Project- Heritage

by Rob Horner

But he dispelled her doubts by moving to her side of the table and sliding into the booth. His left hip touched her right, and though it wasn’t skin to skin, the lights and sounds returned.

  “Travis, what?”

  “Just answering your wish,” he said softly, moving his face closer to hers.

  Sherry’s heart pounded even harder as she watched his eyes drift closed, felt the magnetic pull of his mouth as they moved closer together. A dozen other thoughts fought for supremacy within her mind, warring with the cacophony of sound from the other diners.

  It was too soon…

  someone would see…

  what if it…

  And then his lips met hers and her eyes slipped closed, the entirety of her being rushing to this one gentle point of contact.

  The world outside fell silent.

  Her thoughts were quieted.

  There was just her, just him, and just this kiss.

  It was only a gentle pressing together, yet she could feel tiny little tics at the corners of his mouth, and some instinct—or maybe just a vagrant thought from his mind—told her he was just as nervous as she was, almost as if this was the first time he’d ever kissed a woman.

  She could feel a tenderness in the way he restrained himself, wanting to keep this first kiss soft and sweet. The promise of passion was there, kept in check, and Sherry was glad for his control.

  If they began kissing any other way, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop.

  It seemed to last an eternity, this soft joining of lips, and both Travis and Sherry were so caught up in the emotions flowing through them, making their hearts beat in double-time, that they completely ignored the power racing through their veins.

  They didn’t hear the soft exclamations from nearby diners who murmured wonderingly as the lights throughout the diner brightened and dimmed.

  It was only as they broke apart, Travis withdrawing just enough so that their eyes locked instantly on one another’s, that Sherry felt the sudden diminishing of strength within her, as if the kiss had robbed her of more than just her breath.

  Wordlessly, Travis moved to return to his seat, and for several moments Sherry could not find the presence of mind to formulate a coherent thought, let alone find the words to describe how she felt.

  You don’t need to, Travis said.

  But I…that was—

  Perfect, he finished for her.

  “Yeah,” Sherry agreed softly. “It was.”

  Their waitress returned with their breakfast dishes and the verbal conversation ceased, only to be replaced by a silent discussion more remarkable because they continued communicating while they ate. Travis doubted anything could keep them from conversing, now that they’d made this remarkable connection.

  For the most part, their conversation centered around what foods they liked, whether or not the meal was satisfactory, and other inane topics that were nevertheless interesting to both of them, for no better reason than because it gave them a chance to learn more about each other.

  Sherry had the distinct feeling they had a lot of catching up to do, especially because they had progressed so far already, yet were missing the small details that people with feelings like theirs would have learned in the fullness of time. She was content with the direction of the mental conversation because it gave her insights not only into Travis’s likes and dislikes, but also his character, which she was able to judge by his customary language use and the little quirks in his speech that were his and his alone. She reflected—as she cut into an omelet dripping with cheese—that she knew even less about her supposed husband than she did about Travis, and she berated herself for not realizing how phony their marriage was even sooner.

  You can’t blame yourself, Travis said, trying to soothe her. You were brainwashed, somehow. No matter how fake it all seems now, in hindsight, you couldn’t have seen it sooner simply because you were programmed to believe it.

  I hate that term, Sherry replied, programmed, like I was nothing more than a computer designed to do a job.

  For all we know, Travis commented softly, that’s exactly what they had in mind.

  Sherry resented that their pleasant conversation had taken such a turn, but knew it had to happen sooner or later. And God knows, she wanted to go ahead and get it out of the way, rather than have it crop up later when it would be even more inconvenient.

  And just what do you mean by that? Travis asked, his eyes smiling.

  As if you can’t figure it out, Sherry replied, arching her eyebrows as she shoved another forkful of egg into her mouth.

  Travis laughed, almost choking on his own food, at the picture she presented. After a moment’s hesitation, Sherry laughed with him.

  Are you ready to tell me your great plan? Sherry asked a moment later, after she’d sobered somewhat.

