Tim was mildly surprised Kathryn hadn't been pulled over for speeding yet, but he supposed his vehicle pretty much screamed LAW ENFORCEMENT, so maybe that was how she'd managed to ignore every speed limit sign they'd past in the nearly 2 hours they'd been hurtling across the state of Kentucky in silence. She clearly knew where she was going, and she clearly had no interest in including him in her travel plans. Tim wondered how long he should wait before he at least switched on the radio.
With all the time afforded to him, Tim replayed the day's events in his mind. He was sure he had done the right thing, even if it had gone against his orders. Then again, who was Kathryn to give him orders, anyway? He didn't work for her and she hadn't even had the decency to be forthcoming with him. If she was going to leave her background, last name, and operation shrouded in secrecy, he saw no reason why he should back down from the decisions he had made today. After all, she said she had chosen him because he always knew when to take the shot and when to stand down. Today, every shot he took he took because he knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn't his fault that her assessment of the situation was misguided; perhaps tainted by her years' long personal involvement in the case.
Tim had clear eyes and a tranquil conscience.
Kathryn threw on the blinker and pulled into a gas station, stopping at the pump closest to the door.
"Can you fill the tank? I need to grab a few things."
"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight, that slap must have been harder than I thought. You concussed?" Tim climbed out, shutting his door emphatically, and walked to the door of the shop. He opened it and stood aside, waiting for her. She glared, but slammed the driver's side door and walked inside.
Tim meandered slowly behind her, watching as she frantically grabbed a tube of Pringles, a half gallon of iced tea, and a box of chocolate covered doughnuts.
"It's like grocery shopping with a third grader," he remarked as she pressed past him toward the cashier.
"Yeah, well it's been a stressful day." Kathryn spread her purchases across the counter. "You sell phones?" she asked the cashier without looking up.
Tim watched as the old man behind the counter took in Kathryn's appearance and her brusque request. He would be lying if he said he didn't find it somewhat amusing. She still had some blood on her face, though it could likely be explained away to an untrained eye as coming from the cut on her cheek and swollen lip she'd sustained when Melnik smacked her. Her hair was a ragged mess, and she was yanking cash out of a thick money clip. Tim wondered if she'd lifted it from one of the men in the field after he'd started packing his gear.
Kathryn looked up from the money clip, impatient. "Excuse me? Sir? You sell phones or not?" The man blinked a few times, dragging himself away from the unusual sight before him. He grabbed a TracFone from behind him and rang up her purchases. "I'll also take $25 on two," she added, passing him a stack of bills.
Back at the car, Tim agreed to pump gas while she set up the new cellphone, but he left his door open so it would at least be more difficult for her to drive off without him. When he climbed back in the passenger seat, she was dialing a number.
It only rang twice before someone picked up on the other end, though he couldn't hear what they said. "Yes," was Kathryn's answer. A pause and then she looked at him, "No," she said, "I should have chosen the Marine." Another pause and then, "I know," and she hung up.
They were driving another 20 minutes or so before Tim finally spoke. "As thrilling as it's been to ride in this pissed off silence of yours, you mind if I turn on the radio?"
"Do whatever you like, Deputy. That seems to be a forte of yours."
Tim ignored the jab and switched the radio on, turning the dial until he found something suitably blues-y. He leaned back, suddenly very tired, and closed his eyes. He let the warm sound of Bill Monroe's voice wash over him as he drifted off to sleep.
#
It was dark outside when Tim was jerked awake by the ringing of a phone. He watched as Kathryn licked the remnants of a chocolate doughnut off her fingers and flipped open her new cell. Tim blinked furiously to clear the sleep from his eyes. "Yes," she said as she laid her head back on the seat, clearly frustrated. "Copy. Let me know when he moves this way." She snapped the phone closed and tossed it unceremoniously into the cup holder.
Tim couldn't help himself. "That your buddy Ralph? He ready to turn himself in?"
Kathryn rolled her eyes and thrust the half-eaten box of doughnuts at him. "Here," she said, "You must be as hungry as I was."
Tim took the box gratefully and decided to take a more serious approach. "Where is he?"
"It looks like he ditched my car. At least, we tracked him to a junkyard we know has been used for that purpose before. He made one outgoing call to his mother, and from his last known location, it looks as though he's heading her direction."
