Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  Sara held up well, a few tears at the church and the grave site, regal as only she could be, Cass never far from her side. Pierce and Robert Starr stood like centurions behind her, an illusion of a unified front. Elaina buzzed like a hummingbird throughout the reception.

  Oddly enough, the big problem had been the frosty attitude radiating from Ron Stafford’s parents. From the moment they got off the plane, Sara had been beaten up by their accusations. According to Cass, they’d laid the blame for their son’s, and by extension their only grandchild’s, death at Sara’s feet. They’d been impossibly rude taking the moral high ground over her desertion. They were horrified she survived the explosion merely by living apart from her husband, which was why Matthew kept his distance since Monday afternoon when their plane landed. Sara pleaded with him not to go with her to the airport. When he was finally introduced to them on Tuesday at the funeral home he could read their condemnation at first glance. From their reaction a federal agent was on equal footing with a serial killer.

  Matthew pulled away from the wall and placed his empty ginger ale glass on the tray of a passing waiter. He threaded his way through the throng toward Elaina and asked if she could fuss over Ron’s parents for a bit. Elaina glanced across the room from where Cass has just gotten Sara to finally sit down then to the table where Ron’s parents were holding court. Elaina actually winced at the request. “You’re going to owe me for this one, dear boy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Matthew waited for a break in the chatter from Ron’s neighbor, and asked Sara if he could get her anything for her headache. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cass shake her head, “I offered her a sedative on the way to the cemetery and she won’t take it.”

  “I'm right here, Matthew, don’t talk about me like I’m not.”

  “How about a couple Tylenol?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  From his pocket, he pulled out a small travel bottle; Pierce grabbed a wine glass from a nearby waiter offering it to wash down the pills. “Thank you, gentlemen, now if you’ll excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”

  “Sara, I’ll come with you.”

  “Cass, I’d like to leave the hotel shortly. Do you think Jordie would mind driving me home?”

  “I’ll leave with you. It’s been a draining couple of days.”

  Sara stood to leave then stopped. In the doorway a gray haired woman in black had just entered the room. Robert Starr asked, “Who is she, Sara?”

  “Ruth Obermeyer,” Jonathan said.

  “My neighbor,” she said at the same time. “We buried her husband last week.”

  Matthew looked at the older woman’s face and saw something familiar in her eyes.

  ***

  “Sara,” Ruth said. “I am so truly sorry for your loss.” When she grasped Sara’s hands she slipped a folded piece of paper against Sara’s right palm. In moments, Ruth turned her attention to Jonathon and Sara slipped out to the nearest restroom.

  In an empty stall, she opened the note and read: Do not trust these men. They will stop at nothing to acquire what you have.

  Which men? Damn it, the room was full of them. Obviously Ruth was friends with Jonathon. Could it be Robert then? Certainly she couldn’t mean Matthew. Someone else entered the ladies room and she flushed the unused toilet.

  “Sara, are you in here?”

  “I’m here, Cass.” She tucked the note into her pocket, walked out of the stall. Cass stood in front of the door with a stone cold look on her face.

  “I’ve talked to Jordie; he’s gone for the car. Your in-laws have been absolutely horrible to you. Do you want me to let them know we’re leaving? Or do you just want to leave?”

  For a moment Sara closed her eyes and wished for this week to be over. “No, I’ll tell them. They’ll be gone in the morning. They were shocked at the reading of the will yesterday when they found out Ron left his share of the company to Allen and me equally. The house and property he left to the town of Greenland; the funds in his personal investments are mine by right of survivorship.”

  “He probably hadn’t changed his will in awhile.”

  “Cass, he rewrote his will after I left for Chicago. The old will included Carl, not Allen. What got his parents riled was that he still included me. They need someone to lash out at and I’m the likely target. They’re quiet people generally and like to keep a low profile. They were totally embarrassed by the official cause of death when we lost Carl. They closed up like a steel vault being clanged shut, wouldn’t talk to either Ron or me about it.

  “Ron needed closure and I was in denial, but Howard and Lydia,” Sara shrugged her shoulders, “they turned away from both of us. They acted like none of us existed anymore. Now, well this just compounds the problem.”

  “As you said, they’ll be gone tomorrow. What time’s their flight?”

  “Ten fifteen out of Manchester. They’ve already informed me they will not need my assistance in getting to the airport. So you see, now is when I have to say goodbye.”

  “What about the others? They’ve all done a lot to smooth out the wrinkles today.”

  “You all have. I promised not to say thank you again, but you know you have my love.” Cass teared up. “Please don’t do that or the dam is going to break, again.”

  “I’m sorry, give me a moment,” her best friend whispered back.

  “After I thank Robert and Elaina and make my farewells to Ron’s parents, I’ll make a general announcement thanking everyone for coming.”

  “I’ll get our coats and meet you at the front entrance of the hotel.”

  “Give me five minutes, Cass.” Sara watched her best friend leave the rest room and stalled her own exit running hot water over her cold hands.

