Nightlife_ A Novel Part 19

"No," said Calvin Dunn. "I work for the family of one of the victims."

"I wondered why you were sitting by the fireplace reading the newspaper so late at night, so I thought you were the police, watching me."

"You're not far off."

The young man looked into his eyes and understood. "You've been waiting for her, her, haven't you? You think she's going to come back here and try to kill me." haven't you? You think she's going to come back here and try to kill me."

Calvin Dunn said, "The thought had crossed my mind."

"Oh, man."

"It's just a precaution. The police are watching the bus station and the car rental places and the airport and even the highway entrance ramps. They've got all the rational places covered. They know what she looks like, and if she shows up where they are, they'll probably get her."

"You sound as though you don't think she will."

"She's got another side besides the rational one, and that makes all the difference. She looks as though she wouldn't say boo to a goose, but once in a while, she pulls out a big old pistol and shoots a guy through the head. That shows that she doesn't necessarily do what other people would do."

"But she wouldn't get anything from killing me."

"It's hard to say what she got from killing those other people either. Some killers get a thrill out of it, and some are just p.i.s.sed off." He shrugged. "I'm a little surprised that the police haven't considered the same thing. They're acting as though they think she's already a thousand miles from here."

"You don't think she is?"

"I don't know, and neither do they."

"Are you planning to stay here until my shift ends?"

"If you don't mind."

"Not at all," said the young man. "Make yourself comfortable." He held out his hand. "My name is Donald Holman."

Calvin Dunn shook his hand. "I know that. Calvin Dunn."

"You know, the light up here in the lobby is better for reading. Hardly anybody sits by the fireplace in the summer."

"I noticed that. But it's the only place where someone outside can't see me through the windows."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, if you need anything while I'm on duty, just let me know."

"You know, there is just one thing. Do you, by any chance, have a woman staying here named Catherine Hobbes?"

Donald looked troubled. "I'm really not supposed to talk about any of the people staying here."

"I didn't ask for her room number or anything. I could go over to the house phone over there and ask the operator to connect me with her room."

"I know," said Donald. "It's a silly rule. She is staying here. She flew in from Portland to interview me a few hours after I reported Tanya. After that Detective Hobbes checked in, and one of the local cops told me she wanted to be in this hotel because she likes to see everything that Tanya Starling sees."

"Maybe that works for her. What it does for me is put you both in one place, and that makes this the place to be."

Donald frowned. "You think she's in danger too?"

Calvin Dunn shrugged. "She's a detective hunting for a serial killer, she's in a strange town where the serial killer is-or was-and the killer knows her name. The thing that keeps cops alive isn't that they're especially smart, which most of them aren't, or tough, which a few of them are. It's that they come in bunches, an inexhaustible supply, like ants. But she's here alone."

"I guess you're right. She's probably as much of a target as I am."

Calvin Dunn was leaning on his elbows at the counter with his arms folded. He straightened, and his right hand opened his coat to reach into his inner pocket. Donald saw the knurled handgrips of the big pistol in its shoulder holster, but the coat closed again and Calvin Dunn held a thin stack of hundred-dollar bills. "Tonight I expect to be in sight of you until your shift ends, but maybe I won't be tomorrow. This is five hundred, and here's my card. I would like you to call my cell phone number any time Detective Hobbes goes out or has a visitor. If you happen to overhear anything, I can promise you a lot more."

"Gee, I don't know . . ."

"Please take it. She's a dear friend of mine, and she's just too proud and stubborn to let me protect her." Then he had Donald's wrist in a grip that wasn't hard, but it was so strong that Donald was afraid to let any of his muscles contract for fear the grip would tighten and break his wrist. Dunn put the money into his hand, then released him.

"I shouldn't be taking this money, or spying on a policewoman."

"It's for her own good, and yours. This way I can keep an eye on both of you at once."

"But I don't feel right about taking the money."

"I'm going outside to look around the parking lot now," said Calvin Dunn. "And don't worry about my money. The only reason to have money is to help your friends."

28.

It was Thursday morning, and Nicole sat at Tyler Gilman's computer in his bedroom. The scanner he had beside his printer had given her an idea. She scanned the pattern from the back of an honor roll certificate that had been posted on Ty's wall onto a blank sheet of paper. She did it on four sheets, then turned over the paper and did it on the reverse side. "Ty," she called. "Help me think of a new name."

He lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "How about Tara?"

"Too unusual."

"You are unusual."

"No. I want something that sounds like everybody else's name. I want to fade, Ty. I want to be invisible for, like, two years, and have a life."

"Victoria? Veronica? Melissa?"

"Too long. Maybe I'll be an Anne. Let me see. Foster, no, Forster. Anne Forster."

"That's good," said Ty. "That's really good."

She reached into her purse, took out the disk she carried, and put it into the computer. She opened the file containing the blank birth certificate. She selected the type font that fit the rest of the doc.u.ment and filled in the blanks to make Anne Forster a woman born twenty-two years ago, on the nineteenth of July. She put one of her sheets of paper with the filigree patterns on it into the printer and printed the certificate. Ty reached for it, but she said, "Don't touch it. The ink will smudge."

He stopped himself, and held his head at an angle to see the certificate in the tray. "It's just like the real thing. What should my name be?"

"Your name?"

"Yeah," he said. "It should sound real too. How about Joshua? Josh Forster."

