Page 100 of Gone Tonight
We descend in silence.
When the doors open, we walk through the lobby together and as we approach the front desk, I wave casually to the receptionist, who I recognize. I’ve deliberately positioned myself between the front desk and my mother.
“Good morning,” my mother calls cheerfully, and the receptionist returns the greeting.
My mother is wearing an item we picked up at CVS last night—apair of glasses. Up close you can tell she’s relatively young, but I don’t plan to give the receptionist a chance to see her clearly.
My mother pauses briefly at a tall oval table that contains printed schedules of different activities being offered for today and scoops one up, as I instructed her to do. She moves assuredly, as if this is part of her regular routine.
“It’s going to be a scorcher,” I say. “Enjoy your walk, Mrs. Reed.”
“I will!” My mother steps on the pad that triggers the automatic door to open, but I pause at the front desk.
The illusion is working. I can tell because the receptionist is looking at me, not my mother. Now I need to muddy her memory in case she tries to recall the name I just spoke.
“Do you know if Mrs. Williams got that package yet from FedEx?”
She frowns. “Package? I’m not sure.”
I nod. “Yeah, I think it was delivered to Mrs. Davis—I mean, Mrs. Lee on floor two.” I laugh. “Now I’m getting confused. Anyway, no worries. I’ll be back in a bit and will check on it then.”
She nods. I glimpse her phone screen and see she’s playing a game of solitaire. There’s also a large coffee from 7-Eleven on her desk along with a half-eaten SlimFast bar, and she looks a little bleary-eyed. Her brain isn’t primed to be scanning and sorting and storing information right now.
With any luck, the details of this little encounter will slip away permanently, muscled out of place by all the other information—things likethe red eight goes on the black nineandI wish this bar was a chocolate donutvying for attention in her crowded mind.
I silently will the message to her:Forget us.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXRUTH
I step outside into a world that has no right to be so beautiful. The early morning sun lays down a golden filter as a gentle breeze ruffles the air. The gardens surrounding Sunrise are blooming, with cherry-colored and creamy white azaleas edging the front porch and clusters of rich purple and warm yellow petunias filling the beds.
I can’t drink in my surroundings, as I might on any other morning.
A new Facebook message just came in for me.
I walk quickly to the Bonneville, scanning my surroundings with every step, and climb into the driver’s seat. Only after I’ve locked the doors do I take off my glasses with the clear lenses and look down at my phone and read the reply sent by James.
9 a.m. it is. I can’t wait to see you. But let’s talk first.
He then lists a phone number for me to call.
My mouth goes dry. After so many years, I’m finally hearing from James.
I look up to see Catherine exiting Sunrise. I turn the key to start the car and drive to meet her a few feet from the door. She slipsinto the passenger’s seat and clicks her seat belt into place without a word. Then she folds her arms and stares straight ahead.
Her edgy silence increases my agitation, but I can’t do anything about that now. I need to focus on retrieving the Cadillac, making sure Catherine is safely out of range, and calling James.
James must want to verify it’s really me before he heads to our meeting spot. It will be easy to establish my identity, and hopefully it won’t be difficult to convince him I’ve been longing for him all these years.
I turn out of the parking lot onto a nearly empty, four-lane road. We’re ahead of the rush-hour traffic, which means we’ll make good time to Pizza Piazzo.
Inside the car it’s warm and stuffy, and our temperamental air conditioner isn’t helping. I lower my window a few inches and settle in for the drive.
I’m so focused on preparing myself I almost miss Catherine’s question.
“What are we going to do?”
I frown. We’ve already gone over this.
