Shadow Woman (38 page)

“A nice, sporting way of
saying I’m dead.”

“We’ll both be dead.
I’m trying to tell you we haven’t won any rounds. They
had you in Denver, until the policeman got in the way. They had us
twenty minutes ago, and that poor man took the bullet. They haven’t
got you, but they haven’t exactly missed yet, either. It’s
important to remember that. In a few minutes we’ll be in
Bigfork. There are cops on the road there now, and more on the way.
We could stop, tell them our story, and they would take over.”

“You mean give myself up?”

“You haven’t
committed any crimes. They would protect you, beginning in four
minutes. In a day or less, you could be a thousand miles away,
telling the Justice Department what you know about Pleasure, Inc.
They would keep you safe, at least until you testified in court.”

“Yeah, but what then?”

Jane threw up her hands and let
them rest on her lap. “I can’t be sure. Probably they
would do what I did: give you fake papers and a plane ticket. You’d
be a protected witness. I’ll be honest with you. They’re
very, very good at protecting you until you testify. After that
you’re a drain on the budget and not much use. At that point
you come back to me and I’ll try again.”

“I can’t go to the
police,” said Pete.

“You said that when I met
you. Now is the time to be sure.”

“There are three men who
own Pleasure, Incorporated. I know enough about all of them to get
the cops a warrant to investigate, and a few tips on specific places
to look, and I’m done. I didn’t see things happen. I put
two and two together. I heard them tell Calvin Seaver, the security
guy, someone was a problem, and then read an obituary. I saw a rough
count of the day’s take on a piece of paper, and then a lower
number on the ledger in the computer. The paper’s gone. I’m
not an eyewitness, I’m a rumormonger.”

Jane heard an edge in his voice.
“You’re not telling everything. You did something.”

“The reason I was getting
ready to leave was that I was expected to do things that could get me
in trouble. I signed receipts when I knew the count was wrong. I
deposited money that came in from side businesses I never saw, and
sent it to investors without reporting it to the I.R.S. I never sat
down and listed all the things like that, I just got out. I think the
cops could find evidence against the owners, but I know they could
find some against me. I’ll let you out of the car in Bigfork,
or anything you want, but I can’t go to the police.”

“The people you worked for
think you can.” Ahead, she could see the police cars parked at
angles in the other lane.

“I’ve been over this
in my mind a million times. They must think I saw more than I did, or
took evidence with me, or God knows what. But I didn’t. I won’t
end up in some protected place. I’ll be in a Nevada State
Prison, and they’ll hire some lifer to kill me.” He drove
past the roadblock, and Jane felt a little twinge in her chest.

Jane watched him take the turn
just before the buildings began to cluster at Bigfork. He swung onto
the smaller road and accelerated. She said, “Creston is eight
miles. Bear right again there.” She turned around in her seat
to stare out the back window. She saw a few cars go the other way,
toward Kalispell and Whitefish, and wondered if that would have been
the way to safety. The road always seemed to have forks in it, and
all she could do was pick. Maybe what she was watching recede into
the distance was her chance to ever go home again.

They were at the Creston
intersection in ten minutes, then onto 206 and climbing again, higher
into the gray mountains. At Columbia Heights they switched onto U.S.
2. The road curved around big stony outcroppings, always climbing.
Ahead were towns too small to hide in – Hungry Horse, Martin
City, Coram. Always Jane studied the map. The idea of moving around
in these mountains, where there were places to stay and everyone was
a tourist, had seemed to be a good one. But now the roads reminded
her of the chutes in a stock pen. Each opening looked at first like a
way out, but each was an irrevocable choice. The walls were too high
to jump and the animal couldn’t turn around. The animal had no
way to go but forward, pushed by the ones behind it. Somewhere,
waiting at the end of the chutes, was a man with a hammer.

