Part 18 (1/2)
Up ahead, Hayes took an abrupt right turn. Raymond fell out to pa.s.s the car ahead of him, putting that vehicle between him and Hayes's line of sight as they drove past the bisecting street. If Hayes followed his previous pattern, the right turn would be followed by two lefts, then a right back into this street. Child's play, Raymond thought.
”Did you see anyone?” Karen asked as she and Marc climbed into their rental car.
”I spotted a red cap. I suspect he let me see him, because I haven't been able to pick him up since.” He shrugged out of his lightweight jacket, which he had worn only to cover the pistol clipped to his belt, and tossed it into the backseat. Otherwise, he was dressed in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, and so was Karen. She didn't remember exactly which box she had placed the papers in; they were going to have to dig around in the storage unit in the hot sun, and it had seemed wise to dress as comfortably as possible.
”While we're here, I want to call Detective Suter. Maybe I can pick up some more of my clothes. I need to check on Piper, too, and let my supervisor knowa”how long will I be gone, by the way?”
Marc reached for her hand. ”We'll talk about this after we find that box, okay?”
He didn't think even that much contact would be safe, until this was over. She squeezed his hand. She had been trying to hide how nervous she was, but she didn't know how good a job she was doing. Logically, she knew she probably hadn't even been traced to New Orleans yet, much less back to Columbus. She had the key to the storage unit on her keychain, so she didn't have to retrieve it from her apartmenta”or, rather, Marc didn't have to retrieve it. If the police hadn't completed their investigation, the apartment would still be secured. He probably wouldn't ask the CPD for permission, but neither would he have let her be the one to go in.
They were safe. She tried to tell herself that. They could slip in and out of the city without anyone knowing she was there, except for Mr. McPherson and the man he had following them.
”You're worrying,” Marc said. ”Stop it.”
”I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I've put you in dangera””
He gave a bark of laughter. ”Darlin',” he drawled, ”if you hadn't turned up in New Orleans yesterday, I would already be at your apartment this morning. Not only would I be very upset, but if anyone was watching your apartment, he would have made me for sure. Get the tag number, call the rental company, and he would not only have my name but my address.”
Despite her worry, Karen caught her breath at the way ”Nooawlins” sounded when said in that black magic voice of his. If Piper ever heard him, she might b.u.mp Karen off herself just to clear out the compet.i.tion.
The traffic was heavy, the pace slow. The summer sun glared at them from a milky sky. She watched Marc drive, marveling at how physically fascinating she found him. She felt almost sick with apprehension, and yet that somehow intensified her fascination. She studied his hands, strong and well shaped, the way he gripped the steering wheel. His wrists were twice as thick as hers, and small, almost colorless hairs glinted in the sun. What if something happened to him? What if this were the last time she would be able to watch his hands move, study his profile, reach out and touch him?
She couldn't let herself think such things. He was a cop, though, thank G.o.d, he wasn't in narcotics or on the SWAT team, where his life would be at risk on a daily basis. But as a cop, a homicide detective, he obviously dealt with people who were capable of killing other people. Murder was what he saw every day, and at any time a suspect could turn on him. She couldn't hamper him emotionally by letting herself get paralyzed with fear every time he went out the door.
”On the other hand,” he said, ”maybe we should talk about it now.”
”What?” She blinked at him, not quite following.
”The entire situation. Your job. Let's get this out in the open. I don't want you living in Columbus while I live in New Orleans, not even for a little while.” He slanted a quick look at her, gray eyes brilliant. ”And maybe I should wait until I can get down on one knee, but I think now is the time. Karen, will you marry me?”
Her heart leaped into her throat. ”Yes,” she said. Then, ”Take this exit.”
He obeyed, glancing over his shoulder to check the traffic before easing into the right lane and then taking the exit ramp. ”I know I'm rus.h.i.+ng you, not giving you time to get used to me, to the idea of a steady relations.h.i.+p. But I don't want room for any misunderstanding, either. We can have a long engagement, if you wanta”but I don't want you to live here. I want you in New Orleans. Specifically, my house.”
”Okay.” She could barely speak. Funny. She had expected they would get married eventually, perhaps even soon, but hearing him actually say it out loud was a shocker.
”Okay?” he echoed, giving her another of those fast glances. ”Is that all you have to say?”
