by Geonn Cannon
She didn't want to eat a large breakfast so soon before Jodie came to pick her up for lunch, but she needed something to take the edge off her hunger. Life in Shepherd has made you soft, Lance, she chided herself. She searched the fridge and found some old pizza. She sniffed to make sure it wasn't toxic before she liberated a slice and carried it into the living room.
A duffel bag like the one she carried, or used to carry, sat on the edge of the sofa. She recognized it as the bag Hatcher was carrying the day before. She remembered Jodie taking it back inside before they left.
Lance pushed the bag aside and said, "Danica. Come here, girl. It's your old friend Carmen. Lance. Claire." She shook her head. No wonder the cat was hiding. But the smell of food, plus a familiar voice, drew her out of hiding. She hesitantly approached, jumped onto the couch, and eased her way closer to Lance.
"Does your owner let you have meat? Huh?" She plucked off a pepperoni and held it out. Danica pawed at it, and Lance let her pluck it from her fingers. She smiled and watched the cat tear the meat apart with her teeth and front paws. Lance leaned back and nudged the duffel bag with her elbow. She sat up and gathered the straps and lifted it so she could move it to the floor.
It was heavier than she expected, and rattled when it hit the floor.
Lance stared at the bag for a long moment. Danica began pestering her for more meat, but Lance didn't even realize the cat was in the room. She stared at the zipper, trying to think of a normal, every day, innocent thing that could have made that sound. Engine pieces. Old spark plugs. Any number of things really. Jodie was a mechanic, so the bag could have any number of tools in it.
Don't do it. Just ask her about it when she gets home, trust whatever she says. Damn it, Lance. Do not do this again. Don't get involved with someone else's problems.
She grabbed the straps and brought the bag back onto the cushion next to her. Danica, sensing her free lunch was over, scurried away. Lance's heart pounded. "Don't do it," she told herself. "Just get up and go out onto the balcony. Go out, look at the mountains." She clenched her teeth and unzipped the bag.
On top were street maps of Shepherd. Lance had looked over more than a few when she was still trying to find her way around town. She took those out and tossed them onto the coffee table. Underneath was a folded dress shirt, a pair of suit pants, a jacket and a pink tie. Lance didn't know what they meant, but she took them out and dumped them on the table as well. At the bottom of the bag, she found what had made the noise.
A Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol, complete with ammo. The ammunition box had broken open and loose shells rolled around in the folds of the bag.
Lance took the weapon and held it in her hands, testing the weight. She loaded the clip, slapped it in place and put it on the coffee table.
"What the fuck, Jodie?"
After a long minute, she picked up the street map. Three routes were marked, one in red, one in yellow and one in green. Two of them led toward Anacortes, a ferry port fifty miles away. The third led north to Canada. The starting point of all three trails was a particular street corner. Nothing was marked, so Lance didn't know where exactly the starting point was. She folded the map and put everything back into the bag, making sure to unload the gun before she stored it. Then she stood up and went to the balcony.
Danica joined her at the door.
"What the fuck is she up to?"
Danica meowed, turned tail and pranced away.
Lance sighed and finished dressing before she went out onto the balcony. She dropped into her chair, hands resting on her knees as she looked to the sky for answers.
She was still out there when Jodie came home at noon. "Claire? You awake?" She crossed toward the bedroom and changed course when she saw Lance out on the balcony. "Hey. Getting enough of the view?"
Lance looked up with a forced smile. Jodie's hair was tied loosely, and her face was darkened by grease and grime. She wore her baggy coveralls unzipped over a white undershirt. It felt like so long since she'd seen her in the uniform that it looked almost like a costume. "Probably never get enough of this view."
Jodie's eyebrows twitched. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Tired."
Jodie's grin returned. "Well, you earned a little tiredness." She held out her hand. "C'mon. Daphne said it was fine that we switched shifts. I picked up some salads for lunch."
"All of a sudden you're worried about keeping me in shape."
