The Escape Artist by Diane Chamberlain
Linc got slowly to his feet and moved around the room, picking up the scraps of paper. He opened the bottom drawer of her desk and put the paper into one of the file folders. There would be no evidence of his nudity; there was no witness to their lovemaking. He and Susanna were neighbors. Friends. Nothing more.
His knees shook, and he sat down on the bed again. "Why was I over here?" he asked her.
She looked at the ceiling. "Maybe you wanted to tell me something," she said.
"Right. I stopped over to let you know that the band would be practicing tomorrow if you wanted to work on your sketches. That's when your father showed up."
She let out a small cry and pressed her fist to her mouth. "All my work," she said.
He could only imagine the depth of that loss. He had never worked as hard on anything as she had on her drawings. He wanted to go to her, hold her, but numbness had settled over him like a sickness. It was only later that he would feel the irony of that moment. Her father lay dead at her feet, her mother lay unconscious on the other side of the room, and the loss she felt was limited to her drawings.
"We need to call the police," he said.
She nodded, her face once again expressionless. She turned, her feet leaving bloody footprints behind her as she walked down the hall toward the kitchen. And he did not move from his seat on the bed until the police came to take him away.
A pale sun cast its soft glow on the buildings of Philadelphia, and Linc suddenly became aware of the chill in the air. He turned and went back to the bed. Susanna's body radiated warmth under the covers, and he lay close to her.
Susanna. He'd thought he'd be able to bring her back with him. Persuade her, somehow. But he could see that wasn't going to happen. She was settled, she'd said. She was doing okay. He wanted that for her. Wanted her to be happy, to be safe. He was selfish to want her to be happy only with him. Today she would leave him, again. And maybe this morning would be the last morning he'd be able to look at her, feel her close to him. Or maybe he would be able to see her again sometime, and then perhaps that would be the last time. Or the time after that.
He rolled onto his back, wide awake and filled with frustration. He couldn't live this way. If she was getting settled in her life without him, he would have to get settled in his. He had never thought that he loved her more than she loved him, but right now he wondered. At least until she opened her eyes and gave him a startled smile at finding him next to her. She pulled him closer then, and began to cry.
"Can we stay here longer?" she asked. "Do you have to go back today? Can we stay a few more nights? Please?"
"I have to go back," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. He feared being gone too long. They'd suspect he was with her, maybe try to look for him. Much as he wanted her back, he would not lead them to her.
Cody began talking to himself, that little soliloquy that could go on for minutes or half an hour. It made Linc smile to hear it again. It felt good to smile after the torturous thoughts of the last half hour.
"Can I ask you about something?" Susanna wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "Your advice?"
"Of course."
"Well, something weird happened." She smoothed her hand over his chest. Her voice was still thick. "I bought a computer," she said. "I bought it from a store, but it had been used by someone before me, so I got a really good price on it. When I got it home, I discovered that the person who owned it before me had left a file on it. I called the store to tell them, but they didn't seem to care. So I made a copy of the information in the file and then erased it from the hard drive. And forgot about it. Then a few weeks later, I heard about a bombing at a law firm in…the town where I'm living. I recognized the name as being in the file. I looked at the file again. It was a list of "—she lifted the blankets and started to get up—"here, I'll show you."
He watched her walk across the room to the table. Her body looked a little like a stranger's from the back. She was thinner, and the long pale hair was missing. But when she turned around, the shape of her breasts, the curve of her waist, was completely familiar, and he lifted the blankets to hurry her back to bed.
She slipped in next to him, shivering, and he rubbed her bare skin. She'd brought two folded sheets of paper back to the bed with her, and she held them above the blankets so he could see them.
"Oh!" She suddenly lowered the papers face down again. "You'd see the name of my town."
"Let me see," he said. Unwise though it may be, he desperately wanted to know where she was living.
She hesitated only a moment longer before raising the papers again. "See?" she said. "It's a hit list. This woman was killed in an explosion. And this law firm was bombed too. Both of them on these exact dates."
Annapolis. All the addresses were in Annapolis. But she had lost him. "Wait a minute," he said. "You're saying this is a list of people that the previous owner of the computer somehow knew would die?"
She nodded. "Not just die. Be killed. This first woman opened an express mail package left on her porch and it had a bomb in it. Then someone at the law firm opened an express mail package, and it too had a bomb in it."
Cody's babbling was getting louder, working its way toward his angry, I-want-to-get-up sounds.
"That's insane," Linc said. "It's probably some sort of coinci—"
"It's not, Linc. The packages weren't mailed; someone simply left them there for the victims to open. How can it be a coincidence that on these dates and at these times, two separate bombings occurred, killing the people on this list? Well actually, at Sellers, Sellers, and Wittaker, an attorney and a receptionist and her two children were killed. I don't know if they were meant to be the targets, but—"
"What does this 'two children, two adults' mean?"
