Winter Winds (38 page)

They had just given their orders to their server when a man wearing a police uniform and a name tag that read Lt. Greg Barnes walked up to their table.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Miss Pilotti?”

Joanne gave a little bleat. Cops always scared her. “Yes?”

Barney had coached her and told her not to say anything more than she was asked.

“Never offer a thing,” he said. “You like to help people. Don’t help the police.”

“I’m Greg Barnes of the Seaside Police Department.”

Joanne nodded. “This is Barney Noble.” As if he didn’t know.

“Are we still in Seaside?” Barney asked. “I’m just asking because I’m wondering why you’re here out of your jurisdiction.”

The policeman nodded vaguely at Barney, ignored his comment, and concentrated on Joanne. She felt like twitching under his unblinking stare.

“May we talk to you in private, Miss Pilotti?” Lt. Barnes asked.

“What about?” She didn’t have to try to look scared like Barney had told her. She felt scared for real. “Did something happen to my family?”

She loved that question. Barney had said it would make her look completely innocent because that would be the big reason the cops would come see someone who was really innocent.

“Excuse me, but can’t you see you’re scaring her?” Barney rose and came over to Joanne. “I’ll go with you, Jo. It’ll be all right, I’m sure.” He pulled her chair back for her and helped her rise.

Lt. Barnes didn’t look happy to have Barney along, but there wasn’t much he could do about it short of making a scene in the restaurant. They walked to the parking lot.

“Is that your car?” Lt. Barnes asked, pointing to Barney’s black car gleaming softly in the parking lot lights. A man in rumpled clothes leaned against its side.

“It’s mine,” Barney acknowledged. “Why? And get off my car, please. Go lean on someone else’s.”

“But yours is the nicest one here,” the man said, but he straightened.

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Barney said.

“This is Sergeant Cary Fleishman,” Lt. Barnes said with a hard look at Sergeant Fleishman.

“Also of Seaside PD?” Barney asked.

Lt. Barnes looked at Joanne for a minute, then at Barney. “Would you mind opening the car for us and showing us the suitcase you have in the backseat?”

Joanne made her eyes very big. “How do you know we have a suitcase in the back seat?”

Lt. Barnes ignored the question. He motioned to the car.

“It’s okay, baby,” Barney said, pulling out his keys.

In a moment the black suitcase with the red yarn tied around the handle sat in the middle of the parking lot, the four of them staring down at it.

“Where did you get the suitcase, Miss Pilotti?” Lt. Barnes asked.

“At the airport,” she answered. “I picked up the wrong one by accident.” She stepped to the suitcase and held out the name tag. “See? Dori MacAllister.” She shook her head. “Boy, did I feel dumb.”

Lt. Barnes frowned as he studied the name tag. He walked around the suitcase and muttered something impolite under his breath.

“Please open the case,” Sergeant Fleishman ordered.

Joanne looked at Barney who nodded. “Go ahead, baby.”

Joanne set the case on its side and unzipped it. Dori MacAllister’s clothes and gifts, all except the necktie with the books on it that Barney really liked, lay there for all to see.

Lt. Barnes’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me a minute.” He walked several steps away so he could talk privately.

Fleishman pointed to the case. “Empty it.”

“In the dirt?” Joanne was horrified.

“In the dirt. And why were you at the home of Reverend Paul Trevelyan at eight-thirty this evening?”

“That’s where she lives.” Joanne grabbed the luggage tag. “I wanted to give it back to her.”

Barney had told her, “Don’t mention that you wanted to exchange it for the other one. That’s offering information that they can make trouble with.”

She remembered and kept her mouth shut about any exchange. It was Sergeant Fleishman who brought the subject up, just like Barney said a cop would.

“You were going to exchange this case for yours?” Fleishman watched the pile of clothing on the parking lot grow and the pile in the case diminish.

“I don’t know if she’s got mine or not.” Joanne kept her eyes down as she spoke. That was the one lie that she had worried about telling convincingly. Not having to look at the cop made it easier.

Lt. Barnes hurried up. “Forget it,” he said to Joanne. “Come on, Fleishman.” He took off for his car at a run. Frowning, Fleishman followed.

