Wayne had still not really decided about the job. He’d shaken hands with Holly Reeves. But so far it had all been for his sister. He was hooked but not landed. The ink wasn’t on the page.
His sister hugged him in the community center’s front foyer and left the building without him. Probably afraid he might feel the sunshine and bolt. He was standing in the doorway, staring at the front lawn and the palm trees and the sunlight, when the big former cop named Jerry stepped up behind him and said, “What were you, Special Forces?”
Wayne’s attention remained clamped in a sunlit vise by the stranger walking out beside Eilene. The young woman who had sat near his sister during the interview.
Apparently Jerry was not troubled by Wayne’s lack of response. He also shared Wayne’s interest in the stranger. Jerry said, “I noticed your sister didn’t ask you to describe the lady there.”
From Wayne’s other side, scrawny Foster Oates said, “A corpse laid out in the refrigeration room would have noticed that one. What is that car she’s heading for?”
“A Ferrari,” Jerry said. “But it ain’t no car. That’s a bomb you strap on and ignite.”
Foster stuck out his hand. “Guess you could call us your welcoming committee.”
Wayne noted the interesting combination of callouses and strength, as though Foster’s hand belonged to the man who had existed thirty years ago. A guy who liked doing guy things. “Thanks.”
The community center building had a broad overhang where cars could pull in and drop off passengers. The Ferrari was a red missile parked in the first row of spaces beyond the overhang, two spaces over from Wayne’s truck. The woman opened the driver’s door, then glanced back toward the entrance.
Foster said, “My pacemaker is stuttering.”
“News flash, Hoss,” Jerry said. “The lady ain’t looking at you.”
Wayne had to agree. The woman gave Wayne yet another intent inspection. His sister the reverend glanced back, then said something across the car before disappearing through the passenger door. The woman finally turned away, opened her door, and did the woman thing with her skirt, hiking up the material another inch or so before bending low and sliding behind the wheel.
Jerry said, “She didn’t need to do that. That dress is so short she could handle an obstacle course under full fire without raising it up like she just did.”
“I’m sure not complaining,” Foster said.
The woman cast a final glance back to where Wayne stood, the x-ray vision strong enough to scalpel through the shadows and sink deep into his ribs. Then she shut her door and started the motor.
“Houston, we have ignition.” Jerry again.
The car did not pull away so much as vanish. They just stood there and watched the dust settle. The whining gradually dimmed into the distance. Foster said, “That’s an interesting way for a pastor to get around.”
Wayne felt a pat on his arm. Up close, octogenarian Victoria Ellis was as ethereal as smoke. She smiled up at him and said, “My, but they grow you big wherever you’re from.”
Jerry said, “I believe I recall Eilene saying she grew up in Dayton.”
Foster harrumphed. “Leave it to Jerry to chat up all the cute gals.”
The old woman had to twist her head slightly to make up for the slight hump in her spine and the inflexibility in her neck. She patted his arm again, as though judging the quality of flesh beneath Wayne’s jacket. “I believe you are an answer to a prayer, Mr. Grusza.”
The three men watched her totter away. Then Jerry pulled back the sleeve of his sports coat, revealing a very old tattoo on his forearm. The marine emblem was almost lost to time and curly black hair and the mahogany tint of his skin. Jerry said, “Semper fido, baby.”
Wayne gave the answer he knew Jerry was after. “I was army. Did two tours with Special Ops.”
Jerry asked, “Where’d you watch your life flash before your eyes—Iraq?”
“Afghanistan.”
“And you don’t ever want to say nothing more about what went down, am I right?”
Wayne turned his attention back to the outside. The portico roof cut a border with sunlight and freedom on the far side. Wayne knew all about borders. They were dangerous places. Safety on one side, mystery and peril on the other.
Foster said, “Why don’t I go get the keys and we’ll show you your new home.”
Jerry clapped him on the shoulder. “You thought barracks life was bad, man, you just wait.”
It was then that Wayne realized he’d been fooling himself all along. He had already crossed the border. Entered the zone.
He made a mental note to thank his sister properly.
But only after he got properly introduced to the lady with the ride.