Nicole answered and immediately asked about Matt. I re-assured her and joked, “Well, I guess it will be just you and me until he gets his restraints off.” Nicole was silent a moment and then, in an uncharacteristic tone of anger said, “I can’t believe you would joke around right now when you almost became a widow. The man saved Magdalena’s life! For once can’t you take things seriously?”
I was unsure how to answer her attack but, realizing her state of mind, as well as not wanting to start a fight, I tried to figure out the right words to calm her down. I shyly stated, “Nicole, I am sorry. You know I love Matt and admire what he did – maybe I was just trying to lighten the situation with some humor.” She was silent for a moment and then I heard Magdalena crying. She responded, “I know Melanie, I am just stressed, that’s all. Your bishop is really nice, and his wife has really been helpful with the children, but I feel like a refugee right now. I am wearing some old jeans of his daughter’s. At least we have clothes over at the other house so this afternoon we can all just go over there – it will be cramped, but at least we are not homeless.”
I then took a deep breath and responded, “Nicole, that is kind of why I called – and why you will know that I was joking just a second ago. I do not think that is an option.” Nicole asked, “Why? We can easily hang out there until we can work out a more permanent living arrangement.” I sighed, “Look, that fire last night was no accident. And if whoever sat the fire could find out where we were last night they will know I own another house and that may be the next target. ” Nicole responded, “I see…I had not thought about that. So what is the alternative? We can’t all stay here.”
I thought a moment, “Nicole, maybe I should explain this in person. I can leave here soon and discuss my idea.” When I said that to her she gave an unexpected response, “No you won’t Melanie! You stay right there by Matt’s side today. At least you had the right to visit even when it isn’t regular visiting hours.” I reluctantly agreed to her request – not because I did not want to be with Matt, but there was nothing to do there when he was asleep. Yet I would stay to make Nicole happy. She then asked me to relate to her what my option was right there on the spot. When I did she replied, “Oh, I see. Are you sure?” I said, “It is the only way to stay safe. And besides, you have never been to England.”
Afterwards there was silence. I then explained, “Look, I have to stay here and find out who is responsible for this, but I will not be able to do that if I am worried sick about what might happen to you and our family. You have to understand, this is not going to be easy for me to ask this of my father, but it is the only way.” Nicole argued, “You cannot be serious about staying here alone! Let the police do their jobs and find whoever did this. Please, Melanie that is what they are paid to do!” She could not reply when I said, “You more than anyone else should know how unlikely the cops are to find whoever did this… if you know what I mean.”
Nicole asked, “Does Matt know about this?” I replied, “No and I have not even written my father yet. Let me do that first and then I will talk with Matt.” She reluctantly agreed and said she would go over to the other house and pick up clothes. So that task was done, informing Nicole; now I had to write my father with some sort of story as to why I could not come and see him, but why his son-in-law and a female companion were coming to visit on very short notice. And then of course I had to talk with Matt.
I opened my mail, and wrote off a letter. I told the truth about the fire destroying our home and Matt being seriously injured, but that is where truth took a detour. I said I had to stay home for some important legislative business. As for Nicole, I claimed she was an old friend who stayed with us after a nasty divorce. Compiling the letter was easy… pushing the “send” button was the hard part.
I returned to Matt. He was fast asleep until at least 3pm. When he woke up he claimed the pain was not as bad and we began to talk and even joke around. At around 4:30pm I felt it was time to present him with my idea, even though I had no confirmation from my father yet. He was surprisingly open to visiting my father, but when I told him I had legislative business to attend to he protested, “There is no session right now. Can’t your aides take care of any other work? I will not have you alone here when it is possible that someone tried to kill you last night!” I tried to re-assure him, “Oh come on Matt, I am a big girl and besides, you have seen me survive naked for days in the woods. I took care of myself, didn’t I?” With frustration in his voice he looked up at the ceiling and said, “Stop bringing that up Melanie, all you had to worry about on your little survivalist adventures was a hungry mountain lion.” I joked, “You know very well that if a lion came after me I would have greeted you wearing a fur coat made from its hide.” He chuckled a bit, “This is different and you know that.” I laughed, “Well, if someone tries something with me then you will know it because when you return I will be wearing a new pair of leather boots!” He laughed and clasped his hands across his forehead. He then said he would have to sleep on it and suggested I go be with Nicole and help her with the children. He also requested that she come in as soon as possible and that he would clear it with hospital staff.
Just then, two members of Matt’s church came in to see how he was doing. I gave my husband a quick peck on the cheek and excused myself. Of course as I was leaving I asked the new nurse at reception if I could borrow the computer again. I opened up my mail and noticed a reply from my father. He said everything would be fine and that he had room for everyone in his house. I did not immediately reply, but for some reason I felt that my plans were beginning to fall into place.
