Unauthorized Access (25 page)

Then Tim was there. Holding her by the upper arms, he helped her stand up and turned her toward the sink.

“Let me look at that,” he said as he pried open her right hand and held it under running water. Tim patted the thumb dry with a paper towel and examined it. Then he wrapped the thumb in a fresh paper towel and wrapped her other hand around it.

“Are you all right?” he said with a concerned look on his face.

She started to nod, then thought better of it and shook her head. Tim reached out with one hand and pulled her head to his shoulder. She slumped against him gratefully.

“Hey,” he said, “it’ll be all right.”

Lesley couldn’t imagine how anything was going to be all right. She only knew she was glad to have someone holding her. Someone who made no demands of her, who wasn’t going to criticize her.

She felt Tim’s finger push a wisp of hair from her damp cheek. Then he placed his cheek on her temple and murmured into her ear: “Everything will be okay.”

Tim’s lips brushed against her forehead, then her cheek, but she barely noticed. She wasn’t alone and for now that was enough. Lesley melted into the warmth of him, her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her. Then his lips were on hers.

She pressed back, hard.

* * *

Rob hung back in the shadows between a two-and-a-half-story saltbox house and a cream-colored duplex across the street from the convenience store. Waiting in the store had seemed like a fine option when he talked to Dysart, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside. For one thing, even with the wrought iron bars across the front, the plate glass windows made the interior too visible from the street. Also, Rob remembered how the clerk had looked at him. The guy was just as likely to call the police if Rob went in and hung around for a while.

Crouching behind a small bush in the yard across the street felt safer. It seemed unlikely that anyone in the houses would see him. Most of the windows facing in his direction were dark and the others were covered with curtains.

If only he could stop shaking. The steady drizzle of rain soaked his hair and dripped down on his face and neck. He kept looking in all directions, even into the back yard behind him, unable to shake the feeling that the blond man would show up at any instant. So when the Buick rolled slowly to a stop on the opposite side of the street, Rob wasn’t sure if his imagination was playing out his fears.

He ducked down behind the bush, breathing fast in short gasps. Peeking around the side of the bush, he saw the blond man get out, go in the store, emerge again almost at once and stand beside his car looking around.

Rob pulled back out of sight. How could the guy know to look at the store? It didn’t make any sense. But then it did. The guy would surely be checking everywhere within a few blocks of the garage. And just as surely the clerk would have told him that Rob had been in the store.

He risked another look—and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. The blond guy was crossing the street, heading directly toward Rob.

Rob jerked back so quickly he lost his balance and landed on his rump. Had the guy seen him? There was no time to ponder the question. Rob knew the guy would be on top of him soon and there would be no chance to do anything. Bending over as much as he could, Rob ran into the back yard, trying to keep the bush between himself and the blond guy. A four-foot wooden fence enclosed the narrow strip of real estate that passed for a yard.

He risked a glance behind him. The blond guy caught sight of him and broke into a run in his direction. Rob straightened up and bolted for the fence. He veered slightly to his left to avoid a clump of birch trees, then grabbed the top of the fence with both hands and scrambled over it into the back yard of another house.

Sprinting out the driveway at the front of this property, Rob was forced to make a split-second decision as to which way to go. He turned instinctively uphill toward West Broadway Street, which was only a couple of blocks away.

He put his head down and ran hard. His back crawled in anticipation of being shot. Rob jerked his head around and saw the darkened figure of the blond guy, who had just emerged from the driveway, running hard.

Rob concentrated on lengthening his stride. His lean, muscular legs ate up the ground in a hurry. Even the sore knee was holding up well, at least for the time being.

He shot into the intersection at the end of the block and nearly ran into a car coming from his right. The car nosed down hard when the driver hit the brakes. Rob swerved and cut in front of the car. An angry blast of the horn followed him onto the next block. Rob cursed at the loss of speed the car had caused him but got it back quickly as he tore toward West Broadway. Just before getting to the corner he threw another look over his shoulder and thought he might have even gained a little ground.