  When she walked out into the hallway Jonathon was waiting.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “If one more person asks me that, I swear I’m going to scream so loud the harbor patrol is going to think there’s an air raid.”

  “Maybe you should go. The crowd will dissipate when you do.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “Sara, there’s something else, the reason Ron died. I’ve listened to the authorities: local, state and federal. I think Ron was snooping into something dangerous. I’ve been told it was something your son was into. I’ve talked to some people in Washington; it has something to do with Matthew Farrell. Everywhere he’s been lately people have turned up dead. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Wait a minute, Jonathon, I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

  “Please, Sara. Hear me out. I’ve talked it over with Robert and he agrees with me. We don’t think it’s safe for you to be around Matthew Farrell right now. If you need anything or have anything you find is over your head, please come to me.”

  She stared up at him. There was nothing she could say to rebut his doubt in regards to Matthew. Death had followed behind his every move.

  “Robert feels this way, too?”

  “We’ve talked extensively about this. We’re asking you to stay away from Mr. Farrell at least until the news media has a chance to find another target. Consider the reputation of the company and your own as an executive. As your boss, and your friend, I’m here for you.”

  He reached out and ran his hands down the sides of her arms. She nodded in agreement as he leaned forward and placed a simple kiss on her cheek.

  Back in the function room, Sara looked across to Matthew. He was listening to something Allen was saying. He looked up just then and they stared like two who were strangers once again.

  “It’s time to say goodbye, Sara,” Robert whispered.

  She met Elaina half way across the room and embraced a woman with kindness in her heart. Then she turned to the cold grief of two people she had once called family.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Where is she, Mrs. O’Brien?” Jonathon Pierce stood on Cass’s front step with his hands in the pockets of his sheeps
kin jacket. He looked at the woman with fly-away hair, a tie-dyed shirt, and blue jeans. She was as different from Sara as cow pies were to whipped cream.

  “Mr. Pierce, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “Sara hasn’t answered any of her various phones and she’s not answering her doorbell. I’m worried. She seemed disoriented yesterday after the funeral. She’s not here, is she?”

  “She may have gone for a walk.”

  “Her cell?” he asked.

  “Could be off or she could have left it at home.”

  “Do you have a key to her place?”

  She raised her brow in challenge and he held his hands out in a plea for help. “If she’s sleeping we can just back out; but if she’s done something foolish we shouldn’t be wasting time.”

  “All right, come in for a minute while I get my shoes and the key to her place. She’s going to be really pissed if she’s sleeping and finds I let anyone in.”

  She slid into a pair of ducks, totally out of character to the rest of her outfit. On a side table she pulled the head off a ceramic Buddha and lifted out a set of keys. At Sara’s door, she rang the bell before she inserted the key. He looked down at his watch; time was slipping away.

  “Sara, are you home, hon?” Cass asked and shrugged at the silence. An orange, black and white cat leaped off a carpeted post by the sliding door in the back of the room. She reached down and lifted the cat into her arms. Jonathon moved her aside and walked down the hall to a bedroom. The bed was made. Like her office, not a thing out of place. Across the hall was a room with a desk. A computer was off; but a red light was flashing on an answering machine. He’d check messages, but her flamboyant friend was right behind him, petting the purring fur ball in her arms.

  He turned back down the hall and the cat hissed when he passed by. “What’s her name?” he asked to fill the silence.

  “His name is Leonardo.”

  Jonathon peeked into the bathroom on the way back to the front room. In the kitchen area he asked, “Door to the garage?” pointing to the side door.

  “She’s obviously not here, Mr. Pierce. I think we should go.”

  He opened the side door to an empty garage, turned around and added, “Please, my name is Jonathon. Where do you think she’s gone?”

  “I’m not her keeper.” She put the cat down after he shut the side door. When he turned back he gripped her upper arms.

  “You’re hurting me, Mr. Pierce. Let go.”

  “I'm sorry.” He released her. “I’m just plain worried about her. She’s lost so much. I don’t know how long she can…” He paced back to the kitchen area then turned to her. Mounted on the wall behind an oak table and chairs was a painting of three young people at the beach, a jungle of green surrounding them.

  “Did your son, Jordan, paint this?”

  She smiled. “He calls it Friends.”

  “Where is this?” he pointed to the forest background.

  “Well, a number of the places, wherever we went with the boys when they were young.”

  He stepped closer and pointed to a pirate’s flag on top of a concrete monument. “Where is this?” he asked.

  “Odiorne Point. We spent hot summer days letting the boys search for pirate treasure. The paths were always cool, close to the ocean, and shaded with foliage.”

  “That’s where they found her son,” he whispered.

  “I think we should go. I’m sure she’ll be okay. She just needs some time.”

  “Do you think she might have gone there?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s the quickest way to get there?”

  “Take I-95 and the first exit in Portsmouth, head for the beach, Route 1-A.”

  He left her standing in the doorway.

  “If you find her, make her call me!” she shouted as he shut his door and pulled out of the driveway.

