“Well, isn’t that a shame,” Oscar Obermeyer swung his gun toward the trunk of the green Sebring and fired his weapon. The car explosion hurled pieces of metal in a random cascade of destruction.
When Pierce fired his weapon, Mathew returned fire and heard the echo of a fourth shot as he collapsed on the deck of the footbridge. “Sara!” he shouted but he was not sure anyone heard his voice.
From a deafening fog he saw Oscar lean over him. “You all right, Mr. Farrell?”
“Where’s Sara?” Matthew asked.
The Israeli pulled his hat and beard off and Ruth Obermeyer’s gray hair spilled out.
“She’s down, but still breathing. I’ve called 911.”
“What about Pierce?”
“He’s got a hole where his heart used to be. You only nicked him. Your girl friend’s aim was dead on.”
“She was probably aiming for his knees. She’s not very good with a gun.”
Ruth helped him up and over to where Sara was on her knees leaning up against a granite boulder.
“I told her to duck, damn it!”
“I don’t think she took a bullet. It’s some of the debris from the car,” Ruth said.
“Sara, love, wake up.” He slid down beside her and pulled her onto his lap. Dear God, there was blood all over her.
“Look, my friend; I can hear the sirens in the distance. There are too many questions I can’t answer. I have to go.”
“You’re sure he’s gone?”
The Israeli nodded and disappeared down the footpath just before the first fire truck pulled into the parking lot.
***
The explosion rocked the ground. A thousand knives cut into Sara’s body. Her legs collapsed. Jonathon was still on his feet when she lifted her arm and fired the gun. White fog filled the space around her. “Ron? Carl? What are you doing here?” They knelt beside her. In the parking lot, people were shouting and hoses were spraying what was left of her car. Ron squeezed her hand. No, it wasn’t Ron.
You did well, Mom. You did well. Carl faded into the fog when she heard Ron’s voice. I love you, Sara. You’re going to be okay.
“Stand back,” another voice spoke. “What’s her name?”
“Sara, her name is Sara.”
“Are you her husband?”
“I want to be.”
“Ready to lift, on three.”
CHAPTER 38
The fog lifted. Sara’s throat was dry. This nightmare was different from the others. In this one, Ron and Carl were both trying to send her away. She opened her eyes to the squeak of rubber soles. A television was on, without volume, high up on the opposite wall. Maybe she was still dreaming. She moved her head and it pulsed with pain.
“Welcome back. Need some water?”
She nodded and regretted the movement. He placed a straw between her lips and she sucked in the wonderful wet of cool water. “How long?”
“Twenty-four hours. You had us worried for a while, but they tell me you’re going to live.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“She’s standing guard outside. The media have been like a pond of piranha.”
“Matthew?”
“He’s downstairs in x-ray.”
She tried to lift off the bed only to find her arm tethered to an IV line.
Jordie held her down until she gave up what little strength she had. “He’s all right, Sara. The bullet grazed a rib and ricocheted. They want to find out where it finally landed; I guess it didn’t come out. He wouldn’t even consider treatment until you started showing signs of recovery. When they threatened to knock him out, he finally gave in. I’m under orders not to leave your side or Mom and Matthew Farrell will take away my paints.”
She laughed and it hurt. “Jordie, no jokes, please.”
“Who’s joking? I’ll get Mom. She’s going to be glad you’re awake.”
Sara closed her eyes for a moment listening to the sounds of silence. The television was still on and she searched for the remote to turn it off.
“Hello there.”
A tall man in hospital scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck walked through the door. Sara tried to respond, but her voice had shut down again. He sat down on the side of the bed.
“Some day I would love to hear the real story of how you came into my care.” He put the straw to her lips. After she’d sipped he pulled it away.
“You don’t know?”
“Lots of important looking badges were waved in my face when I asked. All I was given was a car explosion.”
“That’s about it,” she croaked.
Another man shuffled into the room wearing hospital scrubs, and a smile. Sara could feel herself smiling, too. The doctor got to his feet. “Well, I guess three’s a crowd at this point. I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Doc?” she asked. “How long before we can get out of here?”
“People are always trying to leave me,” he joked. “Most of your injuries are surface lacerations. Our major concern was your head injury; you’ve got a decent size gash, concussion, and you’re dehydrated. I want to finish that fluid replacement.” He pointed to the liquid dripping into her veins. “Now that you’re awake, a day maybe two with us and I’ll let you go.”
He left and Matthew eased his way into the chair. “You up to some conversation before anyone else arrives?”
“Jordie says you refused treatment. How bad is it?”
“I’ve got a slug wedged against a rib. I’m all right.”
“Can they remove it?”
“They want to try.”
“Well?”
“I wanted to wait. There’s something I need from you.”
“If it’s in my power.”
“The investigative team is going to ask you some questions. I don’t know how much you remember with your head injury.”
“We set a trap, something about bait and a home-made explosive. You and Jonathon had a confrontation. I think my car exploded. My mind is a little fuzzy on the rest. There was someone else. Wait, it was the old gentleman from Chicago. No, he died. It was his wife, dressed like him.”
“How did you know about Oscar?”
“Ruth had a picture in her spare room. Taped to the back of it was an envelope yellowed with age. I snitched it. Tucked inside was a newspaper clipping about an acting troupe travelling around Europe: Ruth, Oscar, and another man. The other man died years ago. He was the one who looked like the old gent. I figured she was using his image in disguise. Oscar was too fragile to be the man we saw. Then he was dead. Water please,” she rasped out.
He placed the straw between her lips. “When you’re questioned, don’t mention Ruth, or any of her disguises. She’s only useful in her anonymity.”
“I remember now. She fired at my trunk, assuming the disk and cylinder were inside.”
