So he did, and when she kissed him back, his heart felt as if it was dancing.
“Something better,” he said. “A pay phone.”
* * *
An antique, was what he should have called the object of his search, but he was banking on the fact that cell phone coverage might be tricky in these mountains and that would mean there might still be old-fashioned landlines.
He was right.
Ariel spotted one half an hour later. The booth was outside a weather-beaten building he figured was a small-town version of a convenience store.
He pulled up beside the booth and hoped the relic would work.
It did. But it ate the coins he had and then waited patiently for more. Now what? All he had left in his wallet was a hundred dollar bill, and he had the feeling that asking the clerk in the store to break it was not the best idea. The last thing he wanted was to make himself memorable.
He had credit cards. They were a no-no, too. He suspected he’d made a mistake using them at the hospital and that little mall.
Ariel had been found with two things in her possession. His card.
And cash.
He hurried to the car and opened her door.
“That money you had with you when you had the accident… Do you still have it?”
She nodded. “I put it in the glove compartment after we left the hospital.”
Maybe the gods were listening. Matteo punched open the compartment, took out a couple of twenties and hurried into the store. A minute later, his pockets jingling, he went into the phone booth and lifted the receiver off the hook.
Caleb’s name and number was in the iPhone he’d ditched. Getting it from Information would take too long. He knew Luca’s numbers—cell, landline, office—by heart, and he punched in the numbers for his brother’s cellphone.
One ring. Two. Three. Matteo shoved his hand through his hair. “Come on,” he said, “Dammit, Luca…”
“Hello?”
“Luca.”
“Matteo? Where are you? The number that’s coming up on my caller ID…”
“I need Caleb’s phone number.”
“Don’t you have it?”
“I have it. I had it. I don’t have it now.”
“How come? Where’d you say you were? You sound… strange.”
“I don’t have time to explain. Just give me the number.”
“Matteo. Are you in trouble?” Luca’s tone sharpened. “What’s going on?”
“Dammit, man…” Matteo took a steadying breath. “I’ll explain another time. Right now—”
“Tell me where you are. What you need. I’ll be there right away.”
“I told you. What I need is to talk to Caleb. Give me his cell number. He’s a lawyer, I’m a lawyer. Means he probably carries the thing around as if it were part of him.”
“Jesus, Matteo…”
“Luca. I promise you, I’m fine, but I’m in—I’m in kind of a rush. I have to talk to Caleb. Okay?”
There was a blip of silence. Then a grudging, “Yes. Okay. Hold on a minute.”
It took less than that before Luca was rattling a number in his ear. Matteo repeated it twice.
“Good. Excellent. Thank you.”
“Listen, mio fratello, if you’re in some kind of hot water—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll call you when I can. And Luca? If anybody asks where I am, you don’t know.”
“But I don’t know,” his twin said in bewilderment.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Matteo said, and ended the call.
* * *
He dialed Caleb. His half-brother picked up on the first ring.
“Caleb Wilde,” he said briskly.
“Caleb. It’s Matteo.”
Silence. Understandable. In the months since the Bellinis and the Wildes had discovered they shared the same father, they’d come to care for each other, but Matteo and Caleb had never spoken on the phone.
“Hi,” Caleb finally said. “What’s up?”
Good. No polite chitchat, no long-winded hellos. Caleb had gone straight to the point. If I can only do the same, Matteo thought, and cleared his throat.
“I have a, uh, a situation here.”
Caleb chuckled. “Don’t tell me. A lawyer calling a lawyer for advice. Will wonders never—”
“I’m not calling you as a lawyer.”
“Oh?”
“No. This isn’t a legal problem. I mean, it is, in some ways, but—”
“But it’s a problem.”
“Yes.”
“And?” Caleb said cautiously.
“And…”
Dammit. Ariel had stepped from the car. She came up to him, put her arm around his waist and leaned into him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Hang on, Caleb, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Matteo muffled the phone against his jacket. “Go back to the car, honey.”
Ariel looked up at him. “I’m not cold standing here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad you’re not, but…” He forced a smile and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Wait for me in the car, okay?”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Ariel. Please, go back to the car.”
“Are you talking about me?”
“Ariel…”
She whipped off the glasses and gave him a long, angry look.
“You’re going to say things about me you don’t want me to hear.”
What was the point denying it? “Yes,” he said bluntly, “I am. Now go back to the—”
She jammed the glasses back on her nose, turned on her heel, strode back to the car, climbed inside and slammed the door. He considered going after her, but there was no point in that, either. They’d end up having the same argument they had each time the subject of her memory came up.
“Caleb,” he said, bringing the phone to his ear. “Sorry about the interruption. As I was saying, I have a situation…”
“What kind of situation?”
Matteo rubbed his forehead. “It’s a little hard to explain.”
“Yeah. Well, give it your best shot.”
“I have a client,” Matteo said. “I had a client.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I told him I wasn’t representing him anymore.”
“Formally? Officially?”
“I returned his files to him. Is that official enough?”
“Okay. Continue.”
“He’d told me he was going to divorce his wife.”
“Before you ended your relationship with him?”
“Yes. He’d asked me to handle the divorce. He said his wife had all kinds of issues.”
“Issues?”
“Mental issues. Emotional issues.”
“Help me out here. You’re not a divorce attorney, are you?”
“No, I’m not, but he was concerned about this being a delicate situation. I thought it was a bad idea, but I finally agreed to have drinks with him.” Matteo paused. “With him and his wife.”
“To eyeball the wife.”
“Exactly.”
He heard the creak of leather. He’d been in Caleb’s home; he could picture him sitting in a big, comfortable leather chair in his book-lined study.
“Go on.”
“The meeting didn’t go the way I’d anticipated. I told him I wouldn’t represent him in his divorce.”
“Because?”
“Because his wife didn’t strike me as how he’d described her. Mentally ill. Delusional. You know.”
“In fact,” Caleb said evenly, “I don’t know. I still have no idea what this ‘situation’ you mentioned is.”
“Yeah.” Matteo rubbed his forehead again. “Well, see, about that…”
A truck roared by. A logging truck, big and fast and noisy.
“What the hell was that?” Caleb asked.
“Ah, it was a tr…”
&n
bsp; Deposit fifty cents for another…
“Matteo? Are you in a phone booth?”
Caleb sounded as if he were asking if he was on Mars.
“Yes,” Matteo said, as he dumped quarters into the slot.
“Why?”
“Because I ditched my cellphone.”
“Because?”“Because I’m on the run with my former client’s wife and I thought he might be tracking us.”
There was what Matteo figured might be called a pregnant pause before his half-brother spoke again.
“Give me the number of the phone you’re using.”
Matteo peered at the phone. “It’s 518-555-0203.”
“Hang up. I’ll call you back in three minutes.”
Another time, the specificity of the statement would have rated a laugh, but Caleb sounded dead serious, which was pretty much the way Matteo felt.
The phone went dead. He looked over at the car. At his watch. Two minutes fifty-six seconds. Just enough time to get to the car and signal Ariel to put the window down.
“It isn’t you,” she said in a wobbly voice. “It’s me. I hate not knowing anything.”
Matteo leaned in, clasped her face in his hand.