What's in a Name? (19 page)

“
Fine.”

Emily was fading and he needed her
back. He fixed her a cracker. “Try the spread. It’s good.”

She accepted it, but he noticed her
fingers touched only the edge of the cracker, carefully avoiding
his.

Their Guinnesses came and he watched
Kelli take a tentative sip. She rolled it around her mouth, then
studied the ceiling.

“
What do you think?”
he asked. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess.”

“
No. It’s … almost
chewy. Kind of chocolaty, too.” She took another sip.
“Good.”

He put down his menu. “Have you decided
what you want?”

Without looking up from her glass, she
said, “Well, it’s an Irish pub. I’ll have the Irish stew.”

* * * * *

Kelli picked up the laminated list of
beers from its holder behind the salt, pepper and vinegar. She
pretended to study it while she watched Blake, who seemed focused
on the television sets above the bar. Things felt all right when
they were playing Bill and Emily, but Blake and Kelli kept
intruding. Blake and Kelli had shared something under that pine
tree, something neither was ready for. Bill and Emily could enjoy
lunch. But even across the table, she felt his heat. Blake’s.

She’d seen it on the stairwell. Fear
first, then relief. Even though he was hurt, he’d come up ten
flights for her. He could have told her to get out and made his own
escape.

Or waited at the bottom of the stairs.
Had he felt guilt? Obligation? She thought of him, hurt and sick,
in those motel rooms. Thought about why she’d stuck with him
instead of dumping him at an emergency room. It wasn’t guilt. Not
obligation, either—maybe it had started that way, but no more. And
what she’d seen on the stairwell—what she’d felt under that
tree—that wasn’t guilt—or obligation.

Later, she told herself. Much, much
later. “This isn’t real,” he’d said. Nothing was real when your
life might depend on someone else. It was normal to forge a
bond.

She’d given her heart away twice and
suffered the pain. Never again. Banking the arousal that welled
insider her, she set down the beer list and gazed at the television
screens.

“
You think I should
get a haircut after all?” Blake’s voice cut through her
contemplation.

“
What?”

“
A haircut.” He lifted
a tendril of his hair. “I’m sick of the cap.”

“
Not to mention you
forgot it.”

“
Guess I had something
else on my mind.”

The look he gave her was pure Blake and
it was a moment before she could breathe.

“
Besides,” he went on.
“I don’t think Bill’s a watch cap sort.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know—he works in
the field. But yeah, the hair’s probably the first thing someone
would latch onto, and at a second look—well, we don’t need anyone
taking second looks.”

The waitress showed up with salads and
a basket of hot soda bread. Blake pushed the basket toward
Kelli.

“
No, thanks.” She
picked up her fork, watching Blake rip off a slice of bread,
slather it with butter and take a huge bite. Very little seemed to
interfere with the man’s appetite. She took a tentative bite of
lettuce, chewing slowly. Her stomach was still undecided about
food. Pushing the cucumbers and tomatoes aside, she picked at the
greens.

Blake had finished his salad and two
more slices of bread when the waitress returned with their
entrees.

Blake poked his fork through the
browned layer of mashed potatoes topping his dish. Raising an
eyebrow, he looked at her, then her plate. “Eat.”

She sampled her stew. Rich, comforting.
She chewed on a piece of lamb, savoring its flavor. It was the
first time she’d actually tasted anything since she’d cooked for
Blake. She scooped up some of the vegetables, enjoying the mix of
textures against the meat.

“
How do you do that?”
Blake asked.

“
Do what?”

“
You’re even eating
like Emily.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Kelli ate because she
had to. Now, you’re—I don’t know—classy.” He wiped his mouth.
“Wait. That didn’t come out right. It’s that your mannerisms, the
way you walk—everything changed. It’s not that one is better. Just
different.”

“
Emily isn’t Kelli.”
She took another bite, then picked up a slice of bread and broke
off a small chunk. “I have no clue what triggered someone
connecting Kelli with Casey. It could have been anything—like you
said, a distinctive head gesture. Or a speech pattern. If Kelli’s
going to have to disappear, she has to disappear
completely.”