When I left the hospital I noticed that I had received a call from the Portland Police. I called back and they gave me a status report of the case. The representative said, “We suspect arson and an investigation is taking place. I also would note that it is unlikely that any charges will be filed against Matt Lindberg.” I asked, in total shock, what he was talking about and he answered that the fireman who Matt had struck had to go to the hospital to make sure no serious damages had been done to his jaw. The insurance company covering their department required a police report be filed in any cases involving an injury involving another person. He assured me that the fireman had no intention of filing charges. I warned, “There better not be any charges or else I will use all my connections to make sure that this makes news – and how would it look if a father was charged with a crime for saving his baby?” The policeman, stuttering a bit, merely replied, “I understand, I understand, I really do not think you have to worry.”
I told the policeman that I would be in on Monday to check on any leads in the case, and to pick up a report so I could get the insurance process rolling. I still could not believe that Matt could, no matter how unlikely, be charged for his valiant courage that night. If he were I was determined to expose their actions on every talk show in Oregon – and of course nationally.
Just as I started the engine I received a call from Dr. Hodge. He inquired, “Are you okay? I read about the fire in the newspaper. Why didn’t you call me?” I sighed, “I don’t know. Maybe with the trauma I just have been focused on…I don’t know.” He seemed concerned, “I hate to trouble you more but Joseph Faber has been leaning on me to get you to agree to run for congress. He’s practically obsessed.” I laughed, “Obsessed? I thought he hated me.” Dr. Hodge replied, “You should know by now that politics is only a popularity contest with the voters. I’m not sure if Faber loves you or hates you and I suppose it doesn’t matter. He wants you to run in that race.” I thought for a moment and had to reply, “There is so much going on right now…I just can’t! Maybe the next election.” Dr. Hodge sternly warned, “If you don’t do this there may not be another election for you. You must keep that in mind Melanie.” I did not waver however and a very disappointed Dr. Hodge wished me well.
Before going over to the bishop’s home I drove by my house. All that was left was a gutted, black pile of rubble. Nothing, not even the trees, s
urvived; even the children’s play area appeared to have melted in the heat. I marveled at the sight – a testimony to the futility of materialism. Everything we had in that home was gone…merely dust in the wind and ashes on a barren piece of landscape as Bethany would have noted. I thought back to when she and I had set fire to the house in Hermiston after I killed Vincent. What made me even sadder was when I realized the stuffed toys and hematite necklace she had given me were no more. I was also angry at losing precious pictures of my children until, I suddenly remembered, I had left a copy of most pictures on disc at the other house. I sighed and got back in the car; determined to make sure whoever did this would pay dearly. And right there was when I called Katja. My instincts continued to testify there was a connection between the attempt on my life and the death of her sister, and I was determined to find out what it was.
Katja answered and I explained what had happened. She began to cry, “Mrs. Lindberg, I am so sorry if this happened because of me. Please forgive me!” I assured her that it was not her fault, even though a part of me did blame her for the events that had occurred due to her coming into my life. I said, “Look Katja, why don’t we work together and see if there is a connection?” Katja agreed but I warned her, “Promise me Katja…do not do anything on your own right now. I have some things to get straight and then, in a few days, we have a job to do. I have a plan…a crazy plan but promise you will be patient until we talk.” She agreed to wait and we made arrangements to meet again. What I would discuss with her was more insane than my having my family stay with the father who had abandoned me as a child. It was so insane that I would not even dare to tell Nicole, and there was absolutely no way Matt would find out. In a way I was proud of my brilliance, and scared of it at the same time.
When I arrived at the bishop’s house I looked in the window and saw that the children were playing with toys in the living room. I rang the doorbell and the bishop’s wife answered, “Oh hello Sister Lindberg, how are you? You poor thing…this must be so tragic.” I smiled and said I was okay – and emphasized that as long as my husband and children were okay then that was what mattered. She agreed and asked me to sit down and tell of my visit with Matt.
As all three of us sat there Nicole seemed very relaxed and calm. I had not seen the children so focused and when the older ones were tired of a toy they put it away before getting a replacement. We talked, ate cookies – cookies that she and Nicole had made – and talked about everything from the bishop’s family of nine children to religion to…well, anything and everything. Then the bishop’s wife said she had to go call her daughter who was going to Brigham Young University and that she would return in a few minutes.
Nicole came closer to me on the couch and said, “These people are amazing. I just adore that woman, what is her name…Rebecca? She and I really hit it off today and have been having a great time!” I joked, “Uh Nicole…do I have reason to be worried?” At that she rolled her eyes and laughed, “You have nothing to worry about Melanie – but seriously, if this is what people are like in Matt’s church I want to be part of it.”
Remembering back to the time Nicole had mocked my becoming a Utah Mormon wife I asked, “Well, are you sure…I mean I am not too sure you have the lifestyle of a typical heterosexual Mormon girl. Maybe Rebecca would not be as open and friendly with you if she knew about us.” She then got a defiant look on her face and stated, “She has a son who, after a mission, said he was gay. She said she loves him now just as much as she did when she did not know. I think that is true unconditional love!”
I looked behind me to make sure nobody could hear, and also checked to see that the kids were totally focused on their playthings and responded, “It is still against the rules of the.. I mean their church.” She responded, “Yes, so is buying food on Sundays but they went out to get groceries after her husband got back from church.”
