“She must think she’s in heaven,” Alyssa said. “I don’t give her regular tuna very often.
Nick smoothed out the furniture blankets, arranging them into a bed, and sat down.
Alyssa finished her sandwich. “We can’t leave food in here.”
“Why not?”
“Bears.”
“Bears?” His eyes were startled.
She nodded, remembering Uncle Henry’s admonitions when she was a child.
He grinned. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. You’ve got to get it all into the van. We took a chance just eating in here.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded, glad she had given him something to think about.
He sighed, gathered everything into the grocery bag, including Bella’s empty tuna dish, and ducked outside. The van door opened and closed, and in a moment he was back with two bottles of water. He handed her one, then secured the door flap and moved to his side of the tent. Only a few feet separated them.
He rolled up his sport coat and offered it to Alyssa. “Pillow?”
She accepted it with a small, “Thanks.”
He poured some of his own water in the second bowl and set it in a corner. Bella lapped, the sound loud in the silence. Again, Alyssa thanked him.
He took off his new shirt and the denim one, rolled them up and used them as a pillow for himself. Even in the near darkness, the shoulder holster was prominent, dark against his white shirt. Alyssa looked away.
He slid under the sleeping bag liner and pulled one of the pads over him. They were closer together in the small space than Alyssa wanted.
For several moments he wriggled and readjusted his makeshift pillow, trying to get comfortable.
“Nick,” she said, “I-it’s going to be cool tonight. And sleeping on the ground and all. I-I hope you won’t be too cold.”
“It’s a small tent. Body heat will keep us warm. I could move a little closer.”
Did he have to grin all the time? Did he see her situation as humorous?
Alyssa threw his rolled-up coat at him and turned away. Bella snuggled into the sleeping bag and curled up against Alyssa’s chest.
“Bad idea, I guess,” he said.
Tomorrow, Alyssa vowed, she would get away from this insufferable man.
Chapter 11
Alyssa opened her eyes and for a moment didn’t know where she was. Then the ceiling and walls of the tent came into focus, and the events of the previous day flooded her memory. Daylight was a hint of light on the tent canvas.
She turned and looked at the man beside her. He had rolled over on his side, his back to her. Bella was curled up against his back.
Alyssa watched him for a long moment. He breathed evenly, asleep. He looked peaceful. And handsome. Alyssa checked that line of thought. Was it the painkiller from the previous day clouding her thoughts? Her forehead didn’t hurt. But her ankle ached, despite the wrapping. And Nick slept peacefully, unaware of her suffering.
Now was her chance to escape. The van keys were buried in his jeans pocket. As long as he slept, she might have a chance. She sat up, trying to be silent. Bella opened one eye, stretched one paw out, then went back to sleep.
The jacket Alyssa had thrown at Nick fell away from her. Sometime in the night he had covered her with it. If Alyssa weren’t in such a precarious position, she would have found it a sweet gesture.
The air was pleasantly warm, so she set the jacket aside. As silently as possible, she crept to the tent door and slowly eased up the zipper. Bella’s ears flicked, but she didn’t move.
The sun had not risen. Fog curled along the ground. Humid. She glanced at Nick and then lifted her purse from the corner of the tent. Holding her breath, she slipped out into the mist. Bella dashed out. She stopped and then stepped delicately through the dewy grass, shaking her paws as she went and headed for the bushes. Alyssa could not call her and take a chance of waking Nick, so she let her go.
She stepped gingerly on her injured ankle. It still hurt, but not as much, so it probably wasn’t broken. The elastic bandage supported it. It felt better than last night. She could at least limp.
Mist blurred the forest. There were no other campers. Nobody to ask for help. She was on her own. She limped across the gravel road and ducked into the bathroom where she relieved herself, gave her hands and face a cursory washing and dried on paper towels. She dug a pick from her purse and untangled her hair. She rinsed her mouth ‒ wishing she had the toothbrush ‒ and vowed she would not return to the tent no matter what.
