26
Jane drove the Volkswagen Passat up New Hampshire Route 120 to the town of Lebanon, continued to Han-over, and turned on Wheelock Street to North Chambers Street. She drifted past the apartment at 1364, looking at the doors and in the windows. She couldn’t see Jimmy, Mattie, or Chelsea, but there seemed to be no damage to glass, locks, or latches, and no signs of anyone watching the house.
She had driven for several hours, and she had been extremely careful. She had brought two people here in separate trips over a period of a few weeks and sent a third by plane. There had never been any sign of a problem, but three was a lot of trips. All the way here she watched to be sure that no other car stayed in her rearview mirror for long enough to be following her. When she left her hotel in Niagara Falls she had looked under the car with a makeup mirror to be sure nothing had been stuck to the undercarriage or in the engine compartment, and checked again after she’d made a stop in Albany. On the way she had taken exits from the thruway four times to see who came off the ramp after her, and then gotten back on. Nobody had followed.
Now Jane drove along the streets in the vicinity of the apartment. She studied the cars parked within sight of the apartment building, looking for heads inside. She searched for any van that could hold a surveillance team, and for any SUV that reminded her of the ones that had pursued her in Ohio and on the reservation, or the one that had brought the cooler to the storage facility outside Akron. She saw high school students and their parents who had come during summer to look at Dartmouth, a number of earnest-looking graduate students, and another group, mostly young men, wearing shorts, backpacks, and hiking boots, many of them carrying hiking staffs. There was an entrance to the Appalachian Trail between a store and a restaurant on Main Street, and Hanover was a good place to stop and get a good meal on the long walk from Maine to Georgia.
When Jane was satisfied, she parked on a street parallel to Chambers so she could come out the back door of the apartment and get to her car if she needed to. As she walked to the apartment she never stopped watching for any sign that she might have missed while she was in the car.
When she reached the apartment building she looked even more carefully to see if any window held a human silhouette or the glint of a lens. She saw nothing. She rang the bell and Mattie opened the door. Mattie took Jane’s hand, pulled her inside, and hugged her for a moment. “It’s so good to see you,” she said.
Jane looked over Mattie’s shoulder. Jimmy and Chelsea came out of another room together, and Jimmy was carrying the remote control from the television set. “Jane,” he said. When the two stopped a few feet away, Jane noticed their shoulders were touching, and that they stayed that way.
Jane released Mattie. “Hi, everybody.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder and set it by the couch, then sat down. “I made the trip again because I’ve done all I can back there for the moment. It’s safer for all of us if I’m here.”
“What does that mean?” Mattie asked.
“I’ve learned some things about our troubles. I’ve managed to get what I’ve found out into the hands of a state police sergeant who’s been searching for Jimmy all this time. He’s been in the hospital but he’s sane and honest, so he’ll get the information to the people who are now running the investigation of the murder.”
“The state trooper we saw in the woods?” asked Jimmy. “The runner?”
“Yes. I did him a favor, so he owed me.”
“He let you tell him all this stuff and walk away without having you followed or anything?” said Jimmy.
“I didn’t say it was a small favor.”
Chelsea said, “So where are we now?”
“I’ve set the dogs after the people who are responsible for this mess. Now we stay out of sight for a while and give the dogs time to work.”
Mattie said, “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Jane said, “Thank you, Mattie.” She knew that refusing food would be foolish and insulting. Jane was a traveler who had genuinely just come off the trail, and Mattie was the older woman, the hostess, so she would bring out food.
While Mattie went off to the kitchen and was out of hearing, Jane said, “Maybe I’ll go help her.”
“I’ll do it,” Chelsea said, and hurried after her.
“Okay.”
Jimmy took a step in that direction.
“Not you.”
Jimmy sat down in the chair across from where Jane sat on the couch.
Jane said, “Want to fill me in?”
“About what?”
“How long has she been here? A week?”
“A little longer.”
“Not much. You know that she’s been through a whole lot in the past couple of months. And you may recall that what the police want you for is killing her boyfriend.”
“But I didn’t,” he said. “She knows that.”
“I can see she does.”
“You don’t approve.”
Jane shrugged. “I’m offering you the benefit of my skepticism. You’ll both do what you decide to do. She’s lost somebody she cared about, and afterward learned that he was a thief. The next man in her life drugged and raped her, and now he seems to be trying to find her to keep her from testifying against him. It’s not hard to look good in that field.”
“Do I deserve this?”
