“Help you?” The cashier was probably in her twenties but looked much older. Meth, Aimee thought. It had ravaged her looks and left her with a hungry, hollow look that made her uncomfortable. On the positive side, though, she would probably not remember Aimee at all.
“Hi,” Aimee chirped. “I’m interested in a skating membership.”
The woman pointed to the prices on a posterboard over her head. “Three days a week is seventy five dollars a month…”
“I’ll take the unlimited package,” she said. “I love to skate.”
“Okay that’s one hundred fifty dollars a month. You also get a private locker and two free personal lessons per month.”
“Great, what a bargain.”
She waited while the lady rang her up, and Aimee slid across the hundred and fifty bucks. In exchange, the woman handed her a receipt and a locker key. “You’ll be in locker 41C. It’s right through those doors.”
“Thanks so much,” Aimee said, holding the key in her ice cold fingers.
She walked through a narrow hallway to the changing room. It was empty, as far as she could see. Locker 41C was about the size of her high school locker, plenty big enough for the canvas bag. She shoved it in, wrapping the straps around the body of the bag, then slammed the door closed, locked it, and pocketed the key.
Sixteen
“I have to go to Washington,” Mark said. “I’ll be gone for two days.”
Suddenly he looked tired. All vitality had left his face. Something in his tone, not just the imperative but the fierceness of it gave her pause. “Why?” she asked finally.
“I’ve been summoned,” he said simply. The bitterness in his voice surprised her. Covertly she looked at him, at the harsh profile of forehead, nose, and chin, the eyes shadowed by the dark slashing brows. A face she loved. And right now it was in pain, though he tried to disguise it.
“That man…”
“Adam,” Mark said.
“I guess I shouldn’t have told him where you are. But he said it was a matter of national security and the whole world depended on him knowing your whereabouts.”
Mark laughed. “That’s Adam. A little dramatic. Probably charming though, right?”
“Yes, very charming,” she agreed. She actually hated that she had been so taken with his charm. It was, in retrospect, a lot like Seth’s smooth charisma.
“Well he found me.”
Something like pity moved within her. “Do you … do you want me to go with you?”
He turned to face her then. “I’ll be busy every minute I’m there. Besides, you aren’t safe in D.C. Seth is there. Not to mention you would have to fly.”
She smiled at his gallows humor.
“Will you be okay here for two days?”
“Sure,” she replied. The thought of being here alone was vaguely liberating. It would be like they were a normal couple, she supposed. She could do yoga, watch television and pig out with a plate of Carrie’s cream puffs and éclairs. Of course, she could do that with Mark home too. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “And besides, I don’t want to have to board May.”
Aimee followed him up the stairs to the bedroom. She sat on the bed as he went into the closet and pulled out his suitcase. She watched while he packed two suits and neckties. He held up a light blue tie and a red one.
“Red,” she said. “Go bold.”
He folded the red one into the suitcase. “You have great taste,” he said, then leaned over to kiss her before walking back into the closet.
She picked at the gold threading in the bedspread, thinking how nice that felt. How casual and natural all this felt. It was like they were any couple, and he was going out of town for a business meeting. A scenario repeated across America thousands of times every day.
She was having more difficulty keeping those feelings at bay. She had to force her fantasies of independence into the foreground, make them real because she was losing touch with them.
Mark walked into the bathroom and she glimpsed him packing a toiletry bag. “Just two days?” she said.
“No longer than that.”
“Okay. Can I drive you to the airport?”
He looked surprised by that. “Sure.”
Mark actually drove to Whitefish airport. She sat in the passenger seat, feeling nervous. It was not just the fact that he was flying and she firmly believed flying was a dangerous activity akin to base jumping.
It was something else, something she couldn’t quite name.
At the airport, Mark held her at the curb. “Just two days,” he said again.
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you tonight, so if the phone rings, pick it up.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her, lingering for just a moment. “When I get back we can figure out the FBI stuff.”
She nodded.
Mark grabbed his suitcase.
“Wait.” Aimee grabbed his hand.
He turned and looked at her. “I love you.” She smiled, then. Happy to say it. Happy to know it was true.
“I love you too. That’s why I know we can figure out this stuff together.”
She let his hand go, and watched him walk away.
“Hi, may I speak to Bryan please?”
“He’s not here right now,” a voice replied flatly. “Can I take a message?”
“Is this Jake?”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Kimberly. I believe you’re my sister Aimee’s next door neighbor?”
She heard the pause on the other end of the line, the cautious pause that always preceded a discussion about Aimee because one never knew when Seth was laying a trap.
“Yes, I’m her neighbor.”
“I need to know if you or Bryan know how to reach her. She is in terrible danger. Seth is driving to Montana and looking for her right now.”
“I have no idea where she is. Bryan received an email from her and Seth found it. Neither of us know what to do right now.”
Kimberly frowned, rubbing the spot between her eyebrows. “Well, if you hear from her, tell her I’m desperate to reach her.”
“I will. Good luck.”
