Layover

by David Bell

  Kimberly checked her watch. She didn’t want to keep Ashley from her life. She imagined her husband, the aforementioned Tony, strolling through the door at any moment, tie loosened, jacket jauntily slung over his shoulder. Would Ashley greet him with a kiss and a beer? Were they ready to start on kid number two?

  “And that’s pretty much it for you and Morgan?” Kimberly said.

  “Until a few days ago.”

  Kimberly’s head jerked forty-five degrees to the right. “What’s that?”

  “I saw her one more time. Just a few days ago.”

  “You saw her here? In Laurel Falls?”

  Ashley nodded rapidly, her eyes wide. “Is that okay? Was I not supposed to see her?”

  “Where was she?” Kimberly asked.

  “It was in a gas station of all places. I was there the other night, on my way home from my yoga class downtown. Tony normally fills the tank, but I hadn’t told him we were low, so that stupid light came on and flashed at me. I didn’t want to run out. Not by myself when it was getting dark. And Bri had to go to the doctor the next morning, so I figured I could pump it myself. I used to, before I married Tony.”

  “And which day was this?” Kimberly asked.

  Ashley’s face scrunched again. “Bri went to the doctor the next day, and I was coming home from yoga.” She snapped her perfectly manicured fingers and pointed at Kimberly. “It was Thursday. Five days ago. Right?”

  “That’s five days, yes.”

  “You see, Brianna gets up in the middle of the night sometimes, less now than she used to. But I have to sit there while I feed her, so I read.” She bit her lip again. “I’ve been into romance novels. Historical ones. I get them at the library. Tony was home with Bri, so I stopped to get a new stack after yoga. I’m kind of addicted. Then I’m there at the gas station, watching the pump run, and I look up and see Morgan.”

  “What did she say?” Kimberly asked, keeping her voice level.

  “Nothing. I walked over to say hi, and she saw me coming. I know that. We locked eyes across the pumps. It was getting dark, and the bright lights were on. It was like standing on the moon, you know? All lit up and shiny? No way she didn’t see me. But as I got closer and waved, she turned away and jumped in her car. She didn’t say a word to me. And then she sped out of there, fast. The tires squealed a little when she went.”

  Kimberly leaned forward. “You’re sure it was her? I mean, maybe it was someone who just looked like her.”

  “I’m not crazy, Detective. I recognized my friend.” She shrugged. “Former friend, maybe.” She lifted her finger back to her mouth. “Although I don’t know what I did to offend her.”

  Morgan Reynolds had been back in Laurel Falls five days ago. And earlier that very morning she’d been on a plane to Nashville from Atlanta, where she was supposed to be living with her sick mother.

  And on that plane she’d ignored a guy she’d kissed in the airport. Just like she’d ignored Ashley when she saw her at the gas station.

  “Did she have friends or family in Atlanta?” Kimberly asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The baby started crying in the other room.

  “Oh, shoot,” Ashley said. “Why is she awake?”

  “She has her own mind.”

  “I have to . . . Is it okay?”

  “It’s fine,” Kimberly said. “I think I’ve heard everything I need to right now. And I can show myself out.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you hear from Morgan or see her again, will you call me? Right away.”

  “Of course.” Ashley looked at the floor, her brow scrunched again. “Detective? Do you think I should have helped her? Should I have . . . I don’t know, run after her? Maybe she’s in trouble. Maybe someone was trying to hurt her.”

  “You did fine,” Kimberly said. “We don’t know what’s happening with Morgan just yet. She’s missing from Nashville, so the police down there are in the lead on that case. I’m investigating Giles Caldwell’s disappearance. But they might be related since they’re connected through work. So we have to check out everything.”

  Ashley shivered. “It creeps me out. I mean . . . what if she’s . . . and I saw her . . .”

  “I don’t think she’s dead, Ashley,” Kimberly said.

  “Oh, good.” The baby’s cries increased in volume, so Ashley started for the other room. But she stopped, turning back as Kimberly stood up. “Do you think it’s normal, what happened with Morgan?”

  “You mean disappearing? No—”

  “I don’t mean that,” Ashley said. “I mean . . . Well, my mom is my best friend now, so I couldn’t imagine living away from her. But some people do. Like Morgan. And she moved back to be close to her, so they must have figured things out or patched things up. Do you think that always happens? Do people work things like that out?”

  Ashley’s optimism burned brighter than the chandelier. Kimberly asked herself, Who am I to burst her bubble? Does she really need a cold splash of reality before she goes to tend to her newborn? Some people, and maybe Ashley was one of them, managed to spend their lives wrapped in a safe cocoon of happiness and order.

  “It certainly happens, Ashley,” she said. “Yes, it does.”

  Ashley smiled, and the baby cried louder than Kimberly thought possible. She really didn’t miss those days, not at all.

  “Duty calls,” Ashley said, shrugging in her hoodie.

  And she slipped away as Kimberly turned to the door.

  30

  I woke up sometime during the night.

