“It beats Mayberry,” Dee quipped. “Fargo has been worth the drive already.”
“I know exactly what you mean. It’s nice to get out.”
Melissa fiddled with her coat while she watched Brian and Malcolm chatting in the line. Doing as she’d been told, she studiously avoided eye contact with Neff and Malone, who were each sitting alone a few tables apart on the other side of the shop. Neff had insisted that they not leave town alone in the wake of the previous evening’s troubling news. Once they’d arrived at their destination, he’d laid out strict rules of no contact between the foursome and the two of them.
“Were you nervous about coming here tonight?” Dee asked, lowering her voice.
“Not really. If Becky had run into the Colonel and said something about us, we would have found out the hard way weeks ago. I admit, the news about her boyfriend last week scared me, but once I read about what happened, Neff’s concern seemed a bit overblown. Anybody can have too much to drink and get in a fight, especially in Chicago. Besides, we’re just assuming the Colonel would be involved just because NASA is in the picture. But that’s a huge leap.”
“I think we can all forgive ourselves for being predisposed to some paranoia after what we saw last summer. If the Colonel was involved in what happened, the blue-eyed thug would have been on your doorstep in a heartbeat.”
“And Becky would have had to tell him what our new names are in order for him to find us,” Melissa added. “We never told her where I was teaching or what town we were in. For all she knows, we’re living here in Fargo.”
“Batman and Robin didn’t seem to think any of that mattered.”
Melissa chuckled at the caricature of Neff and Malone. “I know. I don’t get why they insisted on coming in here first. I’m not sure what they were on the lookout for, especially since they don’t know anything about Colonel Ferguson. They don’t even have his name, so it’s not like they’d know what he looks like.”
“I didn’t follow, either,” agreed Dee. “But we might as well let them do their thing. No harm in that, right?” Dee stopped, troubled by the change in Melissa’s expression. “Melissa?”
She turned, following Melissa’s stare. Through the windowpane adjacent to the front entrance, the view partially obscured by streaks of frost, she saw a young girl wearing a dark, olive green, goose-down jacket gazing into the window, wisps of curly brown hair protruding from under a black beanie. A hint of a nervous smile creased her face as she shifted the backpack she was wearing and waved cautiously in their direction.
“I don’t believe it,” Melissa breathed through a forced smile.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Dee said, turning back to her.
“I wish I were,” she added, half-heartedly acknowledging the girl’s signal. “She’s coming in.”
Dee broke protocol and looked in Neff’s direction, but her view was quickly blocked by someone looking for a seat. She quietly slid an unclaimed chair from the adjacent table in their direction.
“Thanks,” Becky said appreciatively, looking at Melissa. She sat down at the end of the table between the two women, whose backs were to the corner walls. “It’s hard to get a seat in here sometimes,” she followed, sheepishly, opening her coat and setting her backpack on the floor.
“Well, Becky,” Melissa said, not bothering to conceal her surprise. “Pardon me if I’m a little stunned. This is Deidre, by the way.”
Becky nodded to Dee. “Sorry to intrude, but I saw you through the window—again. Weird, huh?”
“For sure,” Melissa said, taking a brief look around, trying not to betray her anxiety.
“Have we met before?” Dee asked, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I don’t think so,” Becky answered. “I would have remembered you. North Dakota isn’t exactly a melting pot of diversity.”
“You’ve got that right,” Dee replied, satisfied.
Brian and Malcolm had made it to the cash register, but their backs were still to the table. Across the room she saw Neff reading something on his phone. Malone was nowhere in sight. “It feels awkward to ask,” Melissa began, “but how are you here and not … you know …”
“In jail?” Becky blithely finished Melissa’s thought, glancing at Dee.
“Right. And it’s okay to talk. Dee here is a psychologist. She’s used to keeping secrets.”
“Well, I don’t have any of those anymore,” Becky said ruefully. “I surrendered to the police, just like you advised, and gave them what they wanted. There wasn’t much to interrogate me about after that, other than where we’d gone while we were on the run, but they knew most of that.”
