Hide and Seek

A Suspense/Crime Novel

Cassandra Wade
(pseudonym)

Frank's attention snapped from the warm shack stove, back to the derrick. For a moment it looked like Tad had dropped his coat when he jumped from the blocks to the boards in the oil rig tower. It was plummeting toward the floor.

Unable to move, he stood as the body hit the drilling floor and bounced like a store mannequin on the greasy surface. The arms and legs flopped in unnatural positions.

Fighting back anger and tears, he ran to the now lifeless body of his friend. He stooped and felt for a pulse.

The call for the camp doctor came over the intercom as he ran to the platform railing.

Why had he come to this forsaken place? Why had he told Tad's folks he'd keep an eye on him? It was too cruel here. The land was bitter and unforgiving and the job was the most miserable on earth. That's two, he thought.

Tiffanie forced herself to look away from the man at the adjoining table. She had never seen such green eyes. They were the color of Alaskan jade...deep, dark green.

A painful memory poked her like a needle. A pair of eyes had lured her into trouble once before. That memory would never leave her. She shivered. She had killed a man. Was it self-defense or murder, she wasn't sure any more. She would never let that happen again.

She scanned the cafe, thinking it was like many in town. Built during the early stages of growth, on the outside it bore a modern facade but on the inside the logs from the first cabin were worn smooth by countless patrons moving next to them. A layer of oils and kitchen grease left the wood with a polished gloss. The smell of hot oil used for frying permeated the logs, the furniture and the air in the room.

Her eyes pulled back to the green ones again. They weren't looking at her. She could allow herself a tentative glance. The eyes were the only part of the face recognizable as human above a long walrus mustache and a longer beard of glowing red. The face was passable. The eyes held her. Their greenness stared through her and past her, through the walls of the cafe, beyond Fairbanks, out to somewhere on the muskeg where there was no green in November only the blue white of frozen snow.

She shook her head jerkily from side to side. "Uh, No." She forced a smile. He couldn't suspect how nervous she was.

"Alone. My friends thought I ought to get out of the apartment so they dragged me along."

"Me, too." He pulled the chair around and rested his arms on the bent wood back. "My name's Frank Lee."

Tiff leaned forward and strained to hear over the pulsating music from the jukebox.

"Tiffanie Westerland." She clasp the large rough hand in her own. "Very glad to meet you, Frank...and do sit down."

"You sure you don't want anything else?" He gave her a concerned look. "I'm not like the college students, I've got plenty of money."

"Okay, another coffee comin' up." The waitress popped her way toward the kitchen for a cup.

"Well, Frank Lee," she savored the words coming out. It sounded like frankly. "What do you do here?"

"Roughnecking. That must be interesting." This conversation seemed to be a bit one sided. She wondered if she should search for a more verbal comrade for the evening. Obviously lively conversation wasn't what he wanted.

"Running, I guess. I wanted to get away from some memories and heartaches. But I learned you can't do that. They follow you wherever you go. Aside from that, I'm going to school." At least talking let her study his eyes again without appearing bold.

"Well, the University of Alaska is a fantastic place to go to school, but I think maybe next year I'll go back home. I like the state. I miss my family and the cold is something else."

"As soon as I save some money, I'm leaving here too. Going back to Cheyenne and stay there until they carry me out in a pine box or the wind blows me to Utah, which ever happens first."

She laughed appreciatively. She liked this man. He already felt like an old friend. "What's in Wyoming?"

"Oh, a little ranch, a few cows, and an lot less snow and cold." A wide smile appeared under the walrus mustache. "I convinced my mom to let me have a year to make enough money to buy it from her. Some slicker wants to build a subdivision in the middle of it. He keeps pressing. So I told Mom, if she would hold off for a year, I would come home with $20,000 for her. Then she'll sign the place over to me and I'll take that guy out and stuff him down a 'rat hole' somewhere."

"Sorry, that's oil field talk. Don't have them up here. We drop the kelly in it when we're tripping out."

"The ranch sound's promising." She was really lost with the oil field talk so...time to change the subject.

"Well, I've been taking it pretty easy so far. Most of the guys come in and blow their paychecks on the off time, but I've saved almost half the money in five months."