“
Sweetheart, you scare
me. But you’re not Emily. You’re borrowing her, right?”

“
Don’t you like her?”
She grinned. His normal cockiness had vanished. He was off balance.
She pondered the quick jolt of power it gave her.

“
Sure. I guess. Yeah.”
He locked his gaze on her and she knew he was under the pine tree.
With Kelli.

He shook his head, as if to clear it.
“I think the best I can do is a haircut. I don’t think I’d pass
muster as a field biologist.”

“
Let’s hope you don’t
have to.”

“
Well, field
biologists eat, right?” He dug into his shepherd’s pie.

“
Yeah, they do. And so
do their wives.”

They lingered over their meals and
coffee. Blake seemed to have grown comfortable with her being Emily
and she laughed when he tried out various Bills.

“
Not a Boston accent.
Please. Besides, they live in Florida.”

“
Okay, Sweetheart. But
I say Bill was born in … Texas.” His drawl was perfect. “Or maybe
Canada, eh?”

More people had trickled in, the
after-work crowd filling the bar. When one man urged the bartender
to turn up the volume on one of the televisions, she realized they
hadn’t so much as glanced at the screens since they’d started
eating.

Blake reached across the table and
gripped her hand. There was an exterior shot of the Plaza, with
police cars and flashing lights. Someone, his face electronically
blurred, was being put into a police car.

“
Is that an
ambulance?” she asked, trying to get a better view.

“
Can’t tell for sure.
Guess I’ll put off the haircut.”

Blake opened the Bonneville’s passenger
door for Kelli, surprised she didn’t give him an argument. “Where
to?”

“
Back to the hotel.
Where else?”

He paused. What happened to the woman
who was one step ahead of everything? “Sweetheart, are you sure?
We’re not positive they caught Scumbag.”

“
You think the cops
showing up at the hotel and taking someone away right after you
reported a wanted felon is a coincidence? That it wasn’t
Scumbag?”

“
No, I’m saying maybe
someone told him where to find us. And maybe that someone is
coming, or is sending someone else.”

She twisted in her seat and looked at
him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. Or she’d lost the paranoia bug
and he’d caught it. Then he saw her following his thought
process.

Her eyebrows lifted. “You sure you only
read three Sherlock Holmes stories? That was pretty good.”

He allowed himself a quick bask in the
glow of her approval. “So—where to?”

“
Back to the
hotel.”

He searched her face to see if she was
joking, but she was dead serious. “Weren’t you listening? We
can’t.”

“
We have to.
Everything I have is up there. My computer was in the middle of
another search when you called, plus all the papers, files,
everything.”

“
Then what’s in the
gym bag?”

She looked at him like she didn’t know
what he was talking about. He pointed to the backseat.

“
Oh,” she said. “Yeah.
Reflex. That’s got my barest survival essentials. Emergency ID,
some cash, my thirty-eight, a change of clothes. Enough to get me
one step down the road if I have to start over. But we can’t start
over. There’s too much up in the room. Drive.”

“
No. It’s too
risky.”

“
Fine. I’ll get a
cab.” She leaned over the seat, grabbed her bag and opened the
passenger door.

“
Damn it, get back in
here. We’ll go to the hotel. Together. But in and out. Grab our
stuff.”

The door slammed shut. She clutched the
gym bag to her lap. “Go.”

* * * * *

Blake swung the Bonneville through the
hotel parking lot, choosing a slot by the side entrance. “In and
out, remember?”

Kelli nodded. They got out of the car
and entered the hotel. A crowd of people milled through the lobby
area and he saw Kelli tense and freeze. He put a hand at her elbow.
“It’s all right. Some convention cocktail party. They’re all too
busy drinking to notice us. Let’s go.”

