“I won’t be,” he reassured.
She studied the road and traffic ahead of them and smiled. That self-confidence fit what she remembered. He probably hadn’t changed as much as she had, which was a good thing.
5
Rae strapped on her watch and reached for her worn tennis shoes. This hotel had to have some sort of exercise room with a treadmill or bike. She shoved her room key into her pocket, picked up a large white hotel towel, and went to explore.
She’d turned down Bruce’s offer of company tonight, thinking she would catch a nap, watch some TV, and make it an early night after a long day of traveling. A two-hour nap had taken care of the desire for sleep, there was nothing on TV, and she was bored. Staying in the hotel room was not a workable option.
She found the workout room on the first floor just past housekeeping. The one occupant, a lady Rae recognized by sight as having a room a few doors down from her own, was walking at a fast clip on the treadmill.
Rae set the tension wheel on the stationary bike and cleared the mileage counter.
“Do you happen to have the time? The wall clock’s dead.”
Rae looked at her watch. “Seven twenty-two.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a late-night movie date.”
Rae settled into a smooth pace on the bike. “What’s playing these days?”
“We’re going to go see Holiday Park with James Roberts. I heard it was good. If not, at least Roberts is cute.”
“I’ll agree with that.” Rae slowly increased her cadence.
“Do you happen to know Joe Prescott?”
“The name isn’t familiar,” Rae replied, paying a bit more attention to the lady on the treadmill, as it became obvious she was looking for some conversation.
She was in her late twenties, in good shape. Her workout clothes were plain, but the jacket draped over the chair had a logo on the pocket from a gym Rae recognized as one that marketed itself as the LA gym of the stars.
“I know he lives somewhere near Justice but I haven’t been able to locate him.”
“I’ve met only a handful of town residents, but it strikes me that most know each other. Maybe someone at the café can help.”
“I think word is out that I’m a reporter; they don’t say much when I start asking questions.”
If she had realized it, she would have probably done less talking as well. “You work for the local paper?”
“I’m freelance with the Chicago Daily Times and the National Weekly News.” The lady slowed the treadmill pace. “Five miles. That’s plenty. Have you tried the hotel sauna?”
“They have one?”
“Down past the pool. I’m going to risk it.”
“I hope the movie turns out to be good.”
“So do I. First dates tend to be unpredictable.”
Rae understood exactly what she meant and shared a smile. The lady left.
Rae did fifteen minutes at a brisk pace on the bike and then slowed to cool down. She thought about visiting the sauna, but she wasn’t that desperate to talk to someone to want to search out a reporter. She returned to her hotel room.
* * *
A shower helped kill another twenty minutes of her evening. As Rae paced the hotel room towel drying her hair, she flipped through the channels on the TV again.
It was after 8 p.m. on a Saturday night; there was nothing on TV worth her time, and while she wasn’t lonely, the emotions were flittering just below the surface. She needed conversation and people and something happening around her. She tossed the remote back on the bed. She picked up her room key, cash, and a book.
The best way to understand a town was at night, when some of the surface clutter of businesses and shoppers faded away and most people were at home. Finding out what the nightlife was like would help her understand the pace of the town. She took the stairs down three flights and exited through the south doorway into the parking lot.
It was a cold night, but the wind was calm. Rae left her car in the hotel parking lot and walked across the street, retracing the way she had come through town earlier that day.
She headed toward the M&T Diner. She didn’t know how late it stayed open, but there had been a place next door to it that had also looked interesting. The lit sign had said Sir Arthur’s, and there had been a suit of armor visible through the tinted window.
Where did the cops in this town hang out when they were off duty? That would be an interesting place to find.
Rae crossed streets void of any traffic and others that were busy. She noted streetlights and alleyways. Soldiers called it reconnaissance. Cops called it patrol. She called it being smart. She very much wanted to start this job with her feet on the ground, knowing the territory and the people who lived here.
The white-collar-business guy who might drain a company pension fund, or snap and murder his wife, tended to go home every night. It was the guys who swiped wallets, did petty burglaries, had short tempers, and got into fights, who would hang out late on a Saturday night at a local establishment. She needed a network of people in that group who would talk to her about what they heard. The faster she had that network identified the better off she would be.
Rae opened the door to Sir Arthur’s, stood for a moment absorbing the music and the movements of people and with a smile walked inside. She’d spent a lot of time in such places over the years for they provided a convenient place to meet her FBI handler and pass along information. If she could get someone to take her up on a game of pool, she’d be right back in her comfort zone.
* * *
Nathan spotted the town’s new resident sitting at a round table to the left of the jukebox at Sir Arthur’s. He stopped. Rae’s car hadn’t been in the lot; he’d scanned license plates out of habit as he found a place to park. A small pile of peanut shells on the bread plate suggested she’d been here awhile.
Nathan looked around the room. He was on the prowl to find his mother. His report for the city council meeting was finally done and the lobbying to protect his budget was just beginning. She said she’d be over here to chat with the town’s fire chief, but Nathan didn’t see them. He changed his plans. He could pass on the report in the morning.