“Of course.”
“They more or less just let me sit in a cell for a few weeks. They told me they thought about turning my case back to the state authorities, but then they let me out—with an ankle bracelet, mind you. I’m wearing it now.”
“Well, I guess that’s good news,” Melissa continued the small talk, having already decided she’d let Becky steer the conversation.
“I was surprised, believe me. I’m not going to try anything, either. I’m staying with my friend from high school again. It’s just nice to be out.”
“I don’t need to know any details,” Dee said, “but you were in federal custody?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Based on your story, they seem too nice.” She shrugged. “I’ve had a few run-ins with the feds myself. Your situation seems atypical.”
“Maybe it is,” Becky offered. “It’s my first time. Who knows?”
“Here we go,” Malcolm said, arriving at the table with their drinks. “Can you introduce me?” he asked Melissa. His eyes told her he already knew.
“This is Becky,” Melissa replied. “Fargo is her hometown.”
“Nice to meet you,” Malcolm said pleasantly. “Can I get you anything?”
“I was just about to ask the same,” Brian said, now standing in front of the seated women next to Malcolm. He handed Melissa her drink. They read the anxiety in each other’s eyes. “So, would you like some coffee?” he asked, turning toward Becky.
Becky’s expression instantly changed. Her body became rigid. She stared straight ahead with a blank, fish-eyed gaze, then looked down at the table. “Do they have coffee here?” she asked slowly, still looking at the surface of the table.
Brian’s eyes darted quickly to the faces in their group, where he saw a mixture of alarm and bafflement.
“Yes,” he answered. Her question was disturbingly obvious. “They have coffee here. It’s a café.”
Becky raised her head and looked at each of them for a moment, moving left to right, then back again. She locked onto Brian’s face.
“So nice to see you again,” she said in a detached monotone, staring into space.
“What?” Brian asked.
“You are Dr. Brian Scott,” she went on, her expression unchanged. “Dr. Brian Scott, PhD, University of Chicago. AWOL for several months.”
“Oh God, no!” whispered Melissa, panic surging through her. Brian and Malcolm were blocking her view of Neff and Malone. She fought the urge to try to alert them by shifting her position.
“I have a message for you, Dr. Scott,” Becky intoned firmly in the same voice, which by now had taken on a robotic drone. After a few moments of silence, she looked up at the ceiling, then resumed her fixed stare straight ahead.
“What do you want?” Brian decided to ask.
“1-1-3-6-1-9 … H-G …” She chanted in a slow, deliberate cadence, then paused momentarily. Malcolm hurriedly reached into his pocket for a pen and began writing on a napkin. “W-E-S-T-O-N … 8-0-5-0-3.” She stopped and stared straight ahead.
“What the—”
“1-1-3-6-1-9 … H-G-W-E—” Becky began to chant the sequence again.
“I suggest we all get up calmly,” Malcolm whispered cautiously, shoving the napkin into his pocket, “and just leave quietly. The others will notice and follow.”
Brian nodded, reaching for Melissa.
“One more thing …” Becky said lightly, almost musically, after finishing the series.
The four of them stopped and watched in transfixed curiosity as Becky methodically turned her attention to the backpack between her feet on the floor. She slowly unzipped the top and reached inside. Then, in a sure, startlingly swift motion, she pulled out a handgun and pointed it at her own head.
Brian instinctively pulled Melissa off her chair and onto the floor, quickly crouching in front of her. Several customers heard the commotion. Heads turned toward them in unison. The sight of the gun immediately jolted several people into panic. Some turned and ran for the entrance, shouting for patrons to get out. Others stood up, craning to see what was causing the unfolding chaos. A woman screamed. The loud banging of wooden chairs knocked over or flung out of the way rattled through the small café.
“Put it down, Becky,” Brian said breathlessly. Malcolm and Dee slowly backed away.