Outside Bella bounded to her and rubbed against her legs. She scooped up the cat and set off at a shuffling limp toward the camp store. Mist eddied around her. The forest was still. Living in the city, she had forgotten how soothing true silence was. No sign of Nick, but she tried to hurry anyway. He had a gun. She’d seen him use it.
She thought of Carl, and a shiver ran down her back. What if he really had been shot? The two men who had come to the shop had guns, too. Whose side were they on? Whose side was she on?
No one’s side, she decided. She had to watch out for herself. Calling the police was her priority.
Her ankle twinged. It seemed further than she remembered. Finally, the brown log convenience store materialized in the fog. A sign in the window announced it was closed, and in smaller letters underneath ‒ Open Weekdays Seven a.m. to Nine p.m. She spied a pay phone in front of the store and headed for it, lifted the receiver and cradled it against her chest for a moment.
First she had to know about Carl. She dialed his home number. A computerized voice announced she must deposit thirty cents for three minutes. Remembering she had pocketed the change from lunch yesterday, she dug it out of her pocket and dropped the correct change in the slot. There was more in her purse. She always threw change in and then put it in a jar at home.
Home seemed a long way away.
One ring, two rings, three.
A sleepy female voice answered. “Hello?”
“Oh,” Alyssa said. “Kate. Hi. I’m sorry if I woke you up. This is Alyssa.”
An indrawn breath. “I was awake. I haven’t had much sleep. Where have you been? Carl’s in the hospital ‒”
“Kate, I’m so sorry ‒”
“They think he needs surgery.”
Alyssa’s heart lurched. “Surgery?”
“Yes. For a ruptured appendix.”
“Appendix?”
“Yes. It’s very scary.”
Alyssa’s mind spun. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Kate sounded indignant. “But they won’t let me see him or call him. A nurse said he was in a lot of pain.”
Appendicitis wasn’t possible. Seven years ago, when Alyssa was still in college, Carl had surgery for an inflamed appendix. Kate and Carl had only been together for a year, and she obviously didn’t know that. Carl’s mother had died two years ago, so there was nobody to dispute the diagnosis. Who would make up that story? Why?
“Hello?” Kate’s voice was sharp. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” Alyssa said.
“The police are trying to find you. They say you were involved in a shooting down by the library. What’s going on? Where are you?”
Alyssa hesitated. Given the resources Nick said their pursuers had, could they be tracing the call from the other end? “I have to go, Kate. Good-bye.” Alyssa hung up.
Call the police, she told herself. Something terrible was happening. But she wasn’t sure the police were safe. She leaned against a newspaper vending box and glanced at the front page of the Detroit Free Press.
A headline screamed at her: Pair Sought in Shooting of Flint Police Officer. Underneath the headline were two pictures: one of Nick – credited to the Flint U of M website – and her own school photo from last fall.
She clutched Bella hard against her until the cat let out a muffled squeak. Hands shaking, she fished quarters from the bottom of her purse, slid eight of them i
nto the slot and withdrew a paper. She scanned the story, reading how she and Nick had allegedly shot an undercover police officer, how they had eluded capture in an old Suburban ‒ a complete description of the vehicle and its license were included. Authorities asked people to report any sighting of these criminals who were armed and considered dangerous.
“No,” she said. “No, it’s not true, none of it’s true.” Turning, 9-1-1 forgotten, she reneged on her vow not to go back to the tent.
A few minutes later, her ankle throbbing, she ducked through the opening and burst in waving the paper. In a fluid motion, Nick sat up, his weapon somehow in his hand, aimed directly at her. Dark shadows under his eyes attested to a lack of sleep, but his gaze was sharp and alert.
She threw the paper at him. Bella hissed and wriggled free and slunk behind Nick. Sheets of newsprint fluttered onto Nick’s lap.
“You, you ‒ I-I ‒ lies, all lies. Carl ‒” She choked on the words and sank to her knees. “The gun ….”
