Chapter Fifteen

Jack sat in the little park behind La Fonda. It was cold. Snow was in the air. But he was watching something that stunned him. Ellen Garcia, the woman he had seen with her right arm in a sling the day he had arrived in Santa Fe, was now standing in the park with a young trainer. And she was doing pull-ups.

That seemed beyond remarkable. It was almost spooky.

She seemed to have healed via the promise of Santa Fe: come here and expect a miracle.

Jack watched as she did one, two . . . three. She stopped at six. Okay, not that many, but she had looked almost completely out of it, not forty-eight hours ago.

He got up from his bench and walked toward her.

“Hi, Ellen, how are you?”

“I'm fine, Jack,” she said. “Jack, I want you to meet my trainer, Rich Carlson.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” the young man said.

“Same here,” Jack responded. “Just the other day you couldn't even lift your arm. How in the world . . . ?”

“Shots,” Ellen said. “D-35, developed at Blue Wolf. All new. And unlike some of the stuff you get, this doesn't wear off. Not if you exercise with it.”

“I see,” Jack said. “Do the patients use it, too?”

“Yes, some of them. But you have to do the rehab afterward. If you don't, the formula doesn't really have a chance to work.”

“What the hell is D-35?” Jack asked.

Ellen and Carlson both smiled.

“Well, if we tell you that, we'll have to kill you,” Carlson said, still smiling.

Ellen did another chin-up. And one more, which she held for a few extra seconds.

“D-35 does many things for the body, but one of the most important is that it allows superfast healing after injury.” Carlson said.

“Amazing,” Jack said, smiling, but thought “steroids.” The only substance he knew that promoted fast healing and simultaneous muscle growth was steroids. Of course, they caused heart attacks, impotence, and tumors, as well, but perhaps people at this age—their late fifties and up—didn't worry about that so much. The risk might be worth looking and feeling ten years younger.

Saying good day to both of them, Jack headed back to the hotel.

When he arrived at his room the door was already open. He took out his Glock and went inside. He looked around, the gun out in front of him.

Then he heard a cough from across the room.

Michelle Wu was sitting in a chair, looking down on the now-snowy square below.

She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a blue and red plaid shirt.

“You going out to the Jackalope?” she asked.

“As soon as Oscar gets here,” he said.

“Good,” she parried. “Maybe he can keep an eye on you.”

“What's that mean?”

“That means, Jackie Boy, you and Kim Walker.”

“You're kidding,” Jack said. “I had lunch with her to find out about your sister.”

“I know. Of course. It was all business. Right!”

“It was. I can't believe you were watching me.”

“I wasn't,” Michelle said. “I happened to be up there, asking questions, and I saw you in the dining room. I nearly walked in on you.”

“You're nuts, Michelle,” Jack said. “I came down here, risked my career for you, and you're following me around? That's just too lame.”

“Listen to me, Jackie. My sister is missing. You don't have time to have a love life.”

“I was trying to learn things from her, Michelle. And I did.”

“Yeah,” Michelle said. “I'm sure you learned plenty. You fucker.”

She picked up an ashtray and hurled it at him. Jack ducked as it slammed into the wall behind him and crumbled into pieces.

“Cut it out. You don't have any idea what's happening.”

“Oh, yeah I do, Jackie. I know.”

She ran at him and raised her fists. Jack put his arms up to defend himself and felt a rain of blows.

Then, when she was out of breath, he grabbed both of her arms.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You bastard. You hustler,” she said.

Then Jack found himself pulling her close to him. Her lips parted and he kissed her deeply.

“You son of a bitch,” she said when they were done. “I hate you.”

She kissed him again, and somehow they moved across the room to the bed.

“I fucking hate you so much,” she said, as she unzipped his pants. He unbuttoned her shirt and a second later his mouth was on her breast.

They mashed together, furious and mad for one another. Jack had never felt anything like it before.

Though he never wanted it to end, it was almost unbearable.

He was inside of her and holding her perfect tight ass with his hands, and he felt as though he would explode.

He felt such an overwhelming fullness that he wanted to cry out in pain.

And why? For fear that it would end, though that was something he could barely acknowledge to himself.

They exploded together, both of them crying out.

Afterward they lay back on the pillows. Jack felt his entire body humming. He had heard an old friend once tell him that his ex-wife made him “nuts in love.” Jack laughed now. That was it.

He was pure “nuts in love.” It was terrifying and joyous and he doubted anything could ever compare with it again.

“God,” she said, turning to him. “I am yours, Jack. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I hear you.”

He kissed her again and his entire body shuddered in absurd happiness.

Later, as they dressed and tried to reassemble themselves, Jack held her at the door.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much it kills me.”

“I know,” she said. “Me, too.”

“Don't play me, though,” Jack said. “I know you, Michelle. I know you and if you play me, I don't know what I'll do.”

“I won't, Jackie,” she said. “No matter what. We're together. But we have to hurry. I'm so afraid for Jennifer.”

She kissed him deeply again, and Jack ran his fingers through her thick hair.

Then she opened the hotel room door.

“Tell me what happens at Jackalope,” she said.

She smiled seductively, twitched her perfect ass, and walked away from him into the hall.