The Cold Kiss (5 page)

9

We talked for a while longer, and eventually Sara began to open up to the idea of keeping the money. She still wasn’t as excited about it as I was, but I knew that would come. All she needed was time.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Tired. Worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about.”

She nodded then got up and grabbed one of the candles off the nightstand and walked back to the bathroom. I watched her set the candle on the sink then look at herself in the mirror.

She stood like that for a moment, then she turned and leaned into the doorway and said, “Do you think we could buy a house?”

“With twenty thousand dollars?” I smiled. “No.”

“But we could put a down payment on one, couldn’t we?”

“I suppose we could.”

Sara stared past me at nothing. “I’ve never lived in an actual house before.”

“Me neither.”

We were both quiet for a while, then she backed into the bathroom and said, “I’ll be out in a few.”

I watched the door close then I reached for my jacket and took a cigarette out of the inside pocket and lit it off the candle burning on the nightstand.

“Nate, not inside.”

I sighed, then stood up and said, “I’m going.”

Sara had made me promise to quit smoking once the baby came, but that wasn’t for a while. Until then, I smoked outside. At first I complained, but then she started reading me articles on what cigarette smoke does to kids, even before they’re born. None of it was good, and since it was so important to her, I went along with it.

I slid my coat on then opened the door and stepped outside into the cold. The building blocked most of the wind, but the snow was still coming down hard.

I stood under the walkway and watched.

The cigarette was my first since that afternoon, and it went fast. When it got down to the filter, I took another one from my pocket and lit it off the first, then I walked down to the edge of our building and looked around the parking lot.

There were a few cars scattered around, but not many. Some looked old, like they hadn’t moved in years, but it was hard to tell what was under all the snow. One thing for sure, the motel was far from full.

From where I was, I could see the playground at the far end of the parking lot. It was too dark to see clearly, but I was able to pick out swings and monkey bars and several small animal rides mounted on springs. All of it was set up in a circle around what looked like a giant turtle.

I didn’t think I was seeing it right.

A giant turtle didn’t seem to fit, and I thought about walking out there for a closer look. I’d almost convinced myself that it wasn’t that far when I heard a door slam shut on the other side of the building.

I walked around and saw a large metal shed directly behind our room. There were no windows and the sides were rusted and old. The door was standing open, wavering in the wind.

A moment later, a man came out into the snow.

He had on a brown Carhart jacket and a black knitted cap and he was carrying an industrial flashlight and a brown paper bag. Once outside, he turned and pushed the door closed then started walking through the snow toward the parking lot.

I stepped back into the darkness and didn’t say anything. Once he was gone, I came around and watched him cross the parking lot and go into the building across from ours. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want him to see me, it just seemed like the smart thing to do.

I felt dumb for being so jumpy, but it’d been a strange day so I figured I had an excuse.

I stayed outside until I finished my cigarette, then I dropped it in the snow and started back to the room. I’d made it halfway when I heard the shed door creak open then slam shut. A moment later, it creaked open again.

I walked back to look.

This time there was no one at the shed, but the door was standing open. Occasionally, a gust of wind would come up and the door would slam shut before drifting open again.

I stepped off the walkway and crossed through the snow. My plan was to close the door, but when I got to the shed and tried to slide the bolt, I saw that it was frozen and wouldn’t move.

I stepped back and looked around for something heavy to force the bolt. Everything was covered with snow, so I opened the door and went inside. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, I started looking around for something I could use.

The air in the shed was cold and had the poison sweet smell of ammonia and bleach. There wasn’t much inside except a workbench at one end and a line of empty pig pens along the other. I started toward the workbench then stopped halfway.

In the dark, I could just make out the outline of several plastic buckets and glass milk jugs on the bench. There were several burners set up, along with rubber tubes that snaked up toward a duct-taped hole cut into the side of the shed wall. Next to the workbench, stacked along the side, were several empty bottles of cleaning products and a canvas bag filled with rocket-sized fireworks.

