Whisper My Name

Chapter 22

February 10, 1992

Montrose Regional Airport, Montrose, Colorado

You've got to come lay down here

And say those things, those warm things

Right here in my ear

~ How Deep It Goes ~ Heart ~

It wasn't difficult to follow a fluffy mop of chestnut curls through the small airport. The woman was completely oblivious to everything around her. The information Mike was given by Torres stated that she was a private detective. If she was, she must not be very good at it. Following her was the easiest job he'd had in years. He'd called ahead from the Salem airport to ensure that Francis would be there waiting, and if this woman was obvious, so too was Francis an idiot.

Mike continued to tail her as she lifted her luggage from the carousel, and walked to the one lone car rental counter in the whole airport. He glanced around for Francis, starting to get worried that he might lose her if the other man didn't show up soon. Stepping closer, he heard her ask about lodging.

"Well, you see," the clerk said, chewing his gum loudly. "Ski season is about to open up in Telluride in a few weeks, and people are already starting to filter in. Hotels are already starting to fill up. But, I know a place that might still have availability. It's not cheap though. It's about–"

"--money is no object," Isabella said quickly, cutting him off. "I have the money."

"Well, The Inn at Lost Creek in Mountain Village should still have space, I'm thinking," he said, spitting his gum in a nearby trash can. "But like I said, it's pretty fancy."

Isabella forced herself not to crinkle her face in disgust. Chewing gum was such a gross habit. She could barely tolerate John's gum chewing, let alone a stranger. "That will be just fine. Can you give me directions?"

The man pulled a folded brochure from a receptacle at the end of the counter, where it sat surrounded by hundreds of others, "Here you go. There's a map on the back that should help."

"Thank you," she replied. "And the car?"

The man laughed from deep in his belly, making what Isabella was certain was a hairpiece, jiggle on the top of his head. She stared at him for a moment, before smiling brightly, "I don't suppose there are many private residences in this area?"

"Well, there are, but some of them are older places that were never sold to developers. The rest of us mundane folks, well, we're seasonal or we rent our places," he said.

She continued undeterred, "If a person was interested in purchasing–"

"--you've got that kind of money, miss? Well good luck to ya, I say. There's plenty a places, but the price is steep," he said, looking behind her at the next customer.

"I see," she mumbled, stepping away from the counter with the key to her rental in hand. If John was Charles Wright, as she suspected, how had he been able to afford property in this region of the country? What would even possess him to buy something in Colorado? Isabella had more questions than answers, and no direction to go other than Telluride. Once she got some rest, maybe she could piece the rest of the clues together, and find John and Marlena. Catching a red eye had left her exhausted, but she was going to find John, because he owed her some answers and she wasn't leaving until she got them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Charles Wright Cabin, Outside Telluride, Colorado

"Coffee...coffee," Marlena mumbled, standing on the tips of her toes, and shuffling things around in the kitchen cabinet. "Where did Roman move the coffee?" The linoleum was cool on her feet, and she was immediately regretting that she'd left her slippers and robe behind in the bedroom. She could feel the heavy sway of her breasts as she leaned forward, and the rasp of cotton across her nipples. She would have been indecent, if anyone had been home, but the children had slept at Caroline and Shawn's and Roman was on a stakeout.