They made their way through clusters of
bodies to the elevators. Groups of hotel staff stood, heads
together, hands gesturing. Undoubtedly talking about Scumbag’s
arrest. He tried to listen, but couldn’t make out more than a
general buzz before a ping announced the arrival of the
elevator.

Inside, Kelli’s eyes were glued to the
floor numbers as the car rose. He took her hand, laced his fingers
with hers. “You’re probably right,” he said, as much to reassure
himself as her. “If they caught Scumbag, we should be okay. Nobody
else could be here. At least not right away. And we’ll be gone by
then.”

She shrugged. He took her by the
shoulders and turned her to face him. “We’re fine. Bill and Emily,
right? Back from dinner.” He used his best Texas drawl. “Well, it
sure wasn’t chicken-fried steak, but the Irish grub wasn’t half
bad, now was it?”

When she smiled and gave him The Shake,
he tousled her hair and grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better, but
you’ve got to be Emily again. Watch it.”

Hand in hand, they strode down the hall
to their suite. He inserted the key card. When the light turned
red, he tried again. And a third time.

“
What?” Kelli
asked.

“
My key won’t work.
You got yours?”

He sensed the presence of someone
behind him and snapped his head around. Kelli gripped his arm.

Two men approached, one in an expensive
suit wearing a hotel nametag, too far away to read.

“
Ah, Mr. and Mrs.
Cranford. I’m glad you’ve returned. Allow me to explain.” A touch
of the South in his speech, Blake noted. The words dripped out
slowly, with extra syllables.

Blake studied the other man.
Dark-skinned, his shaved head reflected the light from the hallway.
Shorter than Blake by several inches, his posture somehow managed
to exude height. Blake took in the gun holstered at his waist and
the gold badge held up at shoulder level.

“
I’m Detective
Gunther, Eugene Police Department.”

“
Let me,” the hotel
man said. He reached past Blake and inserted a key in the lock. The
light flashed green and he pushed the door open. “Can we go inside?
I’d like to apologize on behalf of the Plaza. If you’ll gather your
things and call the bell captain, we’ll have you in another suite
right away.”

“
What do you mean?”
Kelli asked. “Did something happen to our room?”

“
Oh, no, ma’am. He
never got inside, but—”

“
Excuse me. Would
somebody please explain what’s going on?” Blake’s heart pounded,
but he kept his face neutral.

By now, the foursome was inside the
room. Blake glanced around, but nothing seemed any different from
what he’d come to accept as Kelli’s working style of strewing piles
of papers on any flat surface.

“
I’m Rhett Newberry,
hotel manager,” Expensive Suit said. He gave Blake his card. “We
never give out room numbers. I want to assure you the employee in
question has been reprimanded and something like this will never
happen again.”

Blake stuck the card in his pants
pocket. Bill. He was Bill. “Maybe if you’d start at the beginning,
Mr. Newberry? My wife and I just returned from some sightseeing and
an early supper. She’s tired and was looking forward to lying down
for a while.”

He glanced at Kelli, who was staring at
the conference table covered with papers. He drew her closer to him
and she wrested herself free and hurried to the table.

“
Bill, you know what
I’ve told you about leaving your papers all over the place. These
fine people will think we’re such slobs.” She piled them into one
neat stack and sequestered them inside a desk drawer. “There.
That’s better. Maybe we can sit down?” she said, gesturing toward
the conference table.

“
I’m sure we’d be more
comfortable over here, Emily.” Blake walked to the couch and
settled down. Kelli—now the consummate Emily—strolled to the couch
and sat beside him, resting her hand on his thigh. He took it and
held it. Cold but steady.

“
I’m sure Detective
Gunther can explain,” Newberry said. “I’ll let him finish his
questions—he’s assured me they’re routine—and you call when you’re
ready to move. Oh and your stay is on the house, of course, and if
you’d like to eat at one of our hotel restaurants, you call me and
I’ll arrange it.” He nodded at everyone, gave an apologetic smile
and slid out of the room.

The door clunked shut and Gunther gave
Blake a crooked smile. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and
retrieved a small notebook and pen.