Angel's Breath (Fallen Angels - Book 2) (12 page)

Stacy, to her credit, didn’t act surprised. Instead, she rolled her eyes and said, “I’m so sorry. That was me.” She waved her hand at me. “We had a little disagreement this morning about him being out all night. I’d been trying to call him, and when he finally came home, I guess I got a little carried away. We’ll get it fixed right away, officer.”

Nodding, the cop took his hand off his gun holster, but he still had his ticket book out. “I’m going to have to cite you for the headlight. You will have twenty-four hours to get it fixed and check in at your local police station.” He looked at me pointedly. “I’m still waiting for your driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance, sir.”

For the briefest of moments, I had thought he would let us go with a verbal warning. There was no help for it. I had to give the police officer the information and hope that my parole officer wasn’t there when the patrolman called in.

“Found it,” I said, forcing some levity in my voice. Like a kid going to the dentist, I took as long as I possibly could to get out of the car.

In one hand, I had the car registration and insurance—both in my mother’s name—and with the other hand I reached back to pull out my wallet.

I gave Stacy a desperate look, but there was no more delaying the inevitable. Opening my wallet, I slid out my driver’s license and extended all three documents out the officer as if I were submitting the paperwork for my own execution.

The radio hanging off the officer’s utility belt squawked. He pulled it out and answered. “Templeton here. Over.”

Though garbled with static, I could still make out the operator’s words.

“We have an all-units alert. Assistance needed to divert traffic from on 224th between 34th and 46th. Over.”

“What’s the emergency? Over.”

“Someone reported that a tornado hit several houses in the area. Fire and Rescue are on scene. Hurry to location. Over.”

“Tornado?” He said it with genuine surprise.

“Affirmative. Over.”

“Acknowledged. On my way. Over.”

The officer clipped the radio to his belt and started walking back down the street to where his patrol car was parked. He pointed at my headlight as we hurried past and gave me a serious look.

He ordered, “Get that fixed.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” I nodded to show that I was more than willing to comply with the order, all the while trying not to jump for joy.

He pointed to Stacy as he left. “And let her drive. You look like you’re dead on your feet, son.”

Stacy crossed the distance to me. We stood there together for a few moments while the police officer got into his car and took off, lights flashing.

“That was close,” I said, my voice coming out in a breathless rush. “You certainly can think fast.”

Stacy smiled. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet.” She cocked her head to the car. “What do you say we get out of here while we can?”

* * *

When I asked her where we were going, Stacy said, “I know a diner just outside the city. We can get a cup of coffee or something.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “It’s about a half an hour away. Why don’t you lie back and take a power nap?”

I needed more than a few minutes, or even a couple of hours, of sleep. “I don’t think I can. My heart’s racing.” I pointed to the envelope Stacy had tucked between the seat and the gear panel of the car. “Anything in there that will help?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. There’s a ton of papers in there. I’ll have to go through them.”

It was then that I noticed a tear streaking down one of her cheeks, and I felt about an inch tall. Stacy had put on a brave face since I had come to after the destruction of my house, and seemed to have it all together.

Gingerly, I reached out my hand and lightly touched Stacy’s arm. “I’m sorry about … everything. We’ll find Chuck.”

At first, she stiffened at the contact, but then I could feel the shuddering sob she let out. Nodding, she gave me a smile. “I know. It’s just that we’ve never been separated before. If anything has happened to him, I don’t know what I would do.”

She fell silent then. I couldn’t think of anything to say to make her feel better.

So much had happened in such a short time, it was a wonder I had any ability to think at all.

Dimly, I wondered if I was still in shock about my mother. When I thought about it, my heart constricted and my stomach clenched. For some reason, I didn’t feel the acute grief I had expected. Guilt, yes, but maybe my mind wasn’t letting me process the reality of the loss. Although we had never had a close relationship, especially over the past ten years, we had had the same kind of bond that Stacy and Chuck shared: we only had each other in the world.

