The Hunted

51

Harper Payne’s eyes popped open. He stared at the water-stained ceiling in the dim light, wondering for a moment where he was. He propped himself up on an elbow, then switched on the bedside lamp and looked around. The motel. Bethesda.

He showered and redressed in his partially torn suit, stripped off the bed sheet, and tossed it in the Dumpster in the parking lot. Although he couldn’t hide that he had stayed there, he did not want to make Waller and Haviland’s job too easy for them. They would be stuck trying to run down the night manager to show him an identifying photo before they would know for sure that this is where he had spent the night.

Even if they picked up the electronic trace on Waller’s Visa, they would have to confirm that it was in fact Payne who had used the card and not someone else he had sold it to. Of course, by the time they had verification it was him, he’d be long gone. But that Payne was still in the area would give them a trail and a place to start — infinitely more than what they had at the moment.

Payne thought about paying with cash, but his supply was limited and he didn’t know where he would end up or what he would need it for. He was sure, however, that the Bureau would not turn off the spigot on the credit card. It was their proverbial bread trail, and as long as Payne was willing to lay down crumbs, they would be content to gobble them up.

At 7:55 A. M. he took a walk in the parking lot, waiting for the cab to arrive. He stood in front of a pickup with tinted windows and looked at his reflection in the glass.

“Who are you?” he asked the mirrored image. Ever since he had received the e-mail from Lauren Chambers, the question had been bouncing around in his head, without resolution. A small-town computer geek or a decorated FBI agent who got the short end of the career stick?

Who are you? If he returned to Placerville, he couldn’t be sure he would ever regain the memories of the times he and Lauren Chambers had spent together. Could he be in a relationship with someone he didn’t even know, when she knew everything about him? And was he the same person as he was before — would he have the same likes, desires, attractions? Could he learn to love her again?

If he chose instead to return to the FBI… would he be taken back without conditions? If this was, indeed, the course he wanted to pursue, then he was making a gross mistake in continuing to run. He needed to turn himself in and, assuming his colleagues found Scarponi, take the stand and testify on information he could now recite in his sleep. Cooperate and be free; it was that simple.

Or was it? What if Knox was trying to discredit him so that his testimony would be rendered ineffective? If that was the case, his chances of being reinstated to the Bureau were nil. As he had been taught to do during his Academy refresher courses, it was best to reduce a problem to its most basic components — and then find solutions to those remaining parts. The way he saw it, until he could be more certain of Knox’s intentions, he could not consider returning to the FBI. Which left him with the dilemma of how to resume his life with Lauren Chambers.

Just then, tires crunched against the gravel-dotted asphalt behind him, where the taxi was pulling into the motel’s parking lot. A minute later he was on his way up the interstate. He leaned his head against the seat and thought about the choices he had to make. Regardless of which path he chose, one thing was now certain.

There was no turning back.