Tonight I Said Goodbye (St. Martin's Minotaur Mystery) (28 page)

"Are you with Mrs. Weston and the girl?"

It seemed strange to think of Julie as Mrs. Weston now, although I wouldn't have thought twice about it a day earlier. "I'm with Julie," I said. "We're outside. Betsy is asleep in the room."

"Well, get the hell up there, get her, and get gone. When you're someplace safe and you have time to slow down, call me."

"All right." I hung up. My heart was still beating quickly, but it was no longer because of Julie. I turned back to her and saw she was standing at the edge of the swimming pool, clutching the towel to her body.

"I'm sorry," she said as I approached. She wouldn't look at me. "I can't believe I did that. I shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's my fault, so don't apologize. But right now we can't worry about it, and we don't have time to talk about it."

"What's wrong?"

I didn't want to tell her, but I had to. "My partner was at the Cleveland airport. He found out four of the Russians flew out this afternoon. They're coming here."

Her eyes went wide, and she raised a hand to her mouth. "Betsy," she said. "Oh, no." She pushed past me and ran for the hotel door. I followed, wishing I'd thought to bring my gun with me to the whirlpool. They'd been due in town at nine, Joe had said. It was nine-thirty. Plenty of time to have rented a car.

The elevator was on the ground floor, and it opened immediately when Julie pressed the button. We stepped in, and I took her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

"I need you to keep being strong," I said. "I know you're scared, but we have to stay calm. I don't want Betsy getting hysterical, and neither do you. If she sees your fear, she'll respond to it. You need to get your things together and get her ready to leave, but you need to keep her calm while you do that."

"What do I tell her?"

"Tell her the hotel made a mistake and someone else needs our room. Tell her you're tired of the scenery. Tell her anything, I don't care what it is so long as she believes it and doesn't panic."

The elevator door opened again, and we stepped out into the seventh-floor hallway. I heard Julie exhale with relief when she saw the door was still closed and didn't appear to be damaged. I used her keycard to open it and stepped in before she did, just in case someone was waiting for us. I was unarmed, barefoot, and shirtless. Not ideal combat conditions. I turned the light on and looked around the room. It was empty, and the balcony door was closed and locked. Julie shoved past me and ran to the bedroom door, opened it, and looked inside.

"She's still asleep."

"Get her up, and get packed," I said. "We need to go very quickly."

She went in to wake the girl up, and I went into the bathroom for my own bag. I'd tucked the Glock back inside it when we'd gone down to the whirlpool. Now I withdrew it, checked the clip, and set it on the sink. Ten shots in the clip and one in the chamber. Eleven ways to make someone dead, and yet I found it comforting. I wondered what that said about my life. I pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, clipped the holster on, then slipped my feet into socks and tennis shoes. My body was still damp, but there wasn't any time to waste. I zipped the bag shut and returned to the living room.

Betsy was standing in the middle of the room, bleary-eyed. She was clutching a stuffed cat under her right arm, and her left thumb was in her mouth. She looked more asleep than awake, but she'd changed out of her pajamas and into shorts and a T-shirt. I smiled at her, trying to look at ease.

"Hey, kid. Too bad we had to wake you up, but we've got to switch hotels. You can go back to sleep as soon as we get in the car."

She nodded sleepily. "Don't forget my ice cream."

" 'Course not." I walked into the bedroom and found Julie wildly throwing clothes into suitcases. She was still wearing the swimsuit. I stepped over and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Relax," I said. "Be quick; don't be panicked. Put some regular clothes on before we leave, or Betsy's going to know something's wrong and get scared."

She spun to me and grabbed my arms. "You have to keep her safe."

"I will."

"You
have
to."

"Julie," I said softly, "I will keep you safe. I will die for you if I have to, understand?"

"I'm not asking you to die for me," she said, and her eyes were wild and intense. "If they come after us, dying won't be any help at all. You'll need to kill for us. Can you kill for my daughter, Lincoln? Can you kill to save my daughter?"

Her fingers were digging into my biceps, and for some reason as I looked into her eyes I had the feeling she'd asked this question before and been disappointed with the answer. Probably she'd asked it of her husband, maybe even Hartwick. Both of them had succeeded only in dying for her and Betsy.

"I can kill to save you," I said, and she loosened her grip and nodded, believing something she saw in my eyes or heard in my voice, if not the words.

"All right," she said. "Now let's get out of here."

I went back into the living room and sat on the couch, watching the door. Both the dead bolt and the electronic lock were in place. No one was going to get in without making some noise, and if anyone made some noise I was going to shoot first and ask questions later.

"I'm tired," Betsy said, flopping onto the floor and sitting cross-legged at my feet. "I was having good dreams. I was riding a fish."

"I'm sorry. We'll let you lie down in the backseat of the car and get right back to that fish riding. I promise."

Julie stepped out of the bedroom with a small suitcase in each hand. At first I was surprised by how little she had, but then I remembered the undisrupted condition of her house in Brecksville. They'd been forced to leave as if their absence hadn't been planned, and that meant packing light.

"All set?" I asked.

"Yes."

I started to take the suitcases from her but then thought better of it. The hell with being a gentleman--if we ran into any trouble, I was going to need my hands free.

"You take them," I said, and she seemed to understand my reasoning. "Need anything else?"

"No."

"Let's go, then."

Julie had pulled shorts and a sweatshirt over her swimsuit, but her hair hung around her shoulders in damp coils. We took the elevator down to the lobby. Rebecca, the receptionist I'd flirted with the day before, looked up at us and smiled. Then she saw the little girl, and the smile turned a touch uncertain.

"Well, hi," she said. "I didn't see you this afternoon. I'm working the late shift today."

"Sorry I missed you," I said. I kept walking for the door, though. Offending a pretty receptionist was the least of my concerns right now.