Rae was reading a book in a pub full of people. That piqued his interest, for in this group were several whom he knew would have taken a moment to stop by her table and say hello once they saw she was alone. She must have politely turned them all down. Nathan pocketed his gloves in his leather jacket and maneuvered through the crowd toward Rae’s table.
Rae slid out a chair for him with her foot without looking up. He changed his opinion of how aware she was of the room. He draped his jacket over the back. “Is it a good book?”
“My grandmother gave it to me and since I’m going to visit her tomorrow, I figured I ought to be able to say I actually read it.”
He smiled as he sat down. “Which ducks the question I asked.”
“I’m not into flowery historical prose. But the underlying true crime is interesting.” She marked her page and closed the book. She looked directly at him for the first time. Her blue eyes caught his attention again, for they were beautiful in their clarity. “You look tired, Sheriff.”
“Make it Nathan? I’m finally off duty.”
“Nathan it is.” She raised her hand, caught the waitress’s attention, and held up two fingers.
“What are we drinking?”
“Hot tea and honey, because I like it, and because if you don’t start babying that hoarse voice, you’re not going to have it tomorrow.”
He nodded at the practical assertion. “We’ll see if it works. I’ve got six ten-year-old boys in my Sunday school class; I’ll need more than a whisper.” He picked up a laminated sheet from the stand and thought about an appetizer from the diner next door to go with the drink. “I see you’ve found our town hangout. Were you also able to find Bruce?”
“I did.”
“He didn’t start the fight.”
Rae laughed.
“I’ve known Bruce a long time; I imagine he didn’t avoid it either.” She leaned closer and confided, “He used to be better at ducking.”
She did indeed know Bruce well. “Am I by any chance stepping on his toes by sitting here?”
If they were involved, he would keep his distance out of respect for the friendship he had with Bruce. But if they weren’t . . . this town didn’t get many single ladies his age moving into town. A lady who understood his profession was a rarity, let alone one with a smile that made a man want to smile back.
“Bruce and I dated seriously eleven years ago. Now is an open question.”
Nathan remembered Bruce’s comments this afternoon; his friend wanted to revive the relationship. But eleven years—Nathan wavered on whether he should concede to his friend before he even made an effort to get to know Rae. A statute of limitations should apply. And tonight the idea of getting to know her better appealed to him a great deal. “That’s good to hear.”
Rae smiled back but let the remark pass.
* * *
The waitress brought over their drinks in heavy mugs and Nathan ordered a basket of onion rings from next door. “Are you settled okay at the Sunburst Hotel? I saw your Lexus there when I made rounds this evening.”
“It’s a comfortable place, a newer hotel than I expected to find in town.”
“We have a good amount of tourism. The Amish community, botanical gardens, Lincoln museum, the old Indian trading post—they are all within twenty miles of Justice.” He stopped his answer. “Sorry. I sound like the tourism director.”
“Your name is on the town; I figure you have a vested interest in seeing it prosper.”
“I do. And the name is both a blessing and a liability. Rae Gabriella—I’m guessing Spanish is in your background, maybe Italian. Am I close?”
“Yes to both.” She rested her chin on her fist. “You’re English? Scandinavian?”
“Probably both. If I go back four great-grandparents or so, a Neil Justice arrived in this area and started a trading post here in the 1800s. Legend has it he was a gunman who served in the army, was dishonorably discharged, and started working for the highest bidder. When those kinds of stories pass through the generations, it doesn’t inspire a lot of interest in tracing genealogies.”
“A case of too much family?”
“In this town, I never get away from family.” And given the status of things with his grandfather, he’d rather stay off the subject.
* * *
Nathan worked on the hot drink as his conversation with Rae drifted through inconsequential topics. He ignored the amused glances from friends who saw him chatting with her, but who were wise enough not to wander over and interrupt.
He remembered what he’d thought earlier he needed to tell her. “Bruce asked if I’d arrange a carry permit for you. You’ll need to stop by and sign some paperwork at the office, but it should be ready by Tuesday.”
“Thanks. Is there a shooting range in town?”
“At the old concrete factory, the manufacturing floor has been turned into an indoor shooting range for the department. You’re welcome to use it once you have the carry permit; you just need to pick up your own brass.”
His order of onion rings arrived.
Nathan waited to see where Rae wanted to take the conversation, but she didn’t offer a topic. Bruce had said she had worked undercover and Nathan bet that was where she had learned to listen like this, to make the other person desire to talk just to break the silence.
He smiled slightly at her and obliged with another question. “Bruce said you’ve been with the FBI for a long time. Why the change to join a private firm?”
“Bruce asked me.”
Nathan waited for more, but she offered nothing more. It probably was that simple when it came right down to it. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“I expect I’ll learn to enjoy the work; it will certainly have a different pace to it.” Her expression opened up. “Do you play pool? I’m two-for-three tonight. I’m a bit rusty.”