Jodie grinned wide and raised her eyebrows. "I do have a personal interest in your physical fitness, yeah." She turned to go back to the door and spotted the duffel bag on the couch. "Oh." She picked it up and said, "I'll just get this out of the way."
She carried the duffel bag to the hall closet, dumped the bag and then pointed at the door. "We ready to go?"
"Yeah," Lance said. "Can we swing by my place to pick up my coveralls?"
"Oh, right. Sure, yeah."
"Maybe we can go down Lincoln Avenue."
Jodie paused. "Is that faster?"
Lance shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to give it a shot, though."
"Okay. Whatever. Good bye, Danica."
They rode the elevator downstairs and Jodie gave Lance the car keys. "Do you need me to drive you home after we have lunch?"
"No, I'll just stay at the garage, lend a hand. It'll be you and me, like the old days."
Lance smiled. No matter what that duffel bag meant, she still enjoyed Jodie's company. She turned onto Lincoln Avenue and tried to keep her mood light. She had the memory of the street map in her mind and she stopped talking as they neared the point where all the marked routes had started.
To her right was a large, diamond-shaped park ringed with a knee-high white fence. The buildings on the left side of the road were cafés, restaurants, a dollar store, other random little shops. But Lance barely looked at any of them. Hyperion Bank & Trust stood on the opposite corner, a glass and brick sentinel with a Brinks truck parked in front of the doors.
Lance couldn't breathe. Everything in her mind was focused on that bank, and on the memory of a suit, a gun with extra ammo, a map showing three possible getaway routes.
"Claire?"
Lance blinked and looked at Jodie.
"Claire, you're scaring me. Is everything all right?"
"Yeah," Lance said. "Fine." The stop light had turned green, so she rolled through and continued on, leaving the bank in the rearview mirror.
#
Interlude
Dallas, Texas
Toni picked up her coffee and carried it to the sink. She dumped it out, rinsed the cup, and turned to look into the dining room. Mallory was at the table, aimlessly tapping at the laptop keyboard. Toni leaned against the counter and said, "What are you going to do today?"
"I don't know."
Toni pushed away from the counter and said, "When I asked you to stay—"
"I understand. I won't be in your hair much longer."
"It's not a burden. I just wanted to know what your plans are."
Mallory shook her head. "I have no plans."
Toni nodded and stepped behind Mallory's chair. She rubbed Mallory's arms, bent down and kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to the office. I'll see you tonight."
"Okay."
Mallory waited until she heard the front door of the apartment open, then close. She picked up her cell phone, flipped it open and dialed the number on the website she'd found. A hurried voice answered and immediately asked her if she could hold. She agreed, and a Muzak version of "California Dreaming" began to play.
She had taken Toni's advice and tried to take a step back. But the nagging voice at the back of her mind wouldn't shut up. She wasn't moving forward, she was standing still. She knew what Toni had tried to do, and loved her for it. But it hadn't worked.
"American Airlines," a cool, professional voice said. "How may I assist you?"
"I need to book a flight from Dallas to Seattle. As soon as possible."
Lance was still out there, an
d Mallory wouldn't be able to rest until she was either in prison or dead. She realized the woman was talking and said, "I'm sorry. Yes, my credit card number." She slipped it out from underneath the laptop and felt a needle pierce her heart as she read the information off. "The name on the card is Antonia Lazareva. Let me spell it for you..."
#
Chapter Thirteen
Lance was grateful that the most pressing thing on her calendar was an oil change. She would never have been able to focus on anything more complex. The image of the bank Jodie was apparently planning to rob kept popping up in her mind and she would have to stop, close her eyes, and push it away before she could continue with work.
It was as if she woke up in an alternate universe. She convinced Jodie to trust her, and they had taken the first steps to a real relationship, only for her to wake up and discover that maybe she couldn't trust Jodie.
The door squeaked as Jodie came out of the office. She stood and watched Lance for a moment before she crossed the garage. "Hey. Need a hand?"
"No, I'm almost done here. It's just an oil change, anyway."
