Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  Sara watched him work the audience getting his meaning across. She seemed to be living and breathing Matthew Farrell. He had become like the air to her. How had this happened so quickly?

  ***

  Later that afternoon, from his position leaning against the window sill in Robert’s suite, Matthew Farrell watched the posturing of the supposed legal team. The tall one, Caruthers, standing by the round table in the dining area was pretending to be busy, rifling through his briefcase. A pair of glasses dangled from his mouth. It was obvious that he wanted to sit but didn’t dare until Robert Starr sat. The short round half of the gray suit team stood with his back to the door like a bouncer at a crowded bar.

  Across the room, Sara worked her palm pilot. She looked as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. He wondered if he could convince her to spend a couple extra days with him playing tourist before they both returned to the chase. She’d probably like Chicago’s museums. He’d like more quality time with her body, maybe a couple hours in the Art Institute, and a couple days in bed.

  The flushing sound told him the show was about to begin. A knock at the door had short round pivoting to peek through the security hole just as Robert Starr emerged from the sandbox.

  “Who is it, Joe?” Robert asked as he loosened his tie.

  “Jack Stone, sir.”

  “Let him in.”

  “Glad you could join us, Jack.” Robert welcomed the divisional manager in. “I think we can all be more comfortable in the sitting room.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, they moved toward a sofa and two recliners. “Mr. Brown, are you joining us or guarding the door,” Robert Starr asked.

  “I’m fine near the door, sir.”

  “As you wish.”

  Sara walked over to the recliner in the corner of the sitting area and folded into the chair. Caruthers placed his briefcase on the coffee table and sat at one end of the sofa. Jack took the opposite side of the sofa leaving the second recliner vacant. “Robert, take the recliner, I’ll get the desk chair from under the coats.” Matthew offered.

  Robert turned toward the door. “Joe, hang these coats up. It’s beginning to look like a cloak room in here.”

  With a face devoid of emotion, short round walked over to the desk, scooped up the coats and turned to open the closet. When he tossed them in a bulge showed in the back of his suit jacket. Part of the legal team was packing.

  “All right, people. Let’s get down to the task at hand,” Robert started. “Dan, read the statement you’ve prepared for the press.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Sara interrupted. “I thought the whole reason for this meeting was to create the statement from the facts. With all due respect, how can Dan Caruthers write the statement when he wasn’t here during the incident?”

  “Patience little lady, listen to the statement first. Then we’ll flush it out and correct any misconceptions.”

  “Would it not be more advantageous and expedient to hear the detail of what really occurred from Mr. Farrell and me first before jumping off the deep end of the pool?”

  “It always comes back to that pool, Sara. I’m beginning to doubt my decision to put a swimming pool at your disposal. However, if you feel a need to share the details of last night, be my guest.”

  She began by describing the young man who showed up at the pool with a pile of clean towels on Monday. As she recounted all the other times he made himself visible to her presence on all three shifts, Matthew smiled at her methodical description. He was impressed again.

  “Now obviously we don’t want to tell the press everything,” Sara said. “Help us make our statement accurate and succinct, plausible and heroic, with no sexual innuendo.”

  “Mr. Farrell?” Robert Starr asked. “Do you have anything further to add?”

  “As a federal officer, I noticed my associate’s obvious concern and went with her to report the suspicious behavior to hotel security. In cooperation with their limited night security staff I set up an additional monitoring camera in the men’s locker room. I did this only after ascertaining that no other hotel guests were present. Then I followed Ms. Stafford to the pool area and waited for the young man to enter. Within twenty minutes he entered the pool area wearing the uniform of the hotel fitness club personnel. As pre-arranged with Ms. Stafford we acted like a couple of newlyweds to cover our reason for the late night swim when the kid entered the pool area. He proceeded to the locker room and the additional monitor picked up his movements replacing a large white envelope with several plastic packets of white powder. I alerted security using a cell phone I had hidden in my gym bag and ordered Ms. Stafford to stay hidden at the far end of the pool. The young man re-entered the pool area where I held up an identical packet to the one he had tucked into the waistband of his pants. When I challenged him, he pulled a knife. My intention was to stall him until security could arrive. I was forced to subdue him and in the process he nicked my arm.”

  “The police report talks about a gun. Whose gun is it and how did it end up in the bottom of the pool?” Caruthers asked as he continued to input their comments.

  “The gun is mine. I left it in my gym bag by the edge of the pool. I didn’t want to leave Ms. Stafford defenseless. When the kid pulled a knife, Sara pulled the gun and ordered the kid to put the knife down. She also informed him that hotel security was on the way. I told him to give it up and he lunged at me. I slipped on the wet floor as the gun fired.”

  “Robert, when Matthew slipped I saw blood spray up and I tried to shoot the gun as a warning. The gun fired when I attempted to switch the safety off. I’m not the cloak and dagger sort, sir. In the panic of the moment, I dropped the gun into the pool.”

  “Dan, read your statement.”

  “I would like to rewrite it first, sir. In light of Ms. Stafford’s and Mr. Farrell’s recounting of the events that led up to last night’s arrest, I want to paint a different light on the statement.”