Now, she was gone.

I didn’t want to think about it, and shut my eyes against the thoughts.

When I opened them again, it was because Stacy was gently shaking my arm.

“We’re there. Let’s get some late breakfast.”

Chapter Sixteen

My senses were
muddy, and for a moment, I couldn’t figure out where I was or who I was with. Past the point of exhaustion, my body wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but I willed myself to open my eyes and get my bearings.

Stacy grabbed the envelope and her purse, and stepped out of the car. A moment later, I did the same, and raised my arms over my head in a stretch that lasted longer than I had expected.

The Pacific Station Diner wasn’t a building. It was a converted railroad car with a large neon sign fixed to the roof. A quick glance at the field running along the highway showed an abandoned railroad track. I had seen several railroad car diners, but had never eaten at one before.

Half a mile to the south, there was a trailer park and several homes scattered on either side of the highway; not enough to be considered more than a hamlet. I assumed it was mostly housing for one of the industrial parks in the area.

As I followed Stacy inside, I asked, “Where are we?”

“I worked here for a few weeks when we first came to Seattle. It was the only place hiring at the time, but the commute was killing me.”

I frowned. “What if someone recognizes you?”

Stacy smiled back at me as she led me to one of the open booths. “I hope they do. If Chuck comes here, they can tell him we were here.” She sat down and plucked the menu from between the condiment tray and the wall.

“But what about…?” I asked as I took my place opposite her.

In a low voice, she said, “The cops aren’t looking for me. And your ‘friends’ couldn’t possibly figure out where we are.”

I couldn’t have argued with the logic, even if I had full command of my faculties.

A waitress wearing a white apron over her faded yellow uniform stepped up and asked, “Can I take your order?” A moment later her voice changed. “Stacy? How are you? Long time!”

“Nanette! You’re still working here?” Stacy said. “Is Terry still making you work doubles every Friday?”

Making a hissing noise, Nanette said, “No one else is dumb enough to work it. It’s good to see you. Just passing through?”

“Day trip,” Stacy said and pointed to me. “Giving the grand tour of my past.”

“Ah.” The waitress gave me a smile and winked. “She’s a keeper, you know.”

“Yes,” I said, not sure what else to say. “I’m a lucky man.”

Nanette nodded in agreement. “What can I get you two?”

Stacy ordered us eggs and toast, and two cups of coffee. When Nanette left to place the order, Stacy put the brown envelope from the safety deposit box on the table and opened it.

Pulling out a stack of documents, she quickly sifted through them. Reading upside-down, I saw birth certificates, death certificates (I assumed for their parents), a life-insurance policy, a stock certificate, and several paper-framed family portraits. When Stacy got to the photographs, she ran the tips of her fingers over the faces of her parents.

“I was very young when they died,” she said quietly. “I only have the vaguest of memories of them. But I remember my dad loved to sing lullabies to put me to sleep.”

She looked at me and cleared her throat, choked back a sob.

“My mother had a terrible singing voice,” I said. “I think I inherited it. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard.”

Smiling at my admission, Stacy spread the documents out. “I don’t see anything here about Chuck.”

We both looked through all the documents but were interrupted when Nanette came back with two plates of food for us. My stomach growled loud enough for her to hear it.

“Let me know if you need anything more,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Setting aside Stacy’s papers, we both dug into our meals like ravenous wolves. When I finished, I felt a little better, but I was falling asleep on my feet.

I waited while Stacy read every document again. Finally, she slapped the last one down on the table in frustration.

“There’s nothing here,” she said, and I could see tears begin to form at the corners of her eyes.

“Listen,” I said, trying to sound as comforting as I could, “we’ve both been through a lot this morning. We’re not thinking straight. We need to figure this all out, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I know we need to find Chuck, but I can’t think until I get some sleep. I’m running on fumes.”

Stacy looked as if she were going to protest, but then I saw her let out her breath. “You’re right.” Glancing out the window, she said, “There’s a motel half a mile from here.”

