Already Gone (15 page)

Gabby gives me directions to a private airstrip outside Flagstaff and tells me to be there by midnight.

“If something changes, I’ll call your room. Don’t go anywhere until you hear from me.”

I lie and tell him I won’t.

After I hang up, I sit at the desk for a long time and go over my options. There aren’t many left. It’s only a matter of time before the cops trace my credit card and start looking for me in Arizona, so I need to move fast.

I didn’t make this trip just to run away.

I open my wallet and take out Lisa’s card. Then I pick up the hotel phone and call the front desk. When the woman answers, I give her the address and ask for directions.

Turns out, it’s just a few miles away.

I grab the cell phone I’d used to call Gabby and walk down the stairs to the parking lot. I stop next to my car and look around for anyone who might be watching, then drop the phone on the ground and crush it under my heel. I pick up the pieces and toss them into the dumpster.

One down.

I get in the car and roll down the window. I can hear the soft rush of the river running behind the hotel, and I focus on the sound, letting it fill me before putting the car in gear and pulling out onto the street.

I follow the directions into the hills outside of town. Several of the street signs are set low and hidden by trees, but eventually I find the road I’m looking for and I follow it down a long hill that winds through a deep canyon into cool air and shadow.

The address leads me to a small brick house tucked in behind a wall of oak trees. There’s a sign out front with the same moon-and-star logo that’s embossed on the card, and when I pull into the driveway I can’t help but think about Diane coming here only a few weeks before.

I shut off the engine and get out.

The air is damp and feels cool on my skin.

There’s a rock fountain at the far end of the yard, and the sound of water cascading over the surface fits perfectly with the slow breeze passing through the trees.

I walk along a stone path to the house and climb the steps to the front door. I try to think about what I’m going to say, but nothing sounds right, so I decide not to say anything.

Today, I’m just another client.

There’s classical music playing inside the house, and it stops when I ring the doorbell. I hear footsteps, then the door opens.

The woman who answers is small in every way. She’s wearing thick glasses, and her hair is tied into two dark braids that fall forward across her shoulders. She looks at my face, and for an instant, a deep line forms between her eyebrows. Then it’s gone.

She smiles, and I do my best to smile back.

“I’m looking for Lisa Bishop.” I hold up the card. “It says walk-ins are welcome.”

“Everyone is welcome.”

She steps back and I go inside.

The house is larger than I expected. The ceilings are vaulted and cut with several skylights that give the room a cold, silver glow. There is a deep stone fireplace along the far wall, filled with burning white candles. The only furniture I see is a round coffee table surrounded by thick cushions.

“Nice house,” I say. “Are you Lisa?”

“I am.” She points toward the cushions on the floor. “If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll be right back. Would you like tea?”

I tell her I would, then she turns and disappears through a beaded curtain. A minute later I hear water running, then the delicate clink of glasses.

I walk over to the cushions, but I don’t sit down.

There are several paintings hung along the walls, mostly watercolors, desert scenes. I’m not an expert, but they look pretty good to me.

I stop in front of the fireplace and stare at a line of framed photos on the mantle. I go down the line, looking over each one, waiting for Lisa to return.

I start to move away when one of the photos catches my eye. It’s a picture of Lisa sitting at a table in a dark restaurant with an older man. They’re leaning into each other, smiling, and he has his arm around her shoulder. There’s something wrong about the photo, something too familiar, but I can’t place it.

Behind me, the beaded curtain rattles, and Lisa comes through carrying a silver teapot and two cups. She sets them on the table then runs her hands along her skirt, smoothing it out.

“I hope you like green tea,” she says.

“I’ve never had it.”

“Then I guess we’ll see.”

“Not today.” I touch the bandage on my nose. “I can’t taste anything.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Next time.”

Lisa pours two cups of tea and holds one out to me.

I take it, then motion to the watercolors on the wall.

“Did you do these?”

“Oh no.” She smiles. “They were gifts.”

“From a client?”

“That’s right.”

I almost ask who gave them to her, but I catch myself before the question slips out. I have to be careful. If I’m going to find out what Diane told her, the last thing I want to do is scare her away.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” Lisa touches the tip of her nose. “It looks painful.”

I smile. “I thought you were psychic.”

