Everywhere to Hide

by Siri Mitchell

“Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. That firm had been my chance at doing things right. I’d done things the wrong way for so long. At some point in the very near future I needed to jump on the right career track and buy a ticket on the fast train to success. But I was starting to think I’d used up all my chances. Why not be honest with myself? “Real life, normal life? I don’t think it’s for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wrote it off—marriage, having a family—a long time ago.”

  “Why?”

  “How could I trust myself with a family? With kids? I would never be able to recognize my own child. What kind of life would that child have, knowing their own mother didn’t know who they were? I’ll stick to law, where everything is written down. And finance, where I can recognize the numbers.”

  “It might not be my place to say it, but I think you should concentrate on all the things you can do instead of the things you can’t.”

  “I am. I’m good at school. I was an excellent student of international economic law. I’ll be good at being a lawyer.”

  “The way you framed it made it seem like you think of it as second best. That if you had a choice, you’d choose family.”

  A piercing wind howled through my hollow soul. “Of course I would. Wouldn’t you?” To know and be known? To belong to someone? To be part of something? Yes. I wanted it with all that I had. But I shrugged. “Sometimes, choices get made for you.” And then you just had to deal with it.

  * * *

  Leo had dinner delivered. I wasn’t hungry. He insisted that I eat something.

  We ate in silence until I pointed out the obvious. “This is the second time my things have been tampered with.”

  He nodded. “But I’ve got several different locks on the door in my basement. You don’t have to worry about them.” He paused. “Hey.” The word came out softly.

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to worry about him. About Thorpe. You’re safe here.”

  It was a nice thought, but I wasn’t ready to trust it.

  I went to work right after we ate. As I studied, he disappeared into the basement and started doing something that involved sawing and hammering. I pulled the folder of information from the Financial Services Committee out of my attaché. I’d really been hoping that internship on the Hill would be worth something. I was hoping I could turn it into a job.

  I opened the folder, reliving a moment where I had felt as if I was really making a contribution. I flipped through the notes I’d made in preparation for my interview until I reached the page at the bottom. It was a table that noted China’s investments in the US over the past thirty years. In the most recent year, their direct investments in our economy totaled just over five billion dollars; they’d bought over a trillion dollars in US national debt and over twenty billion dollars of real estate, driving up prices in major cities around the nation.

  It didn’t mean anything necessarily, but then again, it might.

  I went down into the basement where Leo and I had put my things. The tang of sawdust scented the air. I bent over my bags, looking for the journal from my internship. I wanted to look at it again.

  Leo took hold of his safety glasses and slid them up onto his head. “You good?”

  “Just trying to find something.”

  He went back to work as I kept looking. I looked in every bag, thinking maybe I’d jumbled up my things in my haste to get away from the storage unit, but I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there.

  It had been.

  I’d paged through it when I prepared for my interview.

  I finally admitted defeat and decided to focus on my studies. I was well into a review of tort law when my eyelids started to flutter. Then my head started to droop. I glanced at my watch.

  It was only eight o’clock.

  Leo had come up from the basement. He was behind me, on the couch in the living room, watching something on TV.

  Pushing my chair back, I stood. Leaned over my chair to flip through the books.

  Only ten more pages total. I could do ten pages.

  But several pages in, my head started to nod again.

  I put one of my reference books on the chair. That way I wouldn’t be tempted to sit down. My eyes were dry. I blinked, hard, several times in hopes of moistening them.

  Didn’t work.

  I went into the kitchen, turned on the cold water, and cupped my hands underneath so I could splash my face. Then I closed my eyes and did a few head rolls. Took a deep breath.

  Only six more pages. That’s all I had to do.

  I went back to stand in front of the table, bending over my notes as I paged through the books. The air conditioner kicked on and I began to shiver. That was okay though. I wouldn’t fall asleep if I was shivering. The challenge was to focus. I lifted a foot off the floor, giving my subconscious something to work on as I kept on with my review.

  But my foot got so heavy.

  I gave in and decided to kneel.

  I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I know when I woke up. A warm hand rested atop my head for a moment before it slipped down to my shoulder.

  “Mmm.” I opened my eyes. My head was cradled in the crook of my arm. I’d fallen asleep on top of a notebook.

  Leo took me by an elbow and helped me to my feet.

  My knees tingled with pain. Maybe kneeling hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. I closed my books and stacked the notebooks on top of them. Then I attempted to move away from the table. Stiffness joined the pain in hobbling me.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” I put a hand to my hair and swept it away from my face. “I’m fine.”

  “Should I say something about burning the candle at both ends or just keep my mouth shut?”

  “You can’t say anything I haven’t told myself. After the bar I can take a break.” I couldn’t, actually. I’d be working the same number of hours—I’d just be doing it for some fancy law firm in DC. But I had an agreement with myself: I could lie to myself as much as I wanted just as long as it got me through the exam. I’d set up a hazy fantasy of a glass of red wine, an all-you-can-eat buffet of gourmet food, and a chalet in Switzerland as the reward for finishing.