  I didn’t know where I was. I’d been dreaming about flying, about being on a plane, high in the air, but the flight never landed. We kept going on and on, and the pilot made the same announcement saying we still had five more hours to go. Always the same number—five more hours.

  I looked at the other passengers, faces I didn’t know, but the news didn’t seem to bother them at all. They didn’t see me looking at them. It was as if I was invisible.

  When I woke up, I was naked and sweating. The sheets felt cool against my damp skin. Everything came back to me. The daylong quest to find Morgan, the drive to Wyckoff. Our night in the hotel. Two rounds of sex that knocked me out, sending me so deeply asleep I felt like I’d barely moved.

  My bladder was full to bursting, so I stumbled through the dark and found the bathroom. I peed, washed my hands, made some attempt—I’m not sure why—to smooth down my hair, which went in every direction. When I came back to bed, I saw Morgan facing the wall, away from me, still naked. I slid back in bed and scooted my body next to hers. But when I did, she tensed, and I moved away as though shocked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, thinking she wasn’t awake, that I’d startled her from a deep sleep. “What’s wrong?”

  She kept quiet, but I heard her sniffle. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at her face, my vision adjusting to the dark. Her tears glistened against her skin. She reached up and wiped them away, her eyes still staring at the wall, ignoring me.

  “Can I do anything?” I asked.

  “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

  “You’re upset. Clearly.”

  “I’m not. I’m fine. You need to sleep.”

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m just . . . being here, I started thinking about my childhood here in Wyckoff.” She sniffed. Above our heads, a mindless red light on the smoke detector blinked on and off. My body started to feel cool, so I reached for the sheet and pulled it over both of us. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She started talking a little more. “My mom used to take me to an amusement park near here. All the time. It was expensive to get in, but she always found a way to scrounge up the money.”

  “That’s what parents do. Good ones anyway.”

  “I do
n’t know about the good part.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “My mom . . . Let’s just say they served beer at the amusement park. Fantasy Farm, it was called. They provided something for the adults to drink while the kids rode the rides. My mom . . . She couldn’t handle drinking so well. So when we went there . . . it could get ugly.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She took my hand and squeezed it. “I remember the petting zoo. There were goats and sheep. You could bring them little pellets of food, and they’d eat out of your hand. I loved that.”

  “That sounds like a great memory.” The ones of my own mother were scattered and few. Picking apples when I was about five. Petting a neighbor’s dog when I was three or four, my mom standing nearby, watching me carefully.

  “No, it isn’t.” She rolled onto her back, turning to face me. “We went there one summer when I was about nine. My mom was drinking. I went to the petting zoo to feed the animals, and I’m having a great time with the other kids. All of a sudden there’s a commotion. Some people gasp, some rush to one place in the petting zoo. It’s my mom. Down on the ground.”

  “She fell?”

  “She passed out. Cold. They had to call security. The police came. It’s a long story, more than I want to say.”

  “It sounds terrifying.”

  “The place is closed now,” she said, wincing a little. “It closed about five years ago. It’s kind of satisfying to drive by and see that part of my childhood boarded up and shut down. That memory of my mom . . . I wish I could forget.”

  “So why are you here if the memories are so bad?” I asked.

  “I have other things to do, things to resolve.”

  “Should you go back to Laurel Falls?” I asked. “Turn in the ring? It’s what—thirty minutes east of here? That’s not far.”

  She nodded in the dark. Her hair was loose. Released from the ponytail, it fanned across her pillow.

  “I mean it when I say I think it will be okay,” I said.

  “I know.” She reached over and brushed her hand along my cheek. “You’re sweet. But I think we both need to go back to sleep.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “You don’t want to talk more?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll go with you to the police if you want. We can take my rental car.”

  “Really, let’s just sleep on it.”

  I decided not to push. And she was right. We were both tired. From everything. I turned away, scooting back to my side of the bed. The glow from the streetlights and the garish hotel sign leaked through the curtains. The night was quiet, not a sound except the soft hum of the air-conditioning.

  When I woke again, there was bright sunlight coming through the window. The real thing. I squinted. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in months, and my head hurt. I needed food. And water.

  The clock read 9:02. The combination of travel, Xanax, alcohol, and sex had made me sleep later than I ever did anymore. I felt like a man of leisure. It occurred to me I had no idea what I was going to do. Was I going to go back to work? Return the rental car and hop on the next plane to Tampa? Catch up with everything I’d let go?

  Or would I go with Morgan? Help her return the ring and make all of that right? I liked the sound of that much more than I liked the sound of getting on a plane or going back to work. Just then my dream of endless flight came back to me, and it made me shiver.

  I rolled over. Her side of the bed was empty. I looked around the room, listening.

  I heard water running in the bathroom. The shower. For a moment, I thought about joining her but then decided to give her space.

  I picked up my phone. There were a number of missed calls, all from numbers I didn’t recognize. I had no idea why.

  And a missed call from Renee. And a voice mail from her as well.

  “Shit.”

  It irritated me. I’d told her what was going on. I’d told her almost everything. But I knew she’d worry, and that’s why she was checking in.

