Acquainted With the Night (23 page)

Alex felt her pulse flutter.
He knows something
. “She’s Caucasian, thirty-six years old, five ten, about one sixty-five, pale complexion, green eyes. She’s a natural redhead, but she may have changed her hair color. She talks with a bit of a Southern dialect.” Suddenly she remembered the photo she’d shown to Edgarton, and dug it out of her briefcase. “This photo is about three years old,” she said, showing him the picture.

He took it with his slender fingers and stared at it a moment. Finally he said, “This is you, isn’t it? In the picture with her.”

“Yes,” Alex admitted.

“This doesn’t sound like you’re looking for a witness,” he said, with a touch of belligerence. “I think you should leave.”

The change in attitude surprised Alex. Perhaps she shouldn’t have shown him the photo, but she was certain that he’d recognized CJ and was now, for some reason, trying to protect her.

Alex said slowly, “Everything I’ve told you is true. It’s also true that I have a personal relationship with her, and that I need to talk to her.”

He stood up, and in the small room he seemed to tower over her. “I mean it,” he said firmly. “Leave, or I’ll call the police and we’ll have you escorted from the premises.”

Alex held up her hands in a mollifying gesture. “Please give me one more minute,” she said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. If he threw her out, how long would it be before she could connect with CJ?

He sat down again, reluctantly, and continued to glare at her as she thought frantically. Why was he so defensive?

A thought occurred to her, and she took a deep breath, trying to figure out how much to gamble. At last she said, “I think I know what happened here. She came to you and explained that she was concerned about someone, someone who might be looking for her, and you shouldn’t reveal that she was here just in case that person was dangerous for her. Is that about right?”

He sat back wordlessly, but she could see from his expression that she was close to the mark. Carefully, she continued, “She was telling you the truth. She was in some danger, but I’m here to bring her home. What can I tell you that will convince you that I’m the person she wants to see, not the one she was in hiding from?”

The manager continued to stare at her for a minute, then said, “How do I know you’re really a police officer?”

Alex exhaled, back on firmer ground. She handed him her card. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Go online and find the home page for the Colfax Colorado Police Department. There’s a link to a page for the command staff. My photo is on the page. If you like, you can call someone in the department and have them confirm my identity to you.”

He took her card and left without another word. In the five minutes before he returned, Alex felt as if she’d lived a lifetime or two.

When he returned, he said, “All right. You are who you say you are. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s safe for her to see you.”

Alex said, “Call her. Tell her I’m here. I’ll meet her in this office, in the lobby, in your bar, anywhere public you want to name. I just need to see her.” She met his eyes and added softly, “Please. I need to see her.”

He gave her one last, appraising look, and then said, “She’s the Assistant Catering Manager.”

Alex was nearly sick with relief. “Okay,” she said.

He continued, “Christa Johnson is the name she gave us. She’s in the kitchen now. I’ll take you back there.”

Alex felt as if her heart would beat out of her chest as he led her down a hall, past the small restaurant, empty in the midafternoon sunlight, and through a pair of swinging doors.

The kitchen was filled with stainless steel counters, the floor covered with slip-resistant mats. Everyone she could hear seemed to be speaking Spanish while they were cleaning up workstations or doing food prep, chopping or stirring. The man nearest her was stuffing green chiles into chicken breasts.

Beside her the manager was looking around for CJ, but Alex saw her right away, as if her eyes could see only the woman she sought. Her heart lurched against her breastbone.

CJ was standing with her back to them, talking to an Hispanic man who was gesturing over a large pot on the cooktop. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the other conversations and clatter in the kitchen, but as she watched, CJ took a spoon from the stainless metal canister next to the stove and dipped it into the pot. She tasted whatever it was, and the discussion resumed.

CJ had changed her hair, cutting it above her shoulders and coloring it darker, almost to auburn, but Alex knew her without seeing her face, without a moment’s doubt. The shape of her was the same. Alex knew intimately the arch of waist into hip, the curve of her backside. She was wearing black trousers and a white, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. On her left hand, the hand holding the spoon, Alex saw the flash of the diamond on her ring finger.