  “Jack, do you have any input to this event?”

  “I feel like I’ve just been entertained by an action movie, Robert. I had no idea this was going on. We need to show a united front though or the press will have a field day.”

  “They already are,” Sara said. “Robert’s right. We need to contain this and turn the direction of the media attack.”

  “Well, okay then. Dan, why don’t you take your notes to your room and get back to us in say,” he looked at his watch, “thirty minutes. I’ll expect a revised statement by then. Sara, Matthew, I want to have a private word with you both.”

  Matthew stared out the window at the Chicago skyline with his hands in his pockets. The room filled with silence; he sensed Robert was a volcano ready to erupt.

  “Sara, how did you know what was in Dan Caruthers statement?” Matthew asked.

  “I put myself in Robert’s place. He had no choice but to fire me to protect the company based on what he knew from hearsay and media splash. His reprimand at lunch validated that point.”

  “Mr. Farrell, stop pacing and come sit down,” Robert demanded over his shoulder.

  Matthew turned from the window and returned to the desk chair. “Sorry, I think better on my feet. A piece of the puzzle is missing here.”

  “What puzzle?” she asked.

  “When I’ve worked it out, I’ll let you know. Robert, what did you want to discuss in private?” He sat down and crossed an ankle to knee.

  “I was asked by my CFO to cooperate with the government in their investigation and to hire this lady in whatever position she was most suited. Ironically this was not a request to find a spare secretarial desk, but a highly visible position. I went out on a limb, moved a perfectly competent comptroller out to the west coast, and lost him to an automobile accident. I know there were other issues there,” Robert waved his hand to forestall a rebuttal on his opinion of Ross Gordon, “but the point is I’ve made a lot of accommodations for Mrs. Stafford.”

  “Sir, I don’t understand why you would consi
der such a bizarre request from someone who works under you,” Sara finally stated.

  “Jonathon is a friend. He was also a former bureau chief with a federal organization. He tells me he’s occasionally asked to help out in this capacity. I trust him.”

  Matthew put both feet on the floor and leaned forward, “Then Pierce asked you to take me on to cover while he was away, correct?”

  “Just what is your assignment, Mr. Farrell?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, sir. I can tell you though that I’m also guarding Mrs. Stafford, and I will continue in that capacity throughout my investigation. She’s in danger because of something she either saw or heard. The trail of evidence keeps looping back to Starr Shine Communications.”

  “Because I work at Starr Shine? Maybe I should resign to protect the company. You were right, Robert. As soon as the conference is over I’ll turn in my resignation.”

  “Hold on, little lady. What if the loop back to the company is coincidental to your working here? Wouldn’t it be to our benefit to maintain status quo? You’re still an excellent accountant. And, it would be very difficult to explain your resignation to my wife.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Even wrapped in Matt’s arms swaying to the rhythm of a slow dance, Sara couldn’t turn off the facts floating around in her head. Someone close to her was responsible for Carl’s death. She knew it on a gut level. She just didn’t know who. Too many clues went nowhere.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” he asked. His fingertips created trails up and down her back, their slowness a counterpoint to her rapid heartbeat.

  Staring into his gray eyes, she shook her head in denial. “Why do you want to spoil a romantic moment?”

  “I don’t like experiencing romantic moments alone. By its very nature romance insinuates two people sharing special time together. Your body is in my arms, Sara, but your mind is elsewhere.” He tilted her chin upward. “Share your thoughts. Lighten your load.”

  “The spider’s web is getting far too complex. I don’t know who to trust.”

  “Do you trust me, Sara?”

  “I think so.”

  “Not a whole lot of confidence in that statement, is there?”

  “I’m confused. How can a punk I never knew be actively trying to destroy me?”

  “It probably has nothing to do with you.” He glanced over her head to the crowd at the bar on the other side of the room. “You’re probably collateral damage to him. He’ll do or say anything to get out of the jam he’s in.”

  “What about his connection to the Nazi cult? Although my heart still can’t believe Carl was involved with them, I have the evidence. Now I’m caught up in a drug deal with a punk who also has ties to the group. What am I suppose to do?”

  “Just do your job. Let me worry about the cult.”

  “You said some of the clues come back to Starr Shine. I’m right in the thick of it, aren’t I?”

  “Love, you need a diversion. Let’s get out of here. The rest of the crew won’t miss us at this point.”

  “Well, the barracuda might.”

  “Not at the moment. She’s distracted with the R & D chief. I think he might get lucky tonight.”

  “That’s crude.”

  “It’s a fact of life. Come on; let’s find a place less crowded.” He turned her toward the exit with his hands on her shoulders.

  In minutes they were back at the Michigan Avenue entrance to the hotel. He whispered in her ear, “My room or yours?”

  “I would feel more comfortable in mine.”

  The street seemed unusually empty. Only one man was visible, standing at the end of the block. He was watching them. “Matthew, isn’t that the man you ran into the other day?”

  “Where?” He craned his head to the left.

  “No, one block on the right.”

  Before he could narrow in on him, the elderly man turned down the block.