Tim shoved a doughnut into his mouth. "I'm assuming we're not at her house?"
"No," Kathryn said, "She's a vet, so he's probably hoping she can stitch up his leg, but she lives about 45 minutes from here. I'd bet dollars to doughnuts he'll stay there until tomorrow at least; he doesn't have the constitution to run all night. He hasn't made any other outgoing calls, though, so it looks like I was also right in assuming he's trying to leave the country rather than go back to the organization he's working with, unlike Melnik or Popescu would have." She looked at him pointedly, "Which is why I asked you to keep them alive."
Tim shrugged and took a bite of another doughnut. He was far more hungry than he'd realized. "So what's the move now?"
"Well, I don't know about you, Deputy, but I haven't slept in almost 27 hours, so I'd like to take a nap."
Kathryn started the car and Tim took in his surroundings. She had parked them on a narrow side street that dead-ended into a three-way intersection. At the end of the road was a squat, ugly house without any lights on. He assumed it was Ibsen's, as it was the only place clearly visible from where she'd parked. "Where are we headed?" he asked as he finished the last doughnut and dusted the crumbs off his shirt into the empty box.
"There was a motel a little ways back; maybe ten minutes or so. We'll bunk there for night and you can head back to Lexington in the morning."
"I think I'd rather wait for Ibsen," he said.
Kathryn snorted. "That wasn't a suggestion, Deputy Gutterson. Your services are no longer required or wanted."
Tim decided to drop that conversation for now, but he knew damn well he wasn't about to head back to his office and leave her to tie up loose ends on her own. Though he stood by every decision he'd made in the field, he also knew he'd royally screwed her case. Besides, he wanted to help bring Ibsen. It may have just been a point of personal pride for missing his shot earlier in the day, even if that was only because his partner had intentionally interfered.
Partner? Were they partners, now?
"And what about you?" he asked, deciding to leave the question of their professional relationship for another time.
"Ibsen won't leave without stopping at his house first; that much I'm sure of. I'll wait here until it's time to make a move."
It was only when they pulled into the motel parking lot that Tim realized they weren't even in Kentucky anymore. At some point while he'd been asleep, she had driven them across the Tennessee state line. The parking lot was jam packed and Tim could hear plenty of raucous tailgating, even though the clock on the console said it was past one in the morning.
Tim leaned against the passenger side door while Kathryn went into the office to secure them a room. They had both silently agreed that someone needed to stay with the vehicle, considering the firearms inside, and he had no trouble looking suitably intimidating to the drunken men hanging out in the parking lot across the way. He also had doubts about how menacing Kathryn could look without the help of blood smeared across her face. He remembered the threatening picture she had cut emerging from the woods earlier in the day, pointing that dead man's gun at his chest. For a moment, he thought about what might have happened if he had misjudged her character and she had decided to fire on him. He shivered.
"Let's go, Deputy," she said, waving a room key. She grabbed her jacket and the 9MM from the backseat while Tim gathered his go bag and the M1110 case from the trunk. Kathryn stepped up beside him, inspected the back of the car and reached inside to grab the opened bottle of bourbon he'd stashed. Tim smirked and closed the door.
#
"Apparently," Kathryn said as he followed her down a narrow hallway, "there's some fucking Nascar derby bullshit nearby tomorrow. The guy at the desk said they were all booked up, but had a cancellation right before we got here. So," she looked over her shoulder at him seriously, "we're sharing a room with two singles."
Kathryn let them in and Tim surveyed the room. "I didn't even know they still made twin sized beds," he said as the door closed behind him.
"I'm pretty sure they don't," said Kathryn, "Just a friendly reminder of how long this shithole has been here."
"You know, you swear a lot when you're tired."
Kathryn tossed her blazer over the back of a chair-it was stiff from the dried blood on it-and set the handgun down on the bedside table next to the far bed. Tim placed his duffel on the bed closest to the door and slid the rifle case under it. He watched as Kathryn grabbed one of the foam coffee cups on the desk and poured a rather tall glass of bourbon. She threw it back in three quick gulps and wiped her mouth with her hand.
"I'm gonna take a shower," she said, and disappeared into the bathroom. After a moment, he heard the shower turn on.
