Protector - Laurel Dewey [109]
“In the backseat.” Emily seriously considered Jane’s words. “The thing is, if I only call you ‘Mom’ in public and ‘Jane’ when we’re alone, I might forget and say ‘Jane’ when I should say ‘Mom.’ So, maybe I should call you ‘Mom’ all the time.”
Weyler walked to the car as Jane pulled Emily’s bags out of the car. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Jane turned to Emily. “We’ll talk about this later.” Emily walked around the Subaru, leaving Weyler and Jane alone. “This whole ‘mom’ thing is ridiculous,” Jane said confidentially to Weyler.
“It’s important you play the part so we don’t raise any suspicion. Treat it no differently than any of the undercover roles you’ve played. You played that hooker way back when you were on patrol and some cops still talk about how realistic you were.”
“A hooker and a mom. The only similarity is that it takes a big trick to pull them off successfully.” Jane lugged Emily’s luggage to the wagon and tossed it in the backseat. Emily sat in the front seat, her seat belt already fastened across her. She held open her Starlight Starbright vinyl case and looked longingly at several family photos.
Weyler held his hand out to Jane. “Good luck.” Jane eyed him briefly before shaking his hand. She had reached a point where she wasn’t sure of her own ability to judge another human being. Standing there with Weyler on that isolated dirt road, she wondered if she was shaking hands with her friend or her executioner. She looked over at Emily, still engrossed in her photographs. She surmised that from this moment on, it was the two of them against the world. Their ultimate survival would depend entirely on Jane’s ability to stay focused, resolute and constantly on guard. “What route are you taking?” Weyler asked.
Jane opened the driver’s side door. If Weyler was trying to garner more information so he could have somebody follow, Jane was damned if she was going to freely supply it. “Not sure. I was thinking I might go by way of Utah. Or maybe I’ll go to Kansas first. I want to keep that mystery alive.” Jane hoped that he would catch her drift that she was onto him. But all he did was turn away and smile.
“Just make sure you get there before five o’ clock,” Weyler said, walking to the sedan. “The real estate woman has to give you the house key. Her name is Kathy. Apparently, she’s real perky and friendly over the phone. I know the two of you will hit it off like sorority sisters.” Weyler’s last sentence dripped with sarcasm. He got into the sedan and pulled away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
Jane got into the Subaru and secured her seat belt. She looked around the dash and then up at the closed sunroof. “Pathetic,” she mumbled to herself.
“I’m glad you told me to keep these photos nearby.”
“Why’s that?”
Emily looked at the photos, brushing her finger across her dad’s face. “That was a good day.” Emily brightened a bit.
Jane reached into the backseat and pulled out her bag filled with CDs. “We’ve got a five hour drive ahead and we need the right tunes to get us there.” Jane quickly lit a cigarette as she searched through the CDs.
“You know,” Emily said carefully, referring to Jane’s cigarette. “That’s not good for my health.”
“Yes. But forcing me not to smoke would be even more detrimental to your health.” Jane rolled down the windows to let the smoke escape.
Emily pulled out a couple of the CDs. “Who’s Joe Cocker?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Is he any good?”
“Kid, if you don’t feel this in your toenails, there’s something wrong with you.” Jane popped in Cocker’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen CD. “Let’s rattle this wagon.” Jane turned on the ignition, turned up the volume on “Cry Me a River” and peeled down the road.
She headed westbound on Interstate 70. Her need for extreme speed was only tempered by how fast the Subaru could climb the passes and take the curves. They stopped at the 11,000 foot Summit rest area so Jane could use the bathroom. While Jane ducked in to use the facilities, Emily stood outside and took in the high altitude view.