I USED TO KNOW HIM

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

     In the glow of the headlights, the car swallowed the road voraciously

and they moved toward the north country - not, he noticed, on route 87.

They had not been seen leaving the city, nor had they been seen packing

the car. The garage had a door that led into the kitchen, and Nick had

laid on the back seat floorboards until they were in the country. Now,

sitting in the front seat, he wondered vaguely if Margret, in her joy at

having him home, had given herself away to her friends. He hoped not. He

glanced side wise at her and noticed that she drove with a smile on her

face.

"Is it far to the cabin?" He asked.

"Not now. We're almost to the turn off."

     He lapsed again into silence, the old questions still whirling about in

his mind. Who were the men who were after him? What did they want? How

much had the FAA learned of the plane? Had they found something to pin

it on him? What were these tiny, fleeting thoughts that cropped up in

his mind? Was his mind trying to tell him something via the nightmares?

And what of his best friend, Callum Brice. Where has he been? What is he

up to? It struck Nick as odd that he had not encountered the detective

yet surely, he and Margret had been close the past year. How close? Suppose

Brice stumbled upon Andrew Hocum. Would the old man talk?

     Feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life, at least the

life he remembered, Nick stared at the road until Margret turned off on

another road that was little more than a wagon track beside a small

creek. A few minutes of bouncing over ruts and stones, and she turned

off again, parking beside a grey, frame cabin.

"Here we are, darling."

     They got out, each taking a box from the back seat, and Nick followed

her up the stairs to the porch. Margret set her box down and found the key.

A moment later, the lock clicked and she shoved the door open.

"Wait'll I find the light, Nick," she whispered.

     A moment later, the light snapped on and a soft glow filled the front

room of the cabin. They took the boxes to the kitchen and set them on

the table then went back into the front room. Nick studied the place.

He liked the room a lot; there was a rugged manliness in the stone

fireplace and the knotty pine walls, mingled with just a touch of Margret's

femininity to make it neat. Overall, it was a well laid out place. He

was attracted to the oil paintings that hung about the walls.

"Like it?" Margret asked.

He nodded.

"But it doesn't bring back any memories?"