Chapter 3: A Stranger in the Room

I stepped out of the Crown Vic and walked slowly to the door of the Airstream. I still wasn't sure what I was going to do with Sally Baynes. She was too damn sure of herself for my liking. My home was a one bedroom affair. If she was staying, there wasn't much doubt about where she thought she'd be sleeping. Any other woman that looked like her wouldn't cause me a moment's doubt. But Sally wasn't any other woman.

When I opened the door I caught a whiff of something cooking. It smelled good, a rarity in that kitchen.

"What's that you're making?" I asked as I stepped into the little galley.

"You didn't have much in the refrigerator or the cupboard. I made do with what I could find. It's venison and macaroni stir-fry."

I nodded approvingly. "Let me get washed up."

I took the time to have a shower and change. If I was going to have a regular visitor, I would have to make arrangements to re-fill my water more often. Currently, I was filling from Hurley's well.

I pulled on a clean t-shirt and cargo shorts before padding barefoot to the kitchen. Sally was just dishing up the meat and pasta concoction when I arrived. I opened two Cascades and put them on the table. She had made a tossed salad to go with whatever it was we were eating.

"This is good," I said. "What's in it?"

"Ground venison I borrowed from Uncle Hurley, macaroni, canned tomatoes, chopped onion, tomato sauce with Tabasco and a bit of Worcester sauce. I didn't expect you to have any of that."

"I put some Worcester with Tabasco and cheese in my scrambled eggs," I explained.

"Oh, gourmet breakfast, huh," she teased.

"Well, this is good. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now can I stay?"

I stopped eating and looked at her.

"Do you have any idea of what you're letting yourself in for?"

"Probably not, but nothing worth having comes without risk."

"Very philosophical," I grumbled. "Hurley tells me you were a cop."

"Yeah. I suppose he told you about my problem with them."

"He did."

"And I suppose he told you about my ex-husband."

"He did not. Should I be worried about him?"

"No. He's harmless, useless and worthless."

"Why'd you marry him then?"

"Young, dumb and horny."

I finished the last of the meal and leaned back in my chair. "You don't strike me as dumb. Not with a degree and ten years on the force. More likely you married a con-man. Had you fooled for a while, I expect."

"He did. Unlike you, he was a talker. He could talk the birds out of the trees."

"And one young woman out of her ... innocence."

"Hah! I'm afraid I wasn't quite that innocent."

"And since then?"

She shrugged. "Mostly window shopping. Nothing I'm proud of, except lately I've been a good girl."

"I'm no different. I'm not a monk, but I'm not stupid either. I'll admit that much."

"Doesn't this trailer get a little small after a while?" she asked, quickly changing subjects.

"It's big enough for me. It has everything I need and costs me almost nothing to run. I don't pay taxes because they don't know about me and I don't use any county services. If someone comes looking for me, they're going to have to look very hard, assuming they know where to look."

"Not much of a life, is it?"

"It isn't always by choice, Sally. There will come a day when I'm done and I'll want to disappear. I'm hoarding enough to make that possible sooner rather than later."

"They pay you that well?" she asked, surprised.

"They do. But I'm not averse to liberating some additional funds from the people I encounter. They tend to favor cash transactions."

She rose and collected the dishes, putting them in the sink. I got up as well and grabbed a towel.

"You wash and I'll dry," I volunteered. We were done in five minutes.

She wandered back into the living area and clicked on the TV. Watching her, I got the impression she wasn't paying any attention to it.

"Does my lifestyle bother you?" I asked.

"A little. I understand some of it. You're protecting yourself. Not just from the people you're after, but from being hurt again. This little aluminum ship you live in is a part of that. If you have to, you can hook it up and go somewhere else. No ties that bind."

I nodded. She was right. She was exactly right.

"You don't relate to that, do you," I said, not making it a question.

"No. I need a place to land. Something fixed. Something I can count on."

Norton was on the rug in front of us, lying with his head on his paws, eyes open, watching us. I wondered what he was thinking.

"And that's what makes me hard to live with. I wouldn't wish my life on any woman."

"That's making a big assumption that no woman could cope with you."

"It would take someone very ... different. Very tough minded. I tried it once. I let myself fall in love. I got stupid at the same time. I let her become part of my life. It cost her her life. I've promised myself I won't go through that again."

"Hurley said her name was Elizabeth and that she was very beautiful."

He nodded, saying no more.

"Why didn't you just become a male model ... or a TV star? It would have been so fucking easy for you. None of this shit would have been a factor. You'd have the big house and the fancy cars and plenty of money. Why this?"