I knew what I’d found, and it was time to go.

I backed out of the shed and closed the door. It wouldn’t stay shut, but I didn’t care. The last thing I wanted was to be caught snooping around someone’s meth lab.

I crossed through the snow with my heart throbbing inside my chest. It all made sense. The motel was in the middle of nowhere, deserted. It was the perfect place for a meth lab.

Why not?

I decided I wasn’t going to tell Sara.

She didn’t need the extra stress.

When I got back to our building, I walked around to the front. My eyes kept drifting toward the room across from ours.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could see someone standing in the window. There was a shadow, but I told myself it was only a reflection of the storm in the glass.

Then the shadow moved.

It was gone.

10

Sara was still in the shower when I went inside. I took off my jacket and my boots then pushed the curtains away from the window and looked out at the building across the parking lot. I didn’t see anyone, and eventually I let the curtain drop.

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. After a while, I leaned back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling and the thin shadows twitching in the candlelight. I let my thoughts wander, but they kept coming back to that shed out back.

I could feel a dull ache growing in the center of my head. I tried to clear my mind and think about something else, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, I sat up and grabbed the backpack off the floor and dumped it out on the bed.

I picked up the twenty-two and turned it over in my hands. I noticed the serial number had been filed off, but that didn’t surprise me. It was a common move when you didn’t want a traceable gun.

I double-checked the safety then pulled the magazine and cleared the chamber. I held the gun up to the candlelight and looked down the barrel. It was clean and oiled and in excellent condition. I couldn’t tell if it’d been fired or not, but with two bullets missing, the answer seemed obvious.

I heard the water turn off in the bathroom, then the shower curtain scrape open. I hurried and put the gun back together then set it on the nightstand just as the bathroom door opened.

Sara came out with her hair wrapped tight in a thin white motel towel. She was carrying the candle in one hand and her clothes in the other. She had another towel wrapped around her chest, and the bottom of it barely reached her legs.

For a moment, watching her cross the room toward me, I forgot all about the storm and all about the money and all about the dead man in my car.

Right then, all I wanted was that towel.

When she got close, I reached for it.

Sara slapped my hand away and said, “Oh my God, no. Are you kidding?”

“What’s the problem?”

“Jesus, Nate, a guy died on us tonight and you want to do that?”

“Yeah.”

Sara shook her head and dropped her clothes on the bed. She handed me the candle and said, “Not happening.”

When I asked her why, she changed the subject.

“What do you think we should do with that money?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” I said.

“We have a lot to get before the baby comes,” Sara said. “I saw this crib I wanted, but it was almost seven hundred dollars, can you believe it? Who’d pay that kind of money for a crib?”

I set the candle on the nightstand then leaned against the headboard and said, “Lots of people.”

“Not me.”

“We can afford it.”

“No, we can’t, Nate.” She bent forward and unwrapped the towel around her head and used it to dry her hair as she spoke. “I was thinking that we’ve got to be careful with what we buy. It’ll go quick.”

“There’s a lot of it. We can get one or two things.”

“Like what were you thinking?”

“What about a new car?” I motioned toward the window. “We can get rid of that piece of shit out there.”

“We don’t need a car,” Sara said. “The Dodge runs just fine.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Sure you do.” Sara sat next to me on the bed then leaned in and kissed me. “But we need to spend it on important things, like a house or a savings account. We can’t go out and blow it on a car when we’ve got a perfectly good one already.”

Sara moved and her towel slid farther up her leg, revealing a soft dark patch of hair beneath. I put my hand on her knee then kissed her arm and said, “You’re probably right.”

I let my hand slide along her leg.

“This money can be a blessing to us, Nate, but we have to be smart about it.”

I agreed, kissed her neck.

Sara closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed. When she did, the towel slid away, exposing her breasts, warm and golden in the candlelight.

“Nate, stop.”

