The Narrows - Michael Connelly [111]
The two black jets were gone, their owners either quick winners or losers. The big Gulfstream remained in place, red dust caps over the intakes on its jet engines. It was settled in. I wondered what the jets might have had to do with Jane Davis and her stay at the Double X.
I looked over at Jane’s empty balcony, just four feet from my own. The ashtray was sitting on the railing and I could see it was still filled with half-smoked butts. Her unit had not been cleaned yet.
And that gave me an idea. I looked around and down at the parking lot. I saw no human movement except for out on Koval, where the traffic was stalled at a traffic light. I saw no sign of the night security man or anyone else in the parking lot. I quickly hoisted myself up onto the railing and was about to climb across to the next balcony when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly dropped back down and went in and answered the door.
It was Rachel Walling.
“Rachel? Hello. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing that catching Backus couldn’t cure. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I stepped back to let her enter. She saw the box with my belongings piled into it. I spoke first.
“How did it go today when you got back into town?”
“Well, I got the usual tongue-lashing from the SAC.”
“Did you lay it all on me?”
“As planned. He fumed and fussed but what’s he going to do? I don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“Then what?”
“Well, for starters, do you have another one of those?”
She meant the beer.
“Actually, no. I was just finishing this one and was going to take off.”
“Then I’m glad I caught you.”
“You want to split it? I’ll get you a glass.”
“You said you wouldn’t trust the glasses here.”
“Well, I could wash —”
She reached over for the bottle and took a sip from it. She handed it back, her eyes staying on mine. She then turned and pointed to the box.
“So you’re leaving.”
“Yeah, back to L.A. for a while.”
“You’ll miss your daughter, I guess.”
“A lot.”
“You’ll come back to see her?”
“As often as I can.”
“That’s nice. Anything else?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, though I thought I knew what she meant.
“Will you be coming back for anything else?”
“No, just my daughter.”
We stood there looking at each other for a long moment. I held the beer out to her but when she came forward it was for me. She kissed me on the lips and then quickly we put our arms around each other.
I know it had something to do with the trailer, our nearly dying together out there in the desert, that made us press so hard against each other and move toward the bed, that made me reach over and put the beer bottle on the table so I could use both my hands as we pulled at each other’s clothes.
We fell onto the bed and made survivors’ love. It was quick and maybe to some degree even brutal—on both our parts. But most of all it satisfied the primal urge in both of us to fight death with life.
When it was over we were entwined on top of the bed covers, she on top of me, my fists still tangled in her hair.
She leaned to her left and reached for the beer bottle, knocking it over first and spilling most of what was left on the bed table and floor.
“There goes my security deposit,” I said.
There was enough left in the bottle for her to take a draw and then pass it to me.
“That was for today,” she said as I drank.
I gave her the rest.
“What do you mean?”
“After what happened out there, we had to do this.”
“Yeah.”
“Gladiator love. That’s why I came here. To catch you.”
I smiled, thinking of a gladiator joke from an old movie I liked. But I didn’t tell her and she probably thought I