Forever

by Tinnean

  “I’d just take my coffee and carry-on and go there now. My ID is in order.” I’d chosen a different persona than Charles Reed, the one I’d used when I’d flown to Cape Cod to track down Mark. This time I was going by the name of Daniel Rooney.

  “Leaving the possibility that whoever is behind the counter will remember you.”

  “Why would they?”

  “Nobody to distract them from the good-looking guy in a pair of jeans that look like they were spray-painted on and with a….”

  I lost track of what he was saying. I knew I was considered good-looking by some—I had excellent genes from both sides of my family—but to hear my lover refer to me that way….

  “Earth to Mann?”

  “Sorry, Mark—”

  “I’m Hank McKay this trip.”

  “Very macho.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “A valid point.”

  Mark appeared to be intent on sipping his coffee, but he was gazing at me through his lashes. I raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  He shrugged. “We want to avoid drawing any kind of attention to ourselves.”

  “The clothes are innocuous enough.” I wouldn’t have shaved before we left, enforcing the outdoors character I was attempting to portray, except that it obviously wouldn’t match the blond wig,

  “I doubt it.”

  “However, the last thing I want to do is look like a city boy playing at being a country boy.” Added to that, it wouldn’t have melded with the businessman guise of the first leg of our trip.

  Mark ran a heated gaze over me. “I want to see you like that, but it’ll have to be another time.” And that gaze told me he was anticipating that time.

  “All right, Mark. Hank.” I conceded. I trusted him on this. The extent of my going undercover had been simply assuming a false name, acquiring a passport to match, and making sure I had plenty of the local currency for bribes. “We’ll do it your way.”

  “Smart move.” His foot nudged mine under the table. “Thanks.”

  XXIII

  AS HE predicted, within half an hour a number of jets landed, the terminal was suddenly a beehive of activity.

  “Let’s go.” He rose, tossed his cup into the trash, and waited for me to do the same.

  We made our way to an escalator that would take us to the lower level and the car-rental counters.

  And as he’d also predicted, there were so many people waiting to pick up their vehicles that the agent barely glanced at our driver’s licenses before taking Mark’s credit card, keying in the information, and handing it back along with the paperwork and the key.

  “It’s a blue Chevy Impala. In the lot, to the left, spot number’s on the key ring. Ask anyone out there if you have trouble finding it. Have a nice day.” He gave us a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he was already looking past us. “Next, please.”

  Mark stepped aside and slanted me a glance. “Get my suitcase, wouldja, Dan?” He put away his license and credit card, and we left to find the car we’d have for the time we were here.

  XXIV

  “HOW long are we going to have the car?” We’d been on the road for two hours, a good quarter of which was spent getting out of the airport—Mark was right when he stated everyone traveled on this holiday weekend—and we’d reached the outskirts of a fairly large town. Wexler lived on the other side of it, alone in the huge, ostentatious mansion he’d bought with his father-in-law’s money when, as city councilman, he’d first married Elizabeth Dufresne.

  “I’ve rented the car for a week.”

  “Won’t it raise suspicions if we return it early?”

  “Nope.” He turned his head to meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Quinn. I’ve got it covered.” He flipped up the blinker and slowed to make a right turn. “You think I’d let you get caught and become some Bubba’s bitch?”

  “Really, Mark. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Yeah? And didn’t I tell you to call me Hank?”

  “Well, you called me Quinn. I assumed it was safe in the car.”

  “You know what happens when you assume.”

  “Don’t quote The Odd Couple to me. And if you were simply testing me, I don’t appreciate it.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. Although I wasn’t testing you.”

  “Then would you mind explaining what you were doing?”

  “I wanted you to know that I wasn’t taking your safety lightly.”

  “I….” I was at a loss as to how to respond to that. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Of course not. So sorry.” However, it was a big deal to me. “How….” I cleared my throat. “How much further is it?”

  “About another five minutes. Just so you know, this place caters to hunters during the season. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s got the one thing I have to have.”