"I have no idea. But anyway, I'm stuck. As you can see, the next date is November thirteenth, and I can't just sit by and let this guy get blown up. I've been trying to figure out what I should do. I think my best bet is to send a letter anonymously to the police, but it scares me. If I explain how I got the information, then could they trace me through the computer store? Or—"
"This sounds way too dangerous," Linc interrupted her. "I think you need to forget it. Wash your hands of it. Pretend you never saw this list."
"But I have seen it."
He ran a hand through his hair. She was right. He'd never be able to turn his back on something like this. He couldn't ask her to do so, either.
"Is there any way the person who had the computer before you could know you have it? I mean, could you be in danger?"
"I don't think so. The salesperson at the store didn't even write down my name when I called back. And the person who had the computer before me probably thought they'd erased the file. Why else would they have turned it in with something so incriminating on it?"
"I don't know, but this is bad news." He didn't like the dilemma she was in. "Maybe you could send the information to the police without any explanation…or better yet, I'll send it. Leave it with me. I'll mail it from Boulder to the police in Annapolis."
"No, that's out." She gave her head a violent shake. "You're always rescuing me, you know that? Susanna was a weak and needy person. I'm trying to be stronger, now."
It was odd to hear her talk about herself in the third person. "I don't think of you as weak and needy," he said.
"And besides, if you sent the information to the police and they somehow traced it to you, how would you explain it? With your record, they'd never believe anything you said and you'd be back in prison again."
He wasn't certain if her reasoning was on target, but the thought of prison was enough to make him back down.
"All right," he said, "but let's do it this way. You leave this copy of the list with me, and if you can't figure out a safe way to get the information to the authorities, let me know. Fax me again, and sign it S.T.U. Downe. And then I'll take care of it."
She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. "Okay. But promise
"Promise."
Cody started to cry.
"Let me get him a bottle," Susanna said.
He watched her get out of bed, slip on her robe, and disappear into the bathroom with Cody's bottle and the can of formula. He looked at the list of names and addresses again. Annapolis. He suddenly wished he didn't know where she lived. It made it harder somehow, imagining her with a new life in a new place. He'd been to Annapolis once as a child. He remembered it vaguely as a picturesque little town.
Susanna walked back into the room and leaned over the side of the crib to give Cody his bottle.
"Tell me about your life in Annapolis," he said.
"No." She dropped her robe and climbed under the covers again. "It makes me nervous that you know I'm there."
"Well, come on. Now that I know you are there, I might as well know the rest of it. What kind of place are you living in? What are you doing for work? Have you made any friends or do you keep to yourself?"
It was a moment before she answered. "I live in a house that's divided into a downstairs, where my landlady lives—she's a massage therapist—and two apartments upstairs," she said. "I rent one, and another woman, a writer, rents the other. My landlady and the writer are both very nice." She shivered, and he put his arm around her.
"I expected to keep to myself," she continued, "and that might have been the best plan, especially if those postcards show up with my picture on them. But I've made some friends in spite of myself. And I'm self-employed. Doing word processing. I've gotten a few jobs through my friends and I designed brochures and sent them to a bunch of businesses."
"Wow." He had to admit he was surprised at how well she was doing. She had truly created another life for herself, and that thought did not entirely please him. She'd left him behind a bit too easily.
"And—you'll love this—I'm taking painting lessons from an artist who paints murals around town."
"Really? I'm proud of you," he said, but he could hardly bear the sudden jealousy burning in his chest. Exactly how complete was this new life of hers?
"Is there a man there?" he asked.
She hesitated, and he thought his question had been unclear. He was about to reword it when she answered him.
"The artist," she said. "Yes."
He hugged her tightly. "Shit, shit, shit."
"Please don't be angry or upset or …. I'm sorry, Linc." She rolled toward him and smoothed her hand over his cheek. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I know you and I can have nothing more, at least nothing permanent. And I'm not in love with Adam, not that way, but he's a good friend and we—"
"I'm not angry." He closed his eyes and couldn't speak for a minute, and he felt her rest her head on his chest as she waited out his silence. She knew him well enough to do that, he thought. Knew him better than any other woman ever could. And now she was happily keeping company with an artist in Annapolis, in her brand new life.
"I'm amazed you even took the time to come here to see me," he said.
She sat up, eyes blazing, and he knew he deserved her anger. But instead of chastising him, she began to cry again.
"Linc, I love you," she said. "I listen to your damned show every Sunday night, no matter what else there is to do. I live for it, okay? Is that what you need to hear? It's the truth. I cry when I hear your voice. I miss you. It probably was dangerous for me to meet you here, but I did. I had to see you. I'll meet you anywhere I can, anytime. I want to be with you. But I can't be with you and have Cody too." She touched his arm. "I understand how you feel, Linc. I'd feel terrible, too, if I thought you were sleeping with someone else."
He winced. She was already sleeping with the guy. Shit.