I was beginning to feel threatened again and asked, “So how far would you be willing to go in changing your life if you were to join?” She took my hand and rushed me into the kitchen away from everyone. She then, without saying a word, placed her hands behind my head and drew me into a loving, passionate kiss. She released me and pulled back to say, “Melanie, you and I are together forever. I would never, ever sacrifice our love, our relationship, for anything. You have to believe me.” When we went back into the living room I really did believe her, but marveled at the irony of Nicole actually contemplating living in such a traditional role, while also sharing a husband with me and maintaining our same-sex relationship. I was used to being a chameleon to satisfy all my yearnings, but she appeared sincere in actually incorporating such diametrically opposing lifestyles into her very makeup! I suppose as long as I could be sure that nothing would change between us, or that our complex living arrangement were to be exposed, I was adaptable to whatever she desired.
After dinner Nicole told Rebecca that she needed to go get some clothes and then stop by her mother’s house. Of course she was truthful about the first stop, but not the second. She was desperate to see Matt and make sure he was okay. I focused on the children, who, while asking about their father, seemed rather unscathed by the ordeal they had been through. I thought it strange that I was not depressed or feeling any anxiety – but I was feeling desperate to start my investigation. And once the children were tucked in I opened up my email. My father asked when we planned on coming. I dreaded having to reply.
He again assured me that he had plenty of room. Everything was falling into place. I wrote him back that I would not be able to come yet but that Nicole would accompany Matt. I hoped he never figured out their connection. I wrote that once Matt could travel and we were able to get passports for everyone then the trip would be on. I again was hit with the realization that Nicole was in a strange position. As I opened up the page on obtaining passports I discovered that Nicole would have to get some extra paperwork to insure that there was no legal father of her kids. I was irritated that Matt had no official status in their lives.
So at the very least it would take until the end of the week to have all the passports, and make arrangements to fly by Monday of the next week. It was going to be a very busy seven days but there was no alternative.
What surprised me was Nicole’s suspicious negativity. She was not excited about taking Matt and the children to see my father while I stayed behind. She protested, “Melanie, I know you are up to something and you are waiting until we are gone. I beg you not to do it! Please, like I said, let the police take care of this.” I tried to re-assure her but she was quite upset, “Melanie, if not for me then for Matt…and for our children!” I took her hand and leaned my head against her shoulder, “Nicole, this is for Matt, for you and our children. Please try to understand. “She sighed, “Of course I understand, and that is why I am so scared.”
The next week was incredibly busy. I had to get forms from the police station for insurance, have Matt sign them, help Nicole with paperwork for the rushed passports, and of course meet with Katja. Even with that appointment I had to sign paperwork that she was assisting me as a volunteer for “legislative research.” When we met for lunch on Thursday she admitted, “The last two nights I have staked out the Exotica strip bar.” I sat back and urged her, “Please Katja, can you wait until next week? Stay home and watch TV, anything but please wait!” She rolled her eyes, “Want to see the pictures I took?” Of course I leaned forward as she put a folder on the table, “These are two of the men. As I thought they look like they are from the Caucasus region…at the very least they are not ethnic Russians.” I looked at the pictures. The men were dark and heavy set and smoking in each photograph. Katja noted, “I checked with the property division in Portland and the name on their business license was Zagriev, just like the pimp said.”
She sat back, “I forwarded the pictures to the uncle I told you about who was in the KGB. I also have a cousin who does some work that is sort of illegal but I have not been able to make contact with him. I just hope
my uncle can help me out. He has connections all over the country.” As I looked at the pictures I asked, “What kind of camera did you use for this quality?” She smiled and reached under her chair and pulled out a camera that certainly rivaled mine. It was then I realized I had left my camera in the old house and that it had not burned up. I asked how many pictures she had taken on her stake-out and she said she had snapped pictures of everyone entering and leaving the bar that night. She handed me the camera, “Check it out.”
Out of curiosity I started to look at each and every image. I became bored and was about to hand her camera back until the unthinkable occurred. I opened a series of shots of two men entering the bar at closing – and who they appeared to be caused me to sit up and actually blurt out, “You have to be kidding!”
I found the button for zeroing in on the faces of the men…yes it was them – officers Smith and Myers! They were wearing regular street clothes but I was absolutely sure it was them. I asked out loud, “So why are two policemen visiting this place...especially at closing time?” Katja, of course hearing my question, replied, “Maybe they are involved with something these guys are doing?” I sat back and tried to take inventory of all the points that were intersecting in my mind. These cops were there when I met with their boss, my son had seen one drop off the dead cat and said he was the one who came to my house to take a statement. And then Smith had been at my home after the fire occurred! I figured some sort of connection had existed but was it this direct? Could the men who may have killed Katja’s sister have been the ones who almost killed my family? I had to know for certain; and what had been an option in my mind began to be confirmed. Katja noting my silence asked, “What is wrong?” I sighed, “Nothing…nothing, I was just thinking.”
Descent Into Darkness Page 9