When Jack didn’t say anything it seemed like a bit more distance between them. Maybe something he hoped being here would change.
He felt Christie reach down and wrap her hand around him.
“Save that big boy for later. All right?”
“He hates waiting.”
“I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”
Christie turned over, her back once again to Jack.
He followed suit, turning away and waiting for sleep to come.
* * *
Except sleep didn’t come.
Had to be a good hour later, and still he felt awake. Maybe the uncommon feeling of a little alcohol buzz was keeping him up?
Maybe … something else.
He lay on his back. He could hear Christie—always such a deep sleeper—as she took in each measured breath.
Deeply asleep.
The noise from outside didn’t help either. For a guy from Brooklyn, that was a lot of nature out there. He wished he had ear plugs.
He sat up.
Pointless to just lie there.
Especially when his mind went over the past. His partner, the trap, his wounds.
Maybe a bit of a walk. Some of that cool mountain air.
He slid to the side of the bed, his boat shoes only a few feet away. Shorts and T-shirt idly tossed on a chair in the room.
He snatched them up and then slipped into his shoes.
He walked out to the living room and into the night.
For a moment, he stood on the porch, looking at the camp. All the cabins nice and quiet. No more sounds of singing coming from the lake to compete with the cicadas.
In the moonless night, he could just about see the outline of the mountains that circled the lake.
He took a breath.
Fifteen. Twenty minutes of walking.
Then another try for sleep.
He walked off his porch.
21
The Service Road
Though the day had been hot, the night quickly turned chilly.
Jack rubbed his arms as he stepped outside, holding the porch door behind him so he could close it gently.
He took a breath of the sweet mountain air with just a hint of pine. Another breath. Another smell. Perhaps the decaying mulch of last summer’s leaves and needles sitting on the forest floor.
He started down the path that led away from the cottages and the center of the camp.
It wasn’t long before he saw somebody.
A man standing near a curved lamppost, the light low, just barely enough to illuminate a spot where three intersecting paths met.
The light caught the man’s collared shirt, pants—and the recognizable shape of a gun holstered to his side.
Jack kept walking.
When he got closer, the guard said, “Evening, sir.”
Jack kept walking.
“Evening.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
The man seemed to stiffen a bit. Perhaps late-night walkers weren’t that common at Paterville. The camp quiet, save for the cicadas chattering in the background.
“No thanks. Just getting some air.”
The guard nodded as Jack came abreast of him.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Just be careful. Dark spots on the walkways. You could trip.”
Jack stopped. “Sure. Will do.”
“And sir, of course, stay away from the perimeter. The fence.”
Jack smiled at that one. Did anyone need reminding not to wander over there?
“Oh, I will.” Jack looked at the path leading toward the Great Lodge.
“See you.”
“Night, sir.”
Jack continued.
He came upon two more guards. Now he was curious.
The first guard stood at the entrance area of the lodge. Not so strange. Jack avoided talking to him and walked well past him to the right, a direction that led out to the playing fields and the game room.
Guard number three stood near the back of the lodge.
This one smoking a cigarette, which he threw to the ground as Jack approached.
The guard coughed.
His voice seemed a bit slurred. Maybe he’d just had a hit of the cook’s home brew?
“Lost, sir? The cottages—”
That word came out a bit wrong.
“—are back that way.”
“No. I’m fine. Can’t sleep. Walking around.”
As if the guard hadn’t heard him, he gestured behind Jack. “They’re back that way.”
Jack nodded. “Thanks.”
He turned around, headed back to the front of the lodge.
When he got there, the guard at the front was talking quietly on what had to be a walkie-talkie.
The guard gave him a quick look, and went on talking.
Jack sailed past the Great Lodge entrance and then passed the trail leading back to the cabins. Instead, he started heading down the winding trail to the parking lot.
He didn’t understand that. Sure, a guard by the gates, the fence. Armed and dangerous. Yeah, that all made sense. Here, though, all around the property? Seemed like overkill.
A few yards down the path to the parking area, he heard a voice.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you need—”