Barney stood with his arm around Joanne as they watched the two policemen careen out of the lot and speed down the road toward Seaside. He turned her in his arms.

“You did great, baby! I’m so proud of you.” He hugged her.

Joanne glowed at the praise. “Really?”

“Really. You couldn’t have been better.” And he hugged her again.

“I’m starting to feel like a real professional.” She felt all hyper inside, full of fizz. She giggled, then laughed aloud. The world couldn’t be better. “First I’m a courier. Now I’m a decoy. What next, do you think?”

“We’re going to the Caymans.”

“Now?” she asked in surprise. “We’re going now? This very minute?”

He took her arm and led her toward the passenger door. “Come on. We need to hurry.”

“But I don’t have any clothes. And I don’t have my passport yet.”

Barney reached into the inside pocket of his black leather coat and pulled out two small books bound in navy blue. They both read PASSPORT and United States of America. An American eagle sat in the middle of the covers. He held them out to her.

She flipped one open. There was her picture under a fat USA. Beside it was a name, Jo-Ellen Barnhouse and some address in Pittsburgh. When the light caught the page right, an eagle showed over the picture and name. She frowned and flipped open the other passport. There was Barney’s picture, but the name read Tom Barnhouse, and his address was the same one in Pittsburgh.

“Do I look like a Tom?”

She got it all of a sudden. Just like
Alias
on TV! “Do I look like a Jo-Ellen?”

“I wanted the names to be somewhat similar so that if we slipped up, no one would think anything of it. If you forgot and called me Barney, people would just think it was a nickname for Barnhouse.”

She stared at him for a minute, awed. “You are so smart! But why do we have to leave? I mean, right this minute? I thought we did everything the way you and Mr. Jankowski planned.”

“We did our part in getting the paintings to Mr. Jankowski just right, but I’m willing to bet anything that the call Barnes received had to do with Vinnie. If I’m right, Seaside is not a safe place for any of Mr. Jankowski’s people at the moment, especially me. So we’re going where it’s safe—and where I’ve got money stashed. We can make up a whole new life, Jo-Ellen. Anything we want.”

“You won’t have to do mean stuff anymore? You won’t have to hurt people ever again?”

“I can be Tom Barnhouse, nice guy.”

She grinned. “Are we ever coming back?”

Barney thought for a moment. “Is there any reason why we should?”

“Uh-uh. None I can think of.”

“Then we won’t come back. We’ll sit in the sun forever.” He opened the car door. Joanne saw the clock on the dash reading 9:58.

“Oh! Just a minute.” Joanne ran back to Dori’s suitcase lying open and empty behind the car. She fell to her knees beside the pile of clothes and fumbled through them. “Got it,” she yelled and ran back to Barney. She held up the glass ball with the beautiful swirls of color in it.

D
ORI STARED AT
the closed door, the sound of Trev’s angry slam reverberating in her ears. For a moment she couldn’t think, didn’t feel. Then the disbelief and pain kicked in.

What had just happened? How had she gone from such hope and joy to such despair? One moment she was in Trev’s arms, vowing to be his forever. The next he was storming out of the house, more furious than she had ever seen him in all the years she’d known him.

Years of patterned thinking asserted themselves, and she found herself feeling resentful and used. How dare he walk out on her like that! That’s what happened when you tried to dislodge the pink elephant. Better to leave it alone and just step cautiously around it, leaving it behind as you pressed into the future.

Except there was no future now.

The thought hit with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer pulverizing stone. The ache was so intense she doubled over, her arms wrapped around her stomach. The pain was too deep for tears. She’d known from the beginning that if he rejected her again, she’d die somehow. Oh, not physically. That would be too easy.

Oh, Lord, I can’t stand this agony! Help me!

No immediate surcease came, no lifting of the black cloud that enveloped her, no reconstructing of the heart the sledgehammer of his rejection and anger had crushed.

With a sigh she pulled herself to her feet. She climbed the stairs slowly, each step its own little Everest. Halfway up she heard a little slither of sound over her head, but when she stopped to listen, the sound disappeared.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed the door to the hall closet was partially open. She pushed it shut and continued on to her room. She pulled her little suitcase from under the bed and threw in as much as it would hold. She zipped it shut and pulled it to the floor where it landed with a thud. She jerked up the pull handle and wheeled it to the top of the stairs. There she grabbed the short handle on the case’s side and lugged it down to the living room.

