No Return (23 page)

ANNA THREW HER ARMS AROUND HIM AS HE
walked through the door. “What did they want?”

“It was a joke,” Wes said.

Her face scrunched together. “Joke?”

“Well … not so much a joke.” He told her about the anonymous tip.

“That’s just weird,” she said.

“No kidding.”

“Couldn’t the police have asked you about it here?”

“They wanted me to hear it. They were hoping I could identify the caller.”

“Could you?”

He shook his head. “No. Whoever it was disguised their voice.”

“What did the police say?”

Wes hesitated, then decided to tell her about Andrews’s insinuation that he might be involved with the other crimes.

She stared at him dumbfounded. “You’re leaving out the punch line, right?”

“I wish I was.”

“That’s stupid. You didn’t have any—”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. Right now I just want to take a shower and crawl into bed.”

He went into the bathroom and began to take his shirt off.

“Lars called,” Anna said. She was standing in the doorway.

Wes immediately tensed.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“I’ll bet he does.” He tossed his shirt on the floor.

“He was acting funny, too,” Anna said.

“Not surprising.” He put some paste on his toothbrush and started to brush his teeth.

“Well, he’s calling back in fifteen minutes.”

He pulled the toothbrush out. “Then he’ll have to leave a message, because I’m not talking to him.”

“I kind of promised you would,” she said sheepishly.

“You what?”

“Sorry. Didn’t think it would be a problem.” She paused. “But it was a promise.”

Wes groaned. “Fine!”

He took a quick shower, and had just pulled on some clean clothes when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he said.

“Wes … it’s Lars. Look, first off, I’m sorry about this morning.”

“Fine. Forgiven. Thanks for calling.” Wes started to pull the receiver away from his ear.

“Wait. That’s not why I called. Are you still there?”

As Wes raised the phone back to his ear, his cell vibrated in his pocket, indicating he’d gotten a text. He ignored it and said, “For the moment.”

“Anger aside, what I took you to see today—”

“I don’t want to talk about what we saw.”

“Sure. I get that. All I’m asking is that you give me a moment.”

Wes’s phone vibrated again. Annoyed, he pulled it out. There were two texts, but what caught Wes off guard was that they were both from Lars.

As he accessed them Lars said, “I know you’ve meant well, that your questions about Adair are only because you were concerned …”

Wes read the first message.

Phones bugged. We need to talk
.

“… can appreciate that. And as I said before, your mistake was understandable …”

The second message read:

Will be behind hospital. 5 mins
.

“I hope I’m making sense,” Lars said. “You understand what I’m getting at?”

Wes hesitated. “I think so.” Once more his phone buzzed.

Careful u r not followed
.

Wes paused, thinking.

“Are you still there?” Lars asked.

A further moment of silence, then Wes made a decision and said, “Yeah, sorry. The shoot, the crash. You’re right, it’s been very stressful. And seeing Adair’s body today? I don’t know, I think it kind of freaked me out.… I guess what I’m saying is I think I probably misremember the crash. I apologize for any trouble I caused you, and I promise I won’t bring it up again.”

“It’s not easy seeing a man die,” Lars said. “It didn’t help that you weren’t able to get him out of there in time. But, in truth, you did all you could. Thank you for that.”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re right.”

“I’ve gotta run, but I’m glad we were able to talk.”

“Yeah. Me too. Take care,” Wes said, then hung up.

“Is everything okay?” Anna asked.

He was breathing deeply in and out, trying to calm down. “Everything’s fine.”

She was about to ask another question, but he held his finger to his lips. She looked at him, confused. He motioned for her to follow him, then led her into the bathroom. There he carefully closed the door, and handed her the phone so she could read the texts from Lars.

When she finished, she looked stunned. “Bugged?” she whispered. “Is he serious?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back.

“Are you going to meet him?”

Wes nodded. “Yeah. If he’s lying, I’ll know soon enough.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“He’s only expecting me. I don’t know how he’ll react if you come along.”

The look on her face made it clear that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything when I get back.”

She continued frowning, but nodded in resignation. “I’ll wait here. But call me if something changes.”

“I will.”

When she kissed him, he could feel her concern.

“Be careful,” she whispered in his ear.

“HE JUST LEFT HIS ROOM,” THE MAN IN THE
sedan said. “No, alone. The woman’s still inside.… Hold on.”

The man watched Wes Stewart move down the walkway that ran along the motel. Stewart had already passed his motorcycle, so the man assumed he was heading for the Escape. But instead of getting into the SUV, Stewart turned down the passageway that led toward the swimming pool and interior courtyard of the motel.

“I think he might be going to visit one of the other people he’s here with.… No, can’t see him anymore. But he’s done this before. He’s usually back within thirty minutes.… All right. I’ll stay where I am.”

The man returned his attention to the door of Wes’s room.

AFTER WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE DESERT
Rose, Wes jogged across the back edge of the large, empty field that separated the motel from the hospital, and into the hospital parking lot. Two minutes later he found Lars sitting in his pickup near the entrance to the emergency room.