Tim surveyed the room, which looked a lot like the one he'd had at the last motel except it had two skinny beds instead of one big one. He wondered if his feet would dangle off the end of this one like the bed he'd had at basic. He kicked off his shoes and removed his belt and holster; took out his cellphone and looked at it thoughtfully. He'd left Lexington on Thursday and was supposed to be back by Monday, but he had a feeling that, despite Kathryn's insistence that he return to Lexington in the morning, he wouldn't be making it to work on schedule. He shot a quick text to Art, Taking PTO Monday-Tuesday. Will file paperwork when I'm back. :)
He knew the smiley face would irritate Art. It gave Tim a not unearned amount of satisfaction to know that other people would have to entertain and corral Raylan for a few days. As Tim listened to the shower from the adjacent room, he decided to change into his sleep shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. Even after his nap in the car, he felt wiped from the day and didn't think a shower was in his future until after he'd gotten a bit more shuteye.
Once he'd changed, Tim laid down on top of the scratchy motel comforter with his copy of The Hobbit and picked up on chapter nine where he'd left off. Bilbo had just slid on the ring and disappeared when the door to the bathroom opened and a pile of steam billowed out.
Tim looked up and had to stop himself from laughing. There stood Kathryn, hair still dripping and skin flushed from the heat of her shower. She was wearing the same Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt she'd had on all day, a pair of black underwear, and nothing else. "Little skimpy for our first sleepover, don't you think?" he asked as he noted his page and set his book on the table next to the bed.
Kathryn shot him a look that would have withered lesser men. "Well genius, all of my stuff was in my car. I'm not sleeping naked and I'm not sleeping in blue jeans, so this is all I've got."
This was the first time Tim had seen Kathryn in anything other than long pants and he was surprised to see that she had even more tattoos. These, however, were nothing like that poorly scrawled ones on her forearms. On her left thigh, she had a large and brightly colored piece with some sort of octopus or squid locked in an embrace with a rainbow colored creature he didn't recognize. Her right leg had a black and white pattern that wrapped down the side of her leg and terminated under her knee.
Kathryn fidgeted under his scrutiny and Tim could see how uncomfortable she was. He almost felt bad for teasing her. He sat up and grabbed his duffel from the floor. "Here," he said as he rummaged through. He found what he was looking for and tossed it to her. "I got it from a t-shirt canon at a Grizzlies game. It's about a 9XL, so you should just about be able to squeeze into it."
Kathryn caught the shirt and unrolled it, holding it up against her torso. It looked almost like a blanket.
"You didn't grab a toothbrush at that gas station, did you?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"I was distracted..."
Tim smirked and tossed her a travel bottle of mouthwash. She grabbed it out of the air and he watched as she struggled between being annoyed with him and being grateful for the items in her hands.
"Thanks," she said and disappeared back into the bathroom.
Tim had learned a long time ago that it never hurt to keep an oversized shirt in your go bag. You never knew when a fugitive would turn up shirtless, or you'd find a kid in a drug house that needed warm, dry clothes. Plus, in a pinch it could always serve as a towel or tourniquet, depending on your needs.
When Kathryn reemerged, she was wearing the Grizzlies shirt and it dragged almost down to her knees. "Thanks," she said again as she climbed into her bed, rolling onto her side away from him.
Tim grabbed his toiletry kit and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He noticed that she had hand-washed her t-shirt and jeans, and had hung them up to dry over the shower rail. As he brushed his teeth, he looked in the mirror and noticed that the black underwear she'd had on were also hanging, damp, in the corner. He was embarrassed at the jolt it sent through him when he realized she was wearing the shirt he'd given her and nothing else.
It had been too long since he'd gotten laid if the mere thought of a woman without underwear was enough to send his mind to dark and unwarranted places. How long had it been? At least six months, he figured, and that was if you counted the girl from Cuddy's bar that he'd only seen once. (Twice? He couldn't quite remember.) Tim spit and rinsed his mouth, vowing to find a girl to hook up with as soon as he was back in Lexington.
Tim left the bathroom ready to make a snarky comment about her using their shared toilet space as a laundry room, but when he opened the door and light spilled across her bed, he could see she was already asleep and he decided not to wake her. Tim turned off the light and made his way deftly across the room in the dark. He crawled into his own bed and closed his eyes, pushing the image of a half-naked Kathryn from his mind as he drifted off.