Tailspin

by Sandra Brown

  “The one you lived with.”

  “In a serious relationship. Just as I said.”

  “Yes, but you deliberately led me to believe—”

  “I can’t help that you jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Like hell.”

  Wes had been following the exchange with interest. Brynn seemed to suddenly remember that he was there. She mumbled an introduction. “This is Wes. Dad, Rye Mallett.”

  Wes said, “Can’t say that it’s been a pleasure so far.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Was crushing my windpipe necessary?”

  “Might’ve been. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  Sounding put out with both of them, Brynn asked, “Is coffee a possibility?”

  While Wes was making coffee, Mallett went around to all the windows in the living area and made certain that the blinds were tightly drawn. He also checked the bolt on the front door.

  When the coffee was ready, Wes and Brynn sat down at the table across the chessboard from each other. Mallett perched on the barstool. Mallett’s eyes were as watchful as a hawk’s. Or as a pilot’s, Wes supposed. Seek-and-avoid. Wasn’t that the aviation phrase? He was also alert to every sound.

  Wes recognized the symptoms of feeling cornered and restless. He figured Mallett wasn’t new at getting out of scrapes. He looked the type.

  “How did you get in?” Wes asked him.

  “You taught Brynn a trick or two about housebreaking.”

  Wes turned to her. “You came through the window?”

  “Just like you taught me.”

  Wes was pleased. “Then I guess I did something right by you. Cops inside. You didn’t make a sound. Good work.”

  She didn’t acknowledge his praise. “We came by taxi, but had the driver let us out a few blocks from here. We walked the rest of the way, saw the sheriff’s SUV at the curb, and the two deputies on your porch. We went around back to wait until they’d left. Your bedroom window was open about an inch.”

  “After sleeping in a cell block for years at a time, you appreciate breathing fresh air.”

  “Rawlins didn’t notice the raised window when he came into the bedroom. It was open just enough so that we could hear your conversation.”

  “Was everything he and Wilson told me the truth?”

  “More or less,” Brynn replied.

  “Which? More? Or less?”

  “Neither Rye nor I harmed the man at the airport. We’re actually very worried about him.”

  “I believe that. What’s the ‘but’?”

  “But I do have something that Richard Hunt perceives as his.”

  Wes slumped. “Your mother died afraid of this very thing.”

  “Of what thing?”

  “Afraid that you had gotten the gene, and that one day it would manifest itself.”

  Brynn sighed. “Relax, Dad. I didn’t inherit your bent for stealing.”

  “I don’t steal,” he said. “I just—”

  “Take stuff that doesn’t belong to you,” Mallett remarked.

  Wes shot him a look. “Not out of meanness, or envy, or greed. Nothing like that. Just…”

  “Just…?”

  “Convenience.”

  “I see. Thanks for the clarification.” Mallett raised his coffee mug in a mock toast.

  Wes went back to Brynn. “What do you have that the senator perceives is his?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “They could cut out my tongue before I’d rat you out.”

  “I know that. But the less you know, the better for you. I don’t want to get you into trouble.” She looked at Mallett with annoyance. “Never mind what Rye said. We don’t want you to steal a car for us. But if you have one we could borrow, it would be a big help.”

  “Does it have to do with that sick little girl the deputies mentioned?”

  Brynn gave a small nod. “Please don’t ask me for more details than that.”

  “Okay. But based on what Wilson and his partner told me, you’re not just dodging them. You’ve got some much rougher characters after you, too.” He pointed his chin at the cuts on Rye’s left hand. “The fight in the garage?”

  “Timmy,” Mallett said. “He’s a twisted kid with lots to prove.”

  “Meaning dangerous.”

  “High-octane dangerous.”

  Wes rubbed his hand across his mouth and chin. Focused on Brynn, he said, “Sweetheart—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Fair enough. But please listen to your old man. Sometimes you’ve gotta raise your hands and walk out from cover. Surrender. Giving yourself over to the authorities is never a preferable choice, but sometimes it’s the only smart one.”

  “I’m not surrendering.”

  “Technically it wouldn’t be a surrender. Wilson only wants you for ‘questioning.’ That doesn’t mean arrest. He gave me his number. Why don’t I call him, get him back over here, y’all sit down together and—”

  “No.”

  “Brynn—”

  “No! I can’t turn myself over to them. Not now, anyway. Not yet.”

  “Okay, okay. You want time to think about it. I get that. Say, first thing in the morning.”

  She shook her head. “Even if they cleared me, I can’t afford the time it would take to sort out everything. I’m racing the clock.”

  “Clock? What clock? There’s a deadline?”

  “A crucial one.”

  “Then all the more reason for you to stop the clock. Call Wilson now. Maybe if you cut a deal, gave him and Rawlins something on Hunt in exchange for—”

  “No.” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “I listened to you, now you listen to me. In spite of what it looks like, I’m doing a good thing. I swear to you on Mother’s grave.”

  “But you can’t tell me what it is?”

  She shook her head.

  “Rawlins acts tough, but Wilson is a reasonable person. I bet he would understand if you explained—”

  “Possibly when it’s over, I will. But not before.”

