Redemption (46 page)

Jane sat on her bed, collecting her emotions. “I just want you to be strong.”

“I’m stronger than you realize, Jane P.” Kit’s tone rang resolute.

Jane had wanted to ask Kit the question before but didn’t know how. “How do you....” Jane struggled with the question, “live every day knowing....”

“Your days are numbered?” Jane solemnly nodded. “All of our days are numbered. I just have a better idea of my personal timeframe.”

“How do you not go crazy?
I
would.”

Kit leaned her head back on the wall in a moment of contemplation. “When they first tell you, your world suddenly becomes very small and precarious. The walls tighten around you. You perceive everything from a tiny box. Your steps become measured. The finite aspect of life stares at you. You feel your freedom being caged. You’re living in the same world as you were before you got the news. But once you hear those words, you swear the world has changed. First, the world’s a fearful place because you’re so full of fear. Then it becomes an angry, vengeful world because you’re so full of hate that you’ve lost control of your life and your body has turned on you. For some, it stays an angry world because they can’t get past the rage. But if you do move beyond that...which I did...the world suddenly becomes beautiful. You notice the texture of a flower. You breathe in the sweet scent of the season. You take time to watch a bird fly above your head and see the reflection of its wings against the sun. When the wind moans, you feel its pain. You hold on to every moment you’re given and drink it in because tomorrow is a gift. If you’re smart, you finally figure out that your destiny was never about what you accomplished, but rather, who you loved and who loved you.” Kit sat up and grasped Jane’s hand. “Have you ever been in love, Jane?”

Jane’s throat tightened as her eyes welled with tears. “Once. But it was a lifetime ago. And it ended...badly.”

“You got your heart broken?”

“More like destroyed.”

“But you discovered you had the capacity for profound love?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way—”

“No. You prefer to say you were destroyed. That’s the glass half empty. For you to love him so much, there must have been more than one cathartic, orgasmic, breathtaking moment between the two of you.”

“Yeah. But that’s all colored by how it ended.”

“How it ended shouldn’t darken the love. You’ve mourned long enough. It’s time to risk again—time to break down that wall, expose your vulnerability and press your body against another. Even if it doesn’t work out—even if you only have a beautiful night together—it’s a night that will feed your heart.” Kit sat back against her pillow. “You can catch all the bad guys in the world, Jane. It doesn’t matter in the end. When you take your last few breaths, you should rest your eyes on the one you love and let that love carry you to the other side.”

Jane felt a twinge of sadness for Kit. “Who will you be looking at?”

Kit glanced off to the side. A distant smile crossed her face. “I won’t be alone.”

Jane knew it was only a matter of time before Clinton showed up at the cabin. Earlier that morning, he’d made an unexpected satellite appearance on one of the cable news shows. Standing in the not-so-far-background, Clinton did his best job of comforting Jenny Walker while Sheriff Golden announced that there had been a “sudden shift” in the Walker case. Thanks to a witness’ declaration the day before, the sheriff was “cautiously exploring other avenues.” Jane shook her head at the carefully framed words—bureaucracy at its finest. She deduced that while the overwhelmed sheriff was cautiously exploring, Lou might be carefully carrying out the murder of Charlotte. As Jane shut off the TV, she realized that her mind had firmly gelled around the idea that Lou either had kidnapped Charlotte or knew where the girl was hidden.

Jane surveyed the parking lot for Clinton’s black SUV. She wasn’t venturing outside. Everything that was to follow depended upon perfect timing and deception.

Kit emerged from the bathroom. “What do you think?” she asked Jane.

Jane turned and examined Kit’s appearance. Her salt-and-pepper braid was hidden under her bouclé hat; her heavy, multicolored winter coat closed tightly around her body with dark pants peeking out underneath. A thick scarf wrapped around her neck. “Wrap the scarf more around your face and lower the hat to cover up.” Kit obliged. “Good. We need something memorable so he identifies you right away.”

Kit fished a cherry red scarf out of her suitcase and stashed it in her jacket pocket so that it generously hung over the flap. “Will that work?”