  “Yes? A bed?”

  He grinned, although his eyes never left the road. “Jesus, I have created a monster, haven’t I?”

  “And you object to that?”

  His grin broadened, became cocky. “Nope.”

  “All right, since a bed isn’t obviously high on your list—”

  “Ass.”

  “—suppose you tell me what might be?”

  “An oven.”

  For a moment I was taken aback, but then I remembered Mark’s reputation as a forensic artist. “Should I have brought along a twig?”

  “No, Hansel.”

  I was ridiculously pleased that he caught the reference to the fairy tale, as obscure as it was.

  “We’re here.” He pulled to a stop in front of the office.

  “Come On Inn?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The motel was small and nondescript, a row of rooms with a concrete walk running along in front of them and a scattering of cabins beyond. The parking lot, equally small, was empty except for a single car that no doubt belonged to the clerk on duty.

  “It isn’t much,” I concurred. “Do you want me to wait in the car?”

  “Quinn, I was only kidding when I—”

  “I know. But if it’s safer this way…?”

  “Not necessary. We’re just a couple of guys in for the local college’s basketball game. The University of Missouri is hosting Kansas State.”

  “If you say so. But isn’t this motel rather off the beaten track?”

  “Yep. Makes it all the more understandable. Weren’t sure if we could get away, got our tickets at the last minute—they’re in the nosebleed section if anyone asks, by the way—but we’re diehard Mizzou fans, and we’re willing to take whatever we can get and we’ll drive as far as we have to. Just stand there and look pretty, and let me do the talking, okay?”

  I pretended I hadn’t heard the remark about looking pretty, although I liked it. “Whatever you say, Hank.” I was amused by the backstory he’d concocted, but I couldn’t help being impressed as well.

  “That’s my boy. Okay, let’s go.”

  We entered the office, and both of us studied it surreptitiously.

  It was a little square box of a room, its size in keeping with the motel and the rest of its surroundings. Against one wall was a rack of pamphlets for local attractions and next to that was a stand with a stack of the local newsletter. Did this motel double as the chamber of commerce as well?

  There was a hot plate with a carafe on it, and the smell of scorched coffee mingled with the odor of hamburgers and fried onions. Was this going to be a foretaste of the room we’d be given?

  But no, I spotted a crumpled bag with the red and yellow logo of McDonald’s in the trash can at the end of the counter.

  The clerk looked around from the TV he was watching. “Afternoon, gents. How can I help you?”

  “We need a room for the weekend,” Mark said.

  The clerk nodded. “Everything in the town proper’s full up. Presidents’ Day Weekend, y’know.”

  “Yea
h. We figured as much, but….” He shrugged.

  “Know what you mean. I can accommodate you.” The clerk tapped the keys on his computer and with a shove of his foot rolled the chair he’d never risen from across to the printer. Another shove rolled him back. “You here for the big game?”

  “You bet.”

  “It’s a good thing you got here early today. This place’ll fill up later on—the usual Friday night crowd….” The clerk missed the shadow of a frown that crossed Mark’s face—it immediately vanished—but his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he flushed and looked uncomfortable. “After the season, this is what you might call a trysting place. I’m sorry. But it’s clean!” he hastened to assure us. “I’ll be closing the office for the rest of the weekend. On account of the big game.”

  “In that case I don’t suppose it’ll help to ask for a room away from all the noise.” Mark gave a rueful grin, the epitome of the good old boy, and I waited to hear what kind of story he would tell. “Ol’ Danny Boy here, he needs his rest. Five kids, all under five!” He leaned an elbow on the counter and said in a conspiratorial tone, “His old lady was supposed to pop out their fifth this weekend, today, as a matter of fact, and we didn’t think we’d be able to make it, but she surprised us by having it last week.”

  I coughed, an attempt to conceal my amusement at the very large family I had suddenly acquired, and Mark gave me a bland stare and continued.