Lisa looks at me, and I can tell she’s heard that before. “That’s not the way it works.”

“Sorry, bad joke.”

She takes a sip of her tea.

“Someone broke into my house. They hit me with the butt of a gun, broke my nose.”

“My God. I hope the police found him.”

I nod. “They did.”

“Good.” She puts a hand on my arm and motions toward the coffee table. “Would you like to sit? Tell me why you’re here?”

“I think I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable.”

I set the cup on the mantle then pick up the photo of Lisa and the older man in the restaurant. Once again, the feeling of familiarity hits me, but I still can’t place it.

I hold up the photo. “Where was this taken?”

“Here in town,” she says. “About a year ago. Why?”

“It’s familiar.”

I look closer.

There’s something on the man’s face. At first I think it’s a shadow, but it’s hard to tell.

“Is everything okay?”

I ignore her and move under one of the skylights, holding the photo up for a closer look.

I was right, the shadow isn’t a shadow. It’s a scar, smooth and pink, like a burn.

I feel my stomach drop and I step back.

“Are you okay?”

Now I see it, the deep-set lines around the eyes, the black hair splintered with gray.

I can’t breathe.

Lisa touches my shoulder.

I tap the photo. “Who is this?”

Lisa frowns, steps closer. She doesn’t take her eyes off mine until she’s right in front of me. She reaches for the photo and says, “That’s my dad.”

“Your dad?”

She takes the photo and sets it back on the mantle, then puts a hand on my arm and leads me over to the cushions in the middle of the room.

“Why don’t we sit down,” she says. “You can start at the beginning and I’ll see if I can help.”

“What does he do?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your dad. What’s his job? What does he do for a living?”

“I don’t think my family is something I—”

“He’s a doctor, isn’t he?”

Lisa stares at me, doesn’t speak.

“A coroner?” I step past her to the mantle and the photo. “I met him after my wife died. He needed me to identify her body.”

“Mr. Reese, maybe this isn’t the best time. I think you should come back another day.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Who are—” I stop, look back at Lisa. “How did you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name.”

She touches my arm, and I pull away.

“Mr. Reese.” She looks around at the front door, then back at me. “If you’d just sit for a minute, we can talk.”

I start to ask her again how she knows my name, but this time she puts a finger to her lips, silencing me.

“You have to calm down.”

“Who are you?”

Lisa steps closer. She lifts her face toward mine. At first I think she’s going to kiss me, but instead she presses her cheek against my cheek and whispers in my ear.

“You need to leave,” she says. “Right now.”

I start to argue, but she squeezes my arm, tight, stopping me. When she speaks next, her voice is soft and steady, and her breath is warm against my skin.

“They’re watching us.”

I step back and look around the room.

“Who?”

Lisa shakes her head. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I move past her and through the beaded curtain into a small, sunlit kitchen.

Lisa follows.

The room is warm and clean, and there’s no one inside.

“Where are ‘they’?”

“Mr. Reese, stop. You don’t—”

There are two doors at the other end of the kitchen, and I open them both. The first is a pantry filled with cans of food, and the other opens onto a wooden deck and large backyard. There is a thick jumble of trees beyond the grass, and a rusted metal swing set in the corner.

I slam the door and try to leave the kitchen, but Lisa steps in front of me.

“Enough,” she says. “Leave or I call the police.”

“Who’s watching us? What do they want?”

“I can’t. Not here.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t answer, and I push past her.

“Wait.”

I walk back to the living room, then down the hall, opening every door I see, ignoring her.

Lisa pulls at me, but I’m twice her size and I’m not going to be stopped. I’ve come too far, and I’ve got nothing else to lose.

I open a door to a bedroom filled with candles and flowing curtains. There’s a king-size bed against one wall with a shelf full of china dolls above it.

“I told you there’s no one here.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

I cross the hall to the last door. This time Lisa manages to get in front of me, blocking the way.

“I’m calling the police.”

“Who are they? Tell me.”

“Not now. I can’t.”

I pull her away from the door.

It’s locked.

I step back to kick it in, then hear a sharp metal click behind my left ear. I turn around, slow, and see Lisa holding a small black gun, pointing it at my head.

Neither of us moves.

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“I don’t want to, but I will.”

“Tell me who they are.”

Lisa steps back, never lowering the gun. “Come on.”