  For passing. For surviving.

  The real reward?

  A chance to work even harder to pay off more loans.

  That’s where the idea of Switzerland came in handy. I kept it so close that it was difficult to see around, particularly if I didn’t want to.

  “If you fall asleep as you hit the bed, you might be able to squeeze out six hours.”

  “I can’t fall asleep yet. I still have work to do.”

  “Then maybe what you need is a break. Raiders of the Lost Ark is on. Come watch with me.”

  “I don’t have time to watch a movie.” I hardly had time to breathe. Besides, movies were confusing. I could never tell who was who.

  “Just watch the opening. It’s classic. It’ll only take ten minutes.”

  “If I watch it will you promise to leave me alone?” Maybe I could jump-start my brain if I forced it to try to distinguish between characters.

  “Promise.”

  It was about time for me to stretch anyway. Research showed that efficiency was highest when working for about an hour and then taking a fifteen- or twenty-minute break. Or half an hour with a five-minute break. Either way, three hours of solid work was pushing it.

  I went over to the couch with him, took the pillow from the corner, and sat down.

  At first I thought I wasn’t going to be able to follow it. Everyone was wearing some sort of hat and clothes that were the same shade of brown. But then I noticed only one of them was wearing a leather jacket.

  There was a scene with a whip and then there was a dark cave.

  Somehow, the pillow found its way into my arms, my feet onto the cushions, my knees to my chest. There were big, hairy spiders. And a skeleton and poisoned darts.

  But for o
nce, I seemed to be able to keep the characters separate. At least the important one. At that point, the hero was the only one wearing a hat. And he was extremely clever.

  There were death-defying leaps.

  Betrayal.

  Treachery.

  And a chase through a rain forest.

  Suddenly, I was pressed up against Leo’s side and my face was hidden in the pillow.

  He put an arm around me. “It’s okay. He’s the hero of the movie. Movies. All four of them. He’s not going to die.”

  I put a hand out to draw the pillow down.

  “Really.”

  Leo was right. He made it through the chase and then through an incident with a snake. But then, all of a sudden, the movie left the jungle. The next scene was in a university classroom. I sat up. Put the pillow down.

  “Where’d he go? What happened?”

  “Indy? He’s right there. He’s a professor when he’s not out looking for artifacts. That’s his class.”

  Oh.

  “And all the girls are in love with him. But he doesn’t care. And that man who just came into the classroom? He’s a friend.”

  I stayed a little while longer. And then a few minutes after that.

  As he came out of one of the scenes without a scratch, I realized I’d grabbed Leo’s hand and anchored his arm around my shoulder.

  I examined it in the flickering light of the TV screen. It was strong. And large. The hairs on the back of his hand caught the light.

  He squeezed my hand and I turned to him.

  He tightened his arm, drawing me even closer.

  I let him.

  He bent and kissed me on the lips. Just one brief, perfect kiss.

  My breath caught.

  He drew back for a moment. Kissed me on the forehead. And then he turned his attention to the movie. Several minutes later he went back to describing who was who for me. And several minutes after that, I’d given up trying to figure out what was going on between us.

  I ended up staying there, with Leo, on the couch. He talked me through the entire movie. Let me clutch his arm when the scary parts came and cheer with him when the bad guys got caught. It was a luxury to worry about someone else for a while, even if it was a fictional character who would go on to star in three more movies. A luxury to feel like a normal person. It was a luxury I hadn’t had.

  Ever.

  Chapter 42

  It was warm there, against Leo’s side. And safe. There weren’t any killers. There weren’t any study guides. There was just him.

  I must have fallen asleep because I woke with a start.

  I was confused for a moment. The living room was dark. The movie was over; the credits were rolling. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was.

  Leo’s living room.

  It took me a few seconds more to remember what had happened.

  A movie. And a kiss.

  I sat up. Scooted away from him. Put the pillow back in its corner. “You let me sleep.”

  “You were tired. I did everything I could to wake you up. You wouldn’t budge.”

  I was standing by that time. The light in the dining room was still on, illuminating everything I should have been doing.

  The past few days really must have gotten to me. That was the only explanation I had for abandoning my books.

  Tears dissolved the words I wanted to say and then collected them in my throat. I had to swallow in order to dislodge them. “I can’t do it.” I couldn’t do any of it. And worse than that? I didn’t want to anymore.

  Leo stood, extended a hand as if coaxing me back to him.

  I took a step back, away from him. “Don’t be nice to me. Don’t be kind. I won’t know how to—” I gestured toward the table. “I have to be able to—” I had to be able to focus, to concentrate, to not think too hard about the future. Because if I didn’t, then the sheer impossibility of obtaining my dreams, of ever having a life other than paying down my debt, threatened to undo me. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

  “I’m not asking you for anything.”

  Then he was the only person, the only thing in my life, that wasn’t.

