Bylines & Deadlines

by Kimberly Vinje

  The clicking from the heat register brought her back. She blinked hard. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the hotel smell, she quietly sat up and removed the covers. She noticed an extra blanket over her and looked back at the sleeping stranger. She knew he had watched her. Watched her sleep and maybe even noticed a shiver. She couldn’t remember if she had been cold. She began to rise and the bed springs sighed. Jack’s eyes sprang open as he shot upright in the chair reaching for a gun on the table next to him.

  “It’s just me,” she whispered. He relaxed. “I’m sorry.” He hunched in the chair and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked up at her. She stood over him, and he cleared his throat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bathroom. It’s still night. Why don’t you take the bed for awhile?”

  “I’m fine,” he said and leaned back in the chair.

  “Okay. Thanks for the blanket,” she said. He just looked at her. She smiled and went toward the light of the bathroom.

  Chapter Twelve

  Megan didn’t jump when she felt the hand on her shoulder. Maybe she was still too tired to care whether the person touching her was a good guy or a bad guy, or maybe she had found a little comfort. She rolled from her side onto her back and raised her eyes. In a raspy voice she said, “What time is it?”

  “About 5:30,” he said as he went to the ice bucket to get the juice he had stored there last night. He shook one, opened it and took it to her. “Here,” he said, and she sat up in the bed. He took another, shook it and opened it. He turned around to her and rested against the dresser.

  “You can come over here and sit down if you want,” she said and moved her stretched out legs into a cross-legged position under the blanket. He looked at her without expression. “I promise I won’t bite or shoot you or anything like that,” she said. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I think I know how I can get your life back for you,” he said.

  “How?” she asked and sat up a little more with an anxious curiosity.

  “I’m going to my father’s. He has to keep some sort of records in the house. We’ve never been able to get a search warrant for the house. Unfortunately, whatever I find will not be admissible in court without a search warrant.”

  “Funny, it sounds more like suicide than a plan,” she said disappointed in his idea.

  “It’s the only way you won’t have to go back into the program. Even if you do, they won’t give up,” he said looking down at his juice. They were quiet for a moment while they thought about their plight.

  “I think you’re right,” she said gaining some confidence in the plan. “The last thing they would expect is for us to go to them. If we can at least get some evidence, we could blackmail them into letting us live.”

  “There’s no ‘we’ in this plan. I’m going to get you to a safe house and then go,” he said with conviction. “There’s probably one other thing you should know,” he said.

  “What,” she asked suspiciously.

  “While I do work for the FBI, I was pulled from your case when they found out Rawlings was my father. I’m on administrative leave for disobeying orders.”

  “What orders did you disobey?”

  “I was ordered to stay off the case and away from you,” he said. “I hacked into computer files to find you.” Something about this statement made her uneasy. Still, she was stuck on the side of a mountain hurt, and he was the closest thing to help she had.

  “So basically, you’re on your own if you go into the Rawlings house? No backup?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Well, then I’d say you need me,” she said. She wasn’t sure why she was so willing to put herself in danger again. Still, she thought, this would make an amazing story. The thought of sitting in a safe house again with agents being nasty to her didn’t sound very appealing - it was horrible the first time around. She’d rather be free to dodge bullets than be locked up in a house. “I can be your lookout or something. I can quack like a duck or hoot like an owl if someone’s coming,” she said.

  “I think you’ve watched too many cartoons. We don’t hoot like owls,” he said grinning.

  “You know what I mean. I’m in the mood to take back my life. Are you with me or not?” she asked removing the blanket and standing.

  “With you? It’s my plan,” he said smiling. “Now, let’s get ready to go before it gets any later.” He ran his eyes from her face down her body to her legs. She felt uncomfortable at the thought that the flannel shirt was the only thing that separated her skin from his eyes. She pulled down the shirt and then folded her arms in front of her.

  “I’ll get ready,” she said and turned to the shelter of the light, grabbing her clothes from the dresser on her way. She closed the door behind her and locked it. She laid her clothes on the counter next to the sink and used her fingers to comb her hair. “To have the luxury of a toothbrush.” she thought out loud. She rinsed her mouth and face with water and put on her clothes.

  Opening the door slowly, she said, “Are you decent?”

  “Yeah,” he said with sleep still in his throat. She walked out of the bathroom and saw him standing at the dresser. He had put on his jeans and tucked a T-shirt into them. She caught sight of his hair and tried not to laugh. The night air hadn’t been kind to the contrasting strands of short hair - spreading them in every direction. “What’s so funny?”

  “Your hair,” she said and laughed out loud. He looked in the mirror and tried to flatten it with his hand. Now she was out of control, nearly doubled over. The realization that it wasn’t that funny couldn’t stop her. The sound of her laughter was contagious. He began laughing as he turned to watch her. She sat on the edge of the bed and flopped backwards. Laugh tears rushed from her eyes, and she heard him snort through the joy. She raised a finger to try to point at him before slapping it down on the bed. Stress made people react in very weird ways, she thought.

  Suddenly a door, maybe as close as next door, slammed. They moved so quickly toward each other in silence that their bodies met with force. He wrapped his arms around her and put his body between her and the door.

