Chapter 3 #2
Harry was watching her, trying to concentrate on her words instead of the timbre of her voice, feeling slightly light in the head. Maybe this woman was like one of those Greek sirens whose voice alone was enough to make sailors crash into rocks? Jesus, he wouldn’t be surprised. “And then?”
She huffed out a breath and got a closer clutch onto her backpack, nervous system tightening up.
“The next day they found that guy’s body.
The drunk one who’d talked. I heard it on the early morning news.
It was made to look like a mugging but I don’t think he was the type of man to be caught by surprise like that.
They found his body by the side of the road with a bullet through his head and all his money and credit cards gone. ”
“What was the calibre of the bullet?”
Her eyes opened wide. “I beg your pardon?”
A lot could be told by the calibre, but she wouldn’t know that. “Never mind,” Harry said. “Go on.”
“It was just too much. I—I guess I freaked. I didn’t go to work that day, didn’t even call in sick. I just—didn’t show up. Which was stupid, because anyone who knew me, knew that was unusual for me.”
“Hard worker,” Harry murmured and her head came up with an expression of pride.
“Yes, I am. I’ve never taken a day off sick and I’ve been working since I was twelve.
” She shook herself. “Anyway, I thought all night about going to the police, but the thing is the local police chief is a really good friend of my boss’s, and a lot of the cops practice free shooting on his shooting ranges.
My boss makes a point of contributing very generously to the Family Survivor’s Fund.
They would never believe me, not in a million years, not without proof and I didn’t have that.
When the news came on about Drunk Guy being killed, I realized right then and there that I was going to have to go to the police or I’d be next.
And then I happened to look out the window at a van parked across the street from my condo entrance, and men started pouring out.
They were armed and they were Ge--my boss’s men. ”
Harry froze. “What did you do?”
“I ran,” she said simply.
Ellen could clearly remember the bright blinding panic flaring in her head when she saw the men spilling out of that van.
Pure instinct took over. She didn’t even stop to think about what she was doing.
She didn’t pack a suitcase, didn’t do anything but grab her car keys and the thousand dollars she always kept in cash in an ancient copy of Pride and Prejudice and run down the back stairs to the laundry room, where there was an underground corridor exiting onto the back parking lot where she kept her car.
She drove to the most eastern ATM she could think of, withdrew as much money as the system would allow, then turned west and began the long long trek to the furthest point she could think of, Seattle.
“You ran,” Harry Bolt repeated thoughtfully. His deep voice was quiet and calm.
She nodded. “I knew I had to keep off the grid because my boss—my former boss—is good at finding things out. That’s one of the things he does.
And I knew he wasn’t going to ever just forget about it.
I think—" Ellen lifted her eyes to Harry Bolt’s and searched his face, looking for something elusive.
Some sense that he would understand completely and totally what she was saying.
She found it. She drew a deep breath. “I think he’s the kind of man who will keep looking for me until I’m dead. Can you believe that?”
“Absolutely,” was the quiet answer.
Okay. Okay. Maybe this was going to work.
“I drove at night and slept in motels during the day. Sometimes I stopped for a week or two and waitressed in places where they don’t ask for documents.
Finally, I made it to…a city in the north.
I rented a room in a rough part of town.
I paid cash, no questions asked. The landlady wasn’t about to report my rent to the IRS.
After a couple of days, I found a job as a waitress in this dive.
I gave the boss a false name and I didn’t show him any papers.
The owner was—was good to me. I think—I think he understood. ”
Mario Russo, one of life’s good guys. Big and rough-looking, with only inches of visible skin not covered by tribal tattoos.
He ran a funky bar frequented by an astonishing variety of humanity, but he didn’t water his drinks, he didn’t ask questions and if you behaved, you could stay forever in his place on one beer. Particularly on cold days.
Though he didn’t have to, Mario paid her a little over minimum wage, which with tips was enough to pay for her room and keep her. He never asked questions, paid every Friday night, and was always somehow there if a customer got a little rowdy with her.
“About a week after I ran, I found out that—" Her throat constricted and she swallowed heavily. As always when she thought about it, her stomach seemed to slide greasily up her windpipe.