Stacy gathered her documents together and stuffed them back in the envelope. I pulled enough money out of my wallet to cover breakfast, and dropped it on the table.

Together, we made our way to the motel. After Stacy checked us in, we went to the room. I collapsed on top of the sheets, still in my clothes, and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

I bolted out of bed. The room was pitch black, and I reached out blindly.

“Mom!”

Then my memories came flooding back. My mother was dead. My house destroyed. My life shattered.

I looked down. My clothes were drenched and sticking to my skin. I must have been having a nightmare.

Struggling to a sitting position, I ran my hand through my hair.

Stacy was sitting at a small round table, and was going over all of her personal documents again.

“Any luck?” I asked.

She didn’t look up. “No. How was your sleep?”

“Good, I guess.” I looked around for a clock. “How long was I out?”

“About ten hours.”

I pushed myself off the bed and went over to her. Sitting down on the chair opposite her, I said, “Thanks for letting me sleep. You look like you could use some.”

She waved off the suggestion.

I looked at the documents upside down. “Was there anything else Chuck said?”

“What do you mean?”

“If anything happened, he wanted you to drop everything and split. Did he say what he wanted you to do next? How to find him or anything?”

Stacy shook her head. “No. And I never really asked. I thought he was just going on, you know. I never took it seriously.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Why do you keep asking me? I have no idea.” Stacy glared at me, and then her eyes softened a moment later. “I’m sorry. I guess I am getting tired.” She waved her hand over the documents. “I don’t know, maybe he thought he could find me wherever I went.”

Quietly, I said, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I got you into this mess.”

“No.” She looked me in the eye. “I don’t mean to be so snappy. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” I said. “We’ll figure something out.”

She laughed without humor. “Here I am going on about my brother when you just lost your mother. I’m so sorry, Rich.”

I sat there without saying anything for a while.

Stacy asked, “You told me you didn’t have any other family. There’s no one you can call?”

“No,” I said.

I had never met my father, and my mother rarely spoke about him. I had tried to bring it up several times, but I only heard the story once. She told me they were never married, but had lived together for six months. His name was Edgar Lineman, and he had just graduated with an architectural degree when my mother got pregnant. According to my mother, he was adamant he never wanted kids, and thought my mother had tried to trap him. He had moved across the country before I was born. That was all my mother would say on the subject.

One time, when I was fourteen and just starting in my rebellious phase, I dug through some of the papers in my mother’s closet and found a letter she had written to him telling him she regretted the way things had ended. She had addressed it, but never mailed it.

His address was in Miami, Florida, and I went through directory assistance to find his number.

I said to Stacy, “I tried to call my father once. It was a long time ago. When I told him who I was, he said, ‘I don’t have any children. Don’t contact me again or I’ll call the police.’ ”

Stacy reached up and touched my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Rich.”

“I’m sorrier for my mother,” I said in a croak. “My father abandoned her, and sixteen years later, I did the same thing to her. I’m such a piece of shit.”

“You were a kid; you didn’t know any better.”

I choked back a tear. “And now she’s dead, and I never asked her to forgive me.”

“You know she loved you, right? I didn’t spend a lot of time with her, but I could tell. Every time she said your name, her eyes lit up.”

It was too much for me to cope with. I’m not sure my words were coherent when I said, “I’m sorry.”

I stumbled out of my chair and headed for the washroom. At the sink, I ran the cold water and splashed it on my face.

After a moment, I noticed Stacy standing behind me. She stepped closer to me and wrapped her arms around me, leaning her head against my back.

We stood like that for some time before she grabbed my hand and led me to the bed.

* * *

Without any idea what else to do, we paid for another day at the motel. For lack of a better plan, we decided to hope Chuck would find us. We had left as many breadcrumbs as we thought were safe. The waitresses at the diner knew we were staying at the motel, and throughout the day, Stacy called some of her friends to ask if they had seen Chuck; if they did, could they get him to call or text her.