  “It’s just a door,” she whispered with her arms drawn into her body. He removed his arms from around her and pushed her toward the bathroom.

  “Probably. I want to look, though. Take this and wait in the bathroom,” he said and handed her a gun. She walked toward the bathroom, and as she reached the door, she turned and saw him looking through the peephole in the door. Courage climbed from her stomach and took over her. She moved back to the sleeping area with quiet confidence. Jack had moved to the side of the window and peeked out through the curtain.

  He saw her and raised a finger to his lips. She went to the peephole and looked out. She saw two men walk past the door and then looked at Jack in shock. He nodded his head slightly, and she moved to the other side of the curtain. He moved also to get a better look.

  There were three men standing at the end of the hall. Two were rather tall. The third man seemed to be giving instructions. He was shorter than the other two and looked slightly out of shape, but it was hard to tell with only a hall light and a long black leather coat hanging from him. His hair was dark, curly and thinning on the top. His thick dark eyebrows were set in a mean scowl. He pointed in a couple different directions and thumped the back of his fist onto one of the men’s chest. They began down the stairs and out of sight.

  Megan’s heart raced as she and Jack backed away from the window. She turned to him and said, “Now what?”

  Jack took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. “They’re looking for us.”

  “Do you know them?” she asked being hit with the fact that Jack was still, by blood anyway, one of them.

  “Yeah, I do. The little guy’s probably leading the search. He’s been with the family for a long time. His father and my father grew up together.” Jack went to pack their bags. “We’re going to have to be really careful. They obviously don’t
know we’re here, but if they ask around, we’re in trouble. The kids who had this room saw me, the store clerk and a few shoppers saw me...we have to get out of here now.”

  “But what if they see us?” she asked walking between him and the bag he was in the process of packing. “We could just stay here for awhile or at least until they leave.”

  “No, that would be worse. Housekeeping is going to start soon. The people who I got this room from only had it for one night.”

  “Housekeeping,” she said and smiled.

  “What about it?” He continued packing.

  “That’s how we’ll get out.” He stopped.

  “You lost me,” he said shaking his head slightly.

  “When housekeeping shows up, somehow we’ll get a uniform. I’ll put it on and as I push the cart, you can hide along side of it.”

  “It might work,” he said not quite sure how but willing to try anything.

  “How do we get a uniform?” she asked.

  “Let’s wait until we see a housekeeper, and we’ll wing it. We have money so we can pay her off, or we can just steal the cart, or...” he said thinking.

  “Jack, I’m not going to let you hurt an innocent person to save our sorry asses,” she said thinking the worst.

  “Not hurt,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.” She wasn’t so sure she believed him.

  They waited and watched from a space where the curtains didn’t meet. Watched as the sun was born. Watched as people stirred and began to make their way through town.

  Just then they heard the squeaking of wheels come around the corner. The housekeeper was next door, but they couldn’t see the person.

  “Get into the bathroom,” he said.

  “What are you going to do?” she demanded. She was afraid for the unsuspecting stranger.

  “I’m going with you,” he said confusing her.

  “The door will be propped open is my guess. Whatever we do, it’ll have to be away from anyone who can see in.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. Just trust me.” The door from the room next to them closed, and he grabbed their backpacks and led Megan into the bathroom. He pointed to the bathtub. She stepped in, and he closed the curtain. She had to trust him. She didn’t have a choice. He stood behind the bathroom door. There were sounds of rustling - changing the beds, trash bags being emptied, her mind raced. As the woman walked toward the bathroom, Megan started sniffling. Then the curtain of the shower squeaked a little.

  The housekeeper cautiously looked around the door. Megan peeked from the curtain.

  “Please ma’am. I’m sorry I scared you. I thought you were my husband,” she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her bandaged hand. The housekeeper’s look softened a little. Megan pulled the curtain open farther and let the woman see her in full - the scratches, the bruises, again the bandaged hand.

  “Did your husband hurt you?” the woman asked with concern. She was dressed in jeans and a light coat over the maid’s apron, which hung from the bottom of the coat. The only other clue that she worked for the motel was a name badge, her name was Myra. Megan nodded and started crying again.

  “My friend,” pointing to Jack behind the door, “he saved my life.” Megan stuck her bandaged hand forward and said, “My husband cut me with broken glass. Jack lives next door, and he heard me screaming so he came over. My husband attacked him, too.” Myra’s attention turned to Jack. She saw the cuts and bruises on his face. “My husband was here looking for us. We saw him in the hall this morning,” she said with her lip quivering.

  “He was?” Myra’s expression grew worried, and Megan nodded. “You poor thing. No wonder you’re hiding.”

  “Would you please help us get out of here?” she pleaded and put her hand on the woman’s arm. Jack stared. Her story was brilliant and believable.