"Okay." Jodie leaned into the engine and then ducked her head under the hood. "Look, did we screw things up?" Lance looked up at her. "Last night. I thought that, ah..." Jodie stared at her hands. "Whatever, you know? If it screwed us up, we can forget it happened. But you've been acting weird all day. Is it me?"
Lance leaned back out of the engine. "No. It's not you, Jodie. I'm sorry I've been acting weird. It has nothing to do with last night. Last night was amazing. I never thought I would want to be with anyone again after Elaine. I'm just a little strung out today. That's all."
Jodie nodded. Lance could tell she wasn't completely buying it, but believed enough to let it go for the moment. "Okay. So are you going to come over after work?"
"Yeah," Lance said. "I'd like that a lot."
Jodie smiled shyly and shifted her weight to her other foot. "I don't let just anyone do this to me, you know."
Lance smiled. "Nice to know I'm in exclusive company, then."
Jodie looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone before she stepped closer. She kissed the corner of Lance's mouth, her hands on Lance's shoulders, and said, "I'll cook us dinner tonight. We can eat in before we eat out." She bit her bottom lip and raised an eyebrow.
Lance put her hand on Jodie's hip and said, "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"
"It's an old stand-by. I've had it since high school."
They separated and Jodie examined the shape of Lance's palm painted in grease on the hip of her coveralls.
"Sorry about that."
"Yeah, yeah," Jodie said. She ran her finger through the smear and brushed it down Lance's cheek. She chuckled and backed toward the office. Lance turned on the CD player and advanced the disc to the eighth track. Hawksley Workman began to sing "Stop Joking Around" as she bent back into the engine, letting the song distract her from the bad thoughts racing around in her brain.
#
Lance went into the office at half past four while Jodie was elbow-deep in the guts of a Camry. Daphne was at her usual perch, reading glasses threatening to fall off the tip of her nose. Lance took a bottle of water from the mini fridge and cracked the top as Daphne turned to face her. She plucked the glasses off with two fingers and aimed one earpiece at Lance. "Did you spend the night with her last night?"
Lance stopped the bottle halfway to her mouth. "Did I—"
"Don't try to play coy with me, Carmen Landry. I want the truth. Did you or did you not spend the night with Calico?"
"I don't think it's my place to tell you—"
"That's a yes. Listen. She puts on a hell of a good show. Sometimes she might even believe it. Big race car driver, no one can touch her. But she's fragile, you hear me? So you think twice before you break her heart."
"I will," Lance said. Her voice was solemn, her eyes locked on Daphne's. "I won't do anything to hurt her."
Daphne pursed her lips and then turned back to face the books. "Okay. That's settled. The Trash Heap has spoken."
"Does that make Jodie and me Philo and Grunge?"
Daphne straightened and raised an eyebrow. "My God. You actually know Fraggle Rock."
Lance nodded toward the garage. "I'm going to go dance my cares away out there."
She carried her water back outside and looked at Jodie. She saw the gun again, the suit and the unusual pink tie. Why, Jodie? What the hell are you thinking? Jodie seemed to hear Lance's thoughts and looked up from her work. Lance lifted the bottle of water in a toast and then turned when a car pulled up in front of the garage. Lance waved the car inside and put her water down on a work table. With any luck, she would be able to distract herself with work for a while.
#
At Jodie's apartment, Lance showered while Jodie started dinner, and then Lance took over dinner while Jodie showered. When they were both clean and fresh, Jodie took over cooking duties and shooed Lance out into the living room. Lance found a plush red ball with a bell inside. She tossed it against the far wall and Danica pounced, grabbing the toy with both forepaws and launching it straight up in the air. She batted it around for a while and, when it came within reach, Lance kicked it back toward the wall.
Jodie brought their plates out and paused as Danica darted in front of her. "I see you found the Jingle Ball."
"Yeah," Lance said.
"Nice ambiance, by the way," Jodie said. Joan Baez was singing softly on the CD player, and the only light was coming from the lamps on either side of the couch.