  “Her mother was supposed to come take care of the kids while Nell was in the hospital, but she got tied up at home, and we weren’t sure…. And then on top of that, we really had to scramble to get tickets.”

  “Our seats are in the nosebleed section,” I added helpfully.

  The clerk looked confused. “But the arena isn’t—”

  “Figure of speech.” I gave him a little grin, inviting him to join the joke with me. “Well, at least my sweet Nell finally gave me that boy we’ve been trying for. Little Dan,” I announced proudly and reached into my back pocket as if to withdraw my wallet. “I’ve got pictures—”

  “No! No one wants to see.” Mark gave me a look that clearly stated there would be retribution for me disregarding his warning to let him do the talking, and the sly wink I gave him in return let him know I was looking forward to it.

  The clerk, missing the byplay, looked as if he’d be interested, whether as good customer relations or simply because it was a quiet day and he had nothing better to do than watch the latest episode of Judge Judy, and I realized I’d been a bit too clever for my own good.

  Mark shook his head. “The kid’s all covered with blood and that white shit.”

  “Oh.” The clerk turned a little green and scowled at me. “Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to bother.”

  I shrugged, blowing out a furtive breath of relief. What we were doing here might be personal, but I’d have to remember to treat it as if it were professional.

  “You gonna get your pecker cut like Nell’s been after you to do, Danny Boy?”

  “Hell, no!” I gave a theatrical shudder, and the clerk winced in sympathy, apparently forgiving me for wanting to foist nightmare pictures on him. “She had her tubes tied right after she gave birth,” I confided.

  “Senator Wexler’s gonna get that made illegal. At least he was, until he got himself kicked out of office.” The clerk’s face darkened. “He shouldn’t’ve done that to Miz Elizabeth. She’s a good woman, and look what she got for all the years of standing by him. It’s a real shame.”

  “Yeah. It is that.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t talk politics with customers, but it just burns my butt.” He tugged on his lower lip. “Look, we don’t usually rent them out off-season, but I can let you have a cabin if you want.”

  “I didn’t realize you also offered cabins.”

  “Oh, yeah, out back. Didn’t you see ’em? They’re for the diehard hunters. We shut ’em down and store everything after hunting season, but you won’t need dishes or pots and pans and stuff.” The clerk slid the form across the counter to Mark.

  “No, we won’t.” He studied it, then looked up and smiled at him. “But you weren’t going to rent them out for the big game?”

  “Nah. We did it a few years back, and afterward it turned into an orgy. The sheriff got some kind of pissed. So now once hunting season’s over, it’s just the regular rooms.”

  “Then yes, we’d appreciate that. And I can promise—no orgies.”

  The clerk chuckled. “I can turn the electricity on, but there’s no gas for the stove, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  “It runs by propane, and we disconnected all the cabins.”

  “Makes sense. No, we don’t need it.” Mark scrawled the name Hank McKay on the bottom of the form. The letters were tight and crabbed, nothing like his normal handwriting. “Your turn, Dan.”

  He passed the form to me, and I signed as well, altering my signature enough so that it was unrecognizable as my writing.

  The clerk stood, sending the chair rolling backward. “Hold on a second. I’ll get you some sheets and things.” He went down the hall and returned shortly. “Didn’t have a chance to get these put in the linen cupboard.”

  “I’ll take them,” I said.

  “Here you go, then.” He piled sheets, pillowcases, blankets, towels, a couple of pillows, and a couple of bedspreads in my arms, and handed Mark a key. When he realized I didn’t have a spare hand for the key he was trying to give me, he handed it to Mark as well. “I’m giving you a real nice cabin. If you want to use the fireplace, there’s plenty of firewood around back. And if you need anything, here’s a list of numbers.” He dug it out of a drawer and gave it to Mark, since my hands were still full. “Er… the phones in the cabins have been disconnected. You have cell phones, don’t you?”

  Mark grinned at him. “Who doesn’t?”