“Red flag. I like it!” Jane glanced out the window just in time to see Clinton’s SUV discreetly pull into the parking lot and hide behind the dumpster. “Take off your clothes. It’s showtime!”

A round figure emerged from the Hop Sing cabin wearing the multicolored coat, bouclé hat, and red scarf. She sauntered down the parking lot so that Clinton would have a good view. Pulling the scarf away from her mouth, Jane lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Jane pretended to act unaware of Clinton’s presence as she paraded in view of him several times before walking back inside the cabin.

Several minutes later, Jane emerged again. This time she carried a bag of trash and ambled toward the dumpster. She discarded the trash, then walked up to the driver’s side of the SUV. Clinton sat with a generous smirk across his face. Jane moved within inches of the window and pulled down her scarf. “I’m getting a restraining order against you! If you don’t stay 100 feet from me, your ass is in jail!” Jane turned and headed back to the cabin.

Clinton rolled down his window. “Let’s work together!” he yelled.

Jane opened the front door of the cabin and flipped Clinton the bird before slamming the door behind her.

Thirty minutes later, the wintry-dressed figure emerged from the Hop Sing cabin again. In her hand, she held a burning cigarette. As was the custom, she squashed the ember gently and placed the cigarette on the window ledge. The figure turned her back to Clinton and performed several perfunctory stretching moves before quickly walking around the cabin and heading toward the back road. Clinton waited a couple minutes before starting his engine and following the figure on her usual morning route.

When she was positive that Clinton was gone, Jane quickly emerged from the cabin. The well-worn blond wig was a last-minute idea of Kit’s. Jane tossed her satchel in the front seat of the Mustang and carefully drove out of the parking lot and onto the main drag, heading north. There was no time to check out Rachel Hartly’s house; Jane couldn’t risk doubling back through town and allowing Clinton to spot her car.

Fifteen minutes later, Jane was certain the ruse had worked. She was powering north on Highway 41 and, if all was going according to plan, Clinton was keeping 100 feet of distance behind Kit, who was leading Fredericks on the greatest bait and switch goose chase of his life.

Jane turned on the radio and suddenly heard Bartosh’s booming voice.

“We are a powerful, unified group of people with a common cause!”

Jane realized she hadn’t removed the tape from her interview with Bartosh.

“I was telling the Brotherhood Council this morning that
we have to ratchet up our ministry to a new level
! We will no longer seek
tolerance
toward us....”

She lit a cigarette and listened to the interview with Bartosh for another twenty minutes, making a point to interject lots of sarcastic comments. Every time she heard his imperious tenor, Jane felt an odd pang of compassion for Mary Bartosh. She intimately
understood Mary; it was like they were twins born of different mothers. Jane rounded a bend of highway where particulate dirt lined the asphalt. The sloppy weather looked as if it had affected another waterlogged hillside. Finally, after hearing Bartosh prattle on about the battle for Mankind’s soul, Lucifer’s stranglehold on the children, and how the Congregation members are “motivators for Jesus,” Jane turned off the tape.

Thirty minutes later, she pulled into the infamous Shell station just off the highway. Inside, the place was empty save for the teenage girl seated behind the counter watching MTV. “Is the manager around?” Jane asked the girl.

The girl smiled and stood up. “Is there a problem with the pump?”

“No. My name is Jane Perry. I’m a police detective. I need to find out—”

“What’s this?” The voice belonged to an obese, red-haired woman who surfaced from a side office. Her nametag simply read, MANAGER.

Jane introduced herself and regarded the woman with the kind of attitude she reserved for bums and drug addicts. “You keep videotapes of the pumps outside?”

“Yeah,” the woman answered warily. The teenager turned the TV on mute and gawked at Jane with an admiring stare.

“Would you still have them from December 25?”

“Hell, probably not.” She eyed Jane up and down. “Oakhurst don’t have a lot of detectives—”

“I’m not with Oakhurst PD. I work independently.” Jane pulled out her wallet and showed the woman her official identification.

“Colorado?”

“Yeah,” Jane said, snapping her wallet shut. “Can you check to see if you still have that Christmas Day videotape?”

“What’s this got to do with?” The woman’s tone was unnecessarily confrontational.

