Night Passenger

by David Stanley

  It was worse than Cabot had imagined possible and he was forced to look away. It felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The more they dug into Thorne, the cleaner he became. His perception of the actor was so at odds with the facts that it seemed like they were different people. The detective wasn’t finished, however.

  “I hate to say this, but if Thorne was still on active duty he’d get a Purple Heart for what he did at the mall. They might yet find a way to do it, the people love their new hero.”

  “You know who else was a decorated vet?”

  Barnes smiled. “John Rambo?”

  “Timothy McVeigh.”

  The smile slid off the younger man's face.

  “You can't seriously compare Thorne with the Oklahoma City Bomber.”

  “Just making a point. In my experience, a positive past offers no useful information to a criminal investigation. Good people turn bad, it's as simple as that. Tell me, what was Thorne’s speciality in the Marines?”

  This, Cabot already knew.

  Barnes sighed. “Explosive Ordinance Disposal.”

  “There you go. The man could blow us up ten times over.”

  There was a silence between them for a moment, during which time Barnes seemed to study the nails on his right hand. Eventually he looked up, his face caught somewhere between amusement and confusion.

  “Boss, what is it about Thorne you don’t like?”

  “Pretty much everything.”

  “I meant in terms of the case.”

  “I know what you meant, Detective, and I don’t like your insinuation that my problem with him is based on some kind of petty personal dislike. Are you actually telling me that you think it was chance that put him in that mall?”

  “Chance? No.” Barnes shrugged. “It’s a mall, he went there to buy something, just like he said. Jewelry, for his old lady.”

  “You buy that whole accidental hero story?”

  Barnes stroked his chin, like there was a beard there.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. It happens sometimes. A good guy comes along, does the right thing. It’s not so hard to believe, is it? We have it all on video. They show it a dozen times an hour on every network.”

  “Porter and Thorne were both Marines. That’s how this thing’s connected, they go way back is my guess. Are you going to tell me that’s just a coincidence?”

  Barnes nodded slowly, as if conceding the point.

  “Do you know Carl Sutter?”

  Cabot frowned, thinking.

  “The Capitola Police Sergeant?”

  “That’s the one. He was in the mall that day with his wife and daughter. Off duty. Was less than a hundred feet from the action when it started. He was strapped too, the man has a concealed carry permit. In any case, by the time he arrived it was all over.”

  “What’s your point?” Cabot said. “Who gives a shit?”

  “Sutter was in the Marines at the same time as Thorne. He served in Afghanistan and Iraq. I believe his deployment pattern matches Thorne’s, although I’d have to check my notes. So here’s the thing: if it’s not a coincidence for Thorne to be there at the same time as Porter, how can it be a coincidence for Sutter?”

  Cabot leaned across his desk, his finger pointed at the detective.

  “Get the fuck out my office.”

  Mason Barnes looked at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Lieutenant…”

  “Out.”

  Barnes sighed and got to his feet. From looking like he owned the place, he now looked crushed, like a scolded puppy. Cabot almost felt sorry for him, the little prick. He felt his reaction had been fair, but perhaps some of his anger was due to the detective having a point. There was a difference though, Carl Sutter lived here, he hadn’t just arrived from Los Angeles. He hadn’t sat in a cold parking lot for two hours waiting for the mall to open. Thorne had no business being there, he was the anomaly.

  “Barnes, just a second.”

  The deputy turned back toward him, braced for another attack.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “How’d you ID those clowns anyway?”

  “From their wallets. Credit cards and driver’s licenses.”

  “You run the names through NCIC?”

  “Yeah,” Barnes said. “A couple of hits, neither of them particularly helpful. Ricky Martinez did eight years for armed robbery at Victorville, while Taylor Lynch did two and change at Lompoc for showing his wang to a six year old girl.”

  “Charming.”

  “Ain’t nobody mourning these assholes.”

  Cabot ignored this comment, and the folksy way Barnes had said it. The subtext was not complex. Thorne had taken out the trash and they were all the better for it. An opinion that appeared to be widely shared by most of his fellow officers, as well as the public at large. He didn’t know what it was about Thorne that made him reject his actions as heroic, but it was hard to ignore the fact that the Ashcrofts would likely be dead without him.

  “All right, Barnes. Let’s put the subject of coincidence to one side for the moment. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. But right now, we have precisely jack shit and nothing to lose. So how about you run their prints through AFIS. My bet? They’re all ex-military.”

  Barnes nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, Lieutenant. I’m just not convinced it’ll make any difference to Thorne either way. It’s circumstantial and he has immunity.”

  The kid was a straight shooter, he’d give him that.

  SEVENTEEN

  Lauren stood next to his bed staring down at him. She was wearing skin tight black yoga pants and a long sleeve gray T-shirt that hooked around her thumbs. Thorne blinked a couple of times to clear the fog of sleep. It didn’t help. Had she woken him up? How long had she been standing there looking at him?

  “Watching someone sleep is pretty creepy, Lauren.”

  “It’s eight o’clock.”

  “And?”

