A Safe House

42

Jenna merged from the Saw Mill River Parkway onto I-684, and traffic began to thicken, slowing her. Her cell phone rang, and she automatically answered it. “Hello?”

“It’s Stone,” he said. “Please listen and don’t hang up. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you were pursued from my house by a black motorcycle.”

“Yes,” she said. “Fred told me and then he stayed after me.”

“He was just trying to keep you from killing yourself. I don’t think the black bike was of that sympathy, though.”

“What should I do?”

“You seem to be headed, more or less, to Washington, Connecticut, but you should know that I’ve sold my house there to my colleague, Bill Eggers, and he’s not there. There is the Mayflower Inn, though, a short distance away, and that could be a good place for you to stop.”

“It’s a thought.”

“Would you like me to ask Joan to book you a room?”

She thought about it. “I’d prefer a suite.”

“We’ll ask for that. If you don’t hear back from me in the next fifteen minutes, consider it booked.”

“Thank you.”

“Put the Mayflower into your GPS, and it will guide you there.”

“All right, thank you.” She hung up and performed the task.

Stone hung up, and Joan was standing by his desk. “A suite at the Mayflower for Jenna?”

“Yes, please.”

“Will you be joining her?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

Jenna found the Mayflower and presented herself at the front desk.

“Ms. Jacoby? I believe you’ve booked a suite,” the young lady said.

“Yes, please.”

“Have you any luggage?”

Jenna gave her the car key. “Quite a lot of it,” she said.

“The bellman will attend to it. Shall I show you upstairs?”

“Just give me directions.” She found the suite and let herself in. It was handsome and comfortably furnished. Her luggage arrived shortly. She put her things in the dressing room and stretched out on the bed. Shortly, she was asleep.

Her pursuer pulled his bike off the pavement of the parking lot at the Mayflower, concealing the machine as well as he could. He saw Jenna go inside, and a moment later, a bellman with a cart took all her luggage inside.

He got out of his leathers and took some street clothes from his saddlebags and changed. He donned a tweed cap and walked across the parking lot and inside. He went to the front desk and asked, “Has Jenna Jacoby arrived yet? I was following her from the city, but I got lost.”

“Yes, she has,” the young woman said. “Is she expecting you?”

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he said. “Have you a single room for the night?”

She checked.

“I’ll have that,” he said. He was shocked at the price, but the senator was paying, so what the hell? He registered as Jason Bell.

“Any luggage?”

“No, I’m traveling light. Perhaps you could let me have a toothbrush and a razor.” Soon he was ensconced, but the desk clerk wouldn’t give him Jenna’s room number.

Stone called the manager of the Mayflower, who he knew. “Jenna Jacoby has checked into a suite there, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Barrington.”

“Has anyone asked for her at the front desk?”

“Please hold, I’ll find out.” He returned shortly. “Yes, a gentleman checked in a few minutes after she did. He said he’d been following her from New York and had gotten lost. Should we be concerned about him?”

“Yes, you should. Of course, he could be a harmless autograph seeker, but he could also be a threat to her life.”

“How can we help?”

“Here’s what I think you should do,” Stone said, and he told him.