“Stay busy … busy, busy, busy … merry Christmas … happy birthday to baby Jesus …” She smiled broadly, then pulled the trigger.
30
The shifts of Fortune test the reliability of friends.
—Cicero
“Let me through!”
The shout rose above the clamor of screaming and shouting, jolting Brian from his shocked stupor. He stood helplessly over Becky’s lifeless body, her eyes still wide open, looking up at the ceiling in the same catatonic stare that had riveted him just moments ago. Only seconds had passed, but already a sizeable pool of blood and cranial fluid had oozed from the girl’s shattered skull. Bits of bone and brain tissue floated like flotsam and jetsam amid strands of hair in the sickening puddle.
“Let me through—I’m a doctor!”
Brian heard the voice more clearly now over the wails echoing through the formerly calm cafe.
Neff pushed his way past a few onlookers and knelt beside Becky’s body. “You’d better see to your wife,” he said, not looking at him as he passed. Neff put his fingers to the girl’s neck, checking for the pulse he knew wouldn’t register. He was just trying to perpetuate the charade.
Malone appeared, having pushed his way past more gawkers. He looked at the body and began ushering people away. “Let the doc do what he can. The police will be here soon. Please, let’s go outside and wait for them.”
As soon as people began complying, Malone turned toward Neff and watched him gently close the girl’s eyes, turning her head to hide the largest of the two gruesome wounds as best he could. “I was a medic in Vietnam,” he said, loud enough for the remnants of an audience to hear. “Anything I can do?”
Brian watched as the two spoke, still stunned by the violence. For a moment his mind flashed back to Neil’s death. He shuddered at the memory of his friend’s head exploding before his eyes. Malone got up and hurried to the now abandoned service counter, shuffling over the countertop. The motion brought Brian back to the present. He watched as the older man returned with an apron and a towel and handed them to Neff, who covered Becky’s head.
“Brian,” a voice beckoned weakly from below and behind him. He turned and looked down at Melissa. He quickly knelt next to her and helped her to her feet, pulling her close, trying to quell her trembling. Malcolm was crouched next to Dee, who sat awkwardly on the floor, legs apart, leaning against an overturned chair.
“You! Hey, buddy!” Brian heard a voice behind him and turned back toward Neff and Malone. Malone was motioning to him. He whispered to Melissa, who gave a quick nod, and joined the twosome.
“You’ve got get out of here now,” Neff said in a low, ominous hush as soon as he arrived.
“We can’t just leave a crime scene in front of all these people,” Brian objected. “We were witnesses. Someone will say something to the police.”
“You don’t want to hang around for the police. You’ll be detained—and then handed over to whoever arranged this.”
“How—”
“Listen closely,” Neff interrupted. His voice was calm but firm. “This girl was being monitored.”
“I know,” he replied. “She said the police made her wear an ankle bracelet.”
“That’s no security bracelet she’s wearing.” Neff motioned with his eyes to the girl’s foot. Brian looked. “That’s a sophisticated vital-signs monitor. It’s Israeli. We’ve seen them before. My guess is that whoever gave it to her knows she’s dead and is already on his way here. You’ve got to get out of here now.”
“Dr. Harper doesn’t look right,” Malone added, drawing Neff’s attention, “but that may not be enough. We’ll need to improvise.”
“Enough for what?”
“Malone is going to get you all out—front, back, wherever,” Neff explained with urgency. “Follow his lead. He’ll make it as natural as possible. It would help if one of the women went into labor in the next sixty seconds—and it needs to be convincing. Now go!”
Without a word, Brian stood up and rejoined the others.
“I’ll handle things here,” Neff whispered to Malone. “Text me in fifteen minutes.”
“Got it.”
Malone stood up and moved slowly toward Brian and the group. Dozens of people were now pressing up against the windows to get a glimpse of the carnage. He helped Malcolm get Dee to her feet.
“She’s in shock,” Malone said, looking at Malcolm, again speaking loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear. “I think there’s an employee break room in the back,” he added, gesturing toward a door behind the counter. “Have her lie down there. The police will be here soon.”