I didn’t, and Sara moved against me.

“You’re beautiful,” I said.

“I’m fat.” She put her hand on her flat stomach. “I can already tell.”

I kissed past her neck to her chest. Sara’s breath felt warm and strong against my skin, and I slid my hand along the inside of her thigh, moving slow.

Sara moaned then reached down and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “No, Nate.” She moved out from under me then pushed herself up and off the bed, dragging the towel behind her. “Not now, okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Just not yet.”

I watched her rewrap the towel around her chest, and I didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It just seems weird with everything that happened tonight. Someone died in our car and we’re talking about what we’re going to do with his money. It doesn’t seem right. Can you understand?”

I told her I could, and the part of me that wasn’t disappointed actually did.

Sara took her suitcase and opened it on the floor. “Let me get dressed and dry my hair. Maybe I’ll feel different in a little while.”

I lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling and tried to settle my mind. It was a fight I was losing.

A minute passed, then another, then Sara said, “Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that his?”

I lifted my head. Sara was pointing to Syl’s black and plaid suitcase.

“Must be,” I said. “I grabbed everything I saw.”

Sara was quiet.

I let my head drop back to the pillow and tried to think of anything other than how her skin had felt against mine. It wasn’t easy to do.

“Did you look inside?”

I didn’t say anything right away.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said. “Right?”

I sat up slow then crossed the room to the suitcase. I picked it up and dropped it on the bed.

There was weight to it.

“Seriously, Nate, maybe we should just leave it be.”

The bag was black canvas trimmed with faded red plaid around the edges. A thick metal zipper ran along the top, and when I reached for it, Sara grabbed my hand.

She didn’t say anything.

I looked at her then unzipped the bag and pulled the canvas flap back.

Sara was still holding my hand, but neither of us said anything for a long time. At that moment, nothing else existed.

Eventually, Sara turned toward me.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She wasn’t smiling or crying or anything. There was no emotion at all, and when she spoke, her voice was perfectly calm.

“How much do you think is there?”

11

It took a while to count, and when I finished I put the last few bundles of cash back in the suitcase and said, “Almost two million, plus what we’ve got in the backpack.”

Sara nodded, didn’t speak.

She was sitting on the chair by the table. She’d changed into a pair of green sweatpants and an oversized white T-shirt. Her hair was still wet, but she didn’t seem to care about that anymore.

I zipped the flap on the suitcase then set it on the floor and slid it under the bed. My hands were shaking, and I reached for my jacket and took the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket. I tapped one out then lit it using one of the candles.

This time, Sara didn’t complain.

I sat on the edge of the bed and rested my arms against my knees and tried to think. The idea of two million dollars made it hard to focus, and all I ended up doing was watching a thin ribbon of smoke trail up from my cigarette and unravel into the air around me.

I’d just counted it, I’d held it in my hands, but I still couldn’t believe it was real. Even the possibility of that much money was foreign to me.

For years, growing up, Vincent and I would spend nights sleeping in cars or abandoned houses. There was never any money, and sometimes we’d go days without food.

Back then, twenty dollars seemed like a fortune, and I tried to imagine what Vincent would’ve thought about two million. It was hard to do, but picturing the look on his face made me smile.

“That’s all we have to do,” Sara said. “It’s easy.”

“What’s all we have to do?”

“Turn it over to the cops.” She nodded, her eyes distant. “We won’t have anything, so there won’t be any reason to come after us. We’ll just keep going like we never met him at all.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Why would we give it to the cops?”

“We’ll be completely out of it. We’ll be safe.”

“Sara?”

“The police can deal with it.”

“We’re not giving this money to the cops.”

She looked at me. “We have to.”

“No, we don’t,” I said. “We’re going to do what we talked about. We’ll tell the police what happened, but we’re not going to mention the suitcase or any of the money. We’ll give them the backpack with his clothes and tell them it was all he had on him when we picked him—”

“No!” Sara stood up fast, her voice loud. “We can’t do that. Things are different now.”