The hunters could see what the
map told Jane as well as she could. She could leave this road only by
two routes – along the east side of Glacier National Park and
then north on Chief Mountain Highway to the Canadian border, or north
along the west side of the park by the Flathead River on 486.

She looked more closely at the
map. Route 486 stopped at the Canadian border. There were no little
flags there to indicate a point of entry, as there were on the Chief
Mountain Highway. She couldn’t risk choosing a road that might
lead to a dead end with a fence across it. She turned the map over
and studied the little detailed map of the area on the back.

The map showed Route 486 ending
at the border. It showed the customs checkpoint on Chief Mountain
Highway. But the checkpoint had a note under it in small black print.
“Closed September 15-May 15.” After September 15 there
was only one way to Canada by car.

Jane looked at Pete, driving the
car along the highway.

He seemed to feel her gaze. He
turned. “What?”

“Take the entrance to
Glacier National Park at West Glacier. If there’s a store in
any of the towns before then, stop there.”

“Do you have it figured
out?”

“I think I know a way out
of this, if that’s what you mean.”

“Whatever it is, I like it
better than your last idea about the cops.”

“Wait and see.”

*
* *

By
five in the morning, Linda had searched the house as thoroughly as
she dared with Carey sleeping behind the closed door at the end of
the upstairs hallway. There seemed to be nothing lying around
downstairs that could tell her more than she already knew about where
Jane was or what she was likely to try next. The pads by the phones
had no useful jottings on them, and darkening the top sheet with a
pencil revealed no impressions that Linda could read. There seemed to
be no weapons hidden where she could find them, no papers that would
give her the false names Jane and Hatcher were using. When she began
to fear that Carey would wake up, she retreated into her guest room.

She told herself not to worry.
She had not failed completely. She had given Earl the name of the
town, and if Earl caught up with them at Salmon Prairie, it didn’t
matter what they had been calling themselves: they were going to be
John and Jane Doe. But she had not come all this way and worked this
hard to get into Jane’s house only to have Jane’s husband
push her out again.

The thought made Linda’s
throat contract in an angry gulp. Somehow Carey had become the worst
part of this job for Linda. The thought of him made her sick with
humiliation and regret. She had used every opportunity to show him
that she was available. Could he be so stupid that he had not
understood? No, that was just a way of salvaging her pride. She had
even given him an eyeful of what was being offered.

She looked in the mirror above
the dresser. It was so unfair. That body was absolutely perfect. Her
face was captivating. How could he go scuttling down the hall and
lock himself in his room like that? Jane could not possibly be
prettier than Linda was.

She walked to the telephone by
the bed and forced herself to concentrate. First she looked in the
telephone book and tried dialing a few numbers. She settled on one
that belonged to a restaurant that sounded too fancy to serve
breakfast. It rang twenty times before she hung up. She copied the
number and began to dress.

At six thirty, Carey knocked
quietly on the door. Linda stopped at the mirror, checked her hair
and makeup, and then opened the door.

“Good morning,” he
said. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

She gave her best smile. “You’re
not. I don’t sleep in an evening gown.” She made her eyes
twinkle. “As you know.”

Carey glanced at his watch.
“It’s six thirty…”

Linda’s brows knitted in
apologetic distress. “I’m afraid I’ve got another
problem, Carey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been calling
the impound lot since quarter to six, and they’re not
answering. Didn’t the sign say they opened at six?”

“I’m pretty sure
that’s what it said.” She could tell he was trying to
look as though he were hiding his worry, but what he was hiding was
irritation. “When did you call last?”

“A minute ago. I know you
have to be at the hospital by seven…”

“Let’s try it again.
The only place for a phone is in that little building, and they could
be out on the lot.” He stepped into the guest room with her and
picked up the telephone. “What’s the number?”

She handed him the little pad
from the telephone where she had written down the number, and he
dialed. He let the phone ring longer than she had, and finally hung
up. “It doesn’t really mean they’re not open. I’ll
drive you there, and if nobody’s around, you can always get a
cab at the hospital.”

