Stuart Woods - Heat

“Jesse, have you met Margery Twomy?” Jenny asked.

Jesse smiled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’ve seen you at church, Margery. I believe Carey is staying with you while we’re on our honeymoon.”

“That’s right,” she replied. “I’ve just come to get Carey now.”

“But she’s coming to San Francisco with us for the weekend,” Jesse said. “She’ll be back Sunday night.”

Jenny spoke up. “Jesse, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible. The school is having a special science workshop for Carey’s class this weekend and next, and attendance is mandatory.”

Jesse’s heart was pounding against his ribs. “Well, surely a weekend away wouldn’t hurt,” he said.

“It’s all right, Jesse,” Carey said. “I have to stay and go to the workshop. Maybe we can go to San Francisco another time.”

He looked down at the little girl. She didn’t seem in the least upset about the sudden change in plans. “Whatever you say, honey.”

When Margery Twomy had left with Carey, Jesse took Jenny inside and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding her away from him, pointing at the ceiling and tapping his ear. “I know you were looking forward to showing her San Francisco.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “We’ll have a family vacation next year and take her there.” She laid her head against his shoulder and sobbed silently.

“Well,” he said, “If we’re going to make that plane, we’d better get our luggage in the car and get going.”

All the way to Spokane, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror. Sometimes a car was there, sometimes it wasn’t.

Jesse spent half an hour going through the suite at the Ritz-Carlton, looking for bugs, and he didn’t find a thing. Apparently, Jack Gene Coldwater’s arm was not long enough to reach inside a San Francisco hotel suite. He came back into the sitting room, where Jenny was curled up on a sofa, watching CNN on television.

“It’s clean,” he said, and sat down next to her. “We can talk.”

“You understand that I can’t leave without Carey,” she said quietly.

“Of course I do.”

“I was so excited about going abroad, but I’m excited about being in San Francisco, too. Can we see everything? ”

“We sure can.” He picked up a phone, called the concierge and asked him to book a table at Ernie’s for the following evening. “Herman Muller recommended it,” he told Jenny.

“I never thought of Herman as a restaurant critic,” she said, laughing. “What are you getting me into?”

“It’s a famous restaurant, an old San Francisco favorite.” He found a room service menu, and they ordered a late dinner.

“Have you ever been to San Francisco before?” she asked.

“Once, for a conference six or seven years ago. Mostly, it consisted of getting drunk with a lot of other agents.”

Her eyes widened. “You were some kind of agent?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll be a lot safer if you don’t know any more than you do.”

“Jesse, we’re married now,” she said firmly, “and I’m entitled to know everything. I’ve certainly told you everything about me.”

Jesse sighed and leaned back on the sofa. “All right, I guess it’s time. You’re not going to like some of this; I hope it doesn’t make a difference to you.”

“You just tell me.”

“For a start, my name is Jesse, but not Barron; it’s Warden.”

“Like a prison warden?”

“Like that. I’m a minister’s son.”

“Uh, oh; you know what they say about the minister’s boy.”

“And they’re not far wrong. Oh, I started out as the straightest arrow you ever saw; then I became a cop for the federal government, and being a cop has a way of getting you bent.”

“How did you get bent?”

“I stole some money.”

“A lot of money?”

“Yes, some tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Why?”

He told her about Beth and her illness, and about Carrie.

“So the story about the wife and three daughters—”

“Was a cover; it was somebody else whose name I took. But Beth and Carrie were real, and they’re gone.”

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” she said, running her fingers along his cheek, then kissing him. “That’s more trouble than anybody should ever have in a lifetime. Where’s Carrie now?”

“She was adopted when I went to prison, and I probably won’t ever know where she is.”

Jenny put her arms around him and held him close. “I know how I would feel if I were separated from Carey,” she said, “so I know how you feel. Do you think there’s any hope of ever finding her?”

“I’d like to think so, but I have to be realistic. That’s why I was prepared to leave the country without her. Adoption agencies are a tough nut to crack, and I’m hardly in any position to try.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a lot more that I haven’t told you. I went to prison.”

“For stealing the money?”

“No, they never found out about that. It was drug money that we’d confiscated; I just swept it under the rug, and no record was ever made of it.”

“Why did you go to prison?”

“I was convicted of killing my partner and stealing a great deal more money, but I was innocent on both charges.”

“Then why were you convicted?”

“Because someone in my agency was determined that I would be. It was set up so that I would never have a chance, and, of course, I didn’t. Somebody else wanted the money, and he was willing to kill my partner to get it.”

“How long were you in prison?”

“Fourteen months.”

“So short a time for such serious charges?”

“The man I used to work for and another agent, a friend, got me out, because they wanted something done.”

“What did they want done?”

“Jack Gene Coldwater.”

“They sent you to St. Clair alone to arrest Jack Gene?”

“To find out enough about him so that they could arrest him. I’m not a cop anymore, just a spy.”

“Does Jack Gene suspect?”

“No, but Kurt Ruger does. Not that he knows anything, he just suspects I’m not quite right.”

“Can he hurt you?”

“Not so far. There was a nasty incident earlier today, but Pat Casey and Jack Gene took my side.”

“What happened that was so nasty?”

“Do you know a man named George Little?”

“Yes, and he’s pretty nasty, too.”

“I killed him this afternoon.”

She stared at him. “He wasn’t that nasty.”

“He caught me making a telephone call to my contact in Washington. I was up on the mountain behind the plant, and I found an opportunity to push him into a deep ravine.”

“My God,” she said, putting a hand to her face. “There must have been some other way to handle the situation.”

“There was another way: I could have gone up to Jack Gene’s house at gunpoint with George Little, and I’d be dead by now.”

She put her arms around him again. “In that case, I’m glad you did what you did. And if you have to do it again, you go ahead.”

The doorbell rang, and Jesse let the waiter into the room. They had a quiet dinner by candlelight, not talking much.

As they were finishing the wine, Jenny said, “Everything has changed, hasn’t it? Nothing will ever be the same.”

“You’re right,” he replied.

She raised her glass. “To nothing ever being the same again,” she said.

They touched glasses and drank. In bed they didn’t make love; instead, they lay in each other’s arms until they fell asleep.

On their first day in San Francisco they walked. Jesse wanted to know if he was still being followed, and walking was the best way. They walked from the Ritz-Carlton to Union Square, and Jenny went shopping.