Other People's Baggage Read Free Page B

emerged from the cocoon of steam into my room. The sun was setting, a glow of purple and orange in the sky above the mountainous horizon and deep blue water. I found the mini-bar and poured myself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, then opened the doors and stood on my balcony. The breeze was cool against my skin. I drank in the air coming off the water, the lingering scent of honeysuckle and grass. This was heaven. This was the most beautiful view I’d seen. No wonder Doris Day had chosen to live here.
    I sipped my wine and leaned on the white metal banister. Couples dotted the street, sprinkled with children and dogs. This was a walking town and I was barely able to walk. Not for the first time, I cursed Brad. I cursed the way he’d ended it, two weeks after telling me, one romantic night in the back of Pierot’s interior design studio, he wanted us to be together forever. I cursed how I’d skied away from him after he told me he was already married; I cursed the accident that had sent me to the hospital.
    A part of me still didn’t believe it was over, even if I knew it had to be. That’s why I’d left Pennsylvania with a quickly packed suitcase for a spontaneous trip to Carmel, California. I had to go someplace where I knew I wouldn’t see him, because the longer I stayed in Pennsylvania, the more I thought I saw him everywhere I went. And the longer I went without running into him, the stronger that feeling became, the feeling I was being watched, that he was there, but not there. I didn’t know if it was wishful thinking or paranoia, but I knew I had to get away.
    Deep voices pulled me away from the memory of the accident. I looked around, at the balcony to my left and to my right. Both were vacant. The creaking above me let me know my company was one floor up. I sipped the wine and listened to the snippets of conversation.
    â€œThe only thing I know is she was supposed to arrive today and we’ll see her tonight.”
    â€œDo you trust your source?”
    â€œI don’t see any choice right now.”
    â€œSo she’s at the hotel. She could be here already. She could be in any one of these rooms and we wouldn’t even know it.”
    â€œYeah. We might have walked right past her and not even known. Do you know who brought her?”
    There was no answer.
    â€œDoesn’t matter. She’s going to be in the bar tonight, and that’s when we’ll grab her.”
    Grab her. A chill ran down my spine.
    â€œYou don’t think anybody will notice you grabbing a blonde from the bar?”
    â€œI can’t see any other choices.” There was a pause. By now I’d identified the voices as the two men from the elevator. “So here’s the plan. Get into disguise by nine, meet at the bar at nine-thirty. When she shows up, we hit it and quit it. Until then, it’s the friendly stranger routine. got it?”
    The friendly stranger routine . That’s what I’d allowed myself to believe only moments earlier. I gripped the metal banister harder for balance.
    â€œHey Louis, did you find out where she’s coming from?”
    â€œSomeplace on the east coast. I don’t know the details, but I know she made a stopover in Dallas.”
    That’s when I dropped the glass.

MIDNIGHT ICE: THREE
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    â€œWhat was that?” asked one of the voices.
    I stumbled backward, through the balcony doors. My right hand grabbed at the sheer curtains that blew in and out of the room, steadying myself. I was afraid to be visible. I slid the glass door shut and pulled the cord that blocked the sunlight from the room. I lowered myself to the floor next to the plush Queen Anne chair in the corner.
    Minutes later there was a knock on my door. I tried to curl into a ball but my injured knee wouldn’t bend. I twisted to my side and lay down against the carpet. The slightest task of breathing in, breathing out, was too loud and threatened to give