I pretended to read or chat on my phone as I observed both the reception and concierge desks, the only places Jill had ever mentioned seeing Erin. Several of the employees asked if I needed anything. With a smile, I explained that I was waiting on my wife who was still out on the golf course.
Though it was a busy place with people bustling about, toting golf bags over their shoulders or wheeling designer luggage behind them, the lobby was still pretty quiet overall, so I was startled to hear voices being raised in anger coming from the restaurant at the far end of the lobby. Their profane language echoed off the rotunda high above my head. I wandered over to see what the commotion was and casually took a seat at the bar. There were a number of people—both guests and employees—who watched the scene unfold in the restaurant. I turned to observe as the bartender settled a cardboard coaster in front of me.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
Though I was suitably inebriated from the half-empty flask in my car, the temptation was too great for me to just sit there and not order a drink.
“Cuervo Silver,” I requested, “and a pint of whatever you have on tap.” When he turned away to fill my order, I peered back over my shoulder at the spectacle playing out within the restaurant behind me.
A well-dressed man near my own age stood in front of a booth with a young couple seated at it. He directed his attention to the woman. She yelled back at him as he towered over her.
“Lower your voice,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Who the fuck is he?” the man standing before her screamed, ignoring her command.
“Please, Beck, you need to leave. Now,” she replied.
I couldn’t see the woman very well until she pushed the man back from the table and stood up to face him. That’s when I recognized her.
Erin Anderson.
I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart leapt within my chest. I turned back to the bar and slammed the shot of tequila then chased it with half the beer. With my palm flattened against the bar, I took a deep breath. My nerves were so taut, the sweaty glass of beer slipped from my grasp. It dropped onto the bar, sloshing frothy ale all over the counter. The startled bartender raised his eyebrows, silently asking if I wanted another. With an affable nod, I mouthed an apology then held up both vessels in an effort to cover my anxiety.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell you’re doing here with him,” the man shouted.
Erin’s tone calmed as she tried to soothe him. “Please, Beck, it’s not what you think.”
“The fuck it is!” the man screamed.
Erin pushed Beck backwards as she tried in vain to console him. Her date, left seated at the table, sat quietly with a look of amused shock on his face as he watched the two bicker.
“You cancel our date and yet here you are with this asshole. And now you’re telling me it’s not what I think? You’re a goddamn lying bitch.”
It appeared the man had found Erin having lunch with a gentleman he believed her to be having an affair with. I gathered the angry gentleman must be Erin’s husband since he wore a wedding ring.
“Beck, no, please. Just give me a minute to explain,” she begged, though the provocative way she was attired spoke volumes as to her intentions.
She wore a dark red dress that clung to her alluring figure, barely falling to the middle of her shapely thigh. Glittering six-inch platform heels were strapped to her feet while expensive-looking gems adorned her ears, throat, and fingers. Her dark red hair fell loosely over her bare shoulders in long, thick waves, and though she was beautiful enough to go without, her face was slathered in heavy make-up. She looked like a high-priced call girl.
The resort manager, a tall, older gentleman with a balding head and well-dressed in an expensive suit, approached the two of them with his hands raised. “This is not the appropriate place for your conversation. I would ask you to take it elsewhere,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Back off, Henry,” Erin replied.
The manager’s eyes grew wide then his mouth thinned as he rested his fists against his rotund waist. “That’s Mr. Renton to you, Ms. Anderson. Get over to my office right now or you’ll find yourself forcibly removed from the premises…for good this time,” he said. His eyes burned with anger, following Erin closely as she stormed off. “And Mr. Maguire, I would like you to leave the restaurant, as well. I can have you escorted back to your suite, if you’d like.”
They stared at each other for a tense moment before Maguire left the restaurant in an angry huff. Renton spoke to Erin’s date, politely offering him the drinks and food he was sharing with Erin as compliments of the resort. With a nod, he turned back to the lobby and disappeared down the long hall after Erin.
I wanted to follow Renton and keep an eye on Erin, but thought better of it since they were still attracting a great deal of attention. I slammed my second shot then tossed the beer down my throat. I threw a twenty on the bar and left the same way Maguire did. I followed him at a safe distance through the lobby, where he picked up his bag, then out through the parking lot to a rental with Hertz tags on the bumper. Maguire jumped in and sped off. I returned to my own car out back and drove around to the side, parking in the shade of a tall California oak. I hoped to catch my prize as she left from either the front lot or the rear.