Nick lowered the weapon and picked up the first section of the paper. “Well.” His voice grim. “They’ve really done it up.” He looked up at her. “So why aren’t you long gone?”
Alyssa stared at the gun. “I went to the camp store and tried to call Carl. His girlfriend said he might have to have surgery for a bad appendix, but that can’t be true, because he had his appendix out years ago. She said they won’t let her talk to him. Then I saw the paper with our pictures on the front page. God knows what my principal must think, not to mention my colleagues, my friends and the parents of my students. And it’s all lies. There weren’t any police officers there, and you didn’t kill anyone. At least, I don’t think ….” She stopped. A terrible, dizzying suspicion flooded through her. “Were you shooting at police officers? Did you shoot a cop, and I blanked it out?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you going to kill me?”
Nick stuffed the gun back in its holster and reached across the empty space between them. He grasped her arms and pulled her toward him. She tried to shrink away, but his grip was firm.
“Of course I’m not going to kill you. Alyssa, you were there. You saw what happened. I didn’t shoot anyone. I hit their car. You saw that.”
Confused images played across Alyssa’s mind. Darkness in the shop. Uncle Henry’s voice: The gun, Lyssa. Get the gun ….
She shook her head. “I-I’m not sure … there were gunshots … and something happened.”
“Think, Alyssa. Think about what you saw. Nobody got shot. Those men weren’t cops. They trashed your place, and they did not shoot Carl with bullets. They tranquilized him.”
Alyssa tried to read answers in his eyes. Should she believe him, or merely accept her fate? His hands were firm on her arms. Hands that had held a gun.
He loosened his hold, and she slumped back on her heels. Gasped at the pain in her ankle.
“I’m so sorry,” Nick said.
Alyssa gritted her teeth. Nick supported her as she swung her legs out. Sitting was less painful.
“Better,” she said.
He leaned over and retrieved the newspaper. Gave the article a cursory glance.
“My God, what a piece of work.”
Alyssa glared at him. “I didn’t shoot anyone.”
He shook his head. “Neither did I. There weren’t any cops, and Carl was shot with a tranquilizer dart meant for me. Or you. I promise you that. The appendix story is only a cover. Whoever these people are who are after me, they’re holding your friend somewhere to get to me. I’m not the bad guy here.”
There was a coldness in his eyes, and yet some indefinable gentleness. Maybe truth was stranger than fiction. Could she accept his story about being an undercover agent investigating something he could not talk about? If he were telling the basic truth, then his other explanations might be logical. So it followed that if she accepted he was a government agent, then she could believe everything else he said.
She took an intuitive leap of faith, drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Say I believe you.”
He looked startled. “You do?”
“Maybe.” She couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the sadness she had glimpsed in his eyes. She believed him, even though she knew in her heart he was holding back, not telling her everything. “I’m as surprised as you are.” She was silent a long moment. “We’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” He frowned, tapping the newspaper. “It’s not easy to plant a story like this. It takes resources. The people who are after us must be powerful, and they want us to have no recourse, no place to go.”
A shiver of fear coursed up Alyssa’s back. “Who are they? Why are they doing this?”
Nick shook his head. “I was awake most of the night trying to figure it out.” He sighed. “I honestly don’t know. It could be the Agency, or somebody with a personal grudge who wants to silence me, or it could be a foreign power, or ….” He shrugged.
A huge sense of impending danger overwhelmed Alyssa. If they didn’t know who was after them, who would they avoid? Who could they trust?
She had made a huge leap trusting him. She hoped with all her heart her trust wasn’t misplaced.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Bella bounded onto Alyssa’s lap. Alyssa hugged her. The cat trembled. Storms always made her nervous.
Nick rose, took Alyssa’s arm and gently helped her up.
“Tents should have windows,” he said.
“They do.” Alyssa gestured to the small zipped flap at the back of the tent.
