Red Cicada, page 9
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, irritated that he felt the need to spell everything out.
“Wait. Before you go, chew this,” he said, handing her a stick of gum.
“Gum? Why? Is it my breath?” She popped it into her mouth and chewed.
“Not at all,” he said, chewing a stick himself. He then pulled a pair of scissors from the seat compartment. “Let me see your wrists.”
With a raised eyebrow, Lana complied.
He snipped the hospital ID band off each wrist, then pulled the gum from his mouth and squished it onto one band. He held out his hand to Lana. “Gum.”
She removed the masticated wad from her mouth, and Lance squished it onto the second wristband. He glanced around, then stepped to the car next to them and secured one band inside the wheel well. He then moved to a truck a few spaces down and secured the second band the same way.
Lana wanted to ask about the action, but Lance was already heading toward the store. She appraised the few inches of hospital gown extending below the windbreaker. Good thing the hospital attire also included flip-flops. Her legs glowed white in the parking-lot lights. She really needed to get some sun. She removed the wrap around her head and donned the ball cap. Then, with a heavy sigh, she followed several yards behind Lance into the store.
Chapter 12
Lana picked out a complete ensemble, choosing to go with a contemporary Western style some people were wearing instead of the spandex and crop tops most of the local college girls sported. She wanted to blend in as much as possible without looking ridiculous.
Her mind would not stop thinking about the switch in Lance Kipling’s conduct. He’d gone from military correctness to breaking procedures to forcing her to go off-grid. But why? What was his endgame?
After changing into a new outfit, Lana pushed a cart around the large box store, trying to appear as if casually shopping. Lance had said not to look too rushed and not glance over her shoulder too much. But since she realized anyone could be a bad guy, it was easier said than done.
She felt much better in clothes that were significantly more modest than the thin hospital gown—but she still needed a shower. She loaded her cart with extra clothing, shoes, and some personal items. She also got a six-pack of bottled water, a box of granola bars, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a family-sized package of Double Stuf Oreos.
Even traversing the entire store twice, she never caught a glimpse of Lance. She thought his tall frame and military shirt and slacks would stand out. But she couldn’t find him anywhere—and that infuriated her. They needed to talk. They needed to clear the air and get on the same page. No more secrets. He was determined to keep her off-grid until he could figure things out, but how was he going to accomplish that? Where was he going to start looking? As much as he wanted to figure things out, she wanted it even more. As such, she resolved to be part of the planning.
With her jaw set, Lana wheeled the cart to the checkout.
“Good evenin’, hon,” the matronly cashier said. “How ya doin’ tonight? You here for school?” Her name badge read Patty.
“School?”
“Of course. University of Wyoming? That’s what most kids your age are here for.”
“I, um . . . I already have a degree,” Lana said, confused by the woman’s dialogue. She didn’t think she looked that young.
“Oh, grad school, then? Are you in the nursing program or the pharmacy school? I hear they’re top-notch.”
Lana opened her mouth to explain, but the cashier cut her off.
“No, wait. You got into the law school, didn’t you! Land’s sake. I knew it. I just knew it. I have a sense for these things, hon. You got that determined look in those gorgeous blue eyes. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Lana gave a fleeting smile. “Guilty as charged.”
The woman laughed heartily. “Lands, how I envy you. We need more women like you in this society. Men have screwed it all up. We need us a female perspective. When the world comes crashing down and the dust settles, it’s the womenfolk who’ll have the know-how to put it back together right. I say good for you, sweetie.” She pressed a button on the register pad. “Your total’s a hundred ninety-two ’n’ sixty-three cents. That’s a bundle of change, but you sure got some nice duds here. Course, anything’d look good on a figure like yours. And those blue eyes! Lands’ sake!”
“I’m really not all that into fashion,” Lana said, handing her two hundred-dollar bills.
“I knew it! You got something about you, like I said. You know what you want, and you just put your head down and go for it until you got it. You’re a young woman who’s got her life figured out down to the last second. Ain’t that right?”
She smiled at the overly friendly woman, wondering if she was this uncensored with all her customers. “Not really,” Lana ruefully admitted, “but I’m trying.”
“And succeeding,” the cashier said before counting her change back. “I wish you all the luck in the world, honey. But I bet you don’t need it. You’re the kind of gal who makes her own luck, ain’t cha?”
Self-incrimination slackened Lana’s countenance. “You’d be surprised. But thanks for the encouragement.”
“Hope to see ya again, dear.”
Pushing her cart from the checkout area, Lana again searched for Lance but couldn’t see him. If he was still covertly watching her, he was doing a great job. Dad had taught her how to recognize when someone was stalking her or feigning interest. People weren’t as sneaky as many thought they were. Unless they’d had expert training.
Deciding she looked more suspicious just standing around, Lana exited the store. The parking lot was full of evening shoppers. She moved to a wire bench near the entrance and sat.
The brief encounter with the genial cashier played in her mind. The woman had mistaken Lana’s resolute expression as ironclad confidence. The topsy-turvy past few days made her feel anything but confident. And yet, the cashier’s parting words rang in her mind. You’re the kind of gal who makes her own luck. Was she?