  “How?” Myra asked sounding as if she’d help but only to a certain extent. Myra was in her late forties, and it appeared life had been rough on her. She was of average build and had brown hair that just brushed her shoulders. Megan was sure she had been very pretty, but time and who knows what else, had etched themselves on her face. Megan imagined Myra was the kind of woman who probably had a lot of potential when she was growing up. A few bad choices or bad circumstances and she was working as a maid in a run-down motel in the cheapest area on the mountain. Megan was afraid she had caught a glimpse of her future. Not that being a maid was the worst thing in life, but not many little girls dream about cleaning 20 bathrooms every day and making other people’s beds.

  “Ma’am, if you’ll let us hide behind your cart while you wheel it to the back stairwell, I think I can get her to safety,” Jack said. Megan watched him as he worked on this woman. She was afraid Myra was smart and wouldn’t trust him. Still, upon first look, any woman would want to believe him and want to be saved by him. He had a way of making you feel comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. He could make you feel like you were the most important person in the room by the way he looked at you and talked to you. Megan remembered the night she met him. The smooth, rich tone when he spoke and Cary Grant eyes struck her as too good to be true. It had all been an act, just as this was. She was his target, and he used his skills to manipulate her - just like he was doing to Myra. She used the hurt to her advantage and let the tears form.

  “My husband will kill me if he finds me. He even brought two of his friends with him to help hunt me. I just need a chance to get away... Please?” she begged. “Please help us get away.” Myra nodded.

  “Okay, honey. If that’s all you need, I’ll do it,” she said with conviction. Megan burst with a sigh of relief and a smile in between deep breaths.

  “Thank you,” Megan said with sincere appreciation. Jack didn’t speak. “There is just one little thing,” she added. Jack’s look warned her to stop her before she pushed too far. “If my husband asks you if you’ve seen us, please tell him you haven’t, okay?” Jack looked relieved.

  “Of course. What does he look like?”

  “He’s about 5’3, dark curly hair with dark eye brows. He usually wears a long black leather coat. I think he’s with two of his friends.”

  “Oh, and he has a heavy New York accent,” Jack added knowing Megan wouldn’t know this information.

  “He won’t hurt you. It’s me he’s after. I can’t do anything right when it comes to him.”

  They quickly worked out the details of how they would sneak out. Myra asked, “Do you have a car?” Jack and Megan looked at each other.

  “No, we don’t. It broke down,” he said.

  “How are you going to get away?” Myra asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “Maybe go into the woods and walk?”

  “There’s a ski shop about a half mile down the road. The delivery truck stops there on its way down the mountain. My ex-husband drives it. He’s probably there now so let’s get you out of here.”

  “Thank you! You just saved our lives,” Megan said as she hugged Myra.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After sneaking along side the housekeeping cart, a quick trip down a freight elevator in the back of the hotel and blocking themselves from view by ducking behind dumpsters, cars and even a park bench, Megan and Jack found their way behind a small, slightly run-down strip mall. There was a plain white truck sitting behind one of the shops with the back doors open. The truck wasn’t as big as a semi - it was the size of one of those moving trucks that people rent. There would be ample room for them if the back wasn’t full of ski equipment. Myra hadn’t said whether or not her ex-husband would help them, so they decided to sneak onto the truck.

  A man in a red plaid flannel shirt, jeans, a John Deere baseball hat and a navy down vest came out of the building and picked up a large brown box. He took it into the back of the building, and the door slammed behind him. Holding Megan’s right hand, Jack began the approach to the back of the truck. He helped her climb up the back bumper and then used his le
ft arm to hoist himself in as well. The truck was only half full. He quickly worked to arrange the boxes so it wouldn’t be noticeable that anyone had maneuvered their way toward the cab. Jack and Megan crouched in the corner as the door to the store opened and a man’s voice called, “See you next week, Rick.” They took another look at each other as one of the doors closed. They lost light. Megan noticed for the first time how tight Jack held her as the other door slammed.

  It was cold and dark. She shivered as Jack released her. He pulled the flashlight out of his backpack, so that he could see the boxes. He put the flashlight in his mouth, felt around in the dim light and opened a box. He stumbled over another box and opened it. He took the flashlight out of his mouth. “I found some coats,” said quietly. He pulled the box back toward the corner with him.

  “Jack, what are you doing?”

  “Trying to keep us from freezing to death,” he replied. He shuffled his feet so he wouldn’t step on her. He made it back to her and knelt down handing her the flashlight. “Move so I can put some of these on the floor for you.” She scooted to the side while he placed a layer of coats on the floor. He reached back in the box and grabbed some more coats. “Come on.” He crawled onto the coats, and she followed. He took the flashlight from her. He leaned in the corner and took her arm as she tried to position herself on the coats. He pulled her to him, and she didn’t resist. He spread the coats on top of her first, then himself. She snuggled into him and rested her head on his chest. He turned off the light.

  “What happens next?’ she said.

  “I don’t know. I guess we just take it one step at a time,” he said. “You were amazing in the hotel.” She smiled.

  “Thanks. I can be a manipulative little bitch, can’t I?” Although she had smiled at his praise, she wasn’t at all sure she should be proud of her ability to lie to get what she wanted. While sometimes she seemed like a totally different person than Kristine Larkin, Megan was still Kristine at the core. When push came to shove, the ugly parts she didn’t like and even some of the parts she did like, came to the surface. Megan wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.