“No,” Jane said. “You’re a good, honest, decent man she’s been cooped up with for over a week. You’re also a victim of the same scheme that has hurt her.” She smiled. “And I guess you’re not as ugly as you used to be. She’s undoubtedly missing her mother, and you’ve even been sharing yours with her. My point is that it wouldn’t be too strange if she turned to you on the rebound just because she needs somebody who’s not a monster. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt again, and I don’t want this to end badly for you, either.”
He sighed deeply. “You’re the objective observer.”
A voice from behind them said, “But do we need one of those?”
They both looked to see Chelsea standing in the kitchen doorway. “I’m okay now. I have all my faculties. I like Jimmy and I can tell he likes me. For the moment that’s all there is. You wanted us all to get along, and we do. Just what you wanted.”
Jane said, “That’s good. It’s just that whatever living together in hiding is, it’s not normal, and it’s not permanent.”
Mattie came in carrying a hot plate. Jane could see slices of roast beef, some asparagus, and a baked potato. “These are leftovers, I’m afraid, but it’s what we had for dinner and it’s pretty good.”
“It looks better than that,” Jane said. “I’ll eat at the kitchen table.”
While Jane ate, Mattie talked about Hanover, the stores where she had found the best food, and the way the region was in the summer, with farmers’ markets along the roads to the east, and over the Vermont border to the west. The others had little to add, because they had rarely been outdoors.
As the night wore on, first Mattie got tired and went off to bed. Then Jimmy brought out a blanket and pillow and lay down on the couch.
“I guess we’ll share a bed,” said Chelsea. “If you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Jane. She glanced at Jimmy. “I guess it’s time.”
They said good-night to Jimmy, and went into the remaining bedroom. In a few minutes they were in the dark and in bed.
Chelsea spoke in a whisper. “I’m really grateful for every-thing you’ve done. I was in danger, and you fought for me. I needed to get away, and I needed a rest from being sad or angry or scared, and you sent me here. It’s been good to be with normal people in a safe place. And I’ve had a lot of time to think.”
“I’m glad.”
“I said that so you would understand what I’m going to tell you now. I don’t want to let you risk your life because of me, and then lie to you.”
“About Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“You like him more than you’ve said.”
“Much more,” she said. “I heard what you said to him. Yes, I’ve been through a lot, and then been locked up with an attractive man, and knowing his mother makes me see what made him such a good man. But if I hadn’t been through anything, and I had met him some other way, I would still feel the same.”
“I’m only interested in keeping you safe. If you both remember why you’re here, then I’ll be satisfied. The rest is up to you.”
“Thanks,” said Chelsea. “I’ve taken your advice, and I’m not just letting some guy pick me. I’m doing the picking. It’s a good feeling.” She turned away from Jane, tugged the covers up to her chin, and closed her eyes.
Jane lay in the dark, staring up toward the ceiling, where the smoke detector’s tiny red light blinked once every ten seconds. There was as much to worry about as there had been when she had started. She had, for the moment, managed to keep Jimmy, Mattie, and Chelsea alive and hidden far away from the people who were hunting them. She had kept Ike Lloyd alive, barely. She had set the forces in motion, but all she could do now was wait and see if the forces accomplished what she wanted. Maybe what she’d done would be enough.
She was exhausted from the days and nights of stalking and hiding, and the long drive to New Hampshire. It was late. After a time the slow, rhythmic sound of Chelsea’s breathing put Jane to sleep. She slept peacefully in an empty place, without sight or sound or thought.
“Jane.” It was a whisper, but it wasn’t Chelsea’s voice, Mattie’s, or Jimmy’s. “Jane!” This time she thought she recognized it. In her dream she pulled aside the covers and got up, then put on her clothes. “Jane,” the whisper came again.
Jane opened the bedroom door, walked silently past Jimmy where he lay on the couch, out the front door, and closed the door behind her. There he was. She said, “Hi, Harry. I see I’m dreaming.”
Harry stood in the shadow a few feet from her at the corner of the porch, leaning against the redbrick wall. “Of course you’re dreaming.”
Harry Kemple was the runner she had lost. He was the only one who had been found by his pursuer and killed, and his death had been Jane’s fault. Harry died about ten years ago, and he had visited her in her sleep many times since then. Harry was still wearing the bad gray-green sport coat he wore the first time she’d met him. He had made his living running a floating poker game, and the coat with elbows worn from leaning on a table and the pants with the seat shiny from sitting through the endless games were his work clothes. He had come to her in a hurry from Chicago.
