Dues of Mortality (36 page)

Xavier
resituated himself against the wall adjacent to the bed. The
trailer's bathtub was officially out of the question. He had slept
quite comfortably in bathtubs before, but this one rejected him. He
had complained of a drip, but it was actually his lack of proximity
to Glenda that kept him awake. Apparently, it was also far easier to
tolerate cold, hard surfaces when you’re passed-out-drunk.
Xavier was seated in an upright position, his neck cradled in a
pillow. A single sheet was draped over the lower two-thirds of his
body. He was holding Hamilton Bowen's gun, familiarizing himself with
it. MAG technology had evolved significantly in the few short years
since Xavier had seen combat. And he couldn't deny being a bit of a
gun nut; most soldiers were to one degree or another. Xavier was
impressed that a round no bigger than a pencil tip could hit nearly
twice as hard as a standard .44 caliber bullet; although, there were
notable trade-offs when it came to magazine size. The gun's clip was
designed to load into a varied caliber of MAG. This was because the
nature of MAGs—unlike revolvers or semiautomatics that still
had a place in the ever-changing world of firearms—required
more than just reloading of ammunition; any added convenience made a
considerable difference. A standard MAG clip contained anywhere from
eighteen to forty magnetically charged rounds, a replacement set of
micro-rails and a fresh power supply. Depending on the weapon, the
latter two could be separated from the clip and reserved for
instances of greater power demand. All that considered, it was no
wonder they amounted to more than half the gun's weight. Xavier's
particular weapon held twenty-six rounds and was calibrated for
medium velocity. Not exactly what they were trained with in basic,
but similar enough. He wanted to practice breaking down the gun and
reassembling it in a timed run, but the noise would disturb Glenda.
Furthermore, if anyone came itching for a fight during off-peak
hours, he didn't want their only means of defense scattered in pieces
about the floor. Eventually, Xavier stretched out and just set the
gun by his hip. He then dimmed the light and shut his eyes, hoping
against hope to drift off.

“
What’s
a matter you?” Xavier asked with eyelids closed. He could hear
Glenda shifting in bed and had a sensation of disquieted eyes upon
him.

“
Sorry,
I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.

“
You
didn’t. I’m not having much luck myself.”

“
This
stinks; I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. That flight is
gonna be a bitch.”

“
Your
mind’s racing, huh?”

“
Isn’t
yours?”

“
Yeah.”

“
So
you’re not indestructible?”

Xavier’s
eyes popped open, with a “say-what?” look on his face. “I
wasn’t aware I’d given you the impression I was.”

“
I
might be overstating it a bit. It’s just that you seem to be
handling this so much better than me; like it’s second nature.”

“
Oh,
man, have I got you fooled.”

Xavier
sat up, bracing his back against the wall and hung his forearms
across his bent knees. Glenda’s gaze made him uneasy. Her eyes
were like truth serum. Trying to hold something back from her—even
a little insecurity—was like trying to cap an active volcano
with a wine cork.

“
God
knows I wouldn’t want to say anything to dissuade your
confidence in me,” he said. “But the fact of the matter
is...” He paused long, shaking his head. “I have no idea
what I’m doing.”

Glenda
looked at him as if she didn’t understand English.

“
I’m
not a cop. I have absolutely no authority to lord over anyone, and I
have no game plan. I’m playing this just as much by ear as you
are. I’m making it up as we go along.” He nervously
massaged his shins.

“
I'm
a drunk,” he said directly. “And whenever I've tried to
accomplish something worthwhile in my life I've failed. Then I took
those failures and made them worse. And that’s what scared me
before.”

“
Before?”

“
You
know, when I said all that...stuff in the park. I wasn't mad at you
for what
you
said. I was mad at
myself
because, for no matter how short
a time, I'd allowed myself to forget what I was. I shouldn't have had
to be reminded...rudely or otherwise.” Xavier's head fell over
like a top that had run out of spin. “I’ve never been
much good to anyone other than a bartender's accountant.”

“
Are
you crazy? That’s not true. I wouldn’t even be alive if
it weren’t for you.”

“
I
think you give me too much credit.”

“
Credit,
hell; it’s a fact.”

Xavier
looked up at her like he'd caught her in a lie. “You don’t
fool me, you know,” he said.

“
Excuse
me?”

“
You
women always want men to think you’re either tough as nails or
delicate little daffodils. I know the tough type when I see it. I’d
even wager you got some serious pulp fiction material in your past
somewhere.”

Glenda
smiled and nodded. “
Ah, ha,
ha. And I’d wager you’re dying to hear it.”

“
I
was only teasing.”

Glenda
looked thoughtful and her cheeks pinked over. “You know that
spot I was hunkered into at the Metropark that night?” she
asked.

“
Yeah.”

“
Well,
that wasn't the first time I'd parked in that spot. That’s how
I knew nobody would see me.”

“
What
do you mean?”

Glenda
paused, debating whether or not to continue. “When I was
sixteen I was spending my summer vacation from school with my
grandparents who lived just a few miles from the park. I met this guy
named Gunner. Oh, he was so perfect—curly blond hair, tanned
skin, bright blue eyes. Funny, I never considered myself going for
the Nordic type. I thought I was so in love. Anyway, I guess I was
going through this...
thing
when I was at that age. I wasn’t
sure who or what I was or something like that. And I...I talked him
into stealing a car.”

Xavier
chuckled. “So, he stole a car to impress a girl. I’ve
heard worse. Shit, I've
done
worse.”

“
Well,
actually....” Glenda tensed. “
I
stole it.”

“
You
stole a car?”