“Nothing’s different.”

“Everything is different.” Her voice got louder with each word. “Someone shot him because of this money, and now he’s dead. If we keep it, they’ll come after us, too.”

“Who’ll come after us?”

“Whoever owns this money. Whoever killed him.”

I held up my hands and tried to calm her down, but she stepped away and backed up against the wall.

“No, Nate.”

“Sara, come on.” I kept my voice soft. “No one knows he had this money.”

“Someone does.”

“How do you know?”

“Because someone shot him, Nate, and because he had that damn gun. You said it was an assassin’s gun.”

“I could be wrong about that.” I lied. “But even if I’m not, it doesn’t mean—”

“Just stop. This kind of thing happens all the time in movies, and it always ends up bad.”

“In movies?”

“He was running from someone because of that money and now he’s dead. If we take it then they’ll come after us.”

“This isn’t a movie.”

Sara looked away. There were tears on her cheek and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “That money belongs to someone, and they’ll come after it until they find it. For all we know they’re right behind us.”

That reminded me of the diner and Syl asking if anyone had come in while he was in the bathroom. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, and I still didn’t.

I wouldn’t let myself.

“We can’t keep it, Nate, we just can’t, okay?”

She was crying, and I let her go on until she’d calmed down enough for me to get close, then I took her hands and said, “All we’re doing is talking. There’s nothing we can do about any of this tonight, so we have some time to think everything through.”

“There’s nothing to think through,” she said. “This isn’t worth getting killed over.”

I smiled. “Two million dollars?”

Sara pushed past me, but I wrapped my arm around her waist, stopping her.

“Don’t joke about this, Nate.”

I told her I was sorry, over and over, and when she believed I was telling the truth she leaned into me and put her head against my chest.

We stood like that for a while then I said, “What if there isn’t anyone out there?”

“Nate—”

“Just think about it,” I said. “What if there’s no one coming?”

“There is, I know there is.”

“But what if there’s not? What if we end up handing all this money over to the cops for no reason?”

She looked at me like she was about to argue. Instead, she said, “There’s no way to know for sure. We just have to assume.”

“Why?”

“Because if we turn the money in and we’re wrong, at least we’re still alive.”

“And we lose the money.”

“It’s better than getting killed. If we keep the money we’ll always be looking over our shoulders.” She paused. “I don’t want to live like that.”

“Then help me think of a way to keep it that’s safe,” I said. “There has to be one.”

Sara shook her head. “Once we tell the police about Syl, they’ll have our names on record. If someone’s looking for the money, all they’ll have to do is read the report. We were the last ones to see him alive. It won’t be hard to figure out what we did.”

She was right. Once the police knew, it would be easy to track us down. Still, I wasn’t ready to give in.

I went over all the options I could think of, but none of them felt right. After a while, I got up and walked into the bathroom and dropped my cigarette in the toilet. I watched it circle the bowl for a long time.

When I came back, I thought I had the answer.

Sara was standing at the window and staring out into the darkness. I came up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders.

“I think I have an idea,” I said.

I felt her shoulders tense. “Nate,” she said. “Please, don’t—”

“Hear me out.”

She let the curtain close then she turned and looked at me. She wasn’t smiling. “I know it’s a lot of money, but we can’t keep it. We need to let it go and move on.”

“Will you listen?”

Sara paused. She looked at me for a moment then sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

I moved one of the chairs over, then sat down and said, “Let’s go over our options.”

“Nate, come on.”

I ignored her.

“You think someone is out there looking for this money, and if we keep it we’ll be in danger, right?”

“This is pointless.”

“Let me finish.”

Sara looked away.

“We also can’t keep the money because once the police are involved, we’ll be listed in their report and easy to track down.”

Sara shook her head. “Just tell me your idea.”

I hesitated, then said, “What if we don’t tell anyone at all?”