  “We’re going for a run. You and me. Eight o’clock is when I go running. I’ve brought you some clothes. They used to be Jimmy’s but they should fit you just fine. He never wore them and I doubt he’d get into them now, so consider them yours.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Two things. One, no I am not; and two, my face is up here.”

  He felt his cheeks burn. Damn, she looked good in those pants.

  “I can’t run with this leg. It’s hard enough to walk.”

  “Then we walk. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. You got five minutes. If you’re not there by then, I’m coming back here with a bucket of ice water. Don’t worry about showering or changing your dressings, we can do that when we get back.”

  She walked out the room without waiting for a reply. Thorne sighed. He lifted the cover and swung his legs out onto the carpet. He’d developed a way of hooking his right foot under his left ankle so he could use the strength of his right leg to move his left. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He paused on the edge of the bed and stared at his taped-up left thigh. After tearing a hole through the old man’s Buick, a subsonic fragment the size of a pea had buried itself in his leg and it felt like it was still in there.

  Lauren had left a pair of sneakers and some neatly folded clothes on top of the dressing table. He felt a strange coolness below his left eye and when he touched it with his fingers, he found his cheek was wet. He wiped it dry with the back of his hand, and shook his head. He knew how she’d waken him up: she’d licked his face. He smiled to himself. Lauren Ashcroft could lick his face any damn time she wanted.

  He caught his reflection in the mirror and his smile faded. It reminded him of the countless hours he’d spent in front of mirrors in makeup, or practicing lines for his TV show. Kate. He hadn’t called her once since he’d been in hospital. Was she worried about him? He began to mechanically dress in the clothes Lauren had laid out for him. He’d call Kate when they got back from the walk. Even if their relationship was over, she’d still want to know he was okay, wouldn’t
she?

  The clothes fitted him perfectly, as he knew they would. These had never belonged to Ashcroft. He was four inches taller and forty pounds heavier than the senator, they weren’t exactly twins.

  Thorne fed his head and arm into the sling, and set off after Lauren.

  He found her standing at the window next to the swimming pool looking into the forest beyond. The sky was slate gray with dark, heavy-looking patches in the distance. It didn’t look like weather for yoga pants but for sure he wasn’t going to say that to her. He checked to make sure James Ashcroft wasn’t standing in the kitchen watching him, then turned back. Lauren was facing him now, looking at the clothes he was wearing. He held the Nikes up in his left hand and she nodded apologetically. Tying laces had become difficult since the shoot-out because reaching down stretched his damaged deltoid and compressed his abdominal wound, causing him incredible pain. He could still do it, but Lauren was keen to help and he liked the way she looked crouched in front of him.

  After she tied his shoes, they walked out the front door and she turned right, away from the driveway. He followed along behind her. She was going too quickly for him, the jarring impact of each footstep caused pain to shoot up his leg as he attempted to keep pace. At the corner of the building, she stepped sideways through a gap in a hedge into the darkness beyond. On the other side was a hard packed mud track that lead off into the trees. Soon they were in the forest, the uniform vertical lines like bars around him, sunlight filtering softly down from the canopy above. He turned his head and every direction looked the same.

  She stopped and let him catch up before continuing on, side by side. They walked in silence for several minutes before she spoke.

  “I’ve been thinking about that kiss last night.”

  Here it comes, he thought.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren, I should never have suggested it.”

  “That’s not where I was going.”

  He looked across at her.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No,” she said. “After I went to bed I lay there thinking about it. How it felt, you know, all that. That’s when it hit me, I kind of screwed you. It was a bad kiss.”

  Lauren turned toward him, a strange half-smile on her face.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you saved my life.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Forget it.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t.”

  “The kiss was amazing, Lauren. We’re all square, you and me.”

  “I can do better.”

  “That’s not necessary. Come on, let’s just walk.”

  “Forget I said anything,” she said.

  He nodded. “Already forgotten.”

  A moment passed, then another.

  “Was it really amazing?” she asked, finally.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  She turned to look at him. “What?”

  “You’re not very good at this are you?”

  “No,” she said.

  The path curved to the left, the gradient increasing and the trees closing in on either side. She passed him to lead the way. They were now headed in a southeasterly direction, away from the mansion. The ground here was covered in layer upon layer of pine needles, he could feel the softness of them underfoot. He knew she was still thinking about the kiss, it was probably the whole reason she’d got him out here into the woods in the first place. She wanted to talk about it somewhere isolated. She wanted to kiss him again. It was there on her face, that half-smile. It was a complication he didn’t need. He couldn’t afford to be distracted from Blake or Cabot, too much was at stake. His gaze drifted down and he watched her ass move through the tight skin of her pants. It seemed to writhe with every step, like two snakes were fighting to the death beneath the surface.

