Chapter 20
Alice
Present day
Carter pulled up at the Montrose Youth Center, a block from the police station.
It was Alice’s suggestion—it was closed in the mornings, so they wouldn’t be observed.
She noticed he was careful to stop out of view of the security cameras.
It was like he dwelt in a parallel universe—she would usually make a point of parking right beside the cameras.
“Well, here we are!” he said with comic brightness, as they climbed off the motorcycle and removed their helmets.
“Here we are indeed.”
This was what she’d wanted all along. And yet… What would happen now? She’d tell the authorities the little she knew, and then sit and wait to hear what happened, which might or might not involve Carter being charged with a crime she was certain he didn’t commit?
“I notice you’re not walking away,” he said, eyeing her with curiosity.
“No, no, I’m definitely going.”
“You’re standing completely still.”
She took a step backward, and stopped. “Where are you meeting Randolph? What did your mother set up?”
“See now, if you’re going to the cops, I’d rather not tell you that. I want you to be completely truthful. I’ve already gotten you in enough trouble without adding a perjury charge. As soon as you lie to them, they can trap you. It’s how it works.”
“Oh, right. Sure. Well, I guess this is where we do the ‘Bye, nice-knowing-you, good-luck thing.’”
“Bye, nice knowing you, good luck.”
“So sincere.”
“You know, if you’re looking for an excuse to stick around,” he said, crossing his arms. “I would rather have you with me.”
“You would?”
Obviously, she sounded too hopeful, in the wrong way, because he hurriedly added, “So I can pick your brain. And so I know you’re safe, relatively.”
“You don’t have to feel responsible for me.”
“See, I have this weird habit of worrying about women who vanish from my life.”
“I’m not in that league. I’m sure you’ll find me back in my classroom before the week is out, if I still have a job after being declared a person of interest to the FBI. And if these Russians don’t get me—God, I’d forgotten about them. And the lawsuit. The lawsuit!”
“I’ve always found that the best way to deal with a problem is to get a bigger problem. Make sure the Feds know there’s been an attempt on your life. The lawyer I send can argue for witness protection in exchange for cooperation until this is resolved.”
“Witness protection? All along I’ve had it in my head that if I give myself up to the cops, I can magically return in time to yesterday, before all this happened.
The world will reset, sanity will prevail.
But … I can’t, can I? That world has shifted.
I’m never going to be able to look at bathroom faucets the same way again. ”
“You what?”
“Yesterday morning that was my biggest concern—do I buy stainless steel, zinc or chrome, or go crazy with brushed nickel?”
“Okay.”
“And I wasn’t going to go with the brushed nickel because it’s expensive. But now I’m thinking, screw it, get the brushed nickel. Is that what life is going to be like from now on? Get the brushed nickel, go backpacking in South America…”
“Have the one-night stand?”
“Exactly! Like, is this just a momentary glitch or…?”
“You’re a little young for a midlife crisis.”
“You’re right. I’m overthinking, aren’t I?”
“I like the way you think. Alice, you know when I said that yesterday didn’t rate in my top fifty weirdest days? I’m now prepared to say that this last twenty-four hours has been a legit outlier.”
“Must say I’m relieved to know that being chased by the FBI and the Russians and shot at isn’t your regular day at the office.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Carter said, stepping closer, which forced her to angle her chin up to continue to look into his eyes. “I’ve been shot at plenty of times, I’ve had to lose tails and evade authorities—though usually not those of my own country—and I’ve had epic nights with random women.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Let me finish. But there’s a thing that’s happened maybe a handful of times in my life, and that’s connecting with someone like I have with you, and I’m not just talking in bed, though that worked out pretty damn well.
I can’t claim to feel like I know you, but it feels like you get me in a way that very, very few people ever have, even after knowing me for a lot longer. Years.”
“Guess we didn’t have time for the getting-to-know-you pleasantries. We jumped right in, in a bunch of ways.”
“I’ve met people under plenty of dramatic circumstances. It’s not that. I just want you to know that I didn’t use you, or anything. Last night, it meant something. And I’d like to say that when all this is over, I’ll look you up but—”
“But it wouldn’t be the same,” she finished, seeing where this was going. “You’re right, I can’t see you spending weekends in Montrose, walking around hardware stores with me, cooking dinner while I mark essays…”
“Right now that actually sounds kinda great. I was gonna say, I won’t be in a position to look you up, if I can’t escape this. So, if this is to be bye-nice-knowing-you-good-luck…”
He reached for her hands where they rested by her sides, threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her in for a thorough kiss.