The flow of traffic on West Broadway forced Rob to turn right and run along the side of the street. He kept looking back for a break in the traffic. Then, just when his pursuer reappeared, Rob saw a taxi headed his way. He ran out into the street waving his arms madly. The cab pulled to a stop beside him. Rob yanked open the back door and clambered in.

“Where to, mac?” the cabbie said.

“I don’t care,” Rob said as he slammed the door. “Just drive.”

“It works better if you tell me where we’re going.”

“Anywhere. Downtown. Just go, okay?”

Rob looked out the rear window and saw the blond guy closing in on the cab fast, pulling the gun from under his jacket.

“Holy Murphy,” the cabbie said and punched the accelerator.

The blond guy receded into the distance as the cab sped away. Rob slumped into the seat with relief.

“What was that about?” The driver asked. “You know that guy with the gun back there?”

“He’s the one who gave me all these bruises.”

The cabbie flicked on the dome light and adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better look at Rob.

“Man, he laid some beating on you.”

Rob winced as his knee started complaining bitterly. “You got that right.”

“You need me to take you to a cop station or something?”

Rob considered once again whether this was a good idea, then rejected it for the same reasons as before.

“No, I’ll be all right.”

“So where you wanna go then?”

“I don’t know. For now you can head for the Back Bay.”

The driver turned off the interior light.

All Rob wanted was a quiet place to lay low and rest up—somewhere no one would think to look for him. His apartment was definitely out, and now that he thought about it, Dysart’s place wasn’t much better. Rob discarded the idea of going to a motel; he had seen too many movies where people were tracked down because they used their credit card.

He wondered what Stan would do when he got to the convenience store and Rob wasn’t there. Nothing he could do about that now except call Stan later and explain. Which reminded him, he wanted to return Kirsten’s call too.

That was it. No one would think to look for him at her place. He hadn’t been there in a long time. Lesley would freak, but then it wasn’t any of her business anymore.

“I know where I want to go,” Rob said.

* * *

Tim felt like he was floating away. He had waited so long for this moment. Lesley’s lips were every bit as delicious as he remembered, maybe more so given the ferocity with which she returned his kiss. He could taste the tears from her cheeks and feel the soft warmth of her chest on his.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the kiss was over. Lesley pulled back and her eyes opened wide, as if she was awakening from sleep. She crossed one arm over her chest and wiped at her cheek and mouth with the other hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Tim tried a reassuring smile.

“Don’t be.”

Lesley’s hand fluttered down from her face to join the other arm.

“I’ve got to … excuse me.”

She picked her way past the mess of glass and water on the floor and disappeared in the direction of her bedroom.

Tim felt like jumping in the air and letting out a huge war whoop, but Lesley obviously wasn’t in the mood for war whoops. He settled for a huge grin and a small fist pump.

Tim looked down at the mess. His socks were soaked. He stepped carefully to one of the few dry spots on the floor, took off his sodden socks and used a hand towel hanging on the front of the stove to dry his feet. The broom and dustpan turned out to be in the front hall closet. He used the dustpan to gather the glass fragments into a pile then scooped them into the garbage can he found under the sink.

“Do you have some rags or something to wipe up the water?” he called out loudly.

She appeared with her face dried and looking more composed. She pointed at a column of drawers next to the refrigerator.

“Third one down,” she said.

Tim pulled out a towel and began sopping up the water. Lesley picked up Tim’s socks.

“I’ll throw these in the dryer for you,” she said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Tim said, but she was already gone. By the time she reappeared the floor was dry.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” Lesley said.

Tim finished wringing the towel for the last time and set it beside the sink. He turned and leaned on the counter.

“No problem.”

“I feel really stupid,” Lesley said. “I can’t even make coffee without messing it up.”