  Not yet, Travis replied. I haven’t put all the pieces together. I have the beginnings of an idea, but I need to sit and concentrate on it for a while before I’m ready to lay it out.

  Okay, Sherry replied, after we get a place to sleep, I’ll go call my mother, just to let her know we’re okay. While I’m gone—

  I’ll sit and wait anxiously for your return?

  No, silly, Sherry said, though she couldn’t help but feel a flush of pleasure at his romantic comment. You’ll start working on your plan. That way, you can have it all figured out when I return.

  Oh, so that’s what you expect me to be doing, is it?

  Yep.

  Travis sighed. Well, if you insist. But I’ll still miss you.

  Just so long as your plans get done first.

  Business before pleasure, eh?

  You got it.

  14

  Lieutenant Barnes watched the time pass worriedly. It was almost three, and still no phone call from Sherry or Travis. What if Agent Travers was wrong about the inevitability of the daughter calling her mother? For Victoria’s sake, the lieutenant hoped he wasn’t.

  A call from Lisa back at Watchtower seemed to light a fire in the bearish agent. Not deigning to speak to them directly, but content to pass a message through an intermediary, Captain Ortega wanted them to know he was securing lodging in the area and expected them back at Watchtower by twenty-one hundred hours. Which left them six hours to do whatever they could here at the Galer house before having to pack it all up and head back to base.

  Being given orders in that manner had set the agent seething. Barnes thought Travers resembled nothing so much as a predator on a National Geographic special. He acted like a coiled snake, hiding in tall grass, waiting to strike the first thing that came in range. Agent Black had quit the premises, preferring the muggy August afternoon air to being around the tense senior agent. Agent Kirkson, whom Barnes judged to be the most intelligent of the three, had managed to strike up a conversation with Mrs. Galer. His inane chatter, while not designed to draw any information out of their prisoner, seemed to be putting her at ease, something the lieutenant was thankful for. Lord knows they had enough problems without making the woman hysterical.

  With all the developments today, Barnes couldn’t help but feel a small bit of pride for how well Travis and Sherry were eluding the team. Though he hadn’t contributed to their training, it spoke well of the education and initiative the Navy provided them.

  He wouldn’t dare say such a thing to Agent Travers, though. The man seemed to regard his mission as a personal inconvenience. The more Robert pondered the agent’s methods and motives, the less he liked the man, and the greater grew his fear for everyone involved: the subjects, Mrs. Galer, even himself.

  15

  By the time they left the Village Inn, they’d passed the awkwardness of first introductions, when two people who are attracted to one another try to learn everything they can without seeming too nosy, and without giving away too much of themselves in the process. Despite that they’d bypassed normal communication and their first kiss had come before they knew each other’s middle names, Travis felt comfortable with Sher
ry. He trusted her completely. And he was certain both feelings were reciprocated.

  “Where to now?” Sherry asked cheerfully as Travis paid the bill and led her back to the car.

  “I was just thinking about finding us a place to stay for the night.”

  “Well, we could stay in the area, or—”

  “Or we could head away from here,” Travis finished for her.

  “But isn’t that what they’d expect? For us to leave town?” Sherry asked.

  “Probably, which is all the more reason for us to stay.”

  “Well then,” Sherry said, “weren’t you thinking about a particular hotel earlier, by the oceanfront?”

  Travis blushed, recalling why he had been thinking about the Highcastle Inn on Atlantic Avenue. Seeing Sherry smile over the top of the Focus as they climbed into the car, he felt his embarrassment subside and his excitement rise. “That would be perfect,” he said.

  Virginia Beach, though a tourist town, only suffered from the trade down by the beach, the main reason tourists flocked to the city. August remained one of the area’s warmest months, and Travis guessed most of the hotels on the waterfront would still be doing a booming business. That would ensure streets crowded with cars and parking lots filled almost to capacity. It would make part of his tentative plan easier to pull off, while also allowing his car to go unnoticed in case the people looking for them decided to bring in local police to aid in their search.