Sipping her coffee, she studied the face across from her. Those green eyes had been staring all the way to Wyoming; past the snow, the cold, and the whole country of Canada. She smiled. Maybe she didn't have to worry about this man.

"What made you wind up in Alaska of all places?" She asked in a quiet voice she hardly recognized as her own.

"I roughnecked in Wyoming for a while...in the Overthrust Belt. But the money was better up here and well...some other things happened. I just needed to get away from that part of the world for a while."

They sat in silence. Talking had become unnecessary. As if by proximity to each other and their similar backgrounds some inner voices were doing all the communicating for them.

She was comfortable. She didn't remember being this comfortable with a man before. Just sitting next to any man without talking was a foreign experience for her, but tonight it seemed very right. In fact it seemed like the only thing to do.

Frank's eyes assumed their far away look again. She wanted to draw him back, to touch what seemed to be a deep hurt, but was afraid of doing or saying something wrong. There must be some way to bring him back from where he is, but I don't want to chase him into his thick shell. She opt for sitting quietly, hoping silently that somewhere she could find the key to open the silence. With most men, she wouldn't have cared. He was just another guy. After tonight, she wouldn't ever see him again. What difference did it make? Something inside tugged at her and drew her to find out about this seemingly quiet, gentle man.

"Want to talk about what's bothering you?" She finally ventured, feeling like a child who had just screamed in the library.

"No, I don't think so. I don't know what in the hell I'm doing in here tonight. But I was just in need of someone to talk to and I know the college kids hang out here. So I thought...maybe I could meet someone to be with. Besides, well you know...the kind of woman who just wants to spend your money."

"Yeah, I guess it did." Even his voice seemed to smile as he tugged at his walrus mustache. The eyes danced. They weren't looking to Wyoming now. They were sparkling like ice crystals in the neon lights. "Say I have sort of a problem. Since you're going to college and all -- maybe you could help me out. I have to write a letter. I don't know just how to say what I have to say. I don't mean tonight, but maybe I could see you at the Fairbanks Inn where I'm staying or something in the next few days. Would you help me with it?"

"Sounds okay to me. I'll help you anyway I can. My parents kid me about being incapable of writing letters, but I can."

"I'm not very good at writing things down. What I have to say is important and I want to say it right. I have to write my friend's mother..." He paused, then sighed a long sad sigh. "Look, you're a fine looking woman. I'm sure you can find a dozen guys more interesting than me to spend an evening with. You don't have to say here and baby-sit my brooding. Why don't you go ahead and leave me to my own lousy company."

She chuckled. "First as I recall, you came over and sat at my table. Second, I think that is probably the strangest way I've ever been told to get lost."

"You just aren't having a good time and I don't seem to be a barrel of laughs tonight."

He sipped his coffee and regarded her carefully. "I want to talk. I just can't seem to find the right words. Maybe I'm just tired."

"I have some work to finish in the computer lab tomorrow morning. Why don't you meet me at the Student Union? I don't mean early, about 10 or so. We'll see what we can do about your letter then. Afterward we can sit around and reminisce about Colorado and Wyoming. We can talk about how warm it is in November, and how it rains sometimes before it snows." She smiled at him as she continued. "It will be quiet there. Melissa my roommate usually doesn't crack her eyes open until around noon otherwise I would invite you over to our apartment."

The green eyes studied her intently. His look bordered on hurt or something else she wasn't quite sure of.

"You didn't answer my question. The Student Union coffee is passable. Maybe you could relax a little there and tell me what is bothering you. This cafe isn't very conducive to conversation. What do you say?"

"Nobody said anything about pity. I just thought you might relax there, that's all. But I seem to have worn out my welcome and usefulness so I think I'll walk back across the street and join my friends at the dance." She reached for her parka.

"I said, yes thanks." He shifted in the booth. "Would you be very insulted if I said I was tired? Will you be insulted if I leave?"

"No, I understand. Thanks for the coffee. Maybe I'll see you in the Student Union cafeteria in the morning." She gazed at the green eyes once more as he rose.

"Thank you for listening." He squeezed her hand. "See you in the morning." He wheeled with astounding swiftness for his size and disappeared out the cafe door.

Sandy Whelchel