  “Okay, good. Cell service around here is good. Just one more thing. Prissy won’t be in to clean the cabin until Monday. I gave her the weekend off. Her brother’s the starting point guard, and she doesn’t miss a game when he plays.”

  “Not a problem. We’re big boys. We can make the bed.”

  “That’s fine, then. Well, I hope you enjoy the game. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

  “Maybe you will. Thanks. C’mon, Danny. We gotta get settled in and then….” The door closed, and Mark didn’t bother continuing what he was saying. “We’re in Cabin D. It should be way down at the end and around the curve a bit.”

  He opened the back door of the Impala for me, and I managed to get all the linens onto the seat before they spilled out of my arms. “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I was tempted to give him a poke, but he was out of range. We got in the car and drove past the row of rooms to the scattering of cabins at the end, then turned right. It was the last cabin. Whether the desk clerk had intended it or not, he’d given us the one that would keep us out of sight of anyone else who was staying at the model.

  “I’m sorry, Mark. I nearly blew our cover.” Recalling his words on Christmas Day, I asked, “Are you going to deck me?” I didn’t mind if he was going to do that, but I didn’t want him to leave me out of his plans.

  “Not this time, baby. But the next time….” The corner of his mouth was curled in the grin he seemed to reserve just for me. “What would you have done if he’d wanted to see the pictures?”

  “Told him it looked like I’d been in such a rush to get away that I’d forgotten them at home.”

  He nodded. “And I’d have winked at him, letting him in on the little secret that I’d had a hand in them being ‘forgotten’.” He was still grinning as swung the car into the space in front of Cabin D. “‘Honey, we’re home.’ Get your carry-on. I’ll get the suitcase out of the trunk.”

  “All right.” I took my carry-on from the floor behind my seat, stepped onto the walk, and unlocked the door. I coughed as a wave of musty air engulfed me. “I think we’d better
open the windows.”

  “Fuck it. Wait a second!” Mark was there in an instant, leaving the trunk gaping open, his Glock in his fist.

  “How did you manage to get your pistol through security?”

  He didn’t answer, just squinted his eyes against the gloom of the room. Before he could go in, I handed him a handkerchief. I covered my mouth and nose with another handkerchief and followed him, going to the right as he went to the left.

  It was one very large room, with four twin size beds, each with a nightstand. “Hmm. Looks like it’s going to be a cold, lonely weekend.”

  “Not a chance, Mann. Pick the two you like, and we’ll get the nightstand out of the way and push ’em together.”

  I hid my smile. “Whatever you say, Mark. The two furthest from the door?”

  He studied the room. “Sounds good.”

  The disconnected telephone was on one of nightstands, while on another was a clock radio, blinking 12:00. The clerk hadn’t wasted any time seeing the power was back on. A television was on the dresser that was against a wall. A closet was beside it, and beyond that, the bathroom.

  The fireplace the clerk had mentioned took up most of the back wall.

  At the other side of the room was the kitchen, with a compact refrigerator, a sink, and a four-burner stove with the oven that Mark had insisted we’d need. Fortunately, we wouldn’t have to eat standing up. There was a small table and a pair of chairs that would suit.

  The cabin was empty, and in spite of the odor, clean. There were no mouse droppings on the counter or in the cabinet above the sink, or the remains of insects in the sink or bathtub.

  I opened the window in the bathroom, and Mark cranked open the ones at the front and back of the cabin. While I retrieved the linens and my carry-on, he went to the car, hoisted out the suitcase, and then slammed the trunk shut.

  He came back in, kicking the door shut behind him. “Lock it, wouldja?”

  As I did that, he swung the suitcase onto a bed and began unpacking it. First he took out the black suit he’d worn on the plane and hung it in the closet. Next came a black woolen overcoat, followed by two pairs of blue trousers and two shirts with the insignia of paramedics, as well as two pairs of black work shoes and two jackets that were obviously part of the uniform.