Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nathan
I checked the rearview mirror for the eightieth time. The street was bright and sunny, and I couldn't see any place that a police squad car could hide. There weren't even any people acting suspiciously. Springer, New Mexico was a normal town.
We were the ones who didn't fit in.
"What are we going to do?" Bree asked. Her hand still clung to the handle on the passenger side door.
"We've got to get off the streets before someone notices us," I said.
She nodded, her jaw tense. "This old, rusted sedan is pretty easy to spot."
"We've got to get our stuff from the motel. I'll park in the back." I aimed us toward the little roadside motel.
Bree stiffened as we drove into the parking lot but everything was quiet there, too. We sat for a second after I'd turned the car off but neither of us heard police sirens or any other reason to panic.
Except that police officer's voice echoed in my head. He had recognized me and called my name. My full name.
"I'll get our stuff," Bree said.
"Meet you around back."
Bree made a show of entering our motel room and then shimmied out of the bathroom window minutes later. She was starting to make it look easy after I had made her practice.
I helped her to the ground and then couldn't let go of her hips. "Bree," I said.
She hugged me tightly but shook her head against my shoulder. "Let's just get somewhere safe."
We changed clothes in the shadow of the small motel and then headed down a side street. Using back alleys and parking lots, we made our way at least three miles.
"The Rolling Hills Motel looks good," Bree said. "There's no one suspicious staying there."
I knew she was kidding but I caught her hand and squeezed it anyway. The Rolling Hills Motel looked like something a horror film crew had abandoned on the back lot. Not a single window was unmarred by broken blinds, a ripped screen, or cracked glass.
"The parking lot’s half full," I said. "Busy place must mean no one asks a lot of questions."
Bree cringed as we walked closer but she hung on to my hand and followed me into the motel lobby. Our check-in habit had formed out of necessity. Bree kept her sunglasses on, turned her back on the motel clerk, and studied the rack of local brochures. I gave the clerk a big smile and a wink and said we just wanted a room for one night.
Motel clerks made quick judgment calls but always kept their opinions to themselves. Occasionally, one would lear at Bree, assuming we were there for some kind of infidelity, but no one ever said much.
As soon as I got the room key, I wound my arm around Bree's waist. She'd giggle and off we'd go to the motel room, where no one would question why we were pulling the shades closed tight.
After that, Bree kicked on the radio and sat stiffly at the table.
"You're not going to tell me you're sad to see that rusty old sedan go, are you?" I asked.
She tried to smile but her brown eyes were full of worry. "We're going to have to use more of the money from that safety deposit box."
"No one knows we have it." I hoped it was true.
Bree scrubbed both hands over her face. Then she looked up at me and asked in a small voice, "How did that cop know your name?"
I sat down and caught both Bree's hands in mine. "There could be lots of reasons for that. I've been missing from Cannon long enough that they've reported me. The MPs would eventually have informed the police."
Bree chewed on her lip. "Maybe they know who you are and they are trying to help you?"
"Or maybe those gunmen called in a tip about me in the hopes that I'd get caught up by the local cops," I said. "All we know for sure is the police are after me, too."
Bree slipped her hands out of mine and knotted her fingers together. "Nathan, I think I should call the Topeka sheriff. He's a friend, a regular at the cafe. I can at least ask him if he's heard your name."
I stood up and changed the channel on the radio. "That's not a good idea. If he's a friend, he's going to want to know what's going on with you and if you're okay."
"I'm okay." Bree released her white fingers and leaned back in her chair.
I sat down across from her again. "Are you really? We had a big scare this morning."
"I'm fine, really," Bree said. Then she jumped out of her chair as our burner phone rang.
I picked it up like it was on fire and checked the number. "It's not the Wheeler woman. No one else knows this number."
Bree snatched it out of my hands. "I called Janice, remember?"
She took a deep breath and answered the phone in a calm voice. It turned out to be Janice, just checking up on Bree, but the conversation soon got tense.
"No, really, I'm fine," Bree told Janice again. "I just don't know when I'll make it back. I'm so sorry."
Tears were sliding down her cheeks, and Bree had to take long breaths to keep her voice steady. Janice was obviously not buying her reassurances because Bree repeated the phrase 'no, I'm fine' too many times.
I grabbed the phone away from Bree. "Is this Janice? It's nice of you to check up on Bree but I've got to borrow her right now. All this family business is a real mess."
"What's going on?" Janice asked. The older waitress could smell bullshit from states away. "Who are you?"