  Pulling out of the Village Inn parking lot, Travis headed for the Virginia Beach Boulevard intersection. Passing through the lights, he angled his car into the right-hand lane, aiming for the interstate on-ramp that would put him on I-264 heading east.

  The drive took less than ten minutes. Despite their earlier bantering about passion and their silent promises to explore their relationship, discussing the possibilities of the night was something neither of them was prepared for. Travis occupied his mind with thoughts of his plan, which might turn out to be nothing more than foolishness, the result of reading too many paperback books.

  Sherry kept her mind focused on calling her mother, and on not thinking about making love to Travis. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever been so excited about being alone with a man. It had nothing to do with their weird, wired connection. Travis, in and of himself, was more than worthy of her attention, and Sherry’s only wish was that he found her as desirable.

  Of course, if Sherry and Travis had not been concentrating so intently on not reading each other’s thoughts, they might have discovered their ideas and fears were so similar as to be laughable.

  It was after three in the afternoon when they reached the end of the interstate, as 264 East became Twenty-First Street. Slowing to obey the posted thirty-five mile per hour speed limit, Travis noted his guess about the beach front had been correct. The traffic, while not horrendous, was heavy, forcing him to watch his speed and positioning carefully as he fought to be in the correct lane when they reached Atlantic Avenue.

  Turning right, in the direction of decreasing numbered streets, Travis followed Atlantic Avenue until the Highcastle Inn loomed on his left, almost a smooth facade on this side with most of its rooms opening on the far side, balconies overlooking the oceanfront. Waiting for a break in the oncoming traffic, Travis had a moment to glance at Sherry’s face, to see an echo of the pleasant smile he felt stretching his own features.

  Are you sure this is what you want? he asked mentally, since the noise from the street—car horns, motorcycle engines, and blaring stereos operated by teenagers with no concerns for Virginia Beach’s noise-level laws—made normal speech impossible.

  I can’t imagine anything more perfect, Sherry replied, letting Travis take her response in whatever way he wished.

  Travis nodded, turning his attention back to the traffic. Seeing a brief opening—probably the only one he was going to get for a while—he gunned the Focus in first gear, shooting through the small gap, then immediately slowed to a crawl as they entered a short turn around. There was a brown Buick just backing out of a parking space right next to the lobby entrance. Pausing long enough for the large car to clear the space, Travis moved in behind it. This short pull around fed back onto Atlantic Avenue and provided access to a parking garage, which suited Travis just fine. The three spaces between the hotel and the street were for guests registering.

  “Want to wait here or come with me?” he asked as he slipped the car into first gear and shut off the engine.

  “Already trying to get rid of me?” Sherry asked playfully.

  “Definitely not. It’s just that…well, it might be a little—”

  “What? Embarrassing? I don’t think so.” Without giving Travis a chance to respond, Sherry leaned across the seat and placed her lips over his. This time, nothing kept her from including a little passion in the contact, which Travis returned with gentle perfection. “Wow,” Sherry said after breaking the kiss, “much more of that, and nothing you can say will be able to stop me from—”

  “What?” Travis asked breathlessly.

  “All of the above,” she replied with a smile, hurriedly pushing her way out of the car. Every part of her body felt hot, and it wasn’t because of the summer heat outside the car. She noticed Travis’s slightly awkward stride as he moved around the front of the car and a wicked malicious thought shot through her, pure glee that he was as uncomfortably aroused as she was. But of course, that could be remedied easily enough.

  Cheeks flushing even hotter as her mind insisted on teasing her, Sherry walked arm in arm with Travis into the hotel, where he signed them in as husband and wife. Travis offered his driver’s license instead of his military identification (which had a smart chip) and hoped that by paying in cash he could avoid any Internet tracking programs from discovering their whereabouts.

  Sherry prayed he was right.

  16

  As the hours waned further towards evening, Vicki began losing her battle against fear. What if something happened to Sherry, which even these men didn’t know about.