Ninety minutes later, Erin walked out through the front door. I checked the photo one last time. She had cleaned up and changed into more conservative clothing, but there was no doubt in my mind it was her. I sneered and swore under my breath then tipped the flask to my lips. I drained the contents, seeking its numbing relief. Suddenly, a waitress from the bar jogged out through the front entrance. She chased after Erin and tapped her on the shoulder. Erin turned, and they spoke for a minute, but the waitress seemed uneasy, nervously scanning the area around them. Erin locked arms with her and the two strolled through the parking lot toward the rear of the building, chatting amicably along the way.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Erin looked surprised as the girl carried on. She pulled out her wallet and showed the girl what looked to be a photograph. The girl nodded and returned it to Erin as she continued to talk excitedly. Shortly thereafter, the two parted ways. Erin smiled as she walked back to her car out front where the guests parked. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. I was surprised she looked so smugly satisfied, considering the fight she’d had earlier in front of her boss and fellow employees. She pulled out of the parking space and proceeded slowly through the lot. Not wanting to lose sight of her, I followed. She led me an hour or so south to the Oakland Airport where she pulled her car into the long line of rental returns then walked into the office, wheeling an overnight bag behind her.
I parked some distance away and jogged back toward the office to watch her. I was shocked to see her and Maguire, the man from the restaurant, arguing again in the middle of the rental office. Since Maguire had left nearly an hour and a half earlier, I thought for sure they had made plans to meet, but the posturing between them was completely different than it had been in the restaurant. Maguire appeared surprised to see her and very disturbed by her complaints. Erin was the one screaming this time. Though I couldn’t understand what she was saying, her voice carried all the way out to the parking garage where it echoed off the concrete walls. Now she was angry, and he was sullen, like he’d been the one caught cheating instead of her. I’d never seen a couple who deserved each other more than these two.
Maguire ripped Erin’s paperwork out of her hand and threw both his receipt and hers at the employee who stood behind the counter. The sheepish clerk looked concerned by the fighting couple. Maguire handed him a credit card and paid both accounts. He turned and grabbed his bag and Erin’s arm, dragging them both out of the office toward the airport terminal. The clerk walked out from behind the counter and followed them out the door. He watched them with an open mouth as they walked away, still arguing back and forth.
I quietly entered
the office from behind the clerk, walked up to the counter, and snatched the paperwork he’d left sitting there. One escaped my fingers and fell to the floor behind the counter, out of my reach. The clerk pulled the front door closed behind him and returned to the office. I spun around, avoiding eye contact, and pretended to lift some company literature off a kiosk. Then I turned and left the office before the clerk could notice the missing paperwork.
As I walked through the garage, I looked over the one receipt I’d managed to steal to see what kind of information I could glean from it. The name at the top was Beck Maguire’s. It listed an address in Washington State, his driver’s license, and two phone numbers. I stuffed the paper into my pocket and took off into the terminal after the bickering couple. Slipping into the line far behind them at the busy ticket counter, I listened as they quarreled over their plans to fly back home to Seattle. I wanted to follow them onto their flight, but it was more important that I talk to Nick and share with him what I knew. Perhaps we could use the receipt to find Maguire and Erin again up in Washington. I watched them proceed through the security line. They had finally stopped arguing, refusing to speak to each other at all. With nothing left to do, I drove home to find Nick and discuss our next step. Time was running out. We had to find Erin.
I needed that girl.
Chapter Nineteen
Tyler
Nick grilled me about everything that went down at the spa, as well as the Oakland Airport. He wondered aloud why Erin would be flying up to Seattle if she worked in Napa and most likely lived nearby. Working on a hunch, he called the spa and asked for Erin, hoping to get some answers. He used his considerable charm and chatted up the young woman who answered the phone. He listened silently for a few minutes then hung up and threw me an anxious glance.
“Erin was sacked today,” he said.
“Sacked?”
“Yep, fired for inappropriate behavior and escorted off the property. Or so the lady said.”
“Brilliant. So what’ll we do now?”
“Well, we don’t have anywhere else to locate her now except for the address on that rental car receipt.” Nick picked up the slip and perused it before handing it to me. He paced the floor, deep in thought. “You said they both talked about going home. Those were their words. And their flight was headed to Seattle. I don’t know, Ty. You seem to think they’re married, but his name is Maguire and hers is Anderson. Something just doesn’t add up.” He stopped and looked at me. “I’m not sure what’s up with them, but if Seattle is where they both said their home is, we don’t have much choice. I think we should drive up as soon as possible. Take a look around. That’s our best shot at finding her now. I don’t want Alexi to think we’ve fucked this up before we even got started, you know.”
I looked over the receipt and nodded, knowing it was the best plan, but feeling apprehensive about it. Nick considered me with doubt in his eyes, probably the same uncertainty I felt in my heart, not to mention the foreboding that sat like a rock in the pit of my stomach.
“You sure about this, Ty? I know I said all those things before, but if you’re not—”
“No, you’re right. I just want to get this over with as quickly as possible.” I had no choice now, though Nick didn’t know that yet. I hadn’t told him about the deal Alexi and I had brokered with Dmitri. And while Alexi had so far kept his promise not to tell Nick, he had called me twice already, a friendly reminder that the clock was ticking and that he was watching. And waiting. Like the sword of Damocles hanging above my head.