Warmth surged into Alex’s chest. CJ was wearing her wedding ring still, the ring Alex had given her. She still belongs to me, Alex thought in quiet exhilaration.

The manager had spotted her, and began to call out, but Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm. Instead she came up behind CJ and said, “I’m here.”

CJ turned quickly, and the spoon fell with a clatter onto the metal countertop. Alex drank her in, thirsty for the sight of her face.

She looks tired
,
was Alex’s first impression. The pale skin had dark smudges under her lower lashes, the lines around her eyes seemed more pronounced, as if she had aged too quickly. But her eyes were still the same vivid green, and as she met Alex’s gaze, the light in them seemed to flare like fireworks.

“Alex,” she breathed. “Oh, my God, Alex. Are you real?”

Whatever Alex had planned to say seemed far away as she took one more step toward her and said only, “I’m real.”

CJ leaned toward her, then stopped herself, obviously aware of her surroundings. Behind Alex, the manager asked, nervously, “Christa, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” CJ managed. “Ramón, I need five minutes. We’ll be on the patio, all right?”

Still worried, he said, “Sure, of course. I just wanted to make sure it was okay for me to bring her back here. If you want me to make her leave…”

CJ tore her eyes away from Alex long enough to say to him reassuringly, “It’s fine, Ramón. Thank you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

The patio was empty, the iron tables and chairs neatly aligned after the lunch crowd had disappeared. Blue- and white-striped umbrellas with the hotel name emblazoned on them shaded most of the tabletops. The patio was surrounded by a low adobe wall covered with some trailing plants with small yellow flowers brightening the spring afternoon.

As soon as they were alone, CJ turned to Alex and murmured, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

Alex moved into her arms. “Oh, God, sweetheart. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

CJ hugged her so tightly Alex could feel CJ’s body trembling. Alex moved her hand to CJ’s lower back and rubbed her lightly.

“I’m here,” she said, over and over. “I’m here, baby.”

Alex turned her head into CJ’s neck and inhaled. She smelled faintly of wood smoke and chile peppers, but underneath was the scent that meant CJ to her, the sweet fragrance of flowers after a spring rain. Alex took in the perfume of CJ, drew it into her lungs, into her bones, let it settle into her skin.

After a couple of minutes, CJ finally released her, brushing back a single escaping tear. “I’m sorry I only have a couple of minutes,” she said. “I have to get back to work.”

“Do you?” Alex said with low intensity.

CJ seemed to withdraw from her, just a little. “I do,” she said. “They’re depending on me. I’m going to be late tonight, and unfortunately I have to be back pretty early in the morning. I’ll be done after lunch tomorrow.”

Alex frowned in distress. “Sweetheart, I understand you feel responsible, but…”

CJ stepped back farther and lifted a shaking hand. “Alex, please,” she managed. “I do have to work.”

“No, you don’t,” Alex said, more forcefully than she intended.
What was going on?

“I can’t just walk away from my responsibilities, you should understand that,” CJ said, her eyes troubled. “And I…I need some time to deal with this.”

Alex searched her face, trying to understand. “Deal with what?” she demanded. “It’s over, and I’ve come to take you home. What is there to deal with?”

“Alex, please try to understand,” CJ was pleading with her.

The pain felt like a hard punch to the stomach. She’d told herself over and over that Dr. Wheeler might be right, that the road back might be difficult, but seeing the reality of it in the anguish of CJ’s eyes was more than she could bear.

“What do you want me to do?” Alex whispered. “Just go away and leave you?”

“No,” CJ said softly. “Just…I just need time to talk to you, and we don’t have it now.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a keycard. “I’ve been living here, in the hotel, room four eleven. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll come up as soon as I can tonight. Did you drive down from Colfax?”

Alex took the card and answered, “No, I rented a car in Albuquerque. I flew out from Savannah this morning.”

“Oh. Of course.” Her expression softened. “How is Roger?”