  No, more likely they did know, and weren’t telling her. Then they could try to fool her into believing her daughter was dead.

  Would they put on such a charade for her benefit?

  Of course, they would.

  After all, they’d gone to the trouble to arrange a fake viewing so she could identify a body, and then a fake funeral afterward. How much different was this?

  Her conversation with the polite young black man helped keep her fears at bay, since he seemed interested in her feelings. He’d expressed sympathy at what she’d already suffered, and she was pretty sure he’d do whatever was in his power to reduce any further pain she might have to endure.

  Of course, that might mean only that she would die from a single gunshot wound rather than three or four.

  Shivering, Victoria forced her mind away from its morbid meanderings. Aside from the rude man’s inference that she was useful only so long as she could help bring her daughter in, no one else had made any threatening statements or gestures. Perhaps it was all scare tactics, and the government wasn’t as ruthless as the books led her to believe. That was fiction, and this was real life. There had to be a line to draw somewhere, didn’t there?

  Vicki desperately hoped there was.

  The small grandfather clock chimed five, which sent Vicki’s gaze to the large picture window and its view of the front lawn. It was an old habit she’d developed during her years in Virginia Beach Something about the city’s position so near the Atlantic Ocean gave each afternoon its own particular beauty, but Vicki had found that, over the years, she could tell the time of year just by looking at the sky at five in the afternoon. She could tell what season it was, what the weather was like outside, and even if it would be a clear or cloudy night.

  But this time, the strident trilling of her land-line telephone disturbed her observations.

  Three different people started talking at once, one of them reading information off a computer screen,
another giving short, terse orders that sounded like a terrier barking, and a third person, who was speaking to her.

  It was that person, the young black man with the sincere eyes, who brought her attention back to the scene unfolding around her. He held the phone out to her, his hand laid possessively over the receiver.

  “Answer it,” he said softly, “and don’t try to hang it up.”

  Victoria looking into the young man’s eyes and saw none of the compassion she’d thought was there before. Now, he was just another agent, a man with a job to do.

  Composing herself, Victoria decided it was time to do hers. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she called to mind the words she’d rehearsed in silence throughout the long hours of the afternoon. If only she had time to say them before the phone was taken from her.

  Slowly, she reached for the receiver.

  “Hurry up, woman!” the rude black man growled at her.

  Closing her hand over the receiver felt like trying to bend petrified wood, but somehow, she folded her fingers over the plastic. Her arm was loaded with weights, and yet she managed to bring the receiver the thousand miles from the end of her arm to the side of her head.

  “Hello?” she said softly.

  Chapter 15

  Sherry

  1

  The rooms at the Highcastle were nothing like what Sherry expected, and they exceeded her wildest dreams. Even torn between worry about her mother and worry about their futures, she was amazed at the room opening before them.

  Spacious and wide, with large windows opening onto the Atlantic Ocean, the room was dominated by a king-sized bed, covered by a beautiful hunter green comforter. The carpet beneath their feet was thick and sumptuous, a light beige that complimented the off-white walls and ceiling. Sherry half-expected to find the ceiling covered with mirrors, but the reality of the room, and its concessions to newlywed indulgence, made such an expectation seem overly garish.

  Most of the dark wood furniture had been set against the right-hand wall—mahogany wardrobes and dressers which glowed in the afternoon light with a luster that spoke of many years of polish and care. On the left side of the room was a large, circular tub, surrounded by an area of tiling that extended several feet in every direction. The tub turned out to be a combination shower and jacuzzi. It sported a semi-transparent curtain that shimmered with the illusion of stars, which could be pulled to surround the tub in order to protect the floor from cascading water or to preserve some modicum of privacy. There were two doors on the left-hand wall, one on either side of the tub. The closest door, as they entered the room, opened into a walk-in closet, complete with shelves and an in-room safe. The farther door opened onto a bathroom, which contained a toilet and his-and-hers vanity sinks.