I slammed a fresh drink and grimaced. As the moment drew nearer and my determination grew weaker, my consumption of alcohol increased twofold. It dawned on me in that moment that I was gambling with our lives. Earlier in the week, it had seemed so clear, the sacrifice worth the uncertainty, but now that I was moving closer to my target—her life locked in my crosshairs—my resolve wavered. I was unsure if I could complete my mission. Maybe that was why I put Nick’s future on the table, to make certain I would follow through, for Jillian’s memory at the very least. I tried to swallow my fear and concentrate on the task, but I found my weakening confidence disconcerting. I chose to hide my disquiet from Nick and pushed forward.
Nick scoured through my garage, tossing two thin coils of rope, a knife, and some duct tape into a large canvas duffel bag. We took one more day to discuss strategy: where we would stay, how we would grab the girl, what we would do with her once we did, and how we planned on getting her back down to San Francisco, all without being detected. We walked through every scenario we could think of, the inevitable problems, and possible options. It certainly wouldn’t be easy, and we were going to have to wait and see what the conditions were before we decided which plan would work best, but we felt certain we could complete our task and get Erin back to The City by Alexi’s looming deadline, now a mere four days away.
When the time finally arrived for us to leave for Seattle, Nick shrugged casually, stuffed his wallet in his back pocket, and picked up his keys.
“Ready to go?” he asked, as if we were running a simple errand instead of planning to destroy a human life.
I nodded and hid my uneasiness behind a pair of sunglasses. As he left to start the car, I filled a bag with several bottles of liquor, because I knew full well that I would eventually need the extra courage. I paused at the front door and looked back into the home I had shared with Jillian, noting all the things that reminded me of her: her composition of photos artfully arranged on the walls and the pile of baby products heaped together in the corner. She was everywhere and yet nowhere.
I turned away and, with a great sigh, closed the door behind me.
Chapter Twenty
Tyler
My brother and I took shifts driving so we wouldn’t have to stop for the night. Nick asked me to refrain from drinking any alcohol during the fourteen-hour drive, something I found especially difficult. Over the last few months, I’d never gone more than four or five hours without a drink. At that point, my hands would begin to tremble, and my heart would race. I would often break out into a cold sweat, and concentrating became a challenge. I even hallucinated a few times, jumping away from imaginary bugs as they skittered across the floor. Nick seemed immune to withdrawal. I suppose I had become a more hardcore drinker than Nick ever was. It was not something I was proud of, but I was resigned to it nonetheless, having no reason or motivation to change.
The weather grew increasingly worse as we drew closer to Seattle. The landscape turned to a lush overgrown green held to earth by heavy, steel-grey clouds leaden with rain which pounded relentlessly against the windshield. The sky lightened very early over the Puget Sound, and by five in the morning, the sun had risen fully behind the oppressive clouds.
“Welcome to Seattle,” Nick said with biting sarcasm. “I hear it’s sunny here less than two months out of the year. Can you believe that? Sixty days. I think I’d fucking kill myself if I had to live with the grey skies and all this depressing rain.”
I laughed as I looked around at the tall trees that leaned in on the roadway from all sides, their height and breadth obscuring most of the sky. “Well, at least it’s green here,” I replied, “and with all the trees, you can barely see the sky anyway, so…” I shrugged.
He nodded in agreement as he craned his head forward to view the forested wetland around us. “It’s kind of creepy, you know, the way you can’t even see through the trees. You’d never know what’s coming at you. And they have bears, coyotes and mountain lions all over the place up here, even in the residential neighborhoods. Fucking scary place. And depressing. And wet. How in God’s name do they stand all this bloody rain?”
He shivered visibly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle again. Unlike me, Nick was a true Aussie, raised in the blistering heat and scorching sun, his free time spent exploring both the bush and outback alike; that is when he wasn’t surfing or trolling for girls along the sandy beaches of Melbourne. He didn’t remember the dreary rain of London
as I did. It was little things like this that exemplified the core differences between us. Though we looked very much alike, we couldn’t be more different, right down to our accents.
“We need to go east up here on I-90,” I said, pointing at the sign ahead.
Nick and I chose to stay in a small town just outside of Maguire’s. Issaquah, Washington was nestled between several small mountains in the foothills of the Cascades just ten miles east of Seattle. It was a quiet bedroom community overloaded with teriyaki restaurants, two Starbuck’s at every strip mall, and well-dressed, SUV-driving soccer moms who trolled about with their young children strapped into car seats while they gossiped through blue-tooth devices stuck into their ears. I watched the people venture about, doing their business. Even in the rain no one used an umbrella, and very few wore rain coats or even pulled hoods up over their heads. They simply ignored the spitting sky. I shook my head and chuckled in amusement as Nick pulled the car into a Motel 6 near the freeway.
“I’ll go get a room,” I said. “Why don’t you grab us something to eat and bring it back. I want to go over the map, get an idea of where I’m going once I get up into Maguire’s neighborhood.” Truth was, I couldn’t wait a minute longer for a drink. I needed one. My hands had been shaking for the last eight hours.
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