Kimberly hung up and then turned to look at Rob. “I’m going after him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to Montana. I need to warn Aimee.”
“You don’t know where she is or for that matter, where Seth is.”
“I don’t care,” she said and headed for the stairs. Rob followed.
“Let’s call the police.”
“We can’t!” Kimberly spun around to face him below her on the steps. “Seth is a cop. He has made it clear that he can call any police force in the country and have Aimee picked up within an hour. If we alert the police, we could be putting her in peril.”
Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and hurried up the rest of the stairs. In the closet, she yanked out a suitcase and flung it on the bed.
“Kimberly, please stop for a second and think about what you’re doing.”
“You’re either with me or against me. If you’re with me, pack a change of clothes. If you’re against me, stay out of my way because this is one fight you can’t win.”
She’s startled him. She could see it in his face. But she didn’t spend any time trying to smooth it over. She returned to her closet and grabbed some jeans. She began to yank them on under her robe.
“Okay, okay,” Rob said softly. “I’m with you. I’m always with you.”
In the late afternoons, half past four or so, the light would slowly begin to lengthen over the valley, turning golden and washing the mountaintops with pink fire. The air was absolutely pure and somehow soft, smelling of the earth and residual sunshine.
As the air grew chilly, Mark would start a fire, and they would talk or make dinner, or sometimes take the horses out again for a meander. The hours were somehow absorbed with the mundane little things that had become precious to her. The world was slower out here
, and kinder, more generous. But without him here, she felt at loose ends. Those generous hours seemed to stretch out into days. The house was so quiet, emphasizing the physical and metaphorical space he occupied in her life.
She played with May outside, made some pasta for dinner, and wandered through the house with May following, a little confused by Aimee’s listlessness.
The vitality that was missing was simply Mark.
It was important to hold something back, she reminded herself. To keep something pure and special so that when you meet the right person at the right time, you can give it purely, without any reservation.
Then today when he said the words: I love you.
Her heart had cracked in two. The big thaw, she feared. Pure dizzy joy was all that kept her standing. She hadn’t had any reservation about saying the words because she meant them.
But even meaning them, she could succumb to the seduction of forever. She wouldn’t halt her plans just because love kicked her in the ass, catching her totally unawares.
She missed him like a phantom limb. Better get used to it, she told herself sternly. This dull, gravel-flavored feeling would be the norm for a while. She would have to acclimate to the missing so that she could live the life she intended.
Aimee adjusted the thick fleece blankets to cover her feet. Mark was always trying to keep May off the furniture but she wanted the comfort of the dog on the sofa beside her. She flipped listlessly through the channels and settled on the news. She’d never been in the house alone before, and with all the glass of the living room, she had the weird impression that she was being watched. After several more uncomfortable moments, she shut off the tv and started up the stairs, but May trotted to the door.
“You need to go out?” Aimee asked.
May wagged her tail.
Aimee put on her boots and coat and grabbed the flashlight Mark used to look for snakes. Aimee opened the door.
It was so dark. The crescent moon was rising, white as bone, veiled with thin cloud, just over the peaks of the Bitterroots. The cold wind rustled the aspens.
Even May seemed to detect something amiss. Instead of running off as she normally did, she sniffed a bit nearby, then did her business. As soon as she was finished, she ran back to Aimee. Then just as she opened the door, May let out a howl that pierced the night sky and sent a boom of terror through Aimee’s shivering body. Aimee scrambled in, May shooting through the door with a look of weird terror on her face. Aimee locked the door, set the alarm, and just stood there for a moment with her heart pounding out of her chest, waiting.
Nothing happened.
Perhaps May had seen another wild animal. It wasn’t impossible; moose and elk, bobcats, and, of course, bears roamed the foothills with abandon. Or maybe it was absolutely nothing and May, like Aimee, was just jittery since Mark wasn’t home.
Aimee shut off the downstairs lights and followed May upstairs. Where did Mark keep his gun?
Clearly that was a crazy thought. She didn’t even know how to use a gun. The weird silence of the house was getting to her, that was all. Being out here in the boonies was great when Mark was around, but alone, she kept thinking of some madman snarling, “scream all you want, there’s nobody around to hear ya.”
She slid between the cool sheets of the bed and pat the place beside her so May would jump up. May curled up on the pillow beside her. Aimee stroked the soft fur. “You sweet mutt,” she said. “You’re not Mark, but I suppose you’re the next best thing.”
Seventeen
Mark had been to the Death Star, or the Langley headquarters of the CIA, only a handful of times. His usual office was in a small blue skyscraper in Rosslyn. From the outside it appeared to be an ordinary office complex, the kind that might contain law firms, real estate agents and financial firms. But on closer inspection, the security apparatus in plain sight was not de rigeur. The guards armed with MP-5s inside the parking garage and the thumbprint scanner at the doors were the first indication that there was something worth protecting in this hive of activity.
Mark didn’t make it to the thumbprint scanner. He used the phone to dial the extension he’d been given. “Mark Spanner to see Adam Fraller.”