”Well, I could say I love you.”
He muttered a curse under his breath, then very evenly said, ”Yes, why don't you?”
”I love you.”
Another curse, one that turned into a laugh. He looked at her. She was grinning. ”I love you, too.”
She touched his arm, wanting to throw herself at him. He was the most considerate man she'd ever met, and the h.e.l.l of it was he was so d.a.m.n alpha. She hadn't known the two qualities could blend together so wonderfully. There he was, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with testosterone, a gun-toting macho cop, who danced with her on a balcony and prepared breakfast for her.
”Do you mind moving to New Orleans?” he asked.
”No,” she gently rea.s.sured him. ”I'll miss my friends, but I don't have any family here, or a house. I can be a nurse just as well in Louisiana as in Ohio. You have roots and that marvelous old house in New Orleans. Of course, I'll move there. Besides, I would hate for you to lose your accent. Turn left at the next traffic light.”
”I don't have an accent, honey. You do.”
”If you say so. But if you by chance meet Piper, don't open your mouth, or your chances of getting out of Ohio go down drastically.”
He smiled and winked at her. ”You'll protect me.”
The words reminded them both of why they were here, and the smile faded from his face. Karen blew out a deep breath. ”What if we don't find anything here? What if the papers are justa papers, with nothing important in them?”
”Then I'll keep working on the case, and so will McPherson. Between the two of us, we'll figure this out. In the meantime, however, you will be in a safe place. Not my house, not for much longer. I'm not in the phone book, but h.e.l.l, there are a hundred different ways of getting someone's address if you really want it, and most of them aren't that difficult.”
”How rea.s.suring. Turn right two blocks down, at the McDonald's. The storage company is about five miles down that road, on the right. Buckeye Stockit and Lockit. There's a sign. Turn just past the sign, into the center alley.” She paused. ”Is that guy following us?”
”I haven't seen him.” Their shadow would have removed his baseball cap, because red was so noticeable, but Marc hadn't been able to pick up a particular car behind them, eithera”and he had been watching. He hadn't been driving fast, hadn't made any sudden turns, so he should have been able to spot him. Either he was remarkably good, or Marc had inadvertently lost him.
They didn't speak again until Marc turned at the Buckeye Stockit and Lockit sign. The gravel alley separated twelve sections of storage units, six sections on each side. Chain-link fencing surrounded each section, accessible by a numbered gate secured by a combination lock. ”Gate number three,” Karen said, pointing. She opened her wallet and looked at the combination, which was changed each month and which she always wrote down and stuck in her wallet. ”Six-four-three-eight.”
”I'll get it,” Marc said, stopping in front of gate three and getting out of the car.
He unlocked the padlock and swung the gate open, then slowly drove down the row of storage units. ”Number one fifty-two.” Karen pointed at it and took out the padlock key.
They both got out of the car, and Marc took the key from her. After opening the lock, he slid back the lever that kept the door from being raised, then bent and caught the handle and lifted the overhead door with a rattle of metal.
The smell was musty but not, she was thankful, mildewed. Her throat caught as she looked at the boxes, the pieces of furniture. Her mother's bedroom suite, all her clothing, the other things Karen hadn't had room for when she moved.
Marc lifted one of the boxes down. Taking out his pocket knife, he neatly sliced through the sealing tape.
Hayes checked his rearview mirror, then, at the next intersection, made a hard left turn, barely missing the oncoming traffic. Behind him, nothing happened.
He grunted in satisfaction. If there had been a tail, he'd lost it for certain. There was no way he could have been followed after that turn, not without a lot of tires squealing, horns blowing, and maybe some metal contact.
Time to find this storage place.
Chapter 20.
All the packing boxes were neatly labeled, but Karen couldn't remember in which one she had placed the smaller box. The first box Marc opened held Jeanette's clothing. She carefully took out each garment, trying not to think of her mother, blinking fast when her vision blurred, and then folding and replacing all the clothing when the search came up empty.
”I thinka”I think I already had the boxes packed, and all I did was set the other box on top of the stuff already there.”
”Then we won't have to dig through the entire box. All we have to do is open each one and see if the small box is there.”
”Theoretically. I was still pretty much in shock at the time. I'm not certain what I did.”