He shook his head.
“How far to Indianapolis?”
“’Bout two hours.” He checked his watch. “Leave now? Should make visiting hours.”
We’d barely made it out of the driveway before Jack said, “Evelyn told me. What happened. At the motel.”
“Ah.”
He drove for another few minutes in silence, then said, “Something else, isn’t there? With Evelyn.”
“I don’t think she expected me to shoot-”
“Not what I meant. About Evelyn. What’d she do?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Don’t doubt that. What was it?”
When I didn’t answer, he pointed at the glove box. “Can you grab-?”
I had it open before he finished. A box of American cigarettes nearly fell in my lap. When he nodded, I opened the pack and handed him one. Even lit the match for him. He nodded his thanks, took the first drag and made a face, lips curving in a silent oath.
I arched my brows. “Not your normal brand, I take it.”
“Does it smell like it?”
“No, but I wasn’t about to assume that what you normally smoke at the lodge
“I don’t pull that shit, Nadia. Not with you.” He lifted the cigarette. “This? Just while I’m on a job. Other’s too…”
“Distinctive?”
He nodded. “’Course, if I had any brains? Quit altogether. Worst habit a pro can have. Started quitting ten years ago. Got down to maybe one a day. Then…stuck.”
Another drag. He shook his head and reached for the ashtray then stopped and held the cigarette out to me. I shook my head and he stubbed it out.
“About Evelyn,” he said. “Whatever happened? Like to know.”
He wasn’t going to let that slide, so I told him about Evelyn’s stunt in the parking lot, then said, “So what was that about? Testing me or trying to go after the guy herself?”
“Probably both. You spot her trick? You pass. You both go. You fail?” He shrugged. “Better to leave you behind.”
He passed a transport, then turned back to the slow lane before speaking again.
“Either way? Fucking waste of time. You’re pissed? Got a right to be.”
“She likes games, doesn’t she?”
“All there is. This investigation? A big game. That hitman? Smaller game. Testing you? Tiny game in that one. Like fucking nesting dolls. She pulls that shit again? Walk away.”
TWENTY-FIVE
The nurse behind the desk worried her identification badge, the surface dulled from handling. She looked no more than twenty-one. From the way she flinched every time a patient walked by, this was the only job she’d been able to find, and she was counting the days until she could transfer.
“Mr. Moreland doesn’t get many visitors.”
“But he is allowed to have them, correct?” I said.
She shot a nervous glance around. I couldn’t see the cause of her discomfort. There were no drooling, ranting, half-naked lunatics wandering the halls. The ID badges were the only way I could see to tell the patients from the staff.
“Mr. Moreland is permitted visitors, is he not?”
“Umm, right.”
“And your evening visiting hours are 7 to 9 p.m., correct?”
A nod.
“Then forget this”-I gestured to my business card on the counter-“and consider me a visitor.”
“Do you need a special room?” she asked.
“For privacy, yes, that would be best.”
She fingered her badge and bit her lip.
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“No, I guess not.” She looked around, as if searching for someone. “Everyone’s on break, but I guess-” She swallowed. “I guess I could take you.”
So that was the problem. She didn’t want to leave her protective cage. I hoped she got a new job soon…for the patients’ sake.
After another worried look up and down the hall, she stepped out.
Nurse Nervous left me in a small windowless room that could have passed for a corporate meeting room. I studied the posters on the wall. Good taste on a budget. The furnishings were likewise a compromise between quality, comfort and cost: decent upholstered chairs and a sturdy conference table. A long way from padded rooms and leather restraints.
Outside the room, the silence was broken only by the occasional swoosh of a door and staccato clicks of staff passing by, their steps quick and purposeful. When I caught a whiff of cleaning solution, I thought of Jack and hoped he wouldn’t have a problem finding Moreland’s room.
While I waited, I ran through the list of questions I was going to ask Moreland. Basic queries, easily answered, none of which would reveal any hint of our suspicions because my main role was to get Moreland out of his private room long enough for Jack to get what he needed.
As footsteps squeaked down the hall, I listened. Voices drifted in, both female. The first I recognized as the young nurse.
“-ever tells me anything.”
An older woman answered, her voice clipped with authority. The squeal of a cart covered her first few words. “-show up, demanding access to Ben, saying it’s part of this horrible Helter Skelter killer mess. We’ve had to notify the director, round up every doctor Ben’s ever spoken to, alert security-believe me, Angela, informing a junior nurse was the last thing on our mind.” The women’s footsteps receded around a corner. “Who did you say wants to talk to Ben now…?”
I nearly shot out of the room, but managed to stop myself at the door and crack it open for a quick peek before hightailing it out. I started marching in the other direction and got five steps before Jack swerved around a corner and grabbed my arm.
“Lawyer?” the older nurse’s voice trumpeted down the hall. “Lord, that is just what we need. Where did you put-?”
“Fuck,” Jack whispered, drowning her out.
Still clutching my elbow, Jack strode to the first door, checked it, then moved to the next. Another peek. Then he yanked it open and propelled me inside.
I caught a glimpse of brooms and buckets. Jack wheeled in, closed the door and the closet went dark.
“FBI,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear.
“How many?” I whispered.
“Don’t know. Just heard the nurses talking.” A pause and he shifted, moving against my hip as he leaned toward the door.
I put my ear to the wall, but heard only pipes gurgling. The small closet made for very tight quarters. Warm,