  ***

  Leaning against the granite boulder where Carl breathed his last, the sun on her face, not the fog of his last night, Sara wondered whose trust was broken. Whose deception would be her undoing? She tossed a stone into the inlet and watched ripples cascade out from impact. It was high tide. The water was close. She tossed in another and observed the interaction of overlapping ripples.

  Not too long ago, she had thought her world had finally righted itself. She’d made her peace with Carl’s death. If not still with her in body, she learned he was with her in spirit. What an understatement that was. She’d made her peace with Ron, too. They’d come to an amicable separation and she believed a new friendship had been forged between them. Matthew came into her life with joy and laughter, intrigue and adventure, and passion. She’d believed in him. He asked for total trust and she gave it. Jonathon was right about one thing though; ever since Matthew came into her life, death had been a constant. Grief was overwhelming when so many were gone. Gran told of horrendous atrocities during the Holocaust. By comparison Sara’s losses were not as great. It did not ease her pain knowing that.

  She heard a car pull into the parking lot behind her. Crouched down as she was she knew whoever it was he couldn’t see her. A door opened and closed. Footsteps crunched on the stone surface of the lot. Maybe whoever it was would cross the footbridge to the trails and leave her in peace.

  “Sara, where are you?”

  It was Jonathon. Standing up, she turned toward him with the water behind her and the waist-high boulder in front. He scanned the lot and the footbridge beyond. Then his glance settled on her. They stared at each other in a long moment of silence. Then he smiled.

  “I’ve been worried about you, Sara. What are you doing here?”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Cass is worried about you, too. I asked her to let me into your place when I couldn’t reach you by phone.” He glanced down the footbridge again then walked toward her. “I thought you might be ill again. I thought you might do something foolish in your grief.”

  “I’m physically well, Jonathon. The flu, or should I say the poison, did not do its job.”

  “What poison? Sara, you’re talking crazy.”

  “Am I? Why did you really come here?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you I would look out for you. That’s why I’ve come.”

  “I wasn’t sure if it was you, Matthew, or Robert. I knew if I waited long enough one of you would tip your hand.”

  “Sara, you’re talking nuts here. I’ve come to bring you home.” He stepped closer.

  “I don’t think so. You came for something else. Little boys never seem to grow up. You’re looking for the treasure aren’t you? What if I tell you it’s in the trunk of my car? What would you do then? Would you leave me in peace? Of course you wouldn’t. I know too much.”

  “Sara, listen to your self.” He glanced back at her car. He’d tipped his hand now.

  “Hard decision isn’t it? Do you trust me to believe the prize you seek is in my trunk? Or do you eliminate me first, and then look?”

  “What nonsense has Farrell fed you? He’s a rogue agent; he sells to the highest bidder. I know him, I worked with him. If you help me, we can catch him and turn him in. But we need evidence and we’re running out of time. If he gave you something to hold onto, give it to me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “There’s just one thing I want to know, Jonathon. Who do you really work for?”

  “Starr Shine Communications, same as you. What’s in your trunk, Sara?”

  “The evidence Carl found. The prize he was killed for. The tasteless version of the poison you were going to sell out your country for, not the stuff Jimmy Pike fed me.”

  He looked at his watch and began to sweat. It was the middle of November, but she could see moisture beading across his forehead.

  “Sara, toss me your car keys.”

  “It’s unlocked.”

  “You’re not going to try to stop me?”

  “I don’t need to. All I have to do is pull the trigger.”<
br />
  When he turned back to her, he saw the gun in her hand. He slowly pulled one from his pocket.

  “Careful boss, you might kill me before you get your prize. Then where would you be?”

  “What are you playing at here? These are grown up games, Sara. You can’t win this time.”

  “Neither can you. Why don’t you ask what else is in the trunk?”

  They both turned at the sound of footsteps on the bridge.

  ***

  Matthew saw the danger even if Sara didn’t. Jonathon was a crack shot. “Sara, I’ve got him,” he said.

  “Well, well, Matthew Farrell, double agent, finally popped out of your hidey hole.” Pierce smirked and changed his aim to cover the larger threat. “Your girl friend here says the prize is tucked in her trunk, I suppose in a nest of explosives. Is she telling the truth?”

  “Sara never lies. It’s one of her most endearing qualities.”

  Another footstep from beyond the gatehouse in the parking lot caused the three of them to spin toward the sound.

  “Well if it isn’t our friend from Israel, raised from the dead,” Matthew called out. “Come join us, Oscar.”

  “Do you have it, Mrs. Stafford?” the elderly gentleman asked. He aimed his gun at Jonathon Pierce.

  “I have it.”

  “Let’s not get stupid here, friends.” Jonathon glanced at his watch. “The real enemy has bigger bombs than what you can explode in your trunk, Sara. A nuke is armed and ready to obliterate Florida on the rocket lift off tomorrow. Eighteen hours later, if we still haven’t turned over what I hope Sara’s got tucked in her trunk, a similar package will detonate in Sydney.”