Ellen watched Harry Bolt watching her. Again, he showed no signs of impatience as he waited for her to continue her story. Not a muscle in his body moved. She suddenly had a flash of insight—he’d wait for her to tell her story in her own way, no matter how much time it took.
Up until now Ellen’s focus had simply been—is this man my enemy? Was she going to get herself killed coming out in the open with him?
But now she relaxed just a little and noticed other things about the man. He was so very tall, for one thing. Even sitting down, he towered above his desk. He was big with it, too, dense, lean, tightly-packed muscle with no fat anywhere. Amazingly broad shoulders, maybe the widest she’d ever seen.
Astonishing as his physique was, though, it wasn’t the first thing you noticed about him. No, what drew your attention like iron filings to a supermagnet were his eyes. A brown so light it could almost be called golden. Intense, intelligent eyes that seemed to see more than most.
“You found something out a week after you ran,” he prodded gently.
She drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I paid no attention to the news at first. I just fell into bed exhausted every evening. But finally one evening I decided to check up on what was going on back home.” Her fingers tightened on the canvas of her backpack as she tried to keep her hands from trembling.
“My boss reported to his friend, the chief of police, that I’d embezzled almost a million dollars from the company. ”
She watched his face, tense and miserable, reliving the shock of the accusation. She hadn’t slept for two days afterward.
He blinked those narrow golden eyes. “That’s ridiculous,” he said and she let out her breath in a long relieved sigh.
“Yes. Yes, it is, but he obviously made it sound convincing. There was an interview with him on the local news and he was all—we don’t know what made her do this terrible thing. Though she’s been drinking heavily lately.”
Ellen looked into his eyes and felt that hot stab of indignation all over again. “I don’t know how he could say that without a bolt of lightning striking him dead. I rarely drink and I would never embezzle. But it gets worse.”
“He accused you of being the dead guy’s lover and insinuated you killed him.” Harry Bolt said it calmly, that deep voice sure and steady, no problem, as if saying the sun rose in the east.
Ellen’s jaw nearly dropped. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Guy sounds like an operator. He had various elements to deal with and stringing them together that way took the heat off him, put it onto you, made sure you stayed in hiding and that no one would believe a word you said. Like killing four birds with one stone.”
It burned that it had been so easy for Gerald. Part of it was her own fault. She’d led such an isolated life in Prineville. He could spin any story he wanted about her.
She sighed. “So I knew I had to stay under everyone’s radar, and I did. For a year. It wasn’t much of a life but at least I stayed alive. Then, three days ago, something happened.”
“Someone else die?”
“No. Not that I know of. But it scared the hell out of me. Coming home from work I happened to notice a man loitering in front of a shop window on my street. He was dressed like a homeless person but by sheer chance, I recognized one of my boss’s new hires from a year ago.
If I hadn’t recognized him, I’d probably be dead by now.
So far I’ve managed to stay alive by sheer, dumb luck, but I can’t count on it lasting forever.
I’d made friends with the woman you know as Dove.
I never told her anything but I think she knew.
And I think she was in the same situation.
She gave me this and said that if I needed help, to call. And ask for Sam Reston.”
Ellen opened her backpack and slid a small cardboard visiting card across the table. Her hands were trembling. He saw that. Those fierce eagle eyes saw her shaking hands and she curled them back in her lap.
Harry Bolt barely glanced at it, but of course he’d know what it was. Not a normal business card.
The top of the card had a beautifully-rendered bird in flight, the very epitome of freedom in few brush strokes, and a telephone number printed in the center of the card. Nothing else. No words. No name, no address. Just the symbol of flight and a number.
The number didn’t correspond to any of the official numbers of RBK Security, either. There was no other information on the card. Just the stylized bird and a number without a prefix. Which she’d called. One of the company’s secretaries had given Ellen the city and address when she called.
It was a special phone line. Obviously the line for desperate women on the run.
Bolt watched her carefully. “Do you have any idea how these men might have tracked you down?”
Here it comes, she thought. “Yes, yes I do, unfortunately. You remember I told you I worked in this bar? More of a dive, really?”
He nodded his head gravely.