“I mean big windows. Come on. Let’s go sit in the van. I don’t like not being able to see what’s going on around me.”
Holding Bella tight, Alyssa limped to the van and let Nick help her inside.
The mist had dissipated to haze. Dark clouds hid the newly risen sun.
A diffused flash of light illuminated the clouds. Alyssa counted. “One alligator, two alligator ….” She got to twelve before thunder rumbled. “My uncle taught me that. Eight alligators make about a mile. We’ve got maybe ten minutes or so before the storm gets here.”
Nick cast a wary glance at the sky, closed the van door and dashed for the bathroom. He took the key with him. In moments, he returned and jumped in the driver’s seat. He settled down and surveyed the area around them.
What was he looking for?
The stillness and silence were almost palpable.
A bolt of lightning lit the sky, much closer. Alyssa flinched at the resulting thunderclap. Bella slid like liquid fur off her lap and slunk between the seats to the rear of the Suburban.
Another, louder clap of thunder heralded the approaching storm. Nick glared into the darkening sky as though by his will he could hold back the elements. Alyssa felt again the way she had as they crossed the Mackinac Bridge: ignored and unimportant, unwanted baggage. Despite feeling useless, she could not run. Her heart told her he had not been entirely truthful, yet she trusted him.
He had said the people looking for them were professionals. But he was a professional, too. He would have a plan. If they waited and did nothing, they would be easy prey. And while she couldn’t run on her injured ankle, she could find out what the plan was.
“Okay,” she said. “What now, Mr. Bond?”
He chuckled. “At least you have a sense of humor.”
“I like the old Bond movies.”
“What now?” he said and shook his head slowly, not looking at her. “I’m not sure. Tell me again what happened at your place – your aunt’s place. Tell me exactly what was done.”
Alyssa frowned, remembering.
“You said no antiques were taken.”
She nodded. “Right, they didn’t touch them. Or the shop. Or my diamond earrings or my emergency money.”
“What else?” She shook her head. “Think. What did you see when you walked into the living room?”
“It was a mess. The couch was cut up. Drawers were emptied. All Aunt Ellen’s Depression glass was smashed. The phone was on the floo
r. And my laptop was gone.” She paused, trying to remember details. “There was a basket on the desk where Ellen kept flash drives. She backed up her financial information. I didn’t have a chance to sort them. I was supposed to take them to the accountant –” A memory. “They were gone, too. The desk was empty.”
“Flash drives,” Nick said softly. He frowned. “They could be after one….”
“What?” Alyssa wished she could read minds.
“I think I know where to look for some answers. I had one ‒”
“A flash drive?” He nodded. “Then we go get it.”
His hard, stony glare was replaced by a tentative vulnerability. He looked, for the first time in the brief period Alyssa had known him, tired and sad and, to her dismay, uncertain.
“There’s a complication. I ‒” He swallowed. “I died.”
Alyssa’s throat constricted. “Died?”
“This is getting convoluted.”
Alyssa’s mind whirled. “You died? That’s more than just convoluted.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “the truth is complex and illogical.”
So he was holding back. What now?
“Have you lied to me?” she said.
He shook his head. “No ... not exactly.”
Alyssa barely knew him. And the more she learned about him, the less she knew. She was certain he was keeping secrets under secrets.
A streak of lightning split the sky, and thunder exploded. Bella yowled. Alyssa glanced to the back of the van. The cat crouched in the corner beside the litter box, ears back, tail twitching as if she were ready to pounce on some unseen prey. She was nervous but safe.
Alyssa turned back to Nick. “Tell me, please. I need to know the truth.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice soft. “I suppose you do.” He drew in a long breath. “I think I might know something that’s making somebody very uncomfortable.”
He rolled his window down a crack, letting a cool, damp breeze into the vehicle. He stared out the window. Alyssa shivered, surprised at the sudden drop in temperature. She was glad for the warmth of the flannel shirt.
Double Danger Page 11