"And besides, I've told the artist about you."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Not who you are specifically or why I had to leave you, but I've told him that you exist. That you're still very important to me. I've told him that so he understands why I can't get serious with him right now. And I think the same is true for him. His whole family was wiped out by a drunk driver. Wife and two kids. It was only seven months ago. So we're two lonely, miserable people. Please don't be upset. Please—"
"All right." He raised his hand to stop her. He didn't want to hear any more. She had already humanized the bastard. It was easier to think of him as some faceless, nameless guy with no past and no future.
She lay down next to him again, her arm across his chest. "I don't want to end our time together on this note."
Neither did he. He kissed her, but knew the kiss would go nowhere. He couldn't possibly make love to her again. Not now. He could hold her, though. Hold her and tell her he loved her. Tell her he admired her for being able to start over.
When he returned to Boulder, he would have to find a way to start over himself.
–29–
"So, I'll fax you every once in a while and sign it S.T.U. Downe," Kim said on the drive to the Philadelphia airport, "and maybe we can work out some sort of code for you to use to send messages to me in your show."
"Maybe," Linc said. He was quiet this afternoon. Kim couldn't get a smile from him. She didn't feel much like smiling herself. In a few minutes she would drop him off at the airport, and then what?
"Do you think we could meet like this every so often?" she ventured.
Linc let out a sigh. "I don't know, Suze." He reached over to take her hand from the steering wheel and hold it on his thigh. "The way I feel right now…I wonder if we've only made things harder on ourselves by getting together."
His words hurt her. "It was worth it to me," she said softly.
He raised her hand to his lips. "I'm not saying it wasn't great spending time with you. But I guess I had a fantasy that you'd come back with me. My hopes were high, and seeing you only makes the fall that much steeper. Besides, you have a new life and a new—"
"There's no comparison." She was starting to feel panicky. "The only thing that's better about my 'new life' is that I have Cody securely with me."
"But the reality is that you do have a new life, for better or worse. If you ever want it to be normal, if you ever want to have a relationship with another man, the artist or whomever, how are you going to see me? Think you can find some guy who'll understand that you want to spend a weekend with an old lover every once in a while?"
She wished she had not told him about Adam. He was right, of course. She could not have a serious relationship with another man and continue to see Linc on the side. But she had no plans for that sort of relationship.
"And frankly, Suze, if I should meet someone I want to get serious with, I'm not going to be able to, in good conscience, leave her alone while I go have a tryst with you."
The road blurred in front of her eyes. "You're really angry with me," she said.
He didn't answer for a moment. "I'm angry at the whole situation," he said.
She pulled into the turnoff for the airport, and neither of them said anything as she approached the terminal. He'd told her he didn't think she should come in with him on the off chance that someone might recognize him. Unlikely, but it had happened before.
There were other cars jockeying for a position next to the curb and it was a minute before she managed to find a space herself.
Linc turned to her. "Don't get out," he said. He leaned over and pulled her into his arms, kissing her. "I love you," he said.
"I love you, too."
She watched as he got out of the car. He opened the rear door to get his suitcase, and leaned over to plant a kiss on Cody's cheek.
"I'll miss you, Cody." He looked over the seat at Kim. "He's a beautiful kid," he said, but before she could respond, he backed out of the car and shut the door behind him.
Her heart tightened in her chest as she watched him walk into the terminal, and she remained parked in the drop-off zone until a uniformed officer told her she had to "keep moving."
In a few minutes, she wa
She reached Annapolis after nightfall, and the house was dark when she pulled up out front. Ellen's car wasn't in the driveway nor was Lucy's at the curb.
There was an almost wintry nip in the air as she unbuckled Cody from his car seat. The little boy was tired, and she carried him and her suitcase up the walk to the house.
She couldn't manage both Cody and the luggage on the stairs, so she left the suitcase on the front porch. She'd get Cody into bed first. His head was lolling against her shoulder and he would be out before he hit the pillow.
At the top of the stairs, she started to put her key in the lock, but stopped short when she saw that the door was not completely closed. She stared at it for a minute, trying to remember. She distinctly recalled closing the door and locking it behind her when she left on Saturday. She remembered the feel of the key in her hand as it turned in the lock. Maybe that memory was from some other time she'd locked it? No. She definitely had left this door locked.
She hugged Cody tighter, trying to still her trembling. Had the private investigator finally caught up to her? The FBI?
She touched the door lightly with her fingertips, and it creaked open a few inches more. She peered inside. Her apartment was dark except for a pale glow on the wall of the dining area, probably from the streetlight outside. There was no way she could make herself walk into the living room. Instead, she grabbed the railing and ran down the stairs as fast as she was able to with Cody in tow.
She half expected to see the PI's car pull up in front of the house, but except for her own car, the street was still empty. She forgot about her suitcase on the porch. Instead she quickly loaded Cody into the car and drove two blocks to the nearest pay phone. She dialed Adam's number.
"Adam, it's Kim," she said when he answered.
"You're back."
"Yes. But I went to my apartment and I think someone might have broken into it. The door's unlocked and I'm afraid to go in by myself. I'm calling from a pay phone."