"We don't always have control over how our life turns out. Sometimes you make decisions that can trap you in a place you don't want to be, but can't get out."

"Quit talking in riddles. What the hell got you into this ... mess?"

I decided it was time to take a chance.

"I was an undercover agent for the FBI. I was inside a terrorist organization before there was a Homeland Security agency. HS wanted me after the agency was formed and I refused. I refused the CIA as well. I became a 'contractor' as a way of controlling my own destiny. I pick and choose my assignments. I usually succeed, so they tolerate me."

"Who are they?"

"Our beloved government. I don't really exist if you ask them. I don't work for a team, I freelance. That's what makes it dangerous, but financially very rewarding."

"How many guys are there like you?"

"I have no idea. Maybe none, maybe a hundred. It isn't discussed."

"You have someone you report to?"

"Sort of. He, or she, gives me my assignments by secure phone. I do my job and report my results."

"How much does Uncle Hurley know?"

"Pretty much everything. He knows what this is about. He's been on the other end of the system in Naval Intelligence. He's got a few contacts that I don't have, so we work together when we can."

"Is it dangerous for him too?"

"I hope not. He's a couple of steps removed, but if one of his contacts is compromised, it could get dangerous."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you're like a dog with a bone. You won't let go. You'll badger me until you find out or figure it out. You've been in this kind of situation before, but here the stakes are higher."

"What do you mean, 'I've been in this kind of situation?'"

"You worked undercover with some Mexican drug importers in El Cajon. You were in on a high-end deal and busted the gang."

"How the hell did you find that out?" she asked, surprised once more.

"I have contacts that can get me information when I need it. You were so insistent on getting to know me that I figured I'd better protect my ass."

"It's not your ass I'm after," she smirked.

I was lying on my back, Sally sprawled on top of me. I could just manage to turn my head far enough to see the time on the clock radio. Wide awake at two-twenty in the morning. I'd been tempted to roll her off me, but didn't. We'd climbed into my bed three hours ago and she immediately went to work on me. Long Tall Sally was a very aggressive woman.

I gave as good as I got. Sally wanted a sixty-nine and I obliged. She wanted it missionary style and I obliged. She wanted it doggy style and I obliged. She tried to ride me into exhaustion and succeeded. She collapsed on my chest and fell asleep there. That's where she was at two-twenty in the morning.

Sally had unique orgasms. At least, they were unique to me. As one approached, she would begin to shiver, then shake, then as it hit, she would spasm. Not much vocalizing, but her physical reaction left no doubt she was getting off. Three trips to that happy place was very satisfying and very tiring.

Sometime later she slipped off my chest without waking and lay beside me in deep slumber. I wasn't that fortunate. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness and didn't really get a proper night's sleep. Luckily, I'd had some shuteye on the plane from Chicago.

I slipped out of bed just before six that morning and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I closed the door behind me as I headed for the galley and started the morning coffee. I looked at the calendar. It was Thursday, July 7. I had missed another July 4^th while I was out of the country. I looked out the window in front and saw another cloudless day. It would be hot up here on the bluffs.

Hurley and I lived on opposite ends of a clear-cut, accessible only by a little-used logging road. The trailer was partly sheltered by large pine trees, but not hidden from sight. Hauling the Airstream up here, or taking it anywhere else, was an exercise in caution. The road was rough and I had to take it slow all the way up from the entrance down on I-84. I wasn't looking forward to moving it out of here any time soon.

The heavily reinforced Crown Victoria remained my choice of transportation. I'd found it at a U.S. Government auction sale in Portland. The police interceptor package, steel plate guarding the oil pan and drive shaft, oil cooler, and special glass were all part of the charm of the big, comfortable brute. The rear anti-sway bar alone was nearly an inch thick. The logging road gave it no trouble at all, while run-flat tires made sure of it.

It was almost eight when Sally made an appearance. She looked a little bleary-eyed and not very talkative, but awake. She'd found a t-shirt of mine that almost covered her ass.

"Don't you ever go shopping?" she asked as she surveyed the almost empty fridge.

"Now and then. I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, today's the day then. Where do you eat?"

"Usually in town. I'm not much of a cook."

"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me."

"You planning on staying, then?"

She looked at me. "After last night, did you think I was going to walk away?"

"I've had a one-night-stand or two in my time."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Just so you know, that's not me. How about a three-night minimum trial. You can kick me out after if it suits you."

"Sounds reasonable. Why don't you have a shower and get dressed. We can go after that."

"I refilled the water tank yesterday ... just so you know," she said, looking in the meager cupboards for something to eat. She would be out of luck other than some crackers.