  “How come?”

  “Because they could stop me.”

  “Maybe not. Convince them your motives are honest.”

  “You’re not listening. Guilt or innocence isn’t the issue. It’s time.”

  “Sweetheart, Brynn, I’ve got experience with these things. I know the approach that cops respond to. Let me—”

  “You can’t help with his, Dad, and, anyway, you have to go to work.”

  “I can skip work.”

  “I wouldn’t let you do that.”

  “But—”

  “You’re wasting your breath,” Mallett said.

  Wes turned to him. “It’s my daughter and me talking here. I’ll ask you kindly not to interrupt.”

  Mallett said, “She’s not turning herself in, and neither am I. And every second she spends arguing with you about it is squandering time better spent.” He came off the stool. “Yes or no on the car? If it’s no, we’re leaving.”

  Wes looked between the two of them, saw the resolution in both their expressions, and realized that it was two against one, and he was the odd man out. He looked at Brynn with a frown of consternation. “I couldn’t talk you out of dating that wild Hendrix boy, either.”

  “And I survived him.”

  “Yeah, but look where you are now.” He gestured toward Mallett. “He’s a step or two down, you ask me. But”—he sighed—“you’ve got my car for as long as you need it.”

  She didn’t hide her relief. “Depending on how things go, it could be several days before I can return it. How will you get to work?”

  He pointed to the chessboard. “A greeter at the store is a friend of mine, lives in the neighborhood. We ride together every now and then. Pick up a pizza on the way home. Share it over a game of chess.”

  “He won’t mind the inconvenience?”

  “She.” Reading the surprise on Brynn’s face, he chuckled. “I’m a t
hief, not a monk.”

  She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Thank you.”

  He acknowledged her thanks with a nod, then heaved another sigh and slapped his thighs as he came to his feet. “What state do you want to be from?” At their quizzical expressions, he said, “We need to swap out the license plates.”

  Turning, he walked toward the bedroom, saying over his shoulder, “If y’all are going on the lam, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  11:39 p.m.

  Wes had always kept an “emergency kit” somewhere in the house. His present one was in the crawl space under the floorboards of his closet floor. In the old trunk, they found several license plates that hadn’t expired, a variety of new cell phones still in their boxes, a Ziploc bag stuffed with cash, which Brynn and Rye declined, and a prison-issue toiletry kit, which she claimed.

  With Mallett’s help, Wes got all the floorboards back into place. Brynn excused herself and took the small dopp kit into the bathroom with her, and Wes and Mallett returned to the living area where they plugged in the phones to charge.

  Wes sat down in his recliner. Rye took one of the chairs at the table, tilting it onto its back legs, propping himself at an angle against the wall.

  “She looks done in,” Wes said.

  “Both of us are sleep-deprived.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here till morning, get some shut-eye.”

  “You heard Rawlins. If they were to come back and find us here, you’d be in trouble with your parole officer. Besides, she needs to get on her way.”

  “To?”

  Mallett shook his head. “If Brynn didn’t tell you, why do you think I would? My loyalties lie with her.”

  “Of course,” Wes said, nodding. But he questioned whether loyalty was the only foundation for their solidarity. Sparks flew every time the two looked at each other, and even when they were avoiding eye contact, there was a simmering awareness between them.

  Wes idly scratched his armpit. “You two didn’t meet until last night?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He situated himself more comfortably in the recliner. “Just, you got awfully wrapped up in her problem.”

  “Too wrapped up.” Mallett was looking cornered and restless again. “But that ends soon. She gets gone, I’ll be out of it.”

  “Brynn will go her way, you’ll go yours.”

  “Yep. Just a day later than scheduled.”

  “It’s been quite a day, though.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “You and Brynn gonna stay in touch?”

  “No. Better for all concerned.”

  “Especially you.”

  Mallett’s green eyes narrowed a fraction. “You’re damn right.”

  Wes gave him a critical once-over and snuffled. “You think you’re too good for my girl?”

  “Other way around.”

  “I hear ya.” Wes took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s too good for me, too.”

  “That’s plain enough.” Mallett looked around the shabby room. “She was desperate, or she wouldn’t have come here. She wants nothing to do with you.”

  “She tell you that herself?”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  Wes gave Rye a sad smile and said softly, “Son, you’ve got it wrong.”

  “How’s that?”

  Wes reached over, picked up a bishop from off the chessboard, and rolled it between his palms. “Brynn had it tough growing up. All the odds were stacked against her, but she put her shoulder to it, and worked like the devil to achieve what she set out to do. When she became a doctor, got her position in the hospital, no daddy was ever prouder than me.”

  He paused, studied the chess piece, noticed that the paint was wearing thin in spots. “I didn’t want to be an embarrassment to her, something in her life that had to be explained or made excuses for. I didn’t want her having to claim kin with an old con.” He tipped his chin down and looked at Rye from beneath his brows. “Was me, not Brynn, who stipulated that she have nothing to do with me.”

  Mallett held his gaze as he slowly lowered the front legs of his chair to the floor.

  Their stare held until Brynn came out of the bedroom.