She leads me down the hallway to the living room. I ask her again to tell me what she knows, but she doesn’t answer me. Instead, she motions toward the front door and says, “Out.”

I walk to the door then turn back. “Were you part of it? Did you kill Diane?”

Lisa’s mouth opens, and she looks at me like I slapped her. She shakes her head. “No.”

“Then who did?”

Lisa looks past me to the front door. “Open it,” she says. “Get out.”

I open the door and almost walk out, but something won’t let me.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s nowhere for me to go. I have to know what happened to my wife, and you’re all I’ve got.”

Lisa adjusts her grip on the gun. For a second I think she might shoot me after all, but instead she says, “You shouldn’t have come here. They let you go.”

“Let me go?” I force my voice to stay calm. “What are you talking about?”

Lisa starts to say something else, and then the look on her face changes, grows softer. She lowers the gun. “You really don’t know, do you?”

I laugh. I’m not sure where it comes from, but once I get started, I can’t stop. “I have no idea what I know anymore, no idea.”

I can tell she’s trying to decide if I’m lying or not. Eventually, she makes up her mind. “The Church on the Rock. Do you know how to get there?”

I tell her I don’t.

“You’ll find it. There are signs all over town. I’ll meet you in the parking lot at ten o’clock tonight and tell you what I know, for what it’s worth.”

“Tell me now.”

“Tonight,” she says. “And if you’re not there, I won’t wait for you.”

I nod, silent.

“And don’t come here again.” She waves the gun at the door. “Now out.”

I open the front door and step out onto the porch. I want to keep talking, I want to say something that’ll make her understand, but I don’t know where to start. It doesn’t matter anyway, because once I’m outside, Lisa closes the door behind me.

A second later, I hear the deadbolt slide into place.

I drive back to my hotel in a daze.

I went to see Lisa because I was looking for answers, but all I walked away with were more questions. Was I really being watched? If so, by who? And what did she mean when she said they let me go?

There are too many questions, but the thing that bothers me the most is the photograph of Lisa and her father in the restaurant. The same man who had me identify Diane’s body.

It’s too much of a coincidence, and I can’t shake the idea that Lisa might’ve had something to do with Diane’s death. If whoever is after me could get to Nolan, a police detective, it wouldn’t be hard to get to a small-town psychic and her coroner father.

I wonder if I made a mistake by leaving. What if she doesn’t show up tonight? What if whoever’s watching her comes for her?

A lot could happen between now and ten o’clock.

I can’t focus, and I end up missing my turn. I drive several miles out of town before I realize and have to pull over and double back. On the way I stop for gas at a station on the edge of town. There is a single red star on the sign, old and faded by the sun.

I stand at the pump and watch the numbers roll by. There’s a warm breeze coming from the south, and for the first time since I left Lisa’s house, I feel my thoughts start to slow down, and I begin to see my situation in a clearer light.

When the counter on the pump clicks off, I replace the nozzle and walk inside to pay. On the way, I pass a pay phone next to an ice machine in front of the building. Seeing it reminds me of my promise to Doug.

I try to ignore it, but I can’t.

When I pay for the gas, I get change for the phone.

“Christ, Jake, the police have been here all day.”

“What did you tell them?”

“What could I tell them? I don’t know anything.”

“You know where I am.”

Doug breathes into the phone. “Must’ve slipped my mind when they asked.”

I smile.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to explain this one to Anne,” he says. “Not sure I’d even know how.”

“I understand.” I pause, then add, “You know I didn’t kill anyone, right?”

“Of course you didn’t. The entire thing is ridiculous, but Anne doesn’t see it that way. If I look at it from her side, I don’t blame her.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’s got the university to think about, and this is the wrong kind of press. This kind of thing doesn’t help convince parents to send their kids to the school.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not coming back.”

Doug pauses. “Where will you go?”

I lie and tell him I haven’t decided, but my voice sounds strange, even to me. I think Doug notices, because he doesn’t say anything right away.

When he does speak, he doesn’t press.

He wishes me luck.

“I’ll take it,” I say. “All I can get.”

I hang up the phone and walk back to my car. The sun is starting to set in the west, and the red cliffs reflect the low evening light and burn like embers against the sky.

I stand out there for a long time, watching.