“Can I make another
suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“They’re sure to be
open by nine or so, right?”

“I would think so.”

“Then it would make me
happiest if you would just go to work. I’ll call a cab to pick
me up here at eight. If we’re both wrong and the place is
deserted, the cab can keep going and take me home. That way you don’t
leave some patient waiting on a gurney. Better still, I’m not
left on the street in an evening gown in an unfamiliar city. And I’m
not seen driving back to the hospital wearing last night’s
clothes with a married man whose wife is out of town.”

She could see that the
suggestion had the desired effect. It contained reasoning he could
follow, and it also gently reminded him of what could have happened.
He seemed flustered as he shrugged. “I’m sorry.
Everything seems to have gotten complicated.” He was fiddling
with his keys. He handed her one of them. “Would you mind
locking up when you go? You can just pop the key into the mail slot
in the front door.”

She took the key. “No
problem.” She touched his arm. “And I’m the one
who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to be this much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,”
he lied.

“I’m very grateful,”
she said. “More grateful than you know.”

He backed away from her
gratitude toward the stairs. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh, Carey?”

He stopped. “Yes?”

“I promise this is the
last thing I ask. But do you think you could lend me something of
Jane’s – an old pair of jeans and a sweater or something?
Just to get me home.”

He seemed surprised, then
reluctant, but as she had expected, he did not know how to refuse.
“Of course,” he said. “I offered last night and
then forgot. I’m sorry. Her closet is in the master bedroom.
Take what you need.” He hurried down the stairs and out the
front door.

At two thirty, Linda Thompson
dialed the telephone and heard the machine in her suite come on. She
pressed the two-digit code and listened while the machine rewound.
She could tell there was something on the tape. There was a click,
and Earl’s voice came over the line.

“I picked them up at
Salmon Prairie and followed them as far as Swan Lake. I drilled a man
through a restaurant window from five hundred yards. Felt pretty good
about it until I saw their car pull out of the lot with them in it.
They took off to the north. They could be heading to Canada. Lenny’s
with me, and we’re going after them. When you find out where
they are, leave a message on the machine at home. As soon as I’ve
heard it, I’ll erase it from here.” There was a loud
hang-up sound, and then a beep. Linda put the receiver back on the
cradle. Earl had not said “If you find out.” He had said
“When.”

Linda felt a shiver of fear that
started in her shoulders, crept down her spine, and shot back up
again. She could tell from the chill in his voice that he thought he
had figured out exactly what Linda had needed to do to find out about
Salmon Prairie.

That made Linda feel afraid
again. His voice had sounded cold and detached on the answering
machine, and that was very bad. He was resenting her for it, and
Earl’s resentment was always acted out.

She was in trouble. She had not
done what he thought she had done, but he was going to punish her for
it. And here he was, sending her back for more, knowing deep inside
that he was going to hate what she did this time even more than the
last, and he was saving it all up.

The telephone had not rung since
Jane had called from Salmon Prairie. Carey knew nothing more recent
than that, so no matter how devious Linda was about asking him where
his wife was now, he couldn’t tell her. She would have to buy
time.

The best way would be to stay
very close to him – move in with him, so she would hear the
telephone ring and he would tell her, not because she had asked but
because he wanted to. And the only reason he would want to tell her
was to convince her that his wife was still very far away, that she
was not about to burst in the door and find Linda with him. If Linda
hoped to accomplish that, then she would have to make Carey want very
much to keep her near him. Last night she had been sure she had him.
He had not been as adventurous as she had anticipated, but there was
no question he had been tempted.

Linda lay back on the bed and
tried to coax from her imagination ways to make Carey interested in
her. There was a special kind of titillation in the images she
conjured, because even as she planned, she could feel Earl thinking
about her on the bed with Carey and getting that strange combination
of jealousy and arousal that was most exciting to her. Linda knew
what her punishment was going to be, because she was going to submit
herself for it.