  I sent her a text without listening to the voice mail.

  Just got your message. I’m fine. In hotel. Will call later when I can. Everything fine.

  I felt like a Grade A jerk writing those words. I wasn’t really lying, but I wasn’t exactly telling the truth either.

  Renee’s calls and texts served one purpose. They told me I had to make a decision, that I couldn’t stay in limbo without making some kind of choice. Unlike my dream, I couldn’t stay in the air forever, living in a bubble and not touching the ground. People were waiting for me. They expected things from me. It was possible the calls on my phone were work related, things I had to deal with. And soon.

  I was still naked. I pulled on my boxers and T-shirt and walked over to the bathroom door. It stood ajar an inch or two, so I leaned my head down close without going in.

  “Hey. Are you almost done in there?”

  No response.

  “I just want to know what you’re thinking. I can go with you if you want.”

  Still nothing. The water ran and ran.

  I took a step back.

  “Morgan?”

  I looked around the room. I hadn’t seen it before because I hadn’t been looking. But her bags were gone. Her clothes. Her shoes.

  Everything. All of it.

  I pushed open the bathroom door. The steamy mirror, the foggy space. I pushed the shower curtain aside.

  Empty.

  I went back out to the room and looked around. The nightstand, the dresser. Her pillow. I searched for a note. For anything.

  But I knew it was a lost cause.

  She was gone.

  PART TWO

  31

  Morgan had left her room key sitting on the nightstand. I grabbed it, threw on clothes, and bolted out the door. I went down the stairs at the end of the hallway as quickly as I could, my momentum carrying the upper half of my body forward so I felt like I was about to fall over, my footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.

  In the lobby, I saw no sign of Morgan. I approached the desk and asked if anyone had seen her.

  The clerk was a college-aged woman with thick dark hair piled on top of her head. Her glasses rested on the tip of her nose, and she pushed them into place with the knuckle of her index finger. She stifled a yawn before answering me.

  “What room was she in?” the clerk asked, her words slow and deliberate.

  “Three oh six.”

  She typed something into the computer, then studied the screen. “She’s due to leave today. Checkout time is noon.”

  “Did you see her come through the lobby this morning?” I asked. “With bags? Or anything?”

  “I just came on a few minutes ago, sir. I work early on Wednesdays. And the closest exit for that room is on the west end of the building. Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I said, before abruptly dashing out the sliding doors and stopping under the front portico. It was a bright morning, the sky clear and blue, hurting my eyes. The sun picked up the dew on the grass that lined the parking lot, making it sparkle like diamonds. I immediately thought of the ring.

  I went down to the west end of the building, expecting to see . . . what?

  Morgan waiting for me?

  She was gone. Intentionally so. And not waking me was intentional too.

  I searched the parking lot. A number of cars remained. Sedans and minivans. Rentals for businesspeople like me. Vehicles that belonged to travelers. Plates from Kentucky and Tennessee but also Nevada, Ohio, California. I had no idea what Morgan drove.

  Birds were chirping as I trudged back to the front of the hotel, mocking me with their cheery songs. What had I expected? If she’d wanted me to help her, she would have waited. Twice she’d ditched me. I thought about asking the desk clerk if I had a “Kick Me” sign on
my back.

  The doors slid open, and I went back in. The lobby smelled of brewing coffee, the sweet odor of cooking waffles. A few people sat eating, sipping from paper cups, their small plates full of pastries and fruit. They all looked up when I came in. A disheveled man walking through the door must be what passed for excitement at the Best Western so early in the day.

  “Is everything okay, sir?” the clerk asked, pushing her glasses up again.

  “It’s fine. Thanks.”

  “Our complimentary breakfast goes until nine thirty,” she said.

  “Yum.”

  I started across the lobby, heading back for the slow walk up the stairs. I needed to shower, and then I’d go down and eat their free food. What the hell? I could live it up on Morgan’s dime. And then after that . . .

  Who knew what I’d do next?

  I went down the hall and entered the stairwell again. My steps felt heavy, my legs like they were full of lead. I was halfway to my floor when the door below me opened, its hinges creaking. I paused. I looked down but saw no one before continuing on my way, and when I reached my floor I pushed through the door and into my hallway. I took out the key card, and as I waved it in front of the lock and turned the handle, the door from the stairwell opened.

  I froze, hope rising inside me.

  Had Morgan returned? Had she seen me outside?

  Had she always planned to come back?

  Instead, I saw a man. Middle-aged and taller than me. He looked familiar. It came back to me like a dying lightbulb flickering to life. The guy from the lobby the night before, the one who seemed to be having some kind of dispute with the clerk.

  Why was he there? The night before he’d gone in the opposite direction from Morgan’s room, as though he was staying in the east end of the building. Had he moved? Did he like to wander the halls?

  Or . . . ?

  “Excuse me,” he said, waving at me.

  I stopped. Was he undercover hotel security? Was he Sean’s mentor, wondering why I was using Morgan’s room key? His hands were empty. No flashlight.