And she kissed him back like a woman who knew this was where their story ended and wanted something vivid to remember it by.
But for all that she desperately wanted to slap shut this enchanted novel she’d landed in and kick it away, she also wanted to peek at the next chapter and see what might happen if she chose differently.
Hell, she was tempted to flick to the last page of the whole book, just to check if things would work out in the end, which was something she never, ever did.
Things wouldn’t work out, of course. This moment—this was the poignant ending. Of course he wouldn’t look her up afterward. What could they possibly have to talk about if they went out for dinner, apart from dead people?
After they parted lips, he raised their linked hands and held them between their chests, his eyes hypnotically serious.
She swallowed. No. This wasn’t where she wanted their story to end.
Not just yet.
One more chapter.
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I came with you for a bit longer, just until you’ve found out what Randolph knows,” she said, quickly. “In case I can help.”
“Can’t hurt.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Probably won’t hurt.”
“I can’t help feeling that we’re not done here.
I mean, I wonder if there’s more I can do for you.
More I can tell you. All the long conversations I had with Nika…
I wish I could replay them like we can with the tapes.
There must have been other things she said that I’ve filtered out.
Maybe meeting Randolph will trigger something useful. ”
“Alice, this has to be one hundred percent your decision.”
“Then I’m one hundred percent deciding to come with you,” she said in a rush, before good sense could stop her. “After that you can drop me at the nearest police station.”
He smiled broadly. “Just say the word.”
By the time they reached Baltimore, Alice was already down to ninety percent confidence in her decision, mostly because her back and butt were aching after way too long on the bike, with just one stop for gas.
Randolph, as Carter’s Mom had discovered, was at a fundraiser in some swanky hotel near the harbor.
Carter navigated into an empty carport outside a townhouse a couple of blocks away.
“How did you know to park here?” Alice said, as they climbed off the bike. “Is it safe?”
“Mom found it. It’s a vacation rental but it’s not booked today and, as you can see, it’s out of sight of neighbors and the road.”
“And let me guess, no security cameras?”
“Correct.”
“She’s very useful, your mom.”
“Very.”
Alice raised her eyebrows, expectantly.
“She’s ex-CIA too.”
“Ah. Hence the obsession with spy thrillers. And having a lot in common.”
“Exactly.”
“Is it like in the book, otherwise? She raised you alone and you’re all she has, so she gets a little intense?”
He smiled wryly, seeing her prying question for what it was.
“More or less. But she’s all I have, too.
Hey, she’s a mom—ex-CIA or not, she worries.
There have been long periods of my life when I haven’t been able to be in touch, and she’d probably be secretly pleased if I decided to run a small-town diner and live in an apartment above it so she’d always know where to find me.
But she knows that’s not me.” He hooked his helmet onto the bike.
“Think you’d feel comfortable staying here while I meet Randolph?
It’ll be easier for me to go incognito alone, now that both our photos are out there. ”
“Totally happy to.”
Relieved, in fact. After he left, Alice settled onto a stack of cinderblocks at the back of the carport, where a gap between the wooden slats gave her a peephole of the street.
If she was going to be an infamous outlaw, she’d much rather do it from a place of relative safety.
She watched the regular people going about their regular days.
A couple of dads pushing strollers, a woman stopping to window shop at a boutique across the street, a knot of teenagers laughing over something on a phone, a woman wandering up to a parked car and opening the trunk, pushing her sunglasses up on her head.
Wait. Pushing her aviators onto her dark hair, which was tied in a ponytail. Alice would swear she was the driver of the car that had followed them in Montrose—a dark blue sedan with tinted windows, exactly like this one.
The woman looked around and Alice ducked. When Alice eased back up, the woman was tucking something underneath her jacket. Alice drew back. A gun. The trunk slammed and Alice peeped out, feeling queasy. The woman was walking off in the direction of the hotel.
That could not be a coincidence. Alice had to warn Carter. But she didn’t have a phone, and she didn’t even know his number. Could she ring the hotel and ask for Randolph? He probably wasn’t a guest there. By the time they tracked him down…
Shit.
She would have to go and find Carter herself.