Nathan picked up the basket of onion rings and rose. “The third table is my home away from home. I’ll play you for who buys dessert.”
“Deal.”
* * *
Nathan watched Rae rack the balls solid-stripe-solid and roll the group to the center dot with a brisk snap. In her actions she was precise and quick. He wished she was as easy to read overall. She liked being alone with her thoughts.
Part of him really liked the mystery that presented, but he was very aware how tight his schedule would be over the next weeks until the strike and its aftermath were settled; time was precious and turning this from acquaintances to friends didn’t look like a simple endeavor.
He slipped his friend Ben a folded ten-dollar bill and whispered another request; the young man watching their game rose from his chair and headed toward the M&T Diner.
“Another order?”
“Potato skins are coming next.”
Rae looked past him, her eyes narrowing and her attention locking in on something for several seconds, and then she relaxed and looked back at her task.
Nathan glanced around but saw no one out of place in the crowd. Saturday nights at Sir Arthur’s stayed pretty packed and tonight was no exception. He was beginning to suspect she had worked undercover so long she didn’t know how to turn off the caution when she was in a crowd.
He wanted to tell her all was fine, but she didn’t know him well enough to take his word for it.
She rolled the cue ball to him. “Your break.”
He obliged and placed the cue ball. Hefting the pool stick in his hand to the balance point, he braced his fingers on the cloth. He struck the cue ball and pocketed a solid and a stripe on the break. “Solids.” He set out to do his best to run the table.
Rae leaned against a post and watched him, slowly eating a handful of pretzels. “Do you ever miss?”
“Not if I can help it.”
He pocketed the six ball. Most cops eventually brought the conversation around to talk about work, for it was a common language with another cop. Rae never brought up the subject. He’d been probing all evening.
He’d known Bruce for over a year before he learned he’d spent most of his career working undercover focusing on the wholesale drug dealers working out of the south side of Chicago. It looked like Rae was going to be equally hard to crack. “Did you chase counterfeiters?”
“That would be Secret Service, not the bureau.”
“Bank robbers?”
“That fun was reserved for agents more senior than I.”
He was running out of suggestions. “I bet you weren’t giving out parking tickets.”
She picked up one of his onion rings. “I was probably watching one of you give them out.”
“You’ve done a lot of stakeouts?”
“It helps if you bring gum that keeps its flavor.” She stepped forward as he missed the seven ball and set out to run the table in reply. When she missed the twelve ball, she set aside her pool stick and drank her refilled tea, then absently rubbed her right arm as she watched him try again to pocket the seven ball.
“What happened?”
“What?”
He didn’t like the look of that scar. “Your arm. That cut looks defensive.”
She looked down at where she was rubbing. “Blocking a knife does that. It itches like crazy.”
A knife . . . it was a wonder she had use of that hand if the blade had hit as it appeared, striking deep into the muscle of her arm. “You should talk to Walter at the pharmacy; he could patent the cream he has for sunburns. He probably has something that will deal with an intense itch.”
“I may do that.”
“What happened that led to the knife fight?”
She finished her tea and picked up her pool stick. “A friend got upset. I’d rather not talk about it, Nathan.”
“Fair enough, but answer a question first. Is he likely to show up here in Justice and cau
se problems?”
She took so long to answer he wondered if she would. “He’s dead.”
Nathan accepted reality. Her expression had closed; the urgent questions he now had would not be getting answered. He raised a hand and caught the waitress’s attention, signaled for two more refills for their tea. “You’re up two to one; let’s see if I can even out the score with the next game.”
Ben came back through the crowd carrying a large plate, and Rae shook off the sadness to smile at the young man, causing Ben to blush just a bit. “Just what did he order?”
“Jumbos,” Ben mumbled.
“I can tell.”
“I haven’t had dinner yet,” Nathan added mildly.
“Now you have.”
* * *
Nathan held open the door at Sir Arthur’s for Rae, aware it was past midnight and he was pleasantly tired. He’d forgotten the strike, let go the urgency of the budget crisis, let dinner be hors d’oeuvre eaten between turns with the pool cue. He hadn’t had such a relaxing night in weeks. “I’m surprised Bruce didn’t join us tonight.”
“If he’s smart, Bruce is probably soaking his sore ribs,” Rae replied, shifting her book to under her arm so she could tug on her gloves. “I enjoyed tonight.”
“So did I. Let me give you a lift back to the hotel.”
“There’s no need. I haven’t been surprised by trouble during a walk at night in years.”
“It’s still my town.” Nathan tugged on his own gloves, content to walk with her.
“Are your nights often like this? A steady stream of people with requests and information they think you should know?”
Nathan looked over at her, curious as to what she had noticed. “Were there that many requests?”
“A cow that keeps getting out is police business?”
“The cow is a few hundred pounds of stubbornness and it belongs to my mom, Linda Justice. We fix the fencing; the animal just leans against a post of her choice until the fence goes down again. If the strike hadn’t interrupted my plans, I would have been replacing a few posts this weekend.”
Before I Wake Page 5