"Family friend. Bree's stressed out but I promise things are going to be fine. She'll call again when she can." I hung up the phone, turned it over, and popped out the battery.
"Great," Bree said. "She's never going to believe you're a family friend."
"Then let's hope she knows it’s me from the diner and still thinks I've whisked you away for a fling." I tossed the phone parts on the bed. "That's not a total lie."
Bree tried to smile but failed. "I can't ever go back, can I? I'm never going to see Janice or the diner again."
I wanted to gather her up in my arms and hug her tight but Bree looked fragile, untouchable. "You can still get out of this. If you want to go back, we'll get you back."
Bree paced across the small motel room. "How? The police have already spotted me with you. That woman, whoever she was, can give them a full description. If I go back, I'll spend all my time in questioning. How is that going to help you?"
I caught her by the shoulders and fought the urge to shake her. "Stop worrying about me. This is all my problem, and I shouldn't have gotten you tangled up in it. If you want out, just say so."
Bree clung to my shoulders, the tears spilling over to slide down her cheeks. "I can't leave you. Not now. I know it's crazy but I… I care for you, Nathan. I really do."
"And that's why I need to get you somewhere safe," I said.
She shook her head. "You can't do this alone."
"This?" I asked. "We don't even know what 'this' is. I have no idea what to do next. I have no idea what I've done."
Bree's tears flowed faster, and she wrapped me in a tight hug. "Maybe it's time to let it all go. Maybe the best thing you can do now is try to get as far away from all this as you can and start over."
I buried my head in between her neck and her shoulder. "Just find a remote beach somewhere and put our toes in the sand," I suggested.
Bree gave a watery laugh. "We don't even have to speak the language."
I took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh. "I can't ever go back to my life. By now they've reported me AWOL. And god knows what I did besides screw everything up. My life as I knew it is gone. Why not end up somewhere with cheap beer and open beaches?"
The idea stuck me so hard that I let go of Bree. She watched, worried, as I paced the motel room back and forth. I glanced at her worried face, paced again, and tried to figure out a way to tell her about our next possible move.
Bree crossed her arms in front of her and gave me a direct look. "You were talking about never being able to go back. Your life is over. Now you've got some sort of plan. What is it?"
I stopped in front of her. "Tell me the truth. How do you see this ending?"
She hesitated and then sighed. "With us answering a thousand questions from the police, the FBI maybe. That's a lot better than thinking about what might happen if those armed men find us again."
"Not to mention the military police," I reminded her.
"So, it might not end in the best way. That doesn't mean we should give up," Bree said.
I stepped forward and kissed her cheek. "You'll be fine after all the questions. You're innocent in all this. But we both agree that no matter what happens, there isn't anything good waiting for me at the end of this mystery."
"There's still a chance we could figure it all out," Bree said.
"There's a chance," I agreed, "but our chances would be a lot better if the police and those gunmen weren't looking for us anymore."
Bree leaned back. "What do you mean 'anymore?'"
I laid my hands lightly on her shoulders. "I mean, they won't keep looking for us if they think we're dead."
It took a minute for my idea to sink into Bree's mind. Then she brushed my hands off her shoulders and curled up in a motel chair again. I let her sit and think about it for a minute before I knelt in front of her.
"Just think about it, Bree. If everyone thinks we're dead then no one will be chasing us anymore. We can take our time and really try to figure out what happened. Maybe we'll even figure out where Maggie went and if she's okay."
She swatted me away. "What are you even saying? You want us to fake our deaths?"
I caught her hands and held on tight. "It's a good way to get to that sunny beach. It might be the only way. Just think about it. After everyone thinks we're dead, we'll be able to build the lives that we really want."
"What if I want to go back?" Bree asked.
I waited and studied her face. "Is that what you really want?"
Bree squeezed her eyes tight. "Everyone would think I was dead. My sister would think I was dead and gone. I'd never be able to see her again."
"You can't see her right now but, if we did this, maybe you could see her again in the future," I said.
Bree pulled her hands away from me and wrapped her arms around her stomach. I stood up to give her a little space. It was hard not to pace back and forth and talk it through, but I knew that Bree needed to think it over. It's not every day that someone suggests you end your life in order to start another one.
"My life hasn't really turned out the way I hoped," Bree admitted. "I didn't want to be at the diner. I didn't want to be alone. And my sister…"
"My life's a mess, too. At least it was until I met you," I said.
Bree swiped away her tears and stood up. "Fine. But after this is all over, you better know how to make a damned good margarita."