Tim wanted to walk over and hold her again, but he knew that would push his luck way beyond what he could hope for. Instead he picked up the box of chocolates from the counter.

“Maybe these will help,” he said.

He walked to the kitchen table and sat down. Lesley followed suit and watched dejectedly while he opened the box. He set it between them and picked out an almond swirl for himself.

“Look,” she said, “about the kiss. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I’m just not dealing with things very well right now.”

He reached over and patted her hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He popped the chocolate in his mouth.

She did the same and they both luxuriated in the chocolate taste for a few moments.

Lesley’s phone rang. She made no move to answer it. After the second ring, Tim said, “Aren’t you going to get that?”

She shook her head. “It’s probably another reporter looking for an interview. They’ve been phoning all day.”

Tim grinned at her. “You have to admit, there’s some poetic justice in that.”

“Don’t remind me. Now I feel bad for everyone I’ve ever pestered. It’s no fun being on this end. Before you showed up I was packing some things so I could go over to Stan and Sheila’s and escape.”

Tim felt a stab of anxiety in his gut. He didn’t want this visit to end. And Lesley would be harder to reach if she was under the noses of her aunt and uncle.

“Won’t the reporters call there too?” he said. “After all, they must be bugging your uncle just as much as you. Worse, maybe.”

Lesley shrugged. “Could be, but at least they won’t be after me.”

Tim sighed. How could he turn this around? Then an idea occurred to him—an inspired idea.

“I could use a getaway too,” he said. “I’m just completely walloped by everything, and the reporters will probably catch up with me soon. How about the two of us get out of town for the weekend?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lesley said.

“It’ll be great. We could go somewhere quiet and get our feet under us again.”

“Like where?”

Tim’s spirits soared. He liked talking about
where
better than
if.

“How about up near home,” he said, “on the other side of Worcester. My uncle has a cabin out in the woods that no one uses this time of year. Has a decent kitchen, plenty of beds to choose from. No reporters will bug us there, that’s for sure.”

He looked at her hopefully.

* * *

Rob swayed with dizziness as he negotiated the concrete walkway. The cab had dropped him off on the street corner, several hundred yards from the house in which Kirsten had an apartment. The short walk was nothing compared to the running Rob had done, but he was reaching his limit.

The back yard was just as he remembered it, with the cedar hedge on one side and a picket fence stained brown across the back. An exterior wooden stairway zigzagged up the back of the house and provided a separate entrance to Kirsten’s third floor apartment. Rob slogged his way up the stairs and knocked. The inner wooden door opened and through the glass Rob saw Kirsten’s eyes widen in surprise. She pushed open the outer door.

“Rob! My God! What happened to you?”

“Long story. Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

She stood aside looking horrified as he walked in.

“You’re drenched,” she said. “Were you mugged or something?”

Rob kicked off his sneakers and then had to lean against the wall as another wave of dizziness swept over him.

“Come sit down,” Kirsten said, leading the way into the kitchen.

Rob followed her and dropped gratefully onto the chair she pulled away from the kitchen table. He put his elbows on his knees and held his head until the dizziness passed. When he lifted his head he saw Kirsten hovering nearby looking like she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She wore a terry cloth bathrobe over white pajamas with tiny pink roses. Her feet were bare.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Rob said. “You’re all ready for bed.”

“I was just watching TV.”

She opened a drawer next to the sink, pulled out a washcloth and wet it with warm water. He held up a hand for the cloth. She ignored it and started dabbing gingerly at the cuts and bruises on his face. Rob was too tired to argue. He closed his eyes and moved his head obediently to one side and then the other in response to the gentle instructions of her fingertips.

“Oh, man,” Kirsten said. “Who did this to you?”

He started and drew his breath in sharply when she touched a gash high on his forehead. She pulled the cloth away.

“Sorry,” she said, and then went back to work.

“I don’t know who he was.”

Kirsten moved to the sink and started rinsing blood from the cloth.