The couple made their way slowly to the opening. “There’s an exit in the back,” Malone whispered to them, touching the slender black man’s arm and directing him forward. “Get out, make a left down the alley, and wait for us where it comes out.” Malcolm and Dee disappeared through doorway.
Malone turned his attention to Brian and Melissa. Melissa groaned and grabbed her abdomen. Her knees buckled. Brian held onto her.
“Make way, folks,” Malone said sternly. “She’s started labor. We’ve got to get her outside.” He’d no sooner mouthed the words than the distant sound of sirens drifted into their hearing. Melissa groaned again, this time more loudly. She clutched at Brian’s sleeve and doubled over in feigned agony. “Keep moving,” Malone motioned to Brian as they headed to the entrance. The crowd began to part. “We’ll get her out and find some help. Just stay calm.”
Once outside, the three of them turned left in the direction of where they’d parked along the street. The car was parked perpendicular, with the driver’s side facing the crowd, roughly fifty feet away. Malone turned his head slightly, noting that a few onlookers were following their movements. After stepping between the parked cars, he discreetly slipped Brian the keys. “Follow me to the passenger’s side with Melissa, then go back around and get in the driver’s seat.”
The two men acted out the ruse, helping Melissa around the rear of the SUV and into the passenger’s door. Her genuine shakiness made the scene believable. Malone instructed her to sit behind the driver’s seat. Malone held the side door open. The wail of the approaching sirens reached a crescendo.
“Now what?” Brian asked.
“Just wait.”
Brian did as he was told. Seconds later, two squad cars shot into view around the corner to their left, passing their vehicle at the rear before coming to a screeching halt. An ambulance appeared from the opposite direction. Brian watched as the officers bolted from the car, hands covering their weapons. Neff appeared through the crowd and waved them in. They disappeared into the building. All heads were turned toward the action.
Malone jumped into the SUV and shut the door, crouching as best he could behind the front passenger seat. “The windows are tinted, but I’m not taking any chances of someone seeing me with you guys. Get moving, make it natural. Take the street on your left just before where the police cars stopped. Take it to the n
ext intersection and make a left. I’ll direct you from there.”
“What about Malcolm and Dee?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as you give it some gas.”
Brian pulled out of the space quickly but smoothly and followed Malone’s directions. Melissa could see that they were making a circuitous path around the opposite side and rear of the coffee house. It took less than five minutes for them to circle far enough to where they could see Malcolm and Dee waiting at the corner of a parking lot. The two of them quickly got inside.
“Thanks,” Malcolm said as he closed the door.
“Where to now?” Brian asked.
“Keep going straight ahead past the street the coffee shop is on. Take the second left and then head into the parking lot farthest removed from the shop. Park as far back as you can. Then move back here into this seat. I’ll have to squeeze in the back row with Malcolm and Dee. We don’t want anyone visible through the front.
“He’s going to find us,” Dee said suddenly in a low, frightened voice.
“We have to wait for Neff,” Malcolm said gently. “We’re safe here.”
“Like hell we are,” she grumbled. Brian was relieved to hear that she sounded like herself, but he shared her dread. He positioned the car in the last row about a hundred yards away and shut off the ignition.
“We also want to learn what we can,” Malone said, wedging himself into the back row and then reaching under the seat in front of him. He drew out a small case and produced a pair of binoculars, which he peered through toward the café.
“Brian,” Melissa asked, “what are we going to do? He knows we’re here.” The desperation in her voice cut through him.
“He knew we’d show up in Fargo, so Becky must have let something slip. But we don’t live in Fargo.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better,” she said with panicked irritation. “He’s behind this. He knows, and even if he doesn’t have our address, he’ll get it. We’re not safe. We’re—” She stopped and put her hand over her mouth, trying in vain to keep herself from crying. Brian reached across the aisle separating the seats and tried to console her.
The Portent Page 17