Confused by Shadows

by Geonn Cannon

  Mallory wandered deeper into the room. Lance had come here, spent the night, dreamt. She'd been idle, unprotected. She may have been three months behind, but she was now taking up space Lance had occupied. Mallory sat on the foot of the bed and closed her eyes. She tried to travel back in time, tried to think about what she knew of Lance, of what few facts she was sure of. Texas to Oklahoma. Oklahoma to Colorado to visit her mother. Colorado to Salt Lake City, to Montana, to Idaho.

  She opened her eyes. Salt Lake City to Montana. If Lance planned to end up in Nevada or California, why the roundabout trip? She could definitely discount those two, at least for Lance's next step, which left Washington and Oregon. Her heart pounded as she snatched up the key card and left the hotel room. Oregon was too far south for a straight shot. No, Lance would be in Washington next.

  Mallory started down the hall at a dead run. She couldn't shake the feeling that, if she hurried, she could finally close the distance between her and Lance.

  #

  Chapter Five

  "Tonight, you and me, dinner?"

  Lance looked up from the transmission of a 1996 Chevy Suburban. She and Jodie had formed a verbal shorthand during their two weeks working together, but even she needed a bit more of a clue to decipher that. "Do you want to add a couple of words to that statement? Verbs, adverbs, I'd take a gerund."

  Jodie was walking from the back lot to the office, but she stopped to face Lance. "I figured you've bought enough lunches, so I would take you out to dinner instead of to another bar."

  Lance considered the offer for a moment and then said, "Where did you have in mind?"

  "I don't know. Someplace nice. Steak or fish?"

  "Steak."

  "There's a good place downtown. I'll give you directions before I have Daphne drive me home."

  "Aren't I driving you home?"

  Jodie stopped at the office door and posed against the frame. "I need time to get all gussied up. You may not be my real girlfriend, but you're the closest thing I got." She aimed a finger at Lance as she went into the office. "You better dress up, too."

  Lance watched the office door swing shut and looked back at the truck's engine. She wasn't sure what had just happened. If it hadn't been so long since she went out on one, she would have sworn she'd just been asked out on a date.

  #

  When Lance left the garage, Jodie was still in the office with Daphne. Jodie turned at the sound of the door opening and smiled. She was leaning against the counter next to the cash register with another sucker stuck in her mouth. She used her tongue to waggle the stick at Lance and then took it out so she could speak. "Apartment 4B. That's on the fourth floor. You don't have to bring flowers. Be there by seven-thirty or I'll think you stood me up."

  "Do I have a choice in this?"

  "Nope."

  Lance sighed and shook her head. "I guess I better go get ready for my big night. I'll see you tomorrow, Daphne."

  Daphne wagged her fingers and said, "Don't feel too bad, Carmen. I've seen her bring down bigger women than you."

  "Nice to feel special," Lance said.

  She left the office with Jodie and Daphne's laughter hanging in the air and walked across the gravel to her car. The entire drive home, she debated with herself about whether or not it was a date. It could be related to Jodie's comment about Daphne thinking they were a couple. Maybe it was all just a big tease, a show for the boss. But then if Lance showed up thinking it was just a friendly get-together and it was really a date, then she risked an awkward situation. Same with the opposite. Show up expecting a romantic date and finding a friend caused just as many problems.

  Lance was still clueless when she got to her apartment. She stripped out of her clothes and pulled out her duffel bag, staring into the mess to see if she had anything that would constitute 'dressing up.' She sat on the edge of her bed, naked but for a pair of boxer shorts, and stared at her wardrobe with dismay.

  Why did going out to dinner with someone have to be so hard? She had never been good on the whole dating scheme. She ended up stalking the first woman she ever fell for, following her from Colorado to Illinois just to be near her. They ended up as a couple, briefly, but not because of anything Lance did. Other than one night stands, Lance had never once initiated a romantic relationship. She didn't even initiate her relationship with Elaine. Elaine shanghaied her from the staircase, practically dragged her into the apartment, and forced her to converse. When it came time for them to actually become a couple, Elaine took that step, too.

