No Return

“I’m sure.”

69

The Ridgecrest Public Library was just a stone’s throw from the park. Wes skipped the Internet terminals for the time being. If it turned out he needed to get on the Web, he’d save that for last.

Instead, he found a dedicated computer containing the library’s catalog and began his search there. Not surprisingly, there were hundreds of references to the senator in the library database. Wes made note of the latest guide to the U.S. Congress, three magazine articles, and the obligatory, ghost-written autobiography.

He located the guide first. The page on the senator was mostly a recap of his voting record through the guide’s publication date, short descriptions of bills he had sponsored, and a three-paragraph biography.

Senator Sean Jamieson was sixty-one, widowed, and the father of three children. He’d started out in Washington as a member of the House of Representatives when he was only thirty-three. Eight years later he won the Senate seat of a retiring lawmaker, and had remained in that office since then. Over the years, he’d been a member of many different committees, including Transportation, Finance, and Governmental Affairs. According to the bio, for the last two terms he had served on the Armed Services Committee and the Appropriations Committee.

That caused Wes to pause. Appropriations. The bill that included funding for SCORCH was up for a vote with them. If the system had been the reason the test flight had gone down, it could cripple the bill’s chances. He read further, trying to discern how the senator might vote on the measure, but there was no clear indication.

He returned to the computerized index and looked for anything pertaining to the bill, then cross-referenced entries for both the bill and the senator. There were several, all news articles. According to the index, most of the articles had been digitized and were available on one of the library terminals.

Wes hesitated. If he didn’t get on the Internet, he would be okay, right? He decided to chance it, and found an empty terminal close to an emergency exit.

The first five articles only mentioned the senator in passing. In the sixth article it became clear the senator had some doubts. But it was the seventh that contained a direct hit.

“There are many questions remaining about several of the programs covered in this bill,” Senator Jamieson said during the Appropriations Committee hearing today. While he didn’t point out any particular program, he has previously voiced his concerns with projects such as SCORCH, which he believes has not yet proven itself reliable

.

Jamieson, a former Army Ranger with a long family history in the military, has continued to advocate for not only a strong military, but a smart one. One, as he

says, that

“

doesn’t waste money on projects that will not serve our modern military needs

.”

Jamieson and SCORCH.

But so what? Wes thought.

All right. The senator wasn’t the biggest fan of the system. And potentially he was one of the on-the-fence votes. But why would Lars have written his name on the paper? It had to be something else, didn’t it?

Wes reread the article, then an unexpected thought hit him. He grabbed the piece of paper where he’d written down the locations of the references for the senator, then headed into the stacks. Thankfully, the book he was looking for wasn’t checked out. He pulled it down and began thumbing through it.

On page 229 he stopped.

Slowly he looked from side to side, sure that someone had to be standing nearby ready to grab him. But the aisle was empty.

As he looked down at the book again and confirmed what he’d already seen, a chill ran up his spine.

Quickly, before someone showed up, he peeled off the security tag, then slipped the book behind his back and under his shirt, tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

70

Wes approached the Desert Rose Motel from the back, parking the Triumph against the building, out of sight, then walked around the side to a passageway that led into the courtyard.

He was relieved to see that the police were no longer stationed outside Tony’s room. Now there was only crime scene tape stretched across the door.

What he was looking for was a motel phone. He was hoping he might find an open room. But before he got very far, he spotted a phone mounted on the wall of a small shed near the swimming pool. It was a little more exposed than he liked, but it would do.

He walked over, picked it up, and dialed Alison’s room.

“Hello?”

“Are you alone?” he said.

“Wes? What’s going on? Have they found them?”

“No. Not that I know of. Is there anyone there with you?”

“No. Why?” she asked, a bit of caution seeping into her voice.

He hesitated, then said, “Look, I know you’re mad at me, but I just-”

“Who said I was mad at you?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“I can’t help it if you’re hearing things.”

“Alison, please. I just need your help.”

A brief silence. “Ask Danny.”

“Please.”

“This whole thing’s gotten me shaken up. I just don’t feel up to doing anything.”

He paused, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure Danny will be free.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Her voice was still cool. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t exactly been up front with you. I should have … I mean, it shouldn’t have taken …”

When he didn’t go on, she said, “You should have what?”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about Anna and me a long time ago.”

Silence, then, “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. You and I have always been friends. And I didn’t want to ruin it with her. You know me, I overthink things sometimes.”

“Yeah, you do that, don’t you?” she said, then, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, I do.”

Neither of them said anything for several seconds.

“Thanks,” Alison finally said. After another moment she added, “What do you need?”

Wes would have smiled if he could. “Find Danny, then I need the two of you to meet me at that place we ate last week. John’s Pizza.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you. I promise.”

A pause. “All right,” she said, the coolness in her voice gone but annoyance starting to take its place. “What