She used her free hand to stroke his hair. “I think the hike helped me to start thinking a little more clearly. Your parents weren’t Russian spies, were they?”
He shook his head. “They’re alive.”
“And that was also bullshit about your grandmother, right?”
He nodded. “She’s dead.”
She sighed. “If my usual ability to pick men is at work here, you’re also out of a job and completely broke.”
“I have ninety-five dollars.”
She laughed, and he found himself laughing, too. He dried his face again.
He came to a quick decision. “I’m-” He started to give her the full title, but then said, “I’m Frederick Whitfield. What’s your name?”
“Vanessa. Vanessa Przbyslaw.”
For a moment he was distracted. “How do you spell that?”
She told him.
“Okay, Vanessa, here are three things that are true. One-I have no wheels at the moment, and I don’t want to tell you why not. Two-my plane leaves at six tomorrow morning, and I have got to be on it. Three-I’d like to spend the hours I have left here in New Mexico with you. Can I go home with you?”
She studied him for a moment, then said, “Why am I going to say yes?”
“Because I remind you of James Dean?”
She laughed again and said, “Okay, that’s as good a reason as any. Come home with me, James Dean, and I’ll cook you a late dinner.”
He kissed her long and hard. As he did, a practical consideration occurred to him. All his condoms were in his wallet and luggage-and these were in the possession of Meghan and the Albuquerque police, respectively. “Know of an all-night drugstore we could stop at on the way home?” he asked.
He decided she really was pretty when she blushed.
He stood on the threshold of her apartment, holding the paper sack from the grocery store, staring in amazement. It was a small place, nothing special in its layout or location. But the décor was completely unexpected.
She watched his face and said, “If you wanted turquoise and beige and howling coyotes and cacti and all that goddamned Southwestern shit, you went home with the wrong woman.”
The apartment, in the middle of Albuquerque, probably eight or nine hundred miles away from the nearest ocean, was covered with nautical paraphernalia. A fishing net covered one wall, and attached to it were a life buoy, driftwood, shells, starfish, an oar, and other objects of the sea. At one end of the living room, there was a large aquarium.
“I like it,” he said. “But…”
“But why is it here in New Mexico? Because I’ve promised myself I’ll live near the water again someday, and this reminds me of that promise. I grew up near the ocean, not far from Portland, Maine. I’ve sailed since I was seven. I’m not saying there isn’t great stuff here, but I miss the water.”
“Okay, then why live in Albuquerque?”
“I came here with my mom four years ago. Her doctors told her she needed to live in a dry climate. I moved with her to help her out, and got a job here.”
“She lives with you?” he asked uneasily.
“Not now. She’s in a hospice.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He moved nearer to the aquarium.
“Freshwater,” she said. “Can’t afford a saltwater aquarium at the moment.”
“I live near the Pacific,” he said. “Have you ever seen it?”
“Not yet. I will someday, though.”
“You really know how to sail?”
“Yes.” She grinned as she walked into the kitchen. “Later on, I’ll show you some knots.”
They ate dinner on placemats made from nautical charts. Spaghetti sauce from a jar. To his own amazement, he liked it.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll repay you for all this trouble, you know.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m serious. I might surprise you, you know. Maybe I’ll come back and take you away from New Mexico. You know, take you sailing in the Pacific-Hawaii, Tahiti, Bora Bora-something like that. I’ve got some business to finish up, so it might take a while, but-oh, that reminds me-could I get your number again?”
“Lost it already, huh?” But she wrote it down again. “Here’s to the Pacific,” she said as she handed it to him. “I put my e-mail address on there, too. Get in touch with me if you need help, but no obligation otherwise.”
After sex, he usually wanted nothing more than to leave a woman’s bed as soon as possible, so perhaps out of habit, he got out of Vanessa’s bed and walked over to watch the fish for a while. He thought she would probably complain or ask him to hold her-women always whined to him about the “just hold me” thing. But she didn’t, and after a few minutes he found he wanted to go back to the bed and hold her anyway. She felt good alongside him.
He kept waiting for her to make some demand, but she didn’t. And she didn’t like him because of his money, or because he drove a sweet ride, or because of some expensive place he had taken her. He hadn’t done any favors for her. He had lied to her and kept secrets from her, and she knew it. But instead of slapping him or screaming at him, she had fed him, provided him a place to stay for the night, and given him what he had to admit was the most incredible sex he’d ever had. She talked a lot, and she was a little weird, but he decided he was kind of attracted to her because of it.
At first, he figured it might have been that she was just so hard up and horny that she would have gone home with anyone. But he had changed his mind about that.
Over the last couple of hours, he had escaped his own troubles by listening to her, and he had come to the conclusion that she had no social life. Even so, she wasn’t looking for a relationship, because she wasn’t going to stay here, and she didn’t want more complications in an already complicated life, or to bring a lover into the picture while her mother was dying.
She had told him that her dad had dumped her mom and married some young bimbo when Vanessa was in high school, and had basically forgotten that he had a daughter. Frederick considered looking him up and beating the shit out of him for doing that. If her father had stuck around, maybe he would have protected his daughter from guys like Frederick.
He traced his fingers along her spine. “You should be more careful, Vanessa. Don’t go taking any more strangers home, okay? For all you know, I could be dangerous.”
“Of course you are,” she said drowsily. “Nothing’s more dangerous than a lonely man. They cause most of the trouble in the world.”
She fell asleep, but he lay awake for a while, thinking about that. He was dangerous, but he wasn’t lonely, he told himself. Women liked him, and he knew how to play them. She ought to understand that-like her-he just didn’t really want to get involved with anybody right now.
That’s the way it had to be. If a man was involved in something really important and secret, he had to be free. Frederick knew he had done things that Vanessa couldn’t even imagine, and he wasn’t about to tell her about them. Because of Project Nine, he was going to keep having adventures and living on this incredible edge, feeling that adrenaline.
Everett understood his need to make his mark on the world. Everett had never failed to understand him completely. Without Everett, he would have been just another useless rich kid. Another Sedgewick loser.
No, he wasn’t lonely, he told himself. She was wrong about that.
He sighed. Women really didn’t know anything about men, but they were always full of so-called insights about them. He pulled her closer and fell asleep.
24
Near Flagstaff, Arizona
Tuesday, May 20, 10:35 P.M.
Spooky was engrossed in examining the contents of Frederick’s wallet, a pastime she had engaged in several times over the last few hours.
Some people play license plate bingo, Kit thought, and we play with twice-stolen identification cards.
Meghan, who had slept for the last few hours, stirred awake and smiled at him. She stretched and sat up. “Do you want me to drive?”