"Wait," she said, and I glanced over my shoulder as I pushed the door open. She was holding a manila envelope in her hand. "I have something for you."

Had something for me? What was this? I told Julie and Betsy to wait at the door, and I jogged back and took the envelope from her hand.

"It's from Lamar," she said, looking over my shoulder at Betsy and Julie as if she sensed something was very wrong about the situation.
"He told me you'd be expecting it. He also said to tell you that you have the ugliest swing he's ever seen."

Hartwick's personnel file. After finding Julie in the whirlpool the night before, I'd forgotten all about it.

"Thanks," I said. "We've got to run right now, though. The little girl's not feeling so well, and we need to take her to a doctor." It was weak, but it was the best I had. We left.

I stepped into the street with all of my muscles tensed, as if preparing to be hit by a hail of gunfire. Instead, the street was nearly empty and as still as a rural lane. I hurried Betsy and Julie across and into the parking garage. The Contour was parked on the first level, close to the exit. I opened the trunk and tossed the bags in, then climbed inside after helping Betsy into the backseat. I started the engine, backed out of the parking spot, and pulled into the street. We'd made it.

I drove north slowly, trying to decide what the best course ofaction would be. We could go to the airport, but that would be a poor move. As soon as the Russians found we were missing, they'd immediately check the airport to see what flight we'd taken. And there was always the chance their flight had been delayed and we'd actually bump into them at the airport. That thought made me shudder. I could drive to Charleston or Columbia and try to catch a flight home from there, but I didn't want to do that, either. I decided the thing to do was keep driving through the night. I didn't have enough cash for three plane tickets, and I expected the Russians would probably have someone capable of tracing my credit card if I used it. That would allow them to know exactly when we'd return to Cleveland, which wasn't a pleasant idea.

"I think we'll drive for a while," I said. Julie nodded but didn't say anything.

"Where are we going?" Betsy asked.

"It's a surprise," I said, "but I promise you'll like it. Why don't you try to take a nap now?"

We pulled up to a red light. I glanced at the other cars around us, but their drivers weren't interested in us, just strangers in the night,
like the old Sinatra song. The red light turned green, and I moved my foot to the accelerator but then paused, suddenly feeling as if I were forgetting something. It was a feeling I frequently had after leaving a hotel, and now wasn't the time to bother with it, but I couldn't ignore the sensation. I pressed on the accelerator when someone behind me honked, and we pulled away from the light slowly, but I still didn't feel right.

"What?" Julie said, sensing my unease.

"Nothing." I shook my head. There was nothing important to be forgotten, was there? I hadn't checked out, so I'd lose the deposit on my keycard, but that was hardly a concern. Julie had never officially checked in. I had my gun, and I had Julie and Betsy. That was all that mattered.

The tape.

"Aww, shit!" I slapped the steering wheel with my hand. I saw Betsy's eyes go wide in the rearview mirror, and Julie clutched my arm.

"What is it?"

"The tape," I whispered, trying to keep Betsy from hearing. "I left it in the room."

"Where was it?"

"I slid it under the couch when you and Betsy walked into the room this morning. We left in such a hurry I forgot about it." I felt stupid. It's always embarrassing to make a mental error such as forgetting something important, but this was worse. Returning to the hotel could be dangerous. Then again, this was the mother of all forgotten items.

"We've got to go back," I said. "That tape is too important."

I turned around at the next parking lot and started back. We'd gone maybe twenty blocks from the hotel, but it seemed a much greater distance on the way back. I pulled into the parking lot of a hotel across the street and about a block down from the Golden Breakers. I left the keys in the ignition.

"I'm going to get it. Stay in the car, and stay out of sight. If I'm not back in ten minutes, then get the hell out of here. Drive to some
crowded public place and call the police. They might not understand the details of your situation, but they can keep you safe."
Probably they'll do a better job of it than I am,
I thought. I climbed out of the car and started for the Golden Breakers at a jog.

Three cars were parked in the visitor spaces in the front circle; I didn't remember if they'd been there before. I pushed through the heavy glass doors and started for the elevator. Halfway there I stopped short.

The reception desk was empty. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen. How long had we been gone? Ten minutes, tops. She could have gone to the bathroom, or maybe out to smoke a cigarette. My gut told me she hadn't, though. I walked behind the desk.

She was lying on the floor, a bloody bruise swelling over the right side of her face. I dropped to my knees beside her and reached out to turn her over. When I touched her, her eyes opened and she jerked away from me as if I were the physical form of whatever evil had been dancing through her unconscious mind.

"It's okay," I said. Her eyes were foggy. They reminded me of the eyes of addicts and winos I'd seen in my days on the force, eyes that saw a world separate from reality. She started to drop her head back to the ground, but I caught it and forced her to look at me. "Where are they?"

She blinked hard, trying to come back to full consciousness. Blood was dripping from the cut on her cheekbone to my hand. I looked at it, felt its warmth on my skin, and was stirred by a seething, burning anger. She had nothing to do with this, but they'd hurt her anyhow. I removed my gun and slipped the safety off. Julie had asked if I could kill to protect her daughter. The Russians damn well better believe I could.

"Where are they?" I asked again, stroking Rebecca's cheek with my thumb, trying to keep her conscious.

"Sent 'em . . . your room," she stuttered, her eyes fluttering and rolling like pinballs. She was about to pass out again. I gave her a gentle
shake, and her eyes rolled back into focus momentarily. "I sent them to your room. They took my master keycard." Each word was an effort. "I wasn't going to give it to them, but . . . they hit me," she said, and her tone changed, as if she wasn't telling this to me but was telling it to herself and was surprised by the news.
They hit me. A group of strangers walked into this hotel and hit me.