Lisa Unger - Darkness My Old Friend

“Checked in a few hours ago,” he said. Idiot. He knew she’d use that card, that old American Express she still had open in her name. He’d been watching it, pressing the “refresh” button every hour or so. He knew she’d get tired of motels, want something nicer. She was a spoiled brat and had been since the day he met her.

The girl at the counter was too shy to hold his gaze for long. Her eyes drifted to the roses and then down to the screen in front of her. “What room are they in?”

“I was hoping you could tell me?” He pulled down the corners of his mouth, lifted his eyebrows. He was going for sheepish. “She told me, and I can’t remember.”

“If you give me her name, I’ll call the room and let her know you’re down here.”

“Hmm,” he said. He wrinkled his forehead a bit. “What time is it?”

He looked at his watch and saw her noticing it.

“The kids will be sleeping,” he said. “If you call up there, you’ll wake them.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I can’t tell you the room number. That’s our policy.”

“Oh, I understand,” he said. He made a show of trying to figure out a solution. He pretended to text his wife. They waited. He could tell that the girl wanted to please him, to help him out. But she was still clinging to that policy.

“You’re too young to have kids, I’m sure,” he said. He saw her blush; the red came up unattractively from her neck. “But when you do, and they’re asleep? You’ll remember this encounter. Trust me, I’d rather sleep on that couch right there than wake them up.” He pointed to the lobby sitting area.

“My sister has kids,” she said. She smoothed out her hair, which was thick and wooly, probably the bane of her existence. “I hear you.”

He looked at the phone again. “Poor thing,” he said. “She’s probably sleeping, too. She’s exhausted. I’ve been so worried about her lately. She’s under so much stress with the kids.”

He looked lovingly at the roses. “It’s our anniversary. Ten years. Hard to believe.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah,” he said with a little laugh. He gave her a funny eye roll. “If she doesn’t kill me for being late.”

“What was the name?” she said. He’d made a point of staying at the counter, not sitting in the sitting area. The immediacy of the situation would help move things along. Nobody wanted some person with a need hovering around. And this girl was too much of a mouse to get rude, to call her manager.

“Paula Carr,” he said.

She turned to smile at him, put a finger to her mouth as she made him a key card. “They’re in Room 206.”

He gave her a wide smile, pulled one of the roses from the bouquet, and handed it to her.

The woman started to giggle, girlish and sweet. “Oh!” she said.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I can’t even tell you. You just saved my life.”

The hallway was quiet except for the sound of someone’s television, the volume up too high. That always aggravated him, people who kept the volume up too loud, like the people who put their seats all the way back on airplanes. Or the people who let the door close behind them in a public place without looking to see if there was someone there. What was wrong with those people? Inconsiderateness was a national blight.

She’d have the secondary latch on as well. But he’d found a video on YouTube about how to unlatch a chain with a rubber band. There was a tool that looked like a crowbar, which easily undid the folding metal latch. He had one of those, too. Something he’d fashioned himself in the garage.

He’d have the upper hand. She wouldn’t hurt him in front of Claire and Cameron. And if she called the police, he’d accuse her of kidnapping the children, tell them how depressed she was, that he was afraid of what she’d do to herself and their babies. She’d get hysterical, and they would believe him. People always believed Kevin Carr. Not that he wanted the kids; they were a major pain in the ass. But it would be worth it to really zing it to Paula.

He stood at the door, put his ear against the cool surface, and heard only silence. He put the roses and his bag down on the floor and took the key from his pocket.

“What do you think you’re doing, son?”

He didn’t recognize the man at the end of the hall.

“Excuse me?”

The guy reminded Kevin of a side of beef, tall and solid. He wore a barn jacket and a pair of jeans, thick brown lace-up boots.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

The other man smiled a bit. “I disagree.”

Kevin lifted his palms. “I think there must be some misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so,” said the other man. He was moving slowly down the hallway now. “You need to step away from the door and keep your hands where I can see them.”

He was one of those men, the no-bullshit kind. The one you couldn’t charm or manipulate; he was the one who had no vanity to be flattered, no illusions to be bolstered. He was the guy who saw right through the mask. Kevin really hated people like that. Kevin didn’t see a weapon on him. Was he a cop? Was that a police siren he heard off in the distance? His heart started to thump. He stepped back from the door.

“My name is Jones Cooper. You wanted me to find your wife,” he said. “Well, I found her.”

It took Kevin a second to place the name. He had called this dog. It seemed like a hundred years ago and he’d forgotten all about it.

“Look,” said Kevin. He lifted the roses. “Thanks, but Paula and I have worked things out.”

“No,” said Jones. He had a kind of snide half smile on his face. “You haven’t.”

Kevin heard the siren grow loud and come to a stop somewhere outside. The door opened then, and Paula stepped into the door frame.

“This woman kidnapped my children,” he said. He took his voice up an octave. “I’m here to get them back. She’s suffering from postpartum depression. I’m terrified of what she’ll do to herself and our babies.”

Paula just stared at him. “You’re a liar, Kevin.”

“Where are my children?” he yelled. He even managed to force some tears down his face. A door opened up down the hall; a man with tousled hair stuck his head out and then disappeared quickly.

“They’re safe,” she said. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I have a lawyer now.”

He turned to look at her, but she was stone cold.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Kevin. He turned back to Jones. “You can’t call the police.”

“You threatened me with a gun,” said Paula. “I fled in fear for my life. And now you’ve come after me.”

Someone had obviously coached her, told her what to say. Ever since she’d started having kids, she’d been so foggy and addled. She didn’t seem that way now, more like she had when he’d first met her.

“That’s a lie,” he said. “She’s the one with the gun.”

“I have documented your affair.” Paula went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I have printed copies of e-mails to your girlfriend and the lies you’ve been telling about me. I also know that you’ve been stealing money from your company to pay your debts.”

How could she know that?

“Meanwhile, today I had a little chat with Robin O’Conner,” said Jones. “I know what you did to her.”

The elevator door opened then, and two uniformed officers stepped out, a bald and lanky black man and a petite blond female. Both rested their hands on the large semiautomatics at their waists. Behind them the girl from the counter emerged, along with a man who looked like he must be her manager.