"Thanks," Lance said. "I'm not too good with the romantic stuff."
Jodie put the bowls down on the table and straddled Lance's legs. She dropped onto Lance's lap, pulled her close and kissed her. Lance accepted the kiss and moved her hands to Jodie's ass, holding her in place as they explored each other's mouths. Jodie untucked Lance's T-shirt and stuck her hands underneath the cotton. She brushed Lance's stomach with the backs of her hands before moving up to cup her breasts.
Jodie scooted forward and moved her lips to Lance's cheek. "Oh, I don't know," she said, slightly out of breath and flushed, "I think you've got a handle on romantic. You're better than me, anyway. Check out this romantic line." She kissed Lance's ear and whispered, "Do you want...parmesan cheese on your spaghetti?"
Lance chuckled. "I'd love some."
Jodie pushed herself off Lance and paused to make sure Lance's shirt was in place before she returned to the kitchen. "Do you want milk or a soda?"
"Milk is fine," Lance said.
Once Jodie was out of sight, Lance looked over her shoulder at the closet door. Gun, suit, map of an escape route away from a bank. She couldn't think of anything else it could mean. Any of the pieces on their own could have easy, innocent explanations. But put them all together, and she couldn't help but feel a chill. She thought back to the conversations between Jodie and Rebecca, the talks that had to take place privately. The way Rebecca stared at Lance as if daring her to stick her nose into their business.
Jodie returned with two glasses of milk and a can of grated cheese pinned under her arm. She put the drinks on the coffee table, sprinkled cheese on their dinners, and handed Lance a plate. "Hope it's good. I haven't actually tried this meatball recipe in a long time."
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
Jodie sat back, tucked her right foot under her left knee, and looked around. "Where's Danica? If she comes begging, it's all right to give her a little piece of meatball."
"I gave her a pepperoni this morning."
"You did?" Jodie said. She took Lance's right hand and took her time inspecting the fingers. "Hmm. You still have all your fingertips. I'm shocked." She brushed her hand over Lance's knuckles and laced their fingers together. She smirked and squeezed.
Lance said, "This is going to make it kind of hard to eat."
"Spoil sport," Jodie said. She released Lance's hand to pick up her fork again.
Lance speared a meatball a
nd said, "The way you pounced on me when you brought the food out, I think I'm going to need my energy later."
"You got that right."
They ate for a while, letting Joan serenade them, and Lance finally said, "So, how did you meet Rebecca?"
Jodie sucked a noodle into her mouth, leaving a rosebud of sauce on her lips. She brushed it with the pad of her thumb, licked it away, and said, "Why?"
Lance shrugged. "She doesn't seem to like me much."
Jodie laughed. "Rebecca doesn't like much that keeps me away from practice. She just barely tolerates the fact that I work at the garage. When I tell her I need the money to pay bills, she says I wouldn't need extra income if I just won a few more races. Vicious cycle." She chewed a meatball and said, "I met her right after I got to town. I ended up here after I ran away from home. I was sixteen. She gave me a place to live and made sure I got my GED. She saved me from ending up on the street."
"You owe her a lot."
"I owe her everything. She's the one who showed me how my love of speed could turn into cash."
"What do you mean?"
Jodie frowned. "The, uh, the racing. What else would I mean?"
Lance shook her head. "Forget it."
Jodie looked down at her spaghetti and said, "Oh, Carmen. I didn't see you come in."
"What?"
"Carmen Landry," Jodie said. "That closed-off, quiet woman who worked in the garage with me for a couple of weeks before I got to know Claire Lance. I kind of thought you were gone."
"I'm not closed off."
"You are." Jodie stirred her spaghetti angrily, jabbing the noodles with her fork.
Lance sighed. "Maybe I was then. But I didn't know who I could trust."
"You can trust me," Jodie said. "God, haven't I proven that by now?"
"You have," Lance said softly.
Jodie said, "Well, then, what? Why are you cold as ice one minute and then the woman I took to bed last night the next? What's gotten into you?"