He felt a sudden urge to do something that-from the age of ten-he had never done of his own volition with an adult woman. He wanted to open his arms to her.
But then the memories came pushing and shoving their way into his awareness, and the desire passed.
“Yes,” he said, “I’ve missed you.”
She smiled up at him, and he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
“This must be Malibu week in Albuquerque,” she said. “You’ll never guess who I saw making out with his girlfriend in the tram.”
“Who?” he asked sharply.
“What’s wrong?”
He tried to keep his voice calm. He was thinking of the ones who killed Molly, though, and the incident at the hotel, and wondered if the FBI had ever been watching Meghan, or if his suspicions were right. “If you saw someone from Malibu, I don’t think it was a coincidence.”
“It was just Freddy,” she said. “You know, Freddy the Fourth.” She said it lightly, but he could tell that she had started to worry, too.
“Where is he now?”
She looked around. “I don’t see him. Probably with the group of hikers he was with. By the way, where’s Spooky?”
“In the women’s room. Listen, I’m going to take a look around, to see if I can find him, just to make sure he’s actually going on the hike. Would you mind going into the women’s room and waiting there with Spooky until I figure out where he is?”
She was studying him in the way she used to study him when he was a teenager. Assessing something he had told her, sorting out for herself whether or not it was part of his craziness. “Okay,” she said. “But what if-what if something happens to you?”
“Nothing will happen to me,” he said. “I’m not going to confront him unless he tries to hurt you or Spooky. In fact, I don’t want him to know I’m here, if I can help it. I just want to try to figure out what he’s up to.” He described Spooky and what she was wearing. He then asked Meghan to describe what Freddy was wearing.
“And the girlfriend? What did she look like?”
She told him, then said, “Now that I think about it, she was dressed for hiking. He wasn’t really, was he?”
“I’ll find out.”
She came with him as he hurried to the table and collected his jacket and Spooky’s, and paid for the drinks. He gave Spooky’s jacket to Meghan.
He also wrote a quick note to Spooky on a cocktail napkin and gave it to Meghan.
“Don’t let her intimidate you,” he warned.
She laughed. “I won’t.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Be careful,” she said, and walked off. He watched until he was sure she had safely entered the women’s room. He waited another minute, just in case Spooky came bounding out in rebellion. He didn’t even hear raised voices, though, so he made his way to the restaurant entrance.
There, he approached the woman who was seating newly arrived customers. “Mr. Logan,” she said, smiling at him. “I saw your friend arrive. So did all the men in the place. Is your party ready to be seated now?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “But I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave without dining.” He took two one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and gave one to her. “Someone may come in and ask for Ms. Taggert-his name is Fred. He’s an old boyfriend who has followed her up here. Rather than make a scene in the restaurant, I’d like to treat him to dinner. That’s what the hundred’s for.”
“Generous of you,” she said. “I don’t get it, though.”
“He might try to tell you that he’s her brother. He may even claim that he’s with the FBI.”
“The FBI!”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it? He may even have some realistic-looking ID. If he says that he’s with the FBI, offer to verify that with the local FBI field office, and I think he’ll take the next tram downhill. But if he says he’s her brother or gives his own name, please seat him at my table-without letting him know I’m here, please. Perhaps you could pretend she’s been waiting for a gentleman to join her, and tell him the table’s hers and that she’ll be right back?”
The hostess laughed and erased “Logan-3” in her reservations book, then replaced it with “Taggert-2.”
He smiled and gave her the other hundred. “That one is for your trouble.”
“Mr. Logan-that’s not necessary.”
“No, I know it’s not. So you don’t need to feel bad about taking it. One other thing-could I use the service road?”
“No problem.”
He told her to watch for a young man with light, short hair, blue eyes, and wearing an aviator jacket. “He might be wearing sunglasses,” he added.
“Indoors?”
“Oh yes.”
He hurried outside.
Kit stood still and listened. Meghan said Freddy was with a group of hikers, and now he heard the voices of a group of people gathering to the left of where he stood. He walked around the building until he saw them. He casually approached one of the men who seemed to be a group leader and began asking questions.
A moonlight hike. Yes, it was a big group, but they had another fifteen who had started a little later and would probably be coming up on the next tram. Yes, a hiking club based in Albuquerque. Freddy? No, he didn’t think there was a Freddy in the group.
After waiting to make sure his little boyakina wasn’t going to come back toward the tram platform, Frederick entered the restaurant, looking self-assured. He achieved this by asking himself, “What would James Dean do in this situation?”
The answer came to him immediately. James Dean would be cool. You would look at James Dean and say, “That guy is so cool, I will give him whatever he wants.”
He walked up to the hostess, who was smiling delightedly at him, and said, “Ms. Taggert is waiting for me-I’m her brother.”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes twinkling. He wondered if he should have used the FBI routine instead, but then the hostess said, “She’s been waiting for you. Let me take you to her table.”
He couldn’t believe how easy this was. But as they neared the table, he didn’t see Meghan.
“She just went to use the ladies’ room,” the hostess said. “She said to tell you that she went ahead and ordered, and that you should do the same while you wait for her. Shall I send a server over?”
He ordered a beer and said he’d wait until he saw Meghan before he ordered anything more.
“Coming right up,” the hostess said.
He could make women happy, he decided, just by smiling at them.
Spooky was making faces at herself in the mirror when Meghan came into the restroom. She quickly stopped and turned to frown at Meghan.
Meghan could see how it was that Kit had mistaken Spooky for a boy. Three years after he had found her in a men’s room, she still looked as if she could have walked into one without causing anyone to doubt that she belonged there.
“You’re Meghan,” Spooky said, and went back to making faces.
“Yes. I have your jacket.”
Her face squished between her hands, she looked at Meghan and said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I have a note for you from Kit.”
Spooky raised a brow, then crossed her arms. “Let me guess. ‘Dear Spooky, Get your ass out of the bathroom. Now that Meghan is here, we can finally get on with life.’”
“No, but-I’m sorry, am I making you late for something?”
Spooky said, “To take a dump. Excuse me, I have to use the can.” She closed herself into a stall.
Meghan didn’t think it likely that Spooky had delayed bodily functions on her account, but since Kit wanted them to wait in here anyway, she didn’t object to this part of the drama. In fact, she was glad they’d get the business of meeting each other over with, without Kit hovering protectively in their midst as some sort of referee.