“So it’s very possible that you did meet him when you were there. You would have been roughly the same age.”
Jack took a drink from the complimentary bottle of mineral water on his bedside table. “I might have known him—there were a ton of kids my age there, and I don’t really remember their names.”
“Of course, I understand.”
“Look, I’m sure it’s purely coincidental, but you did tell me—”
“No. No, of course, I’m so glad you called. Anything you think of, even if it’s a coincidence, could be helpful. How about any of the other names?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Well, if you think of anything …”
“I will let you know, I promise.”
“And one more thing, Jack, I’ve been meaning to ask whether you’d reconsider having some police protection. Even if it’s just an occasional unmarked vehicle outside of your house at certain hours.”
“I’m traveling right now, so they’d be guarding an empty house. But, really, the answer is that I’m fine without it. Thanks, but no thanks.”
He could hear her sigh across the line. “All right, then. Thank you for letting us know about the Windward Resort. And don’t hesitate if you remember something else. Anything else.”
After ending the call, Jack wondered for a moment if contacting the FBI had been the right thing to do, and whether he should have told her what happened to his sister at the Windward Resort.
There was a knock on the door. Just before calling Agent Mercer, Jack had called down for room service, but he thought it was too soon for them to be at his door. He slid gingerly off the bed—he always felt particularly old when he traveled for business—and walked to his door, opening it just enough to see a short Latino man holding a tray with his Cobb salad on it, plus his half bottle of wine. Jack brought the tray to the table in front of the room’s only windows, three adjacent panes that provided a panorama of flat farmland for as far as he could see. There was low sunlight striking his window but somewhere in the middle distance he could see a dark cloud, striations underneath it, a rainstorm hitting some distant point. For a brief, scary moment, Jack completely forgot where he was, then remembered that he was on the outskirts of Indianapolis.
He sat, and peeled the Saran Wrap off of his salad. The whole thing, including the grilled chicken and the bacon, was ice cold. No wonder it came right away, since it had clearly been premade and sitting in the refrigerator. He twisted the cap off his wine and poured himself a glass.
6
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28, 5:47 P.M.
The Rolling Brook Cabins didn’t look like much from the outside but inside they were borderline luxurious. It looked like something you’d see in an LL Bean catalog, dark wood furnishings, fishing prints on the wall, and the bed was covered by a white blanket with red, green, and yellow stripes. There was a working fireplace, and two upholstered lodge chairs, and the bathroom had a deep tub in it.
Ethan had gotten there first, then texted Caroline to say that he’d checked in, and she should come straight to the cabin. She’d texted back to say that she was half an hour away. Nervous, he paced the cabin, wondering if he had time to take a quick shower, then decided that he didn’t. He kept wandering over to the window and pulling the curtain back to see if Caroline had arrived. He was hardly aware of the police cruiser, even though the officer had identified himself to Ethan after he’d checked in.
He went and looked in the refrigerator. There was a complimentary bottle of white wine and a fruit plate, covered with plastic wrap. He left them both there. In his backpack he had his one hitter, packed with some pretty potent indica, but he wanted to be straight when he first saw Caroline. It seemed important, somehow.
There was a knock on the door, and his heart hammered in his chest. He went and swung it open, and there was Caroline, taller than he thought she’d be, her cheeks flushed, a smile on her face.
“I’m nervous,” she said.
“I’m nervous, too. Why?”
“Right.”
She came inside the cabin, put down her overnight bag, and they embraced. It felt good, but also surreal, like the world had suddenly added a dimension and Ethan was rushing to catch up with the feeling.
“What should we do now?” she said.
“What do you want to do?”
“I asked you first.”
“I think we should get into bed with each other,” Ethan said. “I don’t care whether we have sex or anything, but I want to lie by your side and be able to touch you and kiss you.”