  #

  "We should go out sometime."

  "Like on a date?"

  Elaine's smile widened. "Yeah. Like a date. Like a go out, eat some dinner, maybe see a movie. Date. It's a common practice in our culture."

  Lance stood in the hallway outside of Elaine's apartment in her police uniform, her hair up. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and get into something comfortable, but that meant leaving Elaine's company. No amount of comfort was worth that. So she stood, hands on the railing, and said, "Culture? What culture would that be?"

  "The culture of artists who find Officer Claire Lance damned fine. It's a small group. I'm the president."

  "Oh?"

  "Mm-hmm. There's a newsletter and everything."

  "I'll have to check that out."

  Elaine made a face. "That's a little narcissistic. You can start a culture of police officers who find Elaine Mallory damned fine. You have to apply for a culture permit, though."

  Lance rolled her eyes playfully. "That's how they get you. How much is a permit?"

  "One dinner, one movie, and heavy petting on the couch afterward."

  Lance looked down at her shoes to hide her blush. She was blushing, for God's sake! She looked up again and said, "High cost, high reward."

  Elaine smiled. "So it's a date?"

  "If you say so."

  "I do. And you should always take my word for things like this."

  Lance's smile faded. "I plan to."

  Elaine reached out and pinched the collar of Lance's uniform blouse between her thumb and forefinger. She made a quiet sound in her throat - something like "hmm" - and then dropped her hand. "Okay, then. It's a date."

  #

  Lance smiled and then pushed the memory away as gently as possible. Memories of Elaine had a tendency to color her entire night, and she didn't want to be melancholy no matter what Jodie's real plans were. She took out a pair of jeans, inspected them for holes, and then put them aside. She found a white blouse, and a black vest, and added them to the pile. She took the clothes into the bathroom and hung the blouse over the shower rod while she took a hot shower.

  Afterward, she dressed and looked at herself in the mirror. Make-up or not? Purely a moot question. It's not like you have any make up to put on. She left the bathroom, eschewed her boots for a pair of sneakers, and took one last look around the apartment. You're not going to face a firing squad, damn it. You're going out to dinner with a woman you know that you like. A woman who you know likes you. Just calm down, relax, and get it over with. Like a band aid.

  She steadied herself and thought back to working on Kelsey's ranch. It was hard, back-breaking work, and she was always drenched with sweat by the time lunch rolled around. She shook her head. "Montana was nice. Montana was simple. All things considered, I'd rather be shoveling horse shit right now." She took a deep breath and left the apartment.

  #

  The street outside Jodie's building was once again crowded, so Lance was forced to park nearly a block away. She walked back slowly, giving Jodie a little extra time to get ready and to prepare herself for the night ahead. Her first date with Elaine was five years in the past. Tonight was going to be a disaster, whether Jodie meant for it to be a real date or not. When she reached the front door, she stared at the handle in the hopes it would decide for her whether to go through with this ill-conceived idea or run home and tell Jodie she fell asleep on the couch.

  The door swung open and another
resident stepped out onto the sidewalk. He held the door open with his fingertips and finally looked up at her. "Are you going in?"

  Lance raised an eyebrow and said, "I guess so. Thanks."

  She went into the lobby and found the elevators hidden at the back of the room between two potted plants. She thumped her fist against her thigh as she watched the indicator light count down from the third floor to answer her call. She just got out of a relationship. She's probably one of those people who just hates to eat alone. She probably just wants to get to know her new coworker. It's nothing more than a dinner.

  The elevator arrived and Lance pressed the button marked with a four. As it slowly began to rise again, her inner voice became a devil's advocate. Unless she's looking for a rebound. You pretty much let her know you were gay and the next thing you know she's asking you out to dinner. You're not dense enough to ignore that, are you? There are no coincidences in love and lust.

  Lance stepped off the elevator feeling less certain than she had downstairs. I should just run. Instead, she found Apartment 4B and rang the doorbell.

  "It's open! Come on in."