Dad had tried to instill in her unbreachable self-confidence. He hadn’t sugarcoated anything. He’d always spoken the truth and allowed her to stumble and make mistakes. But he’d always been there to help her stand back up. He wasn’t a helicopter parent, always hovering about, doing everything to guarantee Lana would never be hurt or disappointed. He’d been there, watching, protecting against catastrophe, but he’d allowed her to experience her share of disappointment and failure. Dad had been more of a safety net, and Lana had proudly earned bumps, bruises, and even a scar or two—both physical and emotional. She was confident he’d never have let a complete tragedy strike.
Until he died.
She shook her head. Until he was murdered. Petrov had gleefully admitted his people were the ones who’d killed her father. She was determined to get even. She needed to solve the mystery surrounding the disk in her head. More than anything else, she wanted to get the men who had taken her father from her. And her best bet for doing so was Lt. Lance Kipling.
She stood from the bench and scanned the harshly lit parking lot. Lance was still nowhere in sight. The man was a mystery himself. What was in the file he had on her father? He never did confirm why he was investigating him. Was her dad connected with bioterrorism?
Ha! Not likely.
She grew tired of waiting. Too many things needed to be done. And rather than trusting her future solely to the lieutenant, Lana vowed to take the cashier’s suggestion to heart. Starting right now, she would make her own luck.
Chapter 13
Lance leaned against his Cherokee, acting casual. He was now dressed in jeans, a short-sleeve Western shirt, and a ball cap that matched the one Lana wore. Knowing his uniform was even more glaring than Lana’s hospital gown and slippers, he’d made the change. He was checking out a weather app when Lana walked up.
“Where’d you get the duds?” she asked.
“Same place you did,” he said, nodding toward the box store.
She appraised him with a not-so-subtle grin. “It really works for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you see anyone watching me in there? Because I didn’t see you anywhere.”
“Good,” he said as he helped Lana load her purchases into the cargo area. “There were plenty of people staring at you. One girl even tried taking a picture while you were still in the hospital gown, but you moved too fast, just like you were supposed to. No one tailed you though. Like I said, not only is this a Walmart, Laramie is a college t—” He stopped and held up the Oreos with a questioning expression.
She smiled and shrugged. “Everyone has their addictions.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “This is a college town. University kids are generally a shameless bunch who don’t care how they dress when shopping.” He shut the cargo door. “Did you get what you needed?”
“Clothing-wise, yes. But I still need a shower.” She glanced at the car that was still next to them. “Aren’t you concerned about the bad guys going after the poor saps whose cars you stuck the trackers to?”
“No. They’ll probably fall off after a couple of miles. And even if they stay on, they’re attached to cars, not you. The bad guys will figure it out real quick.”
After buckling in, she turned to him. “Lance, I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. I don’t know why you’re risking and sacrificing so much for a stranger, but I recognize the consequences it may have on your career. You’ve already saved my life at least once, so I owe you that.”
“You don’t owe me a—”
“Please, let me finish,” she cut across, silencing him.
“Hang on,” he said, starting the SUV and turning on the radio. “Okay.”
She took a steadying breath. “So here’s what’s going to happen. We both know the bad guys know who I am. We know they want the disk in my head because of the information it contains. I honestly don’t know what that information is, but I suspect you do—at least partially.” She held up her palm to stop his objections. “Like you, I just don’t know who to trust anymore. Even you have done some shady things—lying about improper disk removal being fatal, putting a tracker on me without my knowledge, telling me half-truths.” She again stopped him from commenting. “Why else would you stick both hospital bands to separate vehicles? You want to confuse the people following me. Yes, you have national security reasons. I understand your motives, though I still don’t appreciate your tactics. But that’s water under the bridge. Right now, you’re the only person who seems to be on my side. I need to know I can trust you, Lance. No more games, no more lies.”
He took his eyes from the parking lot and looked at her with a steady gaze. “Agreed. And I’m sorry for any previous deceptions.”
“Again, water under the bridge. Let’s move forward. You’re right that I have no idea who we’re dealing with, but I assume they’re the worst of the worst. However, the stuff I want to get from my apartment may have some bearing on what’s happening—including my dad’s old memorabilia. Some knickknacks and a stack of papers. I have a feeling the information you’ve gathered on my father may be substantiated by what’s there. Dad was all about keeping secrets. Nothing top secret, of course, but perhaps an item or two may clue you into something. I’ve never looked closely at them because, well, frankly, his passing is still rather painful. Even more so now that Petrov admitted to killing him.”
Lance looked over sharply. “When did he do that?”
“In the van.” She quickly rehearsed the conversation. “He said Dad was dead even before his car left the bridge.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll have to look into that. I saw the death notice come through the wire. I also saw the investigation report confirming it was an accident.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else I could accomplish by going there.”
“I figured as much. Anyway, I need to get my things from my apartment. Let’s go back, sneak in to grab some things, and get out. I’ll be quick.” She pointed at the dash clock. “By the time we get there, it’ll be after midnight. Nobody will see us. Fort Collins isn’t exactly known for its nightlife, so we can do it covert-like, the way you guys do things.”