She opened the closet to get her coat, and the red Lands’ End Squall seemed to jump out and grab her. A sob rose as she deliberately reached around it and got her black down-filled coat. She pulled on her red beret and her red gloves, grabbed her purse and suitcase, and left the house.

She thought suddenly of Trudy, off somewhere with Maureen and Ryan. Poor Trudy, moved at the whim of people whether she wanted to move or not. A picture rose in her mind of Ryan seated on the floor laughing as Trudy gave his face a bath. Another surfaced of Trudy lying head to head with Jack, barking and teasing him to come chase her. And the sweetest picture of all—a grinning Ryan lying on the floor with Trudy’s head lying on one shoulder and Jack’s on the other, both dogs blissful as he fondled their ears.

She’d leave Trudy here as a gift to Ryan. Someone might as well get something positive out of this catastrophe. Certainly Trudy was small enough that Mae wouldn’t mind having her in the house.

Oh
,
Lord, I don’t want to leave!

But she knew she had no choice. Trev didn’t want her. It was that simple.

As she drove through town, it began to snow, slowly at first, then with increasing force. She felt a momentary flutter of fear—it had been so long since she’d driven in snow—but the emotional
chaos consuming her pushed the snow problem to the side. She made certain she didn’t pass Harbor Lights or Phil’s pharmacy. It would be too painful. She sniffed.

I’m sorry, Mae. Forgive me for letting you down. And, Phil, be careful you don’t let Maureen get away. She’s just right for you
.

Tears sheened her eyes as she thought of the two of them getting married. She wouldn’t even be able to come to their wedding because Trev would be there. With Angie?

For a minute she thought she might throw up.

As she drove over the Ninth Street Causeway she glanced at the clock on her dash. Ten o’clock. She’d been in Seaside for six days and eight hours, give or take an hour. That wasn’t very long, but she felt utterly bereft.

Trev
.

She allowed herself to go back to that fateful afternoon six years ago. She saw herself open the door, so excited about seeing her new husband again, so hungry for his arms about her. She saw the open bedroom door and the dark-haired man and the blonde woman sleeping in what was to have been her bed, hers and Trev’s. She felt the slam of horror all over again, saw her hand come to her mouth to smother the agonized scream, saw herself turn and run back to her dorm room where she’d stuffed whatever came to hand into her backpack and headed for the airport.

Suddenly a conversation long forgotten surfaced. She was at the apartment one Friday not too long after her first semester had begun. Phil was already in graduate school, sharing the apartment with Trev, a junior.

“How come you’ve got the big bedroom?” Phil asked as he walked out of his tiny room. “I can barely turn around in there.”

Trev shrugged. “I got here first on moving day?”

“But oldest gets first dibs. Haven’t you ever heard of primogeniture?”

“Right. I want to know where that rule is written down,” Trev groused. “I think some oldest kid somewhere just decided it should be that way and told all the other oldest kids he knew who told all the oldest kids they knew and on and on.”

“What’s wrong with your room?” Dori asked, peering in the door of the room under discussion. “Aside from the socks and
underwear on the floor and the dust bunnies under the bed, I mean.”

“Well, the bed, for one thing. It’s too small.”

Dori frowned at Phil. “It’s a standard twin bed. What’s the problem?”

“Two don’t fit well.”

“But there’s only one of you,” she answered reasonably.

“Most of the time,” he said with a significant look at Trev.

Dori felt her face heat as it dawned on her what her brother was talking about. “I don’t want to hear this. I do not want to hear this.”

Trev laughed at her discomfort. “Look, Phil, feel free to use my bed anytime you need to, provided I’m not sleeping in it, of course.”

“Better yet,” Phil said, “we’ll trade. One semester yours, one semester mine.”

As the memory unrolled, Dori began to shake, her whole body trembling under the enormity of her discovery.

He was right, and she was wrong!

All these years she had been so certain of her position. He was wrong; she was right. Sure, she was an emotional coward. Sure, she had run. Sure, she had refused to talk about the situation out of a combination of fear and self-protection.