Jane wasn’t sure how much information she wanted to spill. “It’s a side investigation for that missing Oakhurst girl.”

The teenager promptly moved closer. “Charlotte?” she asked with great interest.

“You know her?” Jane replied.

“No. But I look at her poster every day,” the girl said, sliding a display of chewing gum off the counter to reveal Charlotte’s well-worn flyer taped onto the glass.

“You finish stockin’ the soda?” the woman asked the girl with a brusque tone.

“Not yet, Mom,” the kid responded in a deflated manner.

“Well, get to it!” the woman said, angrily gesturing to the back of the store. “I don’t pay you five bucks an hour to sit on your ass and watch MTV!”

The girl stole one final lingering look at Jane. Jane returned the kid’s glance with a sympathetic smile before turning back to the abrasive woman. “Can you check to see if you still have the tape?”

“I’m sure it’s copied over,” she said, not budging. “And anyway, I’d have to get me written approval from the police department’fore I let you see anything.”

“Written approval?” Jane’s tone went up a notch. “I’m trying to find a missing kid. All I want to do is review the tape. I’ve shown you my ID—”

“And you’re not from Oakhurst. Bring me back some written approval on Oakhurst’s PD’s letterhead and I’ll see if we still have the tape!” The woman waddled her broad beam back into her office.

Jane stood dumbfounded.
Another great example of one more egoinflated minion wielding their sliver of power.
She turned and saw the teenager across the store staring at her with a sorrowful look. Jane waved good-bye to the kid and walked outside. She lit a cigarette and headed toward her car when she glanced north on the highway. About 1,000 feet up the road on the left-hand side, the word “bird” caught her attention. It was part of another word on a bright red neon sign. Jane drove onto the highway to get a closer look. It quickly became clear: The Hummingbird Motor Lodge.
Jane pulled over to the side of the road and riffled through her satchel to find the faxed copy of receipts Lou presented to the Sheriff’s department. There were two receipts from The Hummingbird Motor Lodge, both from the dining room. They were time-stamped five hours apart and were both for sodas. Jane slid the fax back into her satchel and took a drag. Casually, she turned to the Lodge—your run-of-the-mill, two star motel—and stared at the flickering white hummingbird on the red neon sign. Her eyes traveled to the parking lot and the sparse collection of vehicles. The baby blue motorcycle easily stood out of the pack.

Jane turned off the engine. She flashed on an idea and checked her jacket pocket to make sure she still had her handy prop. Looking in the rearview mirror, Jane adjusted the blond wig and solidified her next con....

 

 

Kit snuck a glance backward. Clinton trolled his SUV 100 feet behind her on the road behind The Bonanza Cabins. With the agreed-upon battle strategy in mind, Kit took a purposeful, sharp turn to the right and diverged into the muddy conifer forest. As expected, Clinton sped up to monitor her actions. The glaring red scarf tucked into Kit’s coat pocket acted as the perfect beacon to keep her in Clinton’s sight. When Kit was sure Clinton could easily observe her, she ducked behind a waist-high pile of deadwood and dug into the dirt. She took a moment to stand up, peer around with a false sense of apprehension, and then bend down again to repeat the identical maneuver. After ten minutes of this ruse, Kit secretly removed a small mason jar from her coat pocket with a rolled up paper inside and placed it in the hole. It took five minutes to pack the dirt back into the hole. Kit made sure the area was easy to find by disturbing the ground. She gave a bogus worried look around the spate of trees before walking deeper into the forest....

The inside of the Hummingbird’s dining room smelled musty. The sign above the bar read, A PROUD PART OF THE VALLEY SINCE 1944. From the looks of it, Jane figured the owners hadn’t redecorated or dusted since they opened the joint.

“We don’t start serving for another hour.”

Jane turned to find a sweet-faced girl in her early twenties approaching. There was a deafening vacancy to the place that Jane hoped would work to her advantage. “Is the manager here?” Jane asked in a cloying manner.

“Uh, no. He and his wife are still on vacation. They’ll be back in two days—”

“Oh, shoot,” Jane replied. Score one in her favor, she thought.

“Is there something
I
can do for you?” the girl asked.