A man appeared in the vestibule and escorted him upstairs to a small, empty conference room. “Your party will be here shortly,” he said and left.
Mark waited, growing angrier by the minute. He stood up and paced, passing the windows, which were specially treated to block infra-red rays, omni-directional microphones, and optical receivers lest the bad guys attempt to capture the conversations within.
The CIA was great at playing defense. But he was tired of it. Exasperated by the games in which nobody really won, he felt only a great weariness settle over him.
Fall was setting in; a gray sky hung like a tent over the swerving grey-green ribbon of the Potomac. Orange trees shook in the wind while the dead leaves skittered wildly across the street.
He thought of the snows on Jubilee Mountain; he needed to hire an architect as soon as he got home, else he would have to wait until next Spring. He was eager to get the resort going. Eager to be home.
The door swung open and Adam Fraller preceded Joe Castanetta, a man Mark did not expect to see. The Deputy National Intelligence Director wore an expression of amiable indifference, like it was completely normal for him to appear in a meeting in Rosslyn with a former employee. Two other people followed, but Mark didn’t know them. They were introduced by name, but no title. Interesting.
Mark braced himself for the impact, his gut clenching around the fear that they were going to try and fuck his life up again.
They sat at the table, Mark staring stoically at Fraller.
“The agency is starting a new initiative,” Castanetta said. “Your name has come up as a potential candidate for team lead.”
Mark exhaled audibly. All this for a recruiting effort? He could have saved them a lot of time, money and effort and given them an answer back in Spanner. However, diplomacy was required. Mark said, “Thank you for the vote of confidence. However, I am not interested at all.”
“Perhaps you will be after we describe the initiative.”
Mark wanted to leave. He wanted to protect himself from knowing whatever it was they were about to tell him. But he forced himself to sit still, to pretend to consider the generous offer.
“Mr. Spanner, you have an intriguing background. Your medical knowledge is very valuable, as you know. In recent years, the agency has had less success than we would like with our medical programs. Your ability and your rigor to the job are invaluable assets here.”
Rigor to the job? Code for his willingness to go along with torture. Well they were wrong about that. Wrong about him. But he said nothing.
“Your skills have saved lives. And we’d like to put those skills to use again in a project that, I assure you, would get very high visibility inside the agency and even with the president.”
After a night of tossing and turning, Aimee was determined to not sit around marinating in her own scary thoughts and scenarios. In the morning ,she drove to Glacier Outfitters, where she taught two yogalates classes. As Larissa hung up her mat, sweaty and radiant, she turned to Aimee. “The new neighbors have opened up their café,” Larissa said. “Supposedly it is to die for. So how about lunch with me and Sarah?”
“Sure,” Aimee said. She didn’t want to go back to the ranch right now. It was lonely out there without Mark, and she couldn’t shake a bad feeling she was getting, even with protective May on guard.
For the first time since she’d been in Montana, Aimee felt underdressed in her yoga pants and green anorak. The café was lovely, with low lighting, white table clothes and the rustic sophisticated chic look that she’d envisioned for the Resort at Starlight Lake restaurant. The fact that the dining room was empty didn’t quell her sudden apprehension.
Yet as soon as she spotted the hostess, she relaxed. The young woman was wearing jeans and had her hair pulled back in a ja
unty ponytail. “Hi, table for three?”
“Yes, please,” Larissa chirped.
She led the small group to a booth near the windows and handed out the large white menus. Aimee ordered hot tea and then set eyes on the menu. Wow. The list of specials sounded wonderful and creative. Sashimi tuna tacos, lobster strudel, duck quesadilla.
It was exactly the rustic-yet-elegant kind of food she’d envisioned for the lodge. She couldn’t wait to tell Mark about this – it was so inspiring to see these kinds of places sprouting up in Spanner. Just like she’d said – it would be a cross between Aspen and Austin. A surge of excitement bloomed through her.
“What looks good to you?” Sarah asked.
“I have to try the sashimi tacos,” Larissa declared and set down her menu.
“Lobster strudel for me,” Aimee said.
“Those oysters look amazing but I think I’m in the mood for a rich soup and maybe… will you guys think I’m a pig if I order a steak?” Sarah asked.
“Of course not, hon,” Larissa said, a little offended.
Sarah looked a little sheepish. “I have to tell you something.”
Aimee and Larissa both leaned in.
“I’m having a baby.”
Aimee gasped and hugged her friend. “Oh my gosh. That’s wonderful!”
To her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes. Crazy. It just struck her that she and Mark hadn’t used protection and she wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t want to be pregnant, she reminded herself. She wanted a huge life, full of family and friends and happy times. But most of all, she wanted freedom.
She was just emotional today, just the weird juju out at the ranch, missing Mark, the FBI. The stress was clobbering her. She quickly wiped them away and smiled for her friend.
Aimee and Larissa toasted her with white wine; she toasted herself with 7-Up.
Aimee and Larissa walked back to the shop, pausing to see Sarah off at her Jeep. Aimee looked appreciatively at the people shopping and browsing, checking out the newest skis and mountaineering gear.
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