Wes opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

Lars was gripping the steering wheel, looking left and right, tense and agitated.

“What the hell’s going on?” Wes asked.

Lars snapped his head around. “Did anyone follow you?”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re sure no one saw you leave?”

Wes shrugged, surprised by Lars’s seeming paranoia. “I don’t think so. I snuck out through the back.”

Lars seemed to relax just a fraction. “Okay. Good. We might be all right.”

“Lars, what’s going on?”

Lars put a hand over his face and sighed. “We need to go now.”

“Go where?”

Lars looked at the seat behind them. “It’ll be tight, but you’ll fit behind the seat.”

Wes glanced at the gap between the top of the bench seat and the back wall of the cab. It couldn’t have been more than five inches. “You want me to get back there? Why?”

“Because I can’t get to where we need to go if anyone knows you’re with me.”

“And where’s that?”

Lars looked at Wes. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

There was uncertainty in Lars’s eyes. “Things …” He looked away for a moment, then back. “Just get behind the seat, okay? You’ll understand everything soon enough.”

Wes put a hand on the door handle, thinking this might have been a mistake.

“Please,” Lars said. “We trusted each other once; I’m asking you to trust me again.”

Wes hesitated. They
had
trusted each other once. But in the past few days, his old friend hadn’t given him much reason to do it again. Still, there was something in Lars’s eyes, in his voice, something that hinted at the Lars Wes used to know. “The minute I think you’re trying to pull something, I’m out of here.”

“Deal.”

They got out of the truck and flipped the back of the bench seat forward. Though the space at the bottom was wider than at the top, it was still going to be a tight squeeze.

“I can move it up a few inches, but that’s about it,” Lars said.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

Once Wes was lying down, Lars disappeared for a moment, then returned with an old, dark blue blanket from the bed of the truck.

“Just in case,” he said as he spread it over Wes. “You okay?”

Wes pushed the blanket off his face so he could breathe. “Never been better.”

Lars swung the seat back up. For half a second Wes thought it was going to smash him in the nose, but it stopped a half inch short.

There was absolutely no padding in the space behind the seat. Just metal sticking out at odd angles, digging deep into his back. And dirt, there was plenty of that, too.

“I’m going to move the bench up,” Lars said once he’d climbed behind the wheel.

A clunk, then a metallic groan as the bench slid forward, giving Wes about two more inches.

“That’s as far as I can go.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt luxurious compared to what it had been like moments before. That was until they started driving, and Wes wished Lars had left it where it was. The extra space allowed Wes to bang against the objects sticking out of the wall instead of being snug up against them.

At first he tracked their location by the turns they were taking, but he quickly got lost. So he closed his eyes and tried to think of something other than bruised kidneys. A few minutes later the truck rolled to a stop.

“Keep still and don’t say a word,” Lars whispered.

Wes heard the window crank down, then felt the hint of fresh air.

“Lieutenant Commander,” a voice said from outside. “I have a message for you. Hold on just a moment.”

They were on the base, Wes realized.

A moment later the voice of the guard was back. “Here you are, sir.”

The crinkle of paper was followed by a “Thank you” from Lars.

As the truck started moving, Wes could hear the paper crinkle again, then Lars swore. “He knows something’s up.”

“Who does?”

“Just stay quiet. And … and if we get pulled over, make sure you’re covered and keep still. I’m already in enough trouble as it is. If they find you, it’ll be a lot worse. For both of us.”

Wes knew that was true. He’d been snuck onto a military base. God knew how many federal laws that violated. Just getting caught would probably get them both at least a couple of years in prison.

Lars turned the truck every minute or so. It got to the point where it seemed to Wes like at times they were actually going in circles. Then suddenly they sped up, made two quick turns, and jammed to a stop. Lars switched the engine off and doused the headlights.

There was a thump as Lars lay across the bench seat. Wes wanted to ask what was going on, but was smart enough to remain silent.

They stayed like that for nearly five minutes before Lars finally sat back up. Nothing for a moment, then the engine came back to life and the truck started moving again.

More minutes passed, then Lars said, “You were right before. I was supposed to meet him that night.”

Wes wasn’t following.
Meet who? What night? The night of the crash?

Then it hit him. Not the night of the crash. Another night, years ago.

His father’s day planner.
Pudge at 8:30
.

“I chickened out. He wanted my help, but I chickened out.”

“Help with what?” Wes asked.

Lars grunted, but said nothing more.

Wes asked him again, but didn’t even get a grunt this time.

Several minutes later the truck pulled to a stop and Lars cut the engine.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

The door opened, he got out, then it closed again.

Silence, both inside and outside the cab. A quiet Sunday night.

Questions about his father, and Lars, and why they would have met, swam through Wes’s mind.

Lars came back after ten minutes. Without a word, he unlatched the seat and tilted it forward, then he pulled the blanket off.

“Here,” he said, extending his free hand to Wes.

With Lars’s help, Wes struggled up, then out, every muscle screaming in pain.