  Lance hesitated. She once read that a vampire needed an invitation to enter someone's living space. She'd never sucked anyone's blood, but there was something...odd about going into a friend's apartment without that friend acting as an escort. She turned the knob and stepped slowly inside. The apartment was narrow but long, with the front door opening onto a living area combined with a kitchen.

  "Hi. I'm a, a little early."

  "You're fine," Jodie said from somewhere deeper in the apartment. The wall to her left had two closed doors, and a narrow hallway directly ahead of her led to a third. Trying to figure out where the voice came from was like a game of three-card Monte. "I'm just running a little behind." The door at the end of the hallway opened and Jodie came out.

  Lance was speechless. The grease monkey had disappeared, replaced by a red carpet-ready starlet. Her hair was down, her wrist adorned with a loose gold watch. She wore black slacks that fanned out around her legs, and a dark red shirt unbuttoned over a black tank top. She had both hands next to her head, attaching an earring under the veil of her hair. She stopped and looked Lance up and down. "Wow. We clean up nice, don't we?"

  "One of us better than the other," Lance said, gesturing at Jodie.

  Jodie chuckled and said, "Uh-oh, look out..."

  Before Lance could question what Jodie was talking about, a cat launched itself at her right leg. It moved in the liquid way that all cats somehow managed, walking forward while throwing all of its weight against the barrier of Lance's calf. The cat's tail wrapped briefly around Lance's leg before it turned around for a second pass.

  Jodie crouched down and gathered the cat into her arms. "Now be nice, Danica."

  "Danica?" Lance said.

  "Danica Patrick, the race-car driver." Jodie scratched the cat's belly and carried her to the couch. She deposited Danica on the cushions, gave her head one last scratch, and turned around. "I named her because she had black hair, and because Danica's hot. But the way she goes tearing around the apartment sometimes, you'd think she knows who she's named after. Oh. You're not allergic or anything, are you?"

  "No, cats are fine," Lance said. She grinned as the cat jumped off the couch and padded silently into the kitchen. "She's probably just a little jealous." She closed her mouth and immediately kicked herself. What the hell is the matter with you?

  Jodie laughed. "Yeah, that's probably it. Okay. I have my key, my wallet, my condoms."

  Lance nearly did a double-take.

  Jodie's smile widened as she walked to the door. "I'm kidding about the condoms. I'm on the pill." She winked and held the door open for Lance. "Shall we?"

  "You're dangerous," Lance said as she walked out into the hallway.

  "Deadly." Jodie turned off the apartment light, called good bye to Danica and joined Lance at the elevator.

  #

  Interlude

  Spokane, Washington

  Mallory's cell phone chimed just as the bartender arrived with a refill of her drink. She thanked him as she fished the phone from her pocket and looked at the Caller ID. She flipped the phone open and said, "I'm in Spokane, Washington."

  "Let me guess," Toni said. "You're sitting in a bar on your...third drink, maybe your fourth cigarette. You're thinking of going upstairs and stewing until dawn, at which point you'll start single-handedly canvassing all hotels in the area."

  "You're close," Mallory said, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray. It was getting harder and harder to smoke in public, even in bars. What did that say about America? Supporting one vice while shunning another? "I was thinking about finishing off this bottle and then going out to try and get laid."

  Toni chuckled. "You've got a guaranteed lay waiting for you. All you have to do is hop on a plane."

  Mallory lit another cigarette. She knew Toni would hear the lighter over the cell phone, but she didn't give a damn. She took a drag and said, "I'm close. I'm damned close, Toni. I can feel it. She's here somewhere."

  "Corner of the country. Do you think she'd box herself in like that?"

  "I don't know," Mallory said. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and quickly looked away. She didn't like that haunted look in her eyes.

  "When you're done checking out Washington, come down here. Stay with me for a while. You deserve a break."

  "Mm-hmm," Mallory said. "And while I'm down there, my sister's murderer gets to run free for a few weeks. Free and clear. Great plan."

  "Run free," Toni repeated. "As opposed to what she's doing now?"

  "Fuck you, Toni." Mallory closed the phone with a snap and resisted the urge to throw it at the mirror behind the bar. But just barely. She turned the phone off, crammed it back into her pocket, and dropped a twenty onto the bar. She slammed open the front door hard enough that it bounced off the wall before slowly swinging back into place.