“Fine. He’s fine. But he’s worried about you. As is everyone we know. CJ, please—”

CJ lifted a hand to stop her. “Don’t. We’ll talk later, okay? I really have to go.”

She walked away. Alex stood on the patio staring after her, clutching the keycard in her fingers so tightly her hand began to hurt.

* * *

After getting her overnight bag from the rental car, Alex went upstairs to CJ’s room. It had two windows looking out on the street in front of the hotel. Alex went over to look out. The narrow sidewalks had people filling them, but they weren’t nearly as busy as they would be when tourist season kicked off in a couple of months, she supposed.

The maid had been here already, and Alex smiled a little at the neatly made bed. Probably CJ’s idea of heaven, she thought, somebody to come in to clean up her room and make her bed every day.

The next moment she flinched at the thought. CJ wasn’t happy, Alex knew that. She looked exhausted and worn, and she wasn’t acting naturally. Alex understood why CJ had been miserable—God knew Alex herself had been anguished for months.

It hadn’t been just their separation, but the reasons for it that had caused Alex so much pain. All that time not knowing why, wondering what she had done wrong, only to discover that it was someone else who had caused it all.

Irrationally, Alex resented CJ for a moment. The months that Alex had had no idea what had happened, CJ had known, and hadn’t called her, hadn’t even sent her one lousy email.

She sat down heavily on the side of the bed and tried to relax. CJ was protecting her, Alex reminded herself. And for all the pain of uncertainty Alex had endured, at least Alex had still had her work, her family, her friends. CJ had had no one, nothing, except her fear for Alex’s safety, to keep her company.

What was CJ feeling? It was driving her to distraction, not knowing. Before this, she’d almost always known exactly what CJ was thinking, and now not knowing frightened her. Restlessly, Alex got up and spent three minutes unpacking, putting her toiletry case in the bathroom, hanging her sweater up in the tiny closet.

The closet had another of CJ’s uniforms, still in the bag from wherever she had it laundered, a pair of jeans, some shirts. There were only three pairs of shoes jumbled on the floor of the closet: a pair of plain black oxfords, spare work shoes she figured, tennis shoes and a pair of sandals. Alex looked down at them and mused that having only four pairs of shoes was undoubtedly a new adult record for CJ.

She finished unpacking and put her bag in the closet to get it out of the way. The room looked like a pretty standard hotel room, nothing personal or homey about it. CJ had the clock and telephone on the nightstand on her side of the bed, to Alex’s right as she stood at the foot of the king-sized bed looking down at it. Alex wondered if CJ was paying for the room, or more likely staying here as part of her package as the Assistant Catering Manager.

Catering Manager. Alex shook her head. She should have figured that CJ would get a job where she could both talk to people and work with food all day. It surprised Alex that it hadn’t occurred to her that CJ would be working, but it made sense. What else was she going to do with herself without a job? After all, CJ might not have known how long she’d have to be away. And it would have been impossible for her to pass a background check so that she could work as a police officer, especially using only part of her name.

She looked around again, and noticed something on the nightstand she hadn’t seen before. Crossing to that side, she picked up a single framed photograph.

CJ must have had the picture on her phone or laptop, and had had it printed and framed. It had been taken at Christmas, the Christmas before CJ left. David had taken it, Alex remembered suddenly. Charlie was proudly displaying the new bicycle he’d just received from his aunts, and Nicole was with him, smiling down at him. Alex was standing with CJ behind them, hugging for the camera. They all looked happy, giddy almost.

Will we ever be that happy again?
She couldn’t stop herself from asking the question.

But she tried to comfort herself with the thought that CJ had looked at this picture every morning before she got up, and every night before she turned out the lights. She had been trying to hold on to her family, trying to remember love and life and hope while she was in exile from them.

The photo blurred in Alex’s vision.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was almost midnight before Alex heard a knock on the door. She got up from the chair, where she’d been staring out the window at the city lights, her book unread in her lap.

She checked the peephole, then opened the door to CJ.

“Sorry.” CJ smiled ruefully. “I gave you my card and forgot I’d need it to get back in. I’m sure I woke you up.”