“
It
wasn’t like I hot-wired it or anything. The keys were left
inside and he’d gotten me kind of excited so...”

“
What
do you mean, he got you excited?”

Glenda
turned sheepish. “He was more
experienced
than I was. He had a reputation with the girls that was well-earned.
One night, we were making out and, like I said, I thought I was in
love with him. He started telling me this fantasy he had about making
love outdoors.”

Xavier
pressed his shoulders harder against the wall. He hadn't predicted
the direction of the story.

“
I
suddenly wanted to know what it was like to be daring and imaginative
and
uninhibited
like he was,” Glenda said.
“So when I saw the keys in the ignition, I convinced him to
take it. We drove up to that same spot in the park before it closed
and...'parked'. We threw a blanket we found in the back seat on the
ground and used the car as cover. It was...”

“
I
get it,” Xavier said. He paused and then laughed a little.

Glenda
went bug-eyed and raised up on her elbow. She wasn't sure what to
expect in the way of a response, although a hint of arousal on his
part would have been nice. “Are you laughing at me?” she
asked.

“
No.
I’m admiring you.”

Glenda
smirked, humorously puzzled.

“
You’re
hard not to like,” Xavier said. “I think if I had a
sister, I’d want her to be just like you.”

Glenda
shook her head. Now
how in the hell
was she supposed to take
that? What kind of man says something that could both charm the shit
out of her and bring her crashing back to earth in one sentence? She
looked thoughtful again.

“
Did
you mean what you said?” she asked quietly.

“
Absolutely,
I never had a sister, but...”

“
No,”
Glenda interrupted, tempering the room’s mood as easily as
dimming the light. “I meant before...back at Roxxon?”

Xavier
eventually undid himself from the wall and moved to the bed. He
didn’t give any thought to being so close to Glenda; the
distraction would make what he had to say that much harder. He sank
his elbows into the mattress and closed in on her. He had to grip his
wrists to keep from touching her.

“
Glenda,
I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, “but
I promise you, I give you my word, that whatever we find, and no
matter how this turns out, I’ll be there with you every step of
the way. Whoever or whatever it is that wants to get to you...is
going to have to go through me.”

Glenda
felt the thrill of surrender quickly course through her body. There
was only one place this could lead now. Whatever Xavier was going to
do next...she’d let him. Just let him do...whatever he wanted.
She commanded his eyes to hers and waited...and waited...and waited.

“
Get
some sleep,” Xavier said. “We’ve got a long day of
airplane food and jet lag ahead of us.”

Glenda
didn’t stop him as he backed off and returned his spot against
the wall. Whatever he wanted meant just that.
Damn
.

****

Roberts slung his sport coat over
his shoulder as he walked down to the break-room in a mild huff. He
was sick at the idea of hearing one more message from those damn
reporters, asking when he first believed Glenda Jameson had faked an
assault on herself. There were fewer since Penfield had publicly
backed him up, but they still crept in under the sheep’s
clothing of real reporters trying to get to the “truth.”
Roberts was going to wait a half-hour or so before going home.
Hopefully the herd in the news vans outside would be thinner by then.

He
walked right up to the last vending machine in the building that
displayed the closest thing to junk food. Everything else, kept under
the glass, was organic this or natural that. The odds were that
pretty soon Roberts would no longer be able to get an overpriced,
prepackaged, apple-like pastry ejected from a giant metal box. Hell,
not five years ago it was caffeine and tobacco that everybody lived
off of, especially cops. Now it was all herbal cigarettes and those
detestable potions disguised as sport drinks.
God
help us if whole wheat cigars and distilled cow urine ever proves to
shrink the prostate.

Once
Roberts had his snack/dinner in the palm of his hand, he sat down at
one of the many empty tables in the break-room and immediately
remembered he’d forgotten to get a drink. Just as quickly, he
decided he was too lazy to walk back to the machines, barely ten
paces away. Screw it. He would wash down the fortified pie thingy
when he was ready to leave.

“
Hey,
Rob, Robbo, Robertha,” someone said. “What's the word?”

It
was Silas Lally from forensics. He was doing that silly name-game
thing that he was well aware annoyed the hell out of people. His
mostly bald head bopped to a nondescript tune no one else could hear.
He did a dance that looked something like a one-man waltz, to the
coffee machine and ordered up a cup of black with two sugars.

“
Hey,
Silas,” Roberts said. “Shouldn't you be on your way home
to those fur-balls you call roommates...I mean cats?”

“
Asked
the fifty-year-old divorcee who can't remember what a toilet seat
looks like with the lid down.”

Roberts
giggled. Not everyone in the precinct called Silas Lally likeable,
but even those who didn't got a kick out of his one-liners.

“
And
I would’ve gone home twenty minutes ago if you high and mighty
door kickers were a bit more respectable of my space,” Silas
said.

“
What’s
your complaint this time, Silas?”

Truthfully,
Roberts couldn't have cared less about Silas Lally's woes; the little
goober was always beefing about something. But he was a solid
forensic man with indisputable instincts and the detectives always
trusted him to go the extra mile. It was worth it to stay within his
good graces.

“
Nothing
big. Just do me a favor and tell the guys in your squad to make a
little effort to let me know before they go using the computers in my
IDVantage.” The IDVantage analysis software was Silas Lally’s
pride and joy. The department had paid through the nose to acquire it
a few years back, after he’d petitioned everyone but the
president. He also held the budget office’s feet to the fire
about regular upgrades. To mess with Silas Lally's IDVantage was to
mess with Silas Lally.

“
If
one of our guys used your IDVantage without telling you then he
probably needed the results for a warrant,” Roberts said.
“Justice is best served hot, out of the oven, you know?”