“Actually she knew it was the decoy. Jonathon didn’t. We needed to draw him out. The terrorist cell was putting a lot of pressure on the seller. We just didn’t know what threat they were dangling.
“Matt, what happened to Jonathon?”
“He’s gone, Sara. He died at the scene.”
“I remember Ruth shot the car causing the explosion. Then, Jonathon shot you. I don’t remember anything else.”
“The rest of it will come. Mind if I turn up the television?”
Breaking News Bulletin filled the screen. He pushed a button on Sara’s remote and increased the volume.
“A high ranking member of Homeland Security announced moments ago the discovery of a terrorist plot to blow up the satellite launch at Cape Canaveral today.
“Three middle eastern men, we’re told, two from Pakistan and one a Syrian national, were arrested early this morning. The launch has been put on hold until further investigation.
“In another story, we have word from Australia that the Sydney opera house was a target for a bomb scare.” Matthew turned down the volume again.
“You told them?”
�
��Sara, I promised you I’d get them. What do you want to do when they let you out of here?”
“I would hope she hasn’t lost faith in us,” Robert Starr said as he entered the room with a huge vase of red roses. He set them on the stand beside the bed, bent down, and kissed her cheek. “How are you doing, Sara?”
“I’ve had better days, Robert.”
“You’ve got to get better real soon. We need you. I’ve spoken to the board and we unanimously selected you to be our new Financial VP – CFO if you like that title better. After all, you’ve been filling in at that capacity for weeks.”
“After everything that’s happened are you sure, Robert?”
“We need someone we can trust. Jonathon Pierce left a resignation letter on his desk yesterday morning. I believe he knew the investigation was pointing in his direction.”
“How did you know what he was up to?” she asked.
“Do you remember Ross Gordon’s outrageous accusations? He sent a letter to the feds with the evidence he uncovered in order to discredit Jonathon. He was hoping to get him fired and get his job. When Jonathon moved him to the west coast, Ross was determined to expose him. We suspect Jonathon had Ross killed to shut him up.
“On another note, Elaina is anxious to get her pet project under way and has signed Jordan O’Brien on as artistic director for the foundation. She hopes the both of you will remain with our foundation boards.” He nodded to Matthew, who’d managed to scoot his chair closer to Sara’s bed, stroking his thumb over the top of her hand.
“This sure turned out to be a real mess, Robert. I’m sorry about the bad publicity and about Jonathon Pierce. I know he was your friend even if things went wrong in the end.”
“Don’t be, my dear, you are more a victim here than I am or Starr Shine.”
Cass came in to the hospital room holding a stuffed teddy bear and a paperback book. “Jordie told me you finally opened your eyes. How are you feeling, hon?”
“Like I’ve been in an explosion. What have you got there?”
“Something to cuddle and a book of Sudoku to dust the cobwebs off your brain.”
“Matthew,” Cass added, “I suppose you’ll be going back to Washington for another assignment.”
He looked into Sara’s eyes, when he answered Cass.
“I’ve turned in my retirement notice. I’m thinking of sticking around here, maybe working free lance. And, I’ve just been reminded of my seat on the arts foundation advisory board.”
“Anything else you need, Sara?” she asked.
“I need time to heal and time to grieve. I’ve learned you can’t block grief. You have to work through it.
“I have a good position in a great company, and fantastic friends. I do have my friends, don’t I?” Sara looked directly at Matthew.
“And more if you’re willing to trust me,” he said.
“Complete trust is a special gift.”
EPILOGUE
Eighteen months later, Sara, Matthew, and their friends gathered around a Memorial Day bonfire behind Matthew’s new home in Cape Elizabeth. Jonathon’s daughter had put the house on the market when the investigation was finally complete.
Jonathon’s investments had gone sour three years before. He’d sacrificed a lot of art before he’d betrayed his country. None of this was made clear until after his funeral when his will was read. Heavily in debt, with threats from both the Nazi group and the Jihadist cell, Jonathon got desperate and hired sloppy. He didn’t anticipate Sara’s intelligence or her strength. Who knew what horror would have happened if she had trusted him. She shivered at the thought.
“Are you cold, love? Do you need another cup of tea?”
“I’m floating on tea now, Matthew.” She reached up and touched his hand.
“Cass just arrived. No, don’t get up.”
“When are you going to make an honest woman of her, Matthew?”
“When she finally changes ‘not yet’ to ‘yes’.”
“You should talk, Cass.” Sara looked over her shoulder. “You’ve been stringing Ben along for seven years.”
“I finally said yes.” Cass stretched out her left hand showing off a sapphire bookended with diamonds.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I just said yes this morning. If I didn’t cut my cord to you, you were never going to say yes to Matthew.”
Ben and Jordie walk around the side of the house carrying a large flat package.
“What have you got?” Sara asked.
“It’s a gift for Matthew.” He handed it over as Allen and Annette strolled into the back garden.
“Hey you two, how are you doing?” Sara asked the new arrivals.
“We’re fine,” Allen said.
“Speak for yourself, you’re not lugging the next generation of Cooks on top of your bladder.” Annette poked her husband in the ribs.
“How’s the business, Allen?”
“We signed a lucrative contract with a couple on Long Island yesterday.”
“Enough to buy me out?”
“Never.”
Matthew unwrapped the portrait of the two of them sailing off St. Thomas. “You painted that from our digital shot. It looks great Jordie.”
“Okay folks, I think most of us are here.” Matthew raised his glass of ginger ale. “I propose a toast to all those we’ve loved and lost.”
“To Carl,” Sara started; “and Stacey,” Jordie added; “and Joe Stein,” Louise put in; “and Ron,” Sara added with a tight throat; “and Oscar