably glaring behind those shades—and demanding answers.
“That’d be telling,” he replied with a smirk. He could tell it was infuriating her, but she was leaning forward, eager for whatever it was he was holding back. Or maybe she was actually eager to rip his head off because she was infected by the Touch. Either way, there was no reason to delay. He strode through the front door of the motel, and then turned to hold it open for her. Sullivan approached sinuously, too much the way a big cat would close on its prey. Realizing the problem, Clint released the door and stepped aside, only to realize a new problem. A moment later, the door took Sullivan full in the face.
“Sully!” Clint sprang for the door and yanked it open, even as she staggered backwards. “Man, Sully. I
swear
by everything holy that I didn’t mean to—”
“How
dare
you!” she interrupted. “I can’t believe you would do something so utterly juvenile as that! Wait. Yes, I can believe it.” She turned on a heel and stalked away. “I’ve got work to do, Mister Christopherson. I have no time for idiot games. I’ll contact you after I’ve found our subject.”
Clint buried his face in his hand, and then looked behind him. Good. It was still there. “Sully!” he called after her. “This limo is big enough for two.”
She missed a step, and then stopped. Carefully, she looked back over her shoulder. He saw her gasp slightly, and then turn all the way around. For several seconds, she looked back and forth between the lobby elevator and the waiting luxury car. Finally, her shoulders dropped slightly, and she returned to the motel entrance. Clint decided it was probably safest to have her get the door herself this time, so he opened the limo for her, dismissing the driver with a nod. Sullivan exited the motel slowly, and shot meaningful looks both at Clint and at the car door.
“What?” he asked. “Hey, that first one was an accident, I already told you. Do you really think I’d slam a car door on a woman?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her head.
Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead gestured at the door, and said, “Look, Miss Sullivan. I
promise
I’m not going to intentionally injure or humiliate you. This… This was supposed to be a nice surprise and it hasn’t exactly gone the way I planned it. Bear with me, please? I promise I’ll do my very best to make this as enjoyable for you as it has been for me. Okay?”
Sullivan hesitated, but at last put one foot forward, then the other. Then she sped to the limo and climbed inside without so much as a glance at Clint. Her passage was so close that a faint whiff of her perfume caught his nose. Clint breathed deeply, and let the scent linger in his mind, resolving to get her a bottle of whatever that was as a “thank you” gift, once he got a job again. He really did owe her big. Hopefully, tonight would help.
Conversation was almost non-existent in the limo, and Sullivan kept the shades and cap on for the entire drive, despite the dim recesses of the limo’s interior. Clint offered her something to drink and some light snacks, but she declined each item with barely a wave, and spent the ride staring pointedly out the window. When the limo finally rolled to a stop in front of the place his driver had suggested, Clint cleared his throat.
“We’re here,” he said. He glanced toward the rearview mirror. “Are you allowed to wait at this curb, Jonathan?” he asked the driver. “We’re going to be a while.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said, nodding.
“Great. And, Jonathan, thanks for the helpful tips.”
“Not at all, sir. It’s always my pleasure to help my clients.”
Clint stepped out, and waited at the door again, resisting the urge to offer his hand to help Sullivan out when she paused as if expecting the courtesy. Then she looked at him, sighed lightly—almost sadly—and stepped out on her own. Clint tipped in another thanks to his chauffeur, and closed the door.
“Well, what’d’ya think, Sully?” he asked as he gestured at what Jonathan had said was one of the finest clothiers in Seattle. The four-story building stood calmly in front of them. Though dwarfed by the tower rising next to it, it still seemed comfortable in its own skin. Carved, Corinthian columns climbed each floor, tied together by ornate friezes linking each capital. A two-story sign proudly stood over the remarkably low-key entryway, and Clint crossed his fingers behind his back.
The interior of the place measured up to Jonathan’s descriptions. Muted, cream tones diverted customers’ attention away from the walls, and toward glass-topped tables which were lovingly adorned with outfits that Clint suspected would cost him a month’s wage. A cultivated maze of clothing racks zigzagged throughout the place. Soothing music flitted through the air, weaving between columns that matched the ones on the outside of the building, and dancing in and out of warmly-lit alcoves. Dark wood display cases appeared here and there, bearing tasteful sculptures, weathered globes, and antique clocks. A broad, hourglass-shaped staircase rose from the center of the ground floor, beckoning patrons onward and upward to an even higher level of apparel heaven.
Clint and Sullivan were immediately greeted by a woman in business attire with pleats Clint could shave by. She addressed Clint by name, and introduced herself to Sullivan. After a long, appraising look at the private investigator, she motioned curtly for her to follow. Sully gave Clint a confused look, but he shrugged and waved toward the rapidly retreating saleslady. Sullivan moved away reluctantly, and cast a parting look at him, tipping her shades enough that he could see the words “You
will
explain later” in her eyes.
Clint spent the next hour or two perusing the shop, chatting happily with various sales people, and admiring the architecture. Eventually he stopped thinking about how much tonight would actually cost, and lost himself in the unexpected burst of luxury that had descended upon him. Dinner was next, and the best had been saved for last. There was still a chance to get back on her good side.
Watching Sullivan dash past him and out the front door suggested he might be wrong.
The saleslady, several outfits draped across her arm, followed moments later, calling after Sully even as she jogged through the glass doors. Clint excused himself, and hustled after the women. Outside, he found his redheaded companion standing on the curb, staring blankly at the limo. Jonathan had already opened the door, and was waiting patiently, concern in his eyes. Clint stepped up next to her, but she turned and walked quickly away. Clint exchanged a confused look with the driver, who assured him he’d be waiting when he returned, and then took off to pursue her a second time.