Tess Gerritsen - Whistleblower

Below, they heard the lobby door open and the voice of the motel manager: “Yeah, that’ll be right upstairs. Gee, he sure seemed like a nice-enough guy…”

Tires screeched as another patrol car pulled up, lights flashing.

Victor gave her a push. “ Go! ”

They slipped into a breezeway and scurried through, to the other side of the building. No stairways there! They climbed over the walkway railing and dropped into the parking lot.

Faintly they heard a banging, then the command: “Open up! This is the police.”

At once they were sprinting instinctively for the shadows. No one spotted them, no one gave chase. Still they kept running, until they’d left the Kon-Tiki Motel blocks and blocks behind them, until they were so tired they were stumbling.

At last Cathy slowed to a halt and leaned back against a doorway, her breath coming out in clouds of cold mist. “How did they find you?” she said between gasps.

“It couldn’t have been the call…” Suddenly he groaned. “My credit card! I had to use it to pay the bill.”

“Where now? Should we try another motel?”

He shook his head. “I’m down to my last forty bucks. I can’t risk a credit card again.”

“And I left my purse at the apartment. I–I’m not sure I want to-”

“We’re not going back for it. They’ll be watching the place.”

They. Meaning the killers.

“So we’re broke,” she said weakly.

He didn’t answer. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his whole body a study in frustration. “You have friends you can go to?”

“I think so. Uh, no. She’s out of town till Friday. And what would I tell her? How would I explain you?”

“You can’t. And we can’t handle any questions right now.”

That leaves out most of my friends, she thought. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Unless…

No, she’d promised herself never to sink that low, never to beg for that particular source of help.

Victor glanced up the street. “There’s a bus stop over there.” He reached in his pocket and took out a handful of money. “Here,” he said. “Take it and get out of the city. Go visit some friends on your own.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Broke? With everyone after you?” She shook her head.

“I’ll only make things more dangerous for you.” He pressed the money into her hand.

She stared down at the wad of bills, thinking: This is all he has. And he’s giving it to me. “I can’t,” she said.

“You have to.”

“But-”

“ Don’t argue with me.” The look in his eyes left no alternative.

Reluctantly she closed her fingers around the money.

“I’ll wait till you get on the bus. It should take you right past the station.”

“Victor?”

He silenced her with a single look. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he stood her before him. “You’ll be fine,” he said. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. For a moment his lips lingered, and the warmth of his breath in her hair left her trembling. “I wouldn’t leave you if I thought otherwise.”

The roar of a bus down the block made them both turn.

“There’s your limousine,” he whispered. “Go.” He gave her a nudge. “Take care of yourself, Cathy.”

She started toward the bus stop. Three steps, four. She slowed and came to a halt. Turning, she saw that he had already edged away into the shadows.

“Get on it!” he called.

She looked at the bus. I won’t do it, she thought.

She turned back to Victor. “I know a place! A place we can both stay!”

“What?”

“I didn’t want to use it but-”

Her words were drowned out as the bus wheezed to the stop, then roared away.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” she said. “But we’d have beds and a meal. And I can guarantee no one would call the police.”

He came out of the shadows. “Why didn’t you think of this earlier?”

“I did think of it. But up till now, things weren’t, well… desperate enough.”

“Not desperate enough,” he repeated slowly. He moved toward her, his face taut with incredulity. “Not desperate enough? Hell, lady. I’d like to know exactly what kind of crisis would qualify!”

“You have to understand, this is a last resort. It’s not an easy place for me to turn to.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This place is beginning to sound worse and worse. What are we talking about? A flophouse?”

“No, it’s in Pacific Heights. You could even call the place a mansion.”

“Who lives there? A friend?”

“Quite the opposite.”

His eyebrow shot up. “An enemy?”

“Close.” She let out a sigh of resignation. “My ex-husband.”

“Jack, open up! Jack!” Cathy banged again and again on the door of the formidable Pacific Heights home. There was no answer. Through the windows they saw only darkness.

“Damn you, Jack!” She gave the door a slap of frustration. “Why aren’t you ever home when I need you?”

Victor glanced around at the neighborhood of elegant homes and neatly trimmed shrubbery. “We can’t stand around out here all night.”

“We’re not going to,” she muttered. Crouching on her knees, she began to dig around in a red-brick planter.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I swore I’d never do.” Her fingers raked the loamy soil, searching for the key Jack kept buried under the geraniums. Sure enough, there it was, right where it had always been. She rose to her feet, clapping the dirt off her hands. “But there are limits to my pride. Threat of death being one of them.” She inserted the key and felt a momentary dart of panic when it didn’t turn. But with a little jiggling, the lock at last gave way. The door swung open to the faint gleam of a polished wood floor, a massive bannister.

She motioned Victor inside. The solid thunk of the door closing behind them seemed to shut out all the dangers of the night. Cloaked in the darkness, they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Just what kind of terms are you on with your ex-husband?” Victor asked, following her blindly through the unlit foyer.

“Speaking. Barely.”

“He doesn’t mind you wandering around his house?”

“Why not?” She snorted. “Jack lets half the human race wander through his bedroom. The only prerequisite being XX chromosomes.”

She felt her way into the pitch-dark living room and flipped on the light switch. There she froze in astonishment and stared at the two naked bodies intertwined on the polar bear rug.

“ Jack! ” she blurted out.

The larger of the two bodies extricated himself and sat up. “Hello, Cathy!” He raked his hand through his dark hair and grinned. “Seems like old times.”

The woman lying next to him spat out a shocking obscenity, scrambled to her feet, and stormed off in a blur of wild red hair and bare bottom toward the bedroom.

“That’s Lulu,” yawned Jack, by way of introduction.

Cathy sighed. “I see your taste in women hasn’t improved.”

“No, sweetheart, my taste in women hit a high point when I married you.” Unmindful of his state of nudity, Jack rose to his feet and regarded Victor. The contrast between the two men was instantly apparent. Though both were tall and lean, it was Jack who possessed the striking good looks, and he knew it. He’d always known it. Vanity wasn’t a label one could ever pin on Victor Holland.

“I see you brought a fourth,” said Jack, giving Victor the once-over. “So, what’ll it be, folks? Bridge or poker?”

“Neither,” said Cathy.

“That opens up all sorts of possibilities.”

“Jack, I need your help.”

He turned and looked at her with mock incredulity. “ No! ”