"Uh . . . not quite right." She managed to conceal her surprise, but her mind was not moving quickly enough. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you and I have the same last name? What are you trying to be?"

"Your husband."

She smiled indulgently, but she shook her head. "That's so sweet. But Ty, you're twelve years younger than I am. That difference is three-quarters of your life. n.o.body would believe we were married. More likely, they'd think I was one of those teachers who run off with one of their students. They'd call the police."

She saw his eyes begin to cloud, and he lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She had said too much, and she had to fix things instantly or she was in trouble. "How about my brother? You could easily be my brother. That way, if we traveled together, people wouldn't think anything of it."

"I don't want to be your brother."

"Ty, please. Don't insist on taking extra risks. Our lives could depend on this. We can't be lazy-minded and draw attention to ourselves."

"I don't even look like your brother."

She thought about what she had seen of his parents' room. "Does your mother dye her hair to get rid of the gray?"

"Yeah."

She got up and went into the master bathroom off Ty's parents' bedroom. When Ty caught up with her she was opening cabinets and drawers. She knelt at an open cabinet under the sink, and took out a hair dye box with a picture of a beautiful woman on the front. She stood and pulled Ty to the mirror, then held the box up beside his hair. "Look. Her hair color is exactly the same as yours."

"You're going to dye your hair the color of mine?"

"Yes."

"Our eyes are different."

"My eyes are a paler blue than yours," she said, "but I have blue contacts. And brown and green. But I'll wear the blue. We'll look amazing."

He said nothing, just stared unhappily into the mirror at her. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Brothers and sisters can stay in the same hotel room at night. They do it all the time to save money."

He smiled.

"Come on. Help me."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Ty, we've only got about three days left before your parents show up. Anything we need to do to prepare has to be done well before then. And some little thing might be what saves us." She tore open the top of the box.

"What if she notices it's missing?"

"I don't know," she said. "She probably won't notice, at least right away. She's got three boxes. I do know that if she can't find a box of hair dye, what she does about it isn't going to be calling the police. That's all I care about." She started to take small bottles and plastic gloves out of the box and set them on the sink.

"This looks really messy."

"It is."

"Then let's do it in my bathroom."

"But that's smaller and darker."

"If they come back and we're gone, you don't want them to figure out what happened right away. If there's a stain on the counter or something, they'll know the exact color you dyed your hair."

She stared at him. He kept surprising her. She followed him into his bathroom and set up her kit on his sink. She pulled her top off over her head, and heard the intake of breath from Ty. "Don't," she said. "Not now. I just can't take a chance that I'll stain my clothes. I don't have any except these."

He said, "I . . . I'm sorry. I should have thought about that. I have, like, three hours before I have to go to work. I can go out and buy you some now. I'll bring them when I get back from work."

"Where were you thinking of going?"

"I don't know. The mall?"

"Go someplace big, where n.o.body pays any attention to you and you put stuff in a shopping cart. Is there a Wal-Mart or a Target or something?"

"Yeah. Both."

"Then I'll give you a list of what I need, with my sizes. Buy some stuff for yourself, too, and mix it all together, like it's for your family. Okay?"

"Sure."

She stepped into his room, took a blank sheet of paper from the printer, and wrote out her list. She picked up her purse and took out some money. "This is six hundred dollars. If you spend all of it in one place, they'll notice you." She handed him the list, and watched him read it. "Can you handle all of that?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I can do it. I've bought things for my mom."

"Just do your best, Ty. Be careful." She leaned close and kissed him slowly, pa.s.sionately, then held him at arm's length. "The thing I care about most is that you keep yourself safe. If anything in or around the store doesn't seem right, then avoid the place. Don't go in."

"Okay," he said.

"Then go. Get the exact sizes I said. Try to stick with dark colors and earth tones. Don't worry about the lengths of the pants. I'll shorten them if they're too long. And try to find me a small, cheap suitcase with wheels, about the size to hold the clothes."

She kissed him again, and he looked a bit dazed. He didn't want to go. His arms lingered around her, until she grasped his wrists and removed them. She spun him around and pushed him toward the door. "Get going!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed a pillow from the bed and hurled it in his direction. He sidestepped it easily and was out the door.

She listened to his footsteps going out, then the sound of the car. She went into the bathroom, took off the rest of her clothes, and opened the bottles. The strong, acrid odor of the chemicals filled the room. Some people hated that smell, but for her it brought back very early memories. The first time she had smelled that smell she had been five. Charlene and her mother had arrived in the downtown hotel the night before the Tiny Miss Milwaukee pageant, and she and her mother had gone down to the ballroom to watch the other contestants being brought in by their mothers for registration. As they watched the other little girls, her mother had looked increasingly worried. Finally she had locked Charlene in their room, gone to a drugstore down the street, and come back with two hair-dyeing kits. The next morning at the opening of the pageant, Charlene and Sharon Buckner had appeared with the same fresh golden hair and the same carefully applied makeup. They had looked almost alike, the pretty daughter like a miniature of the pretty mother.

As she worked, she reflected that it was a relief that Ty was gone. The dyeing wasn't difficult to do, but it did require that she pay attention to the time, and he was always trying to distract her.

She finished, and she could tell even while it was still wet that she had done a very good job. She went to her purse, found the little plastic case with her colored contacts in it, selected the blue ones, and put them in. She stood in front of the mirror. "I'm a Gilman."

29.