  He heard a swishing sound up ahead. The path was approaching the road. After all the twists and turns, this represented the first bearing he had on where they were. All the trees looked the same that it was hard to know how far they’d traveled. Over two miles was his guess, which had to mean they were approaching the road at a diagonal, well down on where the security gate was located. Suddenly, there it was through the trees. He saw a flatbed truck go past. Lauren dipped away again, away from the road at another angle. They were still going away from the mansion, every step they took, a step they’d have to repeat coming back. He was slowing. The pain from his leg was constant and there was tightness there that was causing him to limp. He wasn’t ready for this, he hadn’t healed. The minutes ticked by, more and more distance covered. If he’d been on his own, he would’ve stopped long ago. For several minutes he entertained the idea that the path they were on was circular and that they were already heading back to the mansion. The idea got him through a bad patch, where it felt like he was being electrocuted, but he knew now he’d been kidding himself.

  “Look,” he said. “I’m beat. If you want to run on, that’s fine. I’m sure I can find my way back from here.”

  “If you quit now, you won’t see it.”

  “See what?”

  She smiled and shook her head. Rather than slowing down for him, she was now walking faster, pushing him to keep up. His thigh burned like it was on fire. It wasn’t warm out, but beads of sweat covered his body. Pain could be like a fever, and it seemed to be eating him alive. Out of misguided pride, he was trying to match her new pace. In a detached manner, he wondered if they would get to their destination before he passed out.

  After five minutes, he saw the light change ahead where the forest came to an end and sunlight broke through in a blazing curtain. It was no more than fifty yards, if this was her destination he was going to be fine, if it was any farther, he was going to have to lie down. Lauren increased her speed again and he let her leave him behind. His tanks were empty, he had nothing left, not even pride. She looked back at him.

  “That all you got, Thorne?”

  Lauren, the drill sergeant.

  “I think so.”

  “I never had you down as a pussy.”

  Her tone was pitch-perfect. It got to him, at some prehistoric part of his brain. He found some strength to go faster, like loose coins lost down the back of a chair.

  “I take five bullets for you, and this is the thanks I get?”

  “Oh, please. Two of those were basically paper cuts.”

  He laughed. She was good.

  They broke through the tree line side-by-side into an open glade covered in wild grass. In the middle of the area, an old tree lay on its side, its thick trunk rising four feet off the ground. When the tree stood, it would’ve been a monster.

  Lauren walked across the glade and up to the tree. This was her turnaround, the place where she ran to, before heading home. She pulled herself up onto the trunk and twisted so that she was sitting on it with her feet hanging down the side. It was something he was unable to do with his arm in a sling. He walked along the length of the truck until he got to where some branches stuck out and he was able to use them as hand and foot holds. He walked back along the top and sat down next to her. He was glad to be off his feet. He estimated they’d covered five miles. All of it, apparently within the boundary of Ashcroft’s property. It blew his mind that anyone had this much land.

  “All this belongs to you?”

  “None of this belongs to me,” she said.

  “You know what I mean. To James.”

  Lauren sighed. “Yes.”

  He studied her face in profile. Lauren was beautiful and perfect, but she was also sad. He wondered if part of her beauty was the sadness. It gave her a depth. She felt his eyes on her and turned to look at him. He changed the subject.

  “You miss L.A.?”

  “I miss my friends.”

  He nodded. Part of the hunger he saw in her eyes was loneliness. Ashcroft gave her everything she could want, except what she needed most. It partially explained why she’d bonded to him the way she had. Her life was bori
ng, routine, but all that had changed. Now it was exciting and she had him to thank for it.

  “When I joined the Marines, I felt the same way. I was rarely home and everyone I knew seemed to be moving on. Whenever I saw them, we had less and less in common. I regretted joining up, and I missed my old life. One day, I returned to my old neighborhood on leave. I’d been looking forward to it for months; meeting up with the guys for a drink, catching up, telling each other old jokes. Instead, I sat there in my rental and watched some of my friends come and go from their homes. They looked broken by their lives. After an hour, I started the car and left. I never returned.”

  “That’s a terrible story, Chris.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re missing the point. I’d escaped and it took my coming back to realize it. The past is the past. Leave it there.”

  “I shouldn’t miss my friends?”

  “How long’s it been? Ten years?”

  She shrugged. “Close enough.”

  “If you hadn’t left, you think you’d still be friends?”

  She looked away, down the glade.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “You don’t miss them, Lauren. You miss who you were when you were with them. It’s not the same.”

  “Maybe.”

  He’d pissed her off. He put his hand next to hers on the tree trunk. After a moment, he lifted his small finger up and laid it over the top of hers and curled it slightly underneath. She curled hers too. Their two smallest fingers were twisted together like lovers on a bed. They sat like that for several minutes without speaking. Her muscles flexed against his, like they were hugging each other. It felt good and it was with reluctance that he lifted his hand away.

  “We should head back,” he said.

  Thorne pushed himself off the tree onto the ground. He took the landing on his right leg, but nevertheless felt a shockwave pulse through his left thigh. She dropped quietly onto the ground next to him. Lauren set off in a slow jog and he was able to match her pace without difficulty. It was easier on his leg than a fast walk, and it would get him back to a hot shower faster. He wasn’t unfit, but the pain in his body was exhausting. He needed sleep.