  Mallett looked at her and said quietly, “Time to go.”

  12:04 a.m.

  Once they were underway in Wes’s second- or third-hand compact, little was said for the first fifteen minutes.

  Brynn stared out the passenger seat window, tracking rivulets of rain as they formed and streamed down the glass. Following the path of one with her fingertip, she broke the silence. “He seemed well, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know what he was like before.”

  “Before, he was just as he was tonight. Unchanged except for a little more gray hair and an inch or two around his middle.”

  “He’s been hitting the pizza with his lady friend.”

  Brynn gave a wistful smile. “I’ve never known him to have girlfriends.”

  “Hard to work them in between parole and his next stint.”

  “I suppose. And then there was me,” she said. “I must’ve cramped his love life, too.”

  Neither spoke as Rye passed an eighteen-wheeler throwing up enough spray to engulf the small car. Once the truck was behind them, he asked, “Why do you lead people to think it was you who turned your back on him?”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes, you do. Or at least you don’t correct them when they assume that’s the case. How come?”

  She turned her head and looked at him. “You don’t want to know anything about me or my life.”

  “How many times are you going to throw that up to me?”

  “Don’t snap at me. I’m only upholding the rule set by you.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, but his jaw tightened, and so did his grip on the steering wheel. The rest of the trip was made in silence except for the rain beating a relentless cadence against the roof of the car.

  When they reached the hotel, a neon sign above the entrance to the parking garage informed them that it was full. Rye, swearing under every breath, searched the open lot and pulled into the first available space he could find nearest the side door they’d used earlier.

  In a stilted voice, she asked, “Before I go, do you mind if I come in, use the bathroom, get some snacks from the mini bar?”

  “No. Sure.”

  They bleakly gauged the distance they had to cover in pelting rain. Neither was inclined to leave the shelter of the car. They stayed as they were for a full minute, then Rye said, “It’s not going to get any drier.”

  They made a dash for the door. Just as they reached it, a pair of headlights drew Rye’s attention to the corner of the building.

  A police car.

  12:26 a.m.

  He swiped their room’s card key, shoved open the door, and pushed Brynn through. In their haste, she stumbled over his boots. “Rye? What?”

  “Cop.”

  They ran down the long hallway, Rye frequently checking behind them, fully expecting to see officers in pursuit. But they made it to the end of the hall and out of sight around the corner. He bypassed the elevator and hustled Brynn through the door to the fire stairs.

  She ran up them ahead of him, but with his hand at the small of her back, urging her onward. Over her shoulder, she said, “Maybe we should hide somewhere on the ground level until we can get back to the car.”

  “Can’t leave my bag.”

  They reached the seventh floor. Rye cautiously opened the door. In both directions, the corridor was empty. He motioned Brynn through. They jogged toward their room.

  When they got to it, Rye moved Brynn aside, went down on one knee and checked to see that the thread he’d pulled from the hem of the bedspread was still stuck between the door and the jamb. It was. He unlocked the door. Brynn rushed into the room. Rye checked the hallway once again, f
ollowed her in, and bolted the door.

  “The thread?”

  “I saw it in a movie,” he said.

  “As we left, you sent me ahead to hold the elevator.”

  “That’s what I was doing. Good thing. Because as least we know no one has been inside the room.” They’d left only the bathroom light on. “Don’t turn on any more lights,” he told Brynn as he checked the floor of the closet to make certain his flight bag was as he’d left it.

  Then he moved to the window and peered through the crack between the wall and the edge of the drape. “Christ! Only one person, no one riding shotgun, but he’s parked at the end of a row. Lights off. No exhaust from the tailpipe.”

  “Just sitting there?”

  “Just sitting there.”

  “Maybe he has nothing to do with us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It could be hotel security.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Dammit, Rye. Say something besides maybe.”

  “Well, sorry. That’s the only answer I have at the moment. I don’t know what he’s doing there. What I do know is that he’s got an unrestricted view of that side door.”

  She looked at the clock. “I should be on the road.”

  He absently acknowledged that as he assessed their predicament. “You can’t get through that exit and to Wes’s car without him seeing you. Do you want to chance it?”

  “There’s no ‘or’?”

  “Or you go through the lobby, out the front, flank him, and sneak around to the car.”

  “He may still see me.”

  “Another ‘or’ is to give it a while, see if he leaves. He could be taking a coffee break, and just chose that spot.”

  She gave it a moment’s thought. “That’s logical, isn’t it? If he’d seen us, recognized us, he would have chased after us, wouldn’t he?”

  “Not necessarily. He could have called it in and is waiting for instructions on how to proceed, or for backup.”

  “Backup for us? We’re not public enemies number one and two.”

  “Not to law enforcement. But that’s how the Hunts would rank us, and I wouldn’t put it past them to have cops on the take.”

  “So then…what do I do?”

  “I think you wait a while, see what happens.”

  She slumped with disappointment, but without debating it further took off her coat, shook the rainwater off it, and hung it in the closet. He draped his bomber jacket over the desk chair so the leather would dry. He motioned toward the mini bar. “Something to drink?”