He shook his head. “You watch way too many spy movies. Don’t always swallow what Hollywood feeds you.” But he considered her petition, impressed by her determination. He nodded. “You do exactly as I say. No talking. No noise. If I hold up my fist like this,” he said, demonstrating the sign, “you freeze. If I do this,” he said, thrusting his palm flat toward the ground, “you drop. And this,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, “you run. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
He nodded again. “Okay, then.”
* * *
Fourteen minutes after midnight, Lana unbuckled her seat belt as Lance parked his SUV two blocks from Lana’s apartment complex. Contrary to what she had told him, there were quite a few apartment lights on, with people visible through their living-room windows. In the summertime, college towns seldom settled in until the wee hours of dawn.
As they set off, Lana took Lance’s hand in hers. “Since we’re wearing matching hats, it’ll look less conspicuous if we act like a couple,” she explained. “The bad guys will be looking for two separate people instead of a couple.”
“You catch on quick.”
“Not all spy movies are filled with clichés.”
He reached over and playfully pulled the brim of her cap down. She laughed as she righted it. They walked casually, talking about college classes, movies, and the coolness and fragrances of the evening air. Lance contributed to the conversation but kept an eye out for lurkers. They paused at a bus-stop billboard in front of her apartment complex and pretended to read some advertisements.
“You see anything we should be worried about?” Lana asked.
“Not so far.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“Can we access your place from the back?”
“I think so. I’m on the second floor, but I have a balcony.”
He pointed at one of the fliers as if he were referencing it. “Let’s stroll around the block and come in from the back. If your downstairs neighbor has a deck chair or table, we can use that.”
She also pointed at the flier. “There’s a metal trellis on the back wall. I’ve seen some college boys climbing it when they thought no one was looking.”
They took another eight minutes to walk around the block. The apartment complex consisted of several buildings surrounding a green space. A clubhouse and pool sat at the far end of the space, away from Lana’s unit. Good thing too. The pool was filled with late-night frolickers.
“Should we be worried about them?” Lana asked.
“No. It actually helps our cover.”
They walked along the green space, staying within the shadows as much as possible. When they reached Lana’s apartment, Lance examined the trellis. Fortunately, it was not well lit. “Let’s go one at a time while the other is lookout. I’ll go first.”
“There’s a key behind a tin gecko hanging on the wall.”
Lance gave her a quirky smile.
“My dad taught me to always be prepared. The keypad for the alarm is directly across the living room next to the front door. The code is 0229.”
“Your dad’s birthday.”
Lana smiled. “On a leap year. You have done your research.”
“The bad guys have too. Let me go in and case the apartment before you come up.”
She nodded.
Lance clambered up the trellis without a problem and stepped onto her balcony. She heard the scraping of tin against the stucco wall and then the sliding of her balcony’s glass door. Lana settled into a deep shadow and took in the surrounding area. Soft music and laughter filtered from the pool area. An older gentleman walked his small dog on the green space until the animal found a spot worthy to receive its feces. Fortunately, the man was cultured enough to have a plastic baggy with which to carry away his pet’s little deposit.
“Clear,” a whispered voice came from above.
When man and dog went back inside, Lana scrambled up the trellis and onto her balcony.
“You do that like you’ve done it before,” Lance whispered.
“It’s my ninja training.”
“Right . . .” He gave the green space one last scan. “Let’s go. The place is empty, but I didn’t have time to check for bugs. Go in, get what you need, and then we’ll exit this way. No talking. Try not to make any noise.”
“Affirmative,” she said, stepping inside.
Chapter 14
Lana went to her bedroom, where she grabbed a medium-sized carry-on from her closet, and Lance followed. He held up his fist, and she froze as he examined the luggage very closely, checking for bugs or trackers, she guessed. She appreciated his thoroughness, but nothing in the apartment appeared out of place. If her quarters had been searched, she’d find something awry. But she saw nothing. As soon as Lance gave the go-ahead, she filled the carry-on with underwear, socks, toiletries, and a few items of clothing. When she placed a few pictures atop her clothes, Lance took each photo from its frame, then collectively slid the photos inside a pouch in the luggage lid. She doubted the frames had been bugged, but she’d decided to trust that he knew what he was doing. He removed a plastic trash liner from his pocket and put the frames inside.
Lana reached under her bed and removed an aluminum lockbox from one of the drawers hidden by the mattress skirt. The container was slightly bigger than a standard shoebox and was secured with a combination lock. She handed the box to Lance. When he determined it was secure, he handed it back, and she nestled it inside her carry-on.
She then went to the bathroom to grab her favorite hairbrush—a natural-bristle tortoiseshell brush a friend had given her in high school. A small night-light allowed her to find the brush quickly, along with her favorite skin lotion and lip balm. Catching a quick look in the mirror actually made her flinch. Her eyes were sunken and zombielike. Her skin looked dull and saggy. She sighed heavily. A flying broom would be the perfect accessory to her current visage. She exited the bathroom, walked back to her bedroom, set the items in her luggage, and zipped it closed. She nodded toward the doorway, indicating she was ready to go.
