Whispers in the Dark (15 page)

I locked the bathroom door, turned on the water in the shower, stripped, and stepped in. I shampooed twice, scrubbed at my skin, and then just stood and enjoyed the luxury of hot running water. After a while, I started to feel guilty about using up that much water in the desert. Averaged over a week, though, my water usage wasn’t much. When I got out, I ignored the beach towel I’d brought in favor of one of the fluffy black ones sitting on the counter.

I hated to keep Sean waiting, but it felt so luxurious to be in a real bathroom after days of camping. I’d been on the road for over a week on the trip out, mostly cleaning up at highway rest stops, and the cold trickle after the softball game hardly counted as a shower.

The least I could do was try to make the wait worthwhile. I put on the dressiest clothes I had brought with me, a body-skimming black T-dress that stopped just short of my knees, and leather sandals. I didn’t have a hair dryer and doubted Sean did, but I checked under the counter. No hairdryer and no cleaning supplies, either, nothing but toilet paper, which backed my theory about a maid service. With difficulty, I resisted the urge to look in the medicine cabinet. I arranged my hair the best I could, packed up my things, and stepped out to the bedroom.

Before I opened the door to the living room, I paused and took a closer look at the bedroom. The apartment seemed oddly impersonal, more like a fancy hotel suite than a lived-in home. I could understand a lack of plants or pets if he had to travel a lot or just didn’t like the responsibility. But my own apartment screamed “Kylie.” Books and magazines in every room, on almost every surface. Bottles from my childhood excavations on the windowsill. Photos of friends on the refrigerator. A carved wooden bowl full of fossil shells, pottery fragments, and my own badly carved obsidian arrowheads.

Sean’s apartment said almost nothing. Maybe he hadn’t lived there long. Maybe he really lived in a dump and had rented this place for the night to impress me. I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to marry the guy; I didn’t need to hunt out his secrets. I was pretty sure he wasn’t the man of my dreams, but I could still enjoy the evening.

Sean stood when I entered the living room. “Wow. You look great. I didn’t think there was room for improvement.”

I laughed. “Knock it off. You’re not trying to sell me anything.”

“No, I mean it. Which makes it even harder to tell you what I have to.”

I noticed that the coffee table now held a plate, a glass of water and another of wine, and three takeout containers. At first I thought he’d decided on an “intimate” dinner at home, instead of the promised Italian restaurant, probably so he could make a pass at me sooner. But then it hit me that the table was set for only one person.

Sean gave a sheepish smile. “I got a phone call while you were in there. I have to go out for an hour on business. I’m really sorry, but it’s my most important client.”

“I thought you set your own hours.”

“Mostly, but I’ve been trying to set this up for ages. I didn’t expect it to happen tonight, but I really can’t pass it up.”

I stared. He was backing out on our date now? “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me? Please?” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I won’t be long. Make yourself completely at home. Watch TV, listen to music, eat dinner. I’ll be back as soon as possible and we’ll go dancing. I’m sorry, but I’ll try to make it up to you. All right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He laughed and leaned down to kiss me. I resisted the urge to turn my face away but didn’t kiss back.

He stroked his fingers down my cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice, and I’m sorry about that. But it will be all right, I promise. Don’t be mad.”

Easy for him to say. I could have canceled our date and just stayed at the campground, but no, I didn’t want to be rude. Now this. But what was I supposed to do? Insist he take me home immediately and make him miss his deal anyway? Make him pay for a cab? I hadn’t even had dinner, and I was hungry. I sighed. “Just an hour, you’re sure?”

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. You think I’d rather be with some grumpy businessmen than with you?”

He pulled me close and leaned in for another kiss, but this time I did turn my head. “You better get going, then.”

“I’ll hurry.” He grabbed a briefcase, winked, and headed out the door.

I threw myself onto the couch. This had to be the stupidest date ever. All dressed up and no place to go. My stomach grumbled, so I explored the food. Not bad. I hesitated over the glass of wine. I had a policy not to drink anything if I hadn’t seen the bottle opened. Date rape was a lot harder to prove than stranger rape, especially when drugs were involved so the victim couldn’t fight back. I was probably just being paranoid again, but I pushed the wine aside and went to the sink for a fresh glass of water.

I finished the food. All of it. Sean had probably assumed that since I was little, I had a little appetite, but I’d been active all day. Served him right if he came home hungry and found nothing left.

I flipped through some of the stations on TV but wasn’t in the mood for mindless entertainment. I turned it off and paced the living room. Then I started to smile. He had told me to make myself at home. If that wasn’t an invitation to poke around, what was it? Maybe I’d ferret out some of his secrets after all.

Chapter 16

Obviously Sean had money, which wasn’t a bad thing, but the personality of his apartment had little appeal for me. Expensive toys but no warmth, nothing personal, nothing that said he had friends or family or hobbies beyond TV and video games. He seemed to have every kind of video-game console known to man, and racks of games, heavy on the world building and role-playing types.

I tried to remember the man who had talked with such interest and enthusiasm about the Southwest on our hike, but it didn’t seem like that man lived here. Did that make Sean complex or had his enthusiasm been a lie? It wouldn’t be the first time a man had pretended interest in a woman’s work to impress her.

At first I listened nervously for any sound at the door, ready to dash back to the couch and look bored. But as the minutes passed uninterrupted, I started enjoying my role as private detective. In some ways it was like an archaeology dig—try to find clues that help you see a larger picture, without disturbing the surrounding terrain.

Unfortunately, Sean didn’t give me much to work with. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen held just enough to suggest that someone really did live there. Sean wore briefs in a variety of colors, with an expensively casual wardrobe on top. The bathroom medicine cabinet held three kinds of aftershave and the usual assortment of aspirin, mouthwash, and other basics. He couldn’t have cooked much, given the lack of pots and pans, but he had a stack of takeout and delivery menus that must have represented every eatery within fifty miles.

