Brett Battles - No Return

Lars stared at him. “You have video? I thought the investigators had all your footage.”

“How do you know that?”

“I already told you, I read the reports. So how can you possibly have video if they’ve got your original source?”

Wes silently cursed himself for saying more than he should have. “I just do.”

Lars frowned. “Did you look at it?”

“Yes. Why? Are you afraid I might have seen something I shouldn’t have?”

Lars stared off into the distance for a moment, then looked back, clearly annoyed. “Wes, this is an embarrassment for us. It’s our plane. Our man died in it. Whether it was a training issue or a mechanical one, this is a black eye for the Navy. Jesus, you have a bad day, you just reshoot. We have a bad day, someone dies. Your playing private investigator isn’t helping anything, and it certainly isn’t going to change reality. This is our tragedy. We’re handling it in-house. I would think you’d get that.”

Wes said nothing for a moment. “Of course I get that.”

“Then for God’s sake, just let us deal with it. Please .”

A horn sounded behind them. Wes looked back and saw Dione waving at him.

“I’ll drop it. All right? Sorry. I gotta get back to work.”

“Wes, wait.” Lars’s tone softened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make a big deal of this. We’re all on edge because of the accident. I’m sure you can appreciate that. I really just wanted to let you know that I checked things out like I promised I would, but there’s been no mistake.”

“Yeah. Sure. Look, I gotta go.”

“See you this weekend?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The horn honked again.

“I’ve been dying to ask you all day,” Anna said as they entered Wes’s room at the Desert Rose. “What was that all about?”

Wes set the camera bag in the closet. “What was what all about?”

“Your friend Lars. What did he want?”

“Nothing important.”

He put the case containing the auto-backup system on the floor next to the desk, then went to grab a clean shirt, but stopped short. His suitcase wasn’t there.

Anna plopped down on the bed. “Nothing? It didn’t look like nothing.”

Wes wheeled around, searching the room.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“My suitcase. It’s gone.”

She pointed at the far side of the dresser. “What are you talking about? It’s right there.”

“Huh.” He couldn’t remember putting it there.

He pulled out a black polo shirt and exchanged it with the shirt he’d been wearing all day. “Do we need to stop by your room first?”

“Nope. You’re going to have to take me as I am.”

“I like the sound of that. Maybe we should just order in.”

“No way. You’re taking me out on the town,” she said. “What there is of it.”

He circled his arms around her and picked her up off the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

She slapped his arm and said, “Put me down. I’m hungry.”

As they exited his room, Anna rummaged around in her purse.

“Damn,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t have my lipstick.”

“Sure you do,” Wes said. “I saw you putting some on when we were out today.”

“That’s nice that you’d watch me primp, sweetie, but that was my daytime lipstick. I need my nighttime.” She closed her purse. “Not here. I’ll be right back.”

“So we are going to your room.”

“I’m going, you’re getting the car started.”

She tilted her head up and kissed him, then jogged off.

Wes had parked the Escape in the spot right outside his room. He fired up the engine, then turned on the satellite radio and tuned it to BBC One. Anna loved listening to the DJs’ accents. He was fiddling with the A/C when the passenger door flew open.

“You were right. That was quick.” He looked over.

Anna made no move to get in, a strange look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly alert.

“I think there might be someone in my room.”

They ran through a short passage to the other side and quickly reached her door. It was ajar.

“Did you leave it like that?” he asked.

Anna nodded.

Wes nudged it open and peered inside. It was quiet. He pushed it open more, then stepped across the threshold. The room was empty.

Confused, he glanced at Anna.

“Listen,” she whispered.

He cocked his head and immediately registered a noise that shouldn’t have been there.

“Is that the shower?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Don’t tell me there’s someone in it.”

“I don’t know for sure. I went in to check, but as soon as I saw the mirror, I ran out.”

“The mirror?”

“You have to see.”

Cautiously Wes stepped farther into the room, his gaze sweeping the space to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Anna was right behind him.

“Go back outside,” he told her, keeping his voice low.

“I’m not letting you do this alone. What if someone’s in there?”

Frowning, Wes turned back to the bathroom. Though the door was half open, he knocked on the jamb. “Hello?”

No response.

Wes eased into the room, then put a hand on the plastic shower curtain. His other hand he balled into a fist, just in case.

“Hello?” he said again.

When there was still no answer, he yanked the curtain back and glanced inside.

He shrugged. “Empty.”

Anna relaxed a little, but not completely. “The mirror.”

Wes swiveled around so he could see the mirror that covered the wall behind the sinks. It was fogged up from the steam of the shower. Clearly visible across the surface, someone had written:

HE IS NOT WHO HE SAYS HE IS

Despite the warmth of the bathroom, a chill ran through Wes.

“This wasn’t here before?” he asked.

“If I’d seen it earlier, don’t you think I would have said something?”

“I mean did you ever steam up the mirror enough for this to appear?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember it getting that foggy.”

He reached out toward the final S .

“Don’t,” Anna said. “We should call the police.”

“I just want to check something.”

Wes could feel her tense behind him, but she said nothing more.

He touched the nail of his index finger to the bottom of the letter, then pulled it back. There was a small bit of whatever had been on the mirror now on his nail. He wiped it onto the pad of his thumb and rubbed it around.

“It feels like Vaseline,” he said. “Did you use the bathroom this morning?”

She’d only had fifteen minutes from after she’d left Wes’s room until they met up again at the SUVs.

“I took a quick shower.”

“So you’re sure this wasn’t here then.”

“Wes, it wasn’t there,” she snapped. She took a deep breath. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know,” Wes said.

“Maybe it’s about the pilot,” she said. “You know how you said the guy in the paper wasn’t the same guy you saw? Maybe that’s what this means.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Come on. I’ll call the police.”

The on-duty manager of the motel was A pudgy, balding man named Harold Barber. He had already come by and expressed his apologies. He offered to move Anna to a new room-offer accepted, with the request that it be near Wes’s. He also said he would comp her stay-offer also accepted on behalf of Dione, who, in addition to Monroe, had gone back to L.A. until Sunday night.

The police had sent more people than necessary for what amounted to a little act of vandalism. But it was still early on Friday night, so there probably wasn’t much else going on.