Harry was alive only because at the moment when the shooters had burst in on his game and shot all of the men at the table, he had been in the bathroom. He had heard the gunshots and then the silence, opened the door a crack, and seen them. When they were gone he had come to Jane. She had taken him to the stationery store in Vancouver where Lewis Feng, a highly skilled forger, was selling identities to Chinese nationals who had fled to Canada. Feng had made a new identity for Harry. Years later, Jane had taken John Felker, another runner who needed a new identity, to see Lewis Feng. She had not known that Feng kept a written record of the identities he had sold, and that Harry’s new name and address were on the list.
Within a day Feng had been tortured and killed. A day after that, John Felker had found his way to Santa Barbara, California, and cut Harry’s throat. Whenever Jane saw Harry in her dreams, it was with his throat cut, and sewn back together by the undertaker or the coroner with a stitch that looked like the stitching on a baseball.
“Janie,” he said. “You always look so guilty when you see me.”
“I am guilty.”
“Sorry my being dead makes you uncomfortable. Think how it makes me feel.”
“I’ve never let that happen to anybody again,” said Jane. “He fooled me into taking him to the same person who had made your ID. I was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“What the hell.” Harry shrugged, and the coat seemed to rise and fall by itself. “Love is blind and deaf and ignorant and forgetful.”
“It wasn’t love.”
“You certainly went through all the motions. Does your husband know about John Felker?”
“He was long before Carey’s time. And you know there was no John Felker. That was just a name he made up to fool me and seduce me, and eventually, kill you and me. His name was Martin. James Michael Martin. Why are you here, Harry?”
“Because you need to be reminded.”
“Have I left something undone? Is there something I didn’t see or remember?”
“Is there something? Yes. Think about what happened to me, not what happened to you. Tonight you told Jimmy and Chelsea not to do what you did—jump into the sack with what amounts to a stranger.”
“Is that bad advice, Harry?”
“Not bad, just beside the point. What you should be remembering is what I consider the main event—my untimely death. The men who kicked down the door and killed everybody in my poker game were after Jerry Cappadocia. Mafia. The men who killed everybody, shot them through the head and chest, were hired by other guys in the Mafia.”
“Of course I remember that, Harry. How could I forget?”
“The nuggets of knowledge you should have taken home are the following. They didn’t mind killing six other human beings with Jerry. And it took five years for one of their hired killers, Felker—or Martin, as you prefer—to catch up with the seventh other human being, me. If it had taken five more years, they would have kept looking. If I were alive now, there would still be men out there waiting to cross me off their to-do list. They have what you might call a strong corporate memory.”
“Yes,” said Jane. “What I don’t know is why they’re involved in this at all. I’m almost certain that Daniel Crane killed Nick Bauermeister with the rifle that Walter Slawicky owned. I think he did it because he wanted Bauermeister’s girlfriend.”
“I’ve seen her. Plenty of guys would shoot somebody to get at that.”
“Lovely, Harry. But why would the Mafia care about a crime of passion? Why would they go looking for Jimmy?”
“Janie, Janie, Janie. Think the way they do. What do they spend most of their time doing?”
“Getting money. Extortion. Fixing games and races. Loaning money to people for huge interest. Pumping up the price of fake stocks and then dumping them. Hijacking trucks. Taking over legitimate businesses. Laundering money. Smuggling and selling drugs. Prostitution. Gambling. Murder for hire. Stealing—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. One of those,” said Harry. “Getting money is what they care about, so that’s got to be what Crane is doing for them. That’s the reason they have a stake in keeping Daniel Crane from getting caught for the murder. And now, for drugging the girl.”
“You can’t say what the stake is?”
“I know what you know. I’m not out there learning things anymore. I’m a leftover image stored in your brain. If I take a guess, it will be the same as yours.”
“Nick Bauermeister worked for Crane. Nick Bauermeister was a burglar. Maybe that’s what Crane does on the side—send out thieves and store the loot in his storage facility.”
“Not bad,” said Harry. “Would the Mafia take an interest in a whole storage place filled with stolen stuff—-electronics, furniture, watches, and jewelry? I’m guessing they might.”
“Of course they would. And that means that they still need to blame the murder on someone besides Crane,” said Jane. “They need to get Jimmy.”
Harry pursed his lips and squinted up at the dark sky. “I imagine they’d like to. The official story would be that the fugitive killer of Nicky B. came to a fitting end. But right this minute I think the one who’s in the most danger is Chelsea Schnell.” Harry turned his eyes to Jane. “Her and the one who shot one of their boys with a shotgun. But getting revenge for him would be their second choice. Take it from me, the dead are soon forgotten.”
“The hell they are.”
But Harry was gone. Only the plain brick wall remained.