I opened a door off the living room, expecting a closet. I found a small office. I hesitated, as it seemed even more invasive to investigate there, but after the way he’d abandoned me, I wasn’t at my most considerate. I peeked out the peephole in the front door to make sure the hall was empty and wondered if I’d hear the elevator arriving. Then I went into his office.

Bookshelves held books on politics, probably left over from his studies, plus some true crime hard covers and rather trashy looking spy novels.

The file cabinet was locked. A safe, squatting in the corner like a metal troll, was locked. If he had personal information from his clients, it made sense to keep his records secure, but it was annoying, like not being able to get permission to excavate an area you just knew had the key to your thesis.

His desk had some business cards and letterhead with his name and address, so apparently he really did live and work there. The desk drawers held only office supplies.

I considered turning on the computer, but anyone so concerned with security would no doubt have passwords. Besides, it would be hard to get a computer shut down quickly if I heard him at the door.

I sat in his executive-style office chair, staring at the dark screen. I felt like I was missing something. Well, I was missing a lot, obviously—any clue to who Sean really was. I had a few pieces, but I couldn’t put them together. How did the man who knew everything about this region and seemed to love it fit with the rich frat boy lifestyle of a luxury apartment full of gadgets and games? Why had Sean been so attentive and charming and then skipped out on our date? Was it some kind of power play, to put me off balance, to keep me dependent?

I shook my head. I was probably getting carried away, letting boredom and my overly suspicious nature find mystery in simple boorishness.

I glanced around the office one last time and noticed a small address book tucked against the monitor. It only held a dozen entries, but then most of us kept our contacts in our phones, backed up online. I didn’t see mysterious long strings of numbers or odd sounding code names, just regular names and numbers, a few female but mostly male.

I put it back with a sigh. Snooping wasn’t as much fun as I’d expected. Sean was an enigma, but the biggest mystery was how he managed to keep the place so clean.

A sound came from the hallway. I froze for a moment, then dove for the office door and pulled it shut behind me, trying not to make noise. I leaped for the sofa and arranged myself casually, hoping I didn’t look flushed.

Voices passed by in the hall, but the door stayed closed. I slumped back, my limbs limp as the adrenaline receded. That was probably the only thing that would get my pulse going all night. I stared at the ceiling and sighed.

A minute later I jumped up and paced the room. Sean had been gone an hour and ten minutes. I was sick of waiting. I’d go out on my own. Maybe see some of the town. I might have to take a taxi all the way back to the campground, but that was better than sitting around all night. And I wouldn’t have to deal with Sean coming back all apologetic and charming, trying to salvage our date when I only wanted to be done with him. I didn’t know him, didn’t understand him, and didn’t trust him. It was time to cut and run.

I made sure I had everything I’d brought with me. My backpack was heavy, but I didn’t want to change back into dirty clothes, and the dress would look stupid with tennis shoes. I thought about leaving a note, rejected the idea, and went out. I hesitated at the door. Obviously I couldn’t lock all the deadbolts, but should I leave it entirely unlocked, so I could get back in? It would serve Sean right if his expensive toys got stolen. But I couldn’t imagine why I’d want to come back—if I needed a bathroom I’d find a restaurant or gas station, and I had my phone. I locked the door and headed out to explore the “city” at night.

I paused on the sidewalk and looked down the street. When I realized I was looking for Sean’s vehicle, I swore. While it would be easier and somewhat satisfying to have him show up while I was leaving, so I could demand to be taken back to camp at once, I was not going to dawdle or spend the rest of the evening watching for his SUV. It was time to move on.

I turned toward the greatest concentration of lights. I passed a Chinese restaurant and then a Mexican one. A copy shop, florist, and law firm were all closed. Music blared from somewhere down the street. I saw a group of chattering teenage girls and a couple holding hands. The couple smiled as they passed.

I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to go into a bar or dance club by myself, carrying a heavy pack. The sun was heading down, but the air was still uncomfortably warm. The pack weighed down my shoulders, and my sandals weren’t built for long walks.

And yet I didn’t want to just call a taxi and go home. If I was going to pay cab fare for a forty-five-minute drive, I wanted more from the evening than just a shower.

I needed a café. Someplace I could hang out, relax, and watch the world go by, all over a latte, if they had such things here. Or maybe herbal tea, so I wouldn’t be up all night thinking angry thoughts about Sean. I couldn’t remember ever being treated so rudely on a date. For all my obsession over the horrible ways an evening could end, simply being abandoned in someone’s luxury apartment had never entered my mind. Could it be part of some bizarre, manipulative plan? Even I wasn’t paranoid enough to turn the event into a conspiracy theory, though. He was just an overgrown man-child, a charming jerk who put his own needs first. Kind of reminded me of Jonathan, with better social skills when he cared to use them.

I wasn’t going to think about Sean. I certainly wasn’t going to slide into the cycle of humiliation and self-doubt that led to questions about what was wrong with me, what had I done to deserve to be treated that way. I knew better. I placed the blame squarely on Sean, and it would stay there. Any humiliation I felt was just a side effect of anger, fatigue, and sore feet.

I paused at a fairly busy intersection and peered down each street, trying to spot a café. I needed to sit down for a while, salvage the scraps of this evening, and then find a way to get back to my campsite. I looked for a familiar Starbucks sign—surely they had Starbucks, even out here? I couldn’t see one, but I’d have to cross the street to get a better angle back on this side.

A truck pulled up beside me, and its window started to go down. I figured it was some idiot going to do a “Hey baby.” I subtly reached back toward the pepper spray tucked into the side pocket of my backpack and prepared to cross the street without looking at him.