“At the airport. It just so happens this hotel is the only one listed. It was the first place I called.
They had a reservation in your name.”
“All right. So I wouldn’t make a very good fugitive.”
“A damn poor one.”
“It is where I got the idea, if you must know,” I admitted angrily. “I’ve been through Beryl’s paperwork so many times, I remembered the brochure, remembered seeing the ad for a Holiday Inn on Duval. I suppose it stood out to me because I wondered if she might have stayed here when she first arrived in Key West.”
“Had she?” He lifted his glass.
“No.”
As he got up to refresh our drinks, there was a knock on the door and my heart jumped as Mark casually reached around and withdrew a 9-millimeter pistol from under the back of his suit jacket.
Holding it up, he looked through the peephole and returned the gun to the back of his trousers as he opened the door. Our dinner had arrived, and when Mark paid the young woman in cash, she smiled brightly and said, “Thank you, Mr. Scarpetta. I hope you enjoy your steaks.”
“Why did you check in as my husband?” I demanded.
“I’ll sleep on the floor. But you’re not staying alone,” he answered, setting covered dishes on the table near the window and uncorking the bottle of wine. Slipping out of his suit jacket and tossing it on the bed, he set the pistol on top of the dresser not far from my knapsack and within easy reach.
I waited until he had sat down to eat before asking him about the gun.
“An ugly little monster, but maybe my only friend,” he replied, cutting into his steak. “And for that matter, I presume you have your thirty-eight with you, probably in your knapsack.”
He glanced at the knapsack on the dresser.
“It’s in my pocketbook, for your information,” I blurted out ridiculously. “And how in God’s name did you know I have a thirty-eight?”
“Benton told me. He also said you’d recently gotten a license to carry it concealed, and he figured you weren’t going many places without your piece these days.”
He sipped his wine, adding, “Not bad.”
“Has Benton told you my dress size, too?” I asked, forcing myself to eat as my stomach begged me not to. “Now, that he doesn’t need to tell me. You still wear an eight, look just as good as you did when we were in Georgetown. Better, in fact.”
“I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d stop acting like a cavalier son of a bitch and tell me how the hell you even know Benton Wesley’s name, much less merit the privilege of enjoying so many little tete-a-tetes with him about me.”
“Kay.”
He set down his fork as he met my angry gaze. “I’ve known Benton longer than you have. Haven’t you figured it out yet? Do I have to spell it in neon lights?”
“Yes. Write it in big letters across the sky, Mark. Because I don’t know what to believe. I have no idea who you are anymore. I don’t trust you. In fact, at this moment I’m scared to death of you.”
Leaning back in the chair, his face as serious as I had ever seen it, he said, “Kay, I’m sorry you’re afraid of me. I’m sorry you don’t trust me. And it makes perfect sense because very few people in this world have any idea who I am, and there are times when I’m not so sure myself. I couldn’t tell you this before, but it’s over.”
He paused. “Benton taught me in the Academy long before you got to know him.”
“You’re an agent?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“No,” I said, my mind reeling. “No! I’m not going to believe you this time, goddammit!”
Getting up without a word, he went to the phone by the bed and dialed.
“Come here,” he said, glancing over at me.
Then he handed me the receiver.
“Hello?” I recognized the voice immediately.
“Benton?” I said.
“Kay? Are you all right?”
“Mark’s here,” I replied. “He found me. Yes, Benton. I’m all right.”