  On the street, Mallory took a long drag off her cigarette and tossed it onto the sidewalk. "Fucking Russian bitch..." She started walking until she found a payphone with Yellow Pages that had miraculously not been vandalized. She flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. She dialed the number on her cell phone and paced in a slow circle as she waited for an answer.

  A sultry female voice said, "Upscale Companions. How may I assist you tonight?"

  "I need you to send someone over to my hotel room. Tonight, forty-five minutes." She gave the hotel's name and her room number.

  "Sure, sweetheart. Who would you like?"

  Mallory didn't even have to think. "Tall. Brunette. Dark skinned, but not black. Athletic." She swallowed and said, "She has to like it rough."

  "I'm sure you and Dominique could work something out, dear. There are ground rules, of course, but Dom definitely likes to play. She'll be there in half an hour."

  #

  Mallory opened the door and stared out at a Lance look-alike. The woman was a few inches shorter than Lance, with curly hair. She wore a black dress, cut low at the chest and high on the hip. Mallory wished she had indicated street clothes or at least blue jeans, but she could make this work. She stepped back and held the door open. "Glad you could make it."

  "Sure thing, darling," the woman who wasn't Lance said as she swayed her hips into the room. She turned and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

  Mallory produced three folded hundred dollar bills from the pocket of her slacks. Dominique took them, fanned through them with her thumb, and then stuck them into her purse. Seeing the money disappear caused a pain in Mallory's chest. Ever with her savings, Elaine's life insurance, and the CD she'd cashed in, the chase was getting expensive. She was afraid to check her bank account to see how much was actually left before she was overdrawn and flat broke. The transaction done, she dropped the purse on the counter and put her hands on her hips. "Janine told me what you wanted. The safe word is panda. You can do whatever you want to me, but if I say panda and you do
n't stop, we're going to have a problem. Understand?"

  "Yeah," Mallory said. She pushed the door shut and said, "Get on the bed."

  She watched the woman walk across the hotel room and un-tuck her blouse. As she started to undo the buttons, she said, "Your name is Lance."

  Dominique lifted a shoulder. "Whatever you say, honey."

  She cupped the escort's cheek and slid her hands back into her hair. She grabbed a handful of hair and twisted, forcing the Lance look alike to crane her neck and lift her chin. "Call me Agent Mallory."

  The escort closed her eyes and smiled. "Yes, ma'am, Agent Mallory."

  Mallory growled and shoved the escort back onto the bed. Her plan wasn't about sex, not really. That was an itch she got scratched as a sort of side effect. What she was really interested in was punishment. Getting to throw Lance down and teach her a lesson. It was sick, twisted, and she knew it was borderline insane. But she needed the false victory however she could get it. The woman sprawled on the mattress wasn't the first Lance she had fucked, but maybe, if Washington panned out, maybe she could be the last.

  #

  Chapter Six

  When they got to the car, Jodie said, "Do you mind if we take a quick detour before dinner? The reservation isn't until eight-thirty."

  "Reservation?" Lance said. "What kind of fancy-ass place are you taking me?"

  Instead of answering, Jodie just smiled.

  Lance sighed. "Just tell me where to point the car."

  She followed Jodie's directions to a private parking garage. When she pulled up to the front gate, Jodie told her the code for the keypad. Lance punched it in and the gate slowly rose to allow them entrance. Lance navigated the car through the narrow, low-ceilinged aisles and up the sloping ramps to the second level. They got almost to the very back corner before Jodie said, "All right, here we are. Stop, stop."

  Lance stopped the car as Jodie released her seat belt. She jumped out and Lance had no choice but to follow her. Jodie walked to a car covered by a top and said, "Carmen Landry, I present to you, Jodie Curran's baby." She tugged the tarp back and revealed a gleaming blue hood. She uncovered the windshield and ran her palm over the glass. "Well, technically she's Rebecca St. John's baby. But she pays me to race it, and she pays me to win."