  “I didn’t see him. What did he look like?”

  “White hair and glasses, he was staring at us and leaning on a black umbrella.”

  “He’s gone now. Do you want me to go after him?”

  “No, I don’t want anything else to happen to you.”

  “You don’t have much faith in my talents.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just jittery. Let’s go up. Maybe I do need a distraction.”

  “Always glad to oblige, milady.”

  In the elevator he pulled her into his arms and she could feel herself melting into the comfort he gave. “This feels far too good, Matt. It makes me wish this was real.”

  “It is real, Sara.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s a fantasy and when I wake in the morning it will be gone, just like a dream.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Not with me.”

  “With everything that’s happened since my son died, it would be cruel to promise something that can’t be.”

  “What makes you think a relationship with me can’t be?”

  “You’re an agent for the federal government chasing bad guys wherever they hide. I want consistency in my life. I need to trust that the man I love will come home every night; that our travels won’t be tied to some drug bust or a search for weapons of mass destruction. And, I think you’re probably too young for me. I’ll grow old and you’ll still be knocking the sweet young girls over with your smile. Not to mention that I’m still tied to another man, a man who doesn’t want to let me go even if he did ignore my presence when I lived with him.”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret,” he whispered into her ear. “I won’t ever ignore you and eight years is not an issue from where I stand. Just so you know, I’ve put twenty years into this job and I’ve decided this is my last assignment. I want to do something fun for the rest of my life. I can’t think of anyone I would rather share that fun with than you.”

  “If this is a proposal, I think you...”

  He stopped her denial with a simple kiss. The elevators opened onto her floor. His hand in the middle of her back steered her down the hall toward her room. Sara turned toward him and placed a stalling hand on his chest. “This conversation isn’t over. We need to understand each other. I can’t make promises, not now.”

  “I’m not asking for any. I’m just stating facts as I see them. It’s what I do best: establish a goal, discover the facts, determine the problems, and plot the solution.”

  “I don’t think I have a rebuttal for that.”

  “Good. Give me your card key and I’ll open your door.”

  “This isn’t the 19th century. I can open my own door.”

  “Of course you can. I still want to enter the room first to make sure there’re no surprises. Give me your key and let me do my job.”

  She offered the card and they missed the handoff. The card fluttered to the floor and they both bent to pick it up, colliding in mid-descent.

  From the floor he pushed himself up against the door jam. “I think we’ve done this before,” he said and pulled her into his lap. “Are you okay, Sara?” He kissed the collision spot on her forehead.

  “And this is another thing. We are so klutzy together; we would be detrimental to each other’s health.”

  “Shush and stay put for a moment.”

  “Matt, we’re in the hallway. Anyone could come by. What if a reporter comes out of the elevator? How would I explain that to Robert?”

  “I banged my arm trying to block your fall. Wait just a minute ‘til the throbbing stops.”

  “Oh my God! Let me see it.”

  “Stop squirming. When we get inside you can play Florence Nightingale.”

  Just then the elevator bell rang to signal a door opening. “Get up, Matt. I don’t want to be found like this.”

  He pushed Sara upright, stood behind her, and swiped the card in the lock. The elevator door opened and they looked toward it. A couple decked out from a night at the theatre emerged and turned down the opposite way lost in their own conversation. Sara and Matthew finally moved in
to her room.

  “You stay here beside the door; I’ll sweep the room.”

  After a careful inspection he gave her a thumbs-up then slid out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirtsleeve.

  “It doesn’t look like you tore your stitches. There’s no bleeding, but it’s red around the wound.” Sara gently touched the redness with her fingertips checking for fever around the cut. “There’s no heat.”

  When she looked up he had a silly grin on his face. “Now why are you smiling?”

  “You must have been a wonderful mother.” The grin disappeared from his face. “I am so truly sorry.”

  Tears blurred her vision as the knot in her chest reappeared. She turned toward the bathroom in search of a tissue. A moment later, she felt his strength around her again. He leaned his cheek on top of her head and rocked her in his embrace. “Sara, I would have taken his place to save you this,” he whispered into her hair. “I wasn’t there. I’m sorry.”

  ***

  The nightmare was back but something was different. This time she wasn’t watching; she was Carl. Sara felt what he felt, saw what he saw, and smelled the salt spray in the fog.

  A gray mist blanketed the coast this night. The fog horn in the channel sounded its warning. He left his car parked beyond the rocky sea wall, climbed over the first two ridges of granite and walked the path by memory alone. Years of family picnics, romantic interludes and peaceful isolated contemplation kept him on course. He crunched a clam shell abandoned by scavenging sea gulls beneath his boot. He shifted the weight of his backpack to his right shoulder and leaped over the rock wall marking the edge of the park. He stopped to get his bearings and heard a footfall behind him. He pick up speed and cut across the winding path heading for two bunkers that once housed WW II cannon installed to protect the northeast coast and the navel shipyard in the channel.

  When he came to a picnic table he walked around it. Maybe a hundred yards beyond it he heard a thump and a whispered curse behind him. He’d set his trap. It was all he could do now. They knew his identity.