Lars held up a hand. “For God’s sakes. You need to drop this. Whatever you think you’ve found doesn’t change the fact that Lieutenant Adair died in that plane crash. You’ve got it so screwed up in your head that your mind’s creating images of someone who wasn’t there.”
“You think I’m making this up?”
“No. I think you believe it. But I told you before, it’s the stress.” He put a hand on Wes’s back. “Come on. Let’s just go out, grill up some burgers, and have a good time. Okay?”
Wes forced a smile, then nodded. “Sure.”
24
The party went on all afternoon. There was drinking and eating and splashing and laughing and a volleyball game that no one could agree on who won. By the time the sun had started to set, Wes and Anna had talked to just about everyone-about sports, about the TV industry, about living in the desert. But Lars had been true to his word. No one brought up the crash.
With the coming night, people started leaving until the only guests left were Wes, Anna, Jenks, and Wasserman. Wes had tried several times to get Lars alone again, but his friend was always in the middle of playing host. Wes wanted to finish the conversation they’d started in the kitchen, but it looked like that just wasn’t going to happen, so he walked over to Anna. “Want to head back to the motel?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Lars was sitting by the grill, a nearly empty bottle of beer by his feet. “You guys leaving?”
“I think so,” Wes said.
Lars pushed himself out of the chair, then grabbed on to Wes’s arm as he found his balance. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Wes.” Jenks walked over from where he’d been poking at the remains in the potato chip bowl. “I was hoping to talk to you a little bit more about your job before you left.” He leaned forward and added in a whisper they could all hear, “Not going to be in the Navy forever.”
“Maybe some other time,” Wes said.
“How do you get into something like that?” Jenks asked. “I mean, I assume you have to know someone, right?”
“It helps.”
“I do some camera work on the base sometimes. Training stuff, that kind of thing. I was thinking there might be some online classes I could take to learn the more advanced techniques.”
“I’m sure there are. I’m just not familiar with any.”
Wes put a hand on Anna’s back, but before he could start for the door, Jenks grabbed him gently by the arm.
“Do you know anyone who might know?” Jenks asked.
Wes forced a smile. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll do some checking, then email what I find out to Lars. That sound okay?”
Jenks glanced past Wes, then said, “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Jenks held out his hand. “It was great meeting both of you.”
Wasserman had been on his phone near the sliding glass door, but when he saw Wes and Anna talking with Jenks, he put his hand over the receiver and approached them.
“Leaving already?” he said.
“Been a long day,” Wes said.
“Come on,” Wasserman said. “It’s Saturday and it’s still early. One more beer won’t kill you.” He stepped over to the tub and pulled out a wet bottle.
“They’re tired,” Lars insisted.
Wasserman dropped the bottle back in the container. “Only wanted to make sure they had a good time, Lieutenant Commander.”
“We had a great time,” Wes said.
Lars slid open the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
Streetlights lit up the cul-de-sac, giving it that comfortable, neighborhoody feel. As they neared his bike, Wes said, “I’d still like to talk.”
“Sure, come by before you leave town and we can catch up. Just the two of us.”
“I mean about what we were discussing earlier. The crash.”
Lars closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wes, come on. We’ve already-”
“If what I have to show you doesn’t sway you, I promise I’ll let it go.”
Lars thought for a moment. “You promise?”
“Yes. I promise,” Wes said.
“Okay.” He took a quick glance back at the house. “How about tomorrow? You’re not working, right?”
“Not working.”
“Good. We can go for a drive,” Lars said. “I can pick you up at your motel around two.”
“That sounds good,” Wes said, then he and Anna climbed onto the bike. “Thanks.”
He told Anna to hold on, then he swung the Triumph around and onto the street.
It was a beautiful night, the evening air warm but pleasant, so Wes decided to take the long way back to the motel. For the first few blocks, it was bliss, then suddenly a dark coupe turned onto the road in front of them. Wes switched lanes and attempted to go around it, but had to quickly back off when the coupe mirrored his movement, in an unsettling reminder that other vehicles often didn’t see motorcycles.
He eased the Triumph into the right lane and increased his speed.
The coupe pulled in front of him again.
“Come on,” Wes said.
He could feel Anna glancing over his shoulder.
Instead of once more trying to get around the coupe, Wes decided to be rid of it completely. At the next block he turned right, then drove rapidly down to the stop sign and turned left, heading once more toward Inyokern Road.
He was nearly at the end of the block when the coupe raced into the next intersection, sliding sideways as it turned toward him.
“Wes, be careful!” Anna yelled.
As soon as the coupe had finished the turn, its engine roared and the vehicle all but leapt toward them.
Stopping wasn’t an option. The only thing Wes could do to avoid being struck was to veer into the open field to his right.
“Grab on tight!” he shouted, then took the bike off the road.
The Triumph jumped and bounced on the uneven ground so much that Wes thought for a second he was going to lose it. But by some miracle he was able to maintain control and get them back onto the asphalt.
Behind them tires squealed loudly.
Wes glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw the coupe spinning back around so it could make another run at them.
“Who
Wes had no idea, and he was too busy figuring out what to do next to answer her.
He took a hard right, and accelerated as fast as possible.
The coupe turned onto the road behind them. A glance back told Wes the car wasn’t going fast enough to close the gap between them, but it wasn’t letting up, either.
Wes had worked on enough true-crime shows to know exactly what he needed to do.
But at Norma Street he hit a Ridgecrest traffic jam-five cars all traveling in the lane he wanted to get into.