  He kissed me on the cheek and then went upstairs.

  I spent a few minutes gathering up my notes and books and then a few minutes more asking myself what I thought I was doing. I’d already determined boyfriends were a luxury I couldn’t afford. And Leo needed to stay Mr. Leo Baroni, police detective.

  No boyfriends.

  No distractions.

  No complications.

  * * *

  We sort of circled around each other the next morning.

  Concentric circles.

  No touching.

  “Whitney? Can we talk about—”

  “Did you know there are over a thousand different cryptocurrencies?” I didn’t want to talk about him. I didn’t want to talk about me. I didn’t want to talk about us. There wasn’t an us to talk about.

  He sighed. “Fine.” He held up a hand. “We’ll go the no-talking route. I had no idea.”

  “Neither do most people. But even so, it’s not the currency that’s the most valuable technological innovation; it’s the technology behind it.”

  “I’m just going to say that I enjoyed spending time with you last night. That’s it. When you want to talk about, we’ll talk about it. If that’s after we catch the killer, after you take the bar, then I’ll wait.”

  Gratitude bloomed in my chest. “Thank you.”

  “Just let me drop you off this morning.”

  * * *

  A couple hours later, as I was bussing a few of the tables, I saw the man with the sling again.

  He walked past the window.

  I stopped picking up cups to watch him. I watched as he waited at the intersection for the light to change. I watched as he crossed the street. I watched as he walked into one of the apartment buildings that lined the opposite side of the block.

  And then I breathed a sigh of relief.

  When I could, I went into the back room, took my phone from my backpack, and called Leo.

  “I think it’s okay. About the guy with the sling. I’m pretty sure he lives in the area.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw him walk into one of the apartment buildings.”

  “Which one? Which building? Can you give me the address?”

  I tried to explain which building it was. Spatial directions were difficult for me. But I think I succeeded. Leo said he’d ask the FBI to have someone look into it. I slid my phone into my back pocket in case he needed to get ahold of me.

  As I went back to the register, a guy wearing a preppy mixed-plaid button-down strode up to the register.

  “Hey. So what’s good here? Besides you?”

  Once in a while, a particularly clever pickup line made me smile. Or even laugh. But his wasn’t one of them. “The coffee’s pretty good.”

  “Huh.” He pulled out his wallet. “Then give me a large iced mocha.” He handed me his credit card.

  Ruth came into the shop while I was marking his cup. She was dripping with sweat. Having to wear that yellow vest probably made the heat worse. “Can I have some ice water?”

  I smiled. “Of course.” I pushed the man’s cup toward Corrine, who was at the espresso machine, then slid a cup off the stack for Ruth.

  “Hey.” The man repositioned himself and blocked Ruth from the counter. “I’m kind of in a hurry here. And I paid for my drink.”

  Ignoring him, I went to fill Ruth’s cup and met her down at the mobile counter to pass it to her. When I came back to the register, the man was still waiting for me. So I decided to say something to him.

  “You know what I’m really looking for in a relationship?”

  He put an elbow to the counter and leaned in. “What?”

  “Someone who’s kind.” I signaled to Corrine and we traded places.

  * * *

  An hour later, Corrine was grabbing a cooki
e from the pastry case for a mom who was busy trying to contain a very active toddler. She nudged me with her elbow as she passed. “I forgot to ask you—you have to tell me—what did you think?”

  “Think? About what?”

  I had to wait until she came back behind the counter for her answer.

  “The guy.”

  “Which guy?”

  “The one.”

  “Why do I feel like this is some kind of code?”

  “You know: the guy. The one who was asking about you. The one I told you about. I told him you were super smart, super nice. That guy.”

  That guy. “The one you told about my face blindness?”

  “That one.”

  “You’re saying I met him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Out there.” She pointed toward the window.

  “Outside? How do you know?”

  “Because I saw you. So cute.”

  “I talked to him?”

  “You were with Mr. Detective. He kind of tripped while he was passing you.”

  “That was the guy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s the same guy who was asking about me?”

  “Yeah.”

  A ripple of apprehension raised the hairs on my arms. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “Just this morning.”

  “He was here?”

  “Yeah. But you were busy.”

  I hadn’t noticed him. “Did he ever tell you his name?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Haven’t you taken his order?”

  “Yeah. But it’s always an iced coffee with coconut milk. So I’ve never needed his name.”

  “This is important, Corrine. He’s never introduced himself to you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe? Why don’t you just ask him next time you see him?”

  Something was wrong. If he was that interested in me, why hadn’t he tried to flirt with me like other men did? Why hadn’t he introduced himself? Why had he just let me go on my way that first day I met him without trying harder to keep me there?

  Because he knew where I worked?

  But if that was the case and if he really did live in that apartment building across the street, then why hadn’t he sought me out to talk to me again?

  There were too many men in my life. Everyone was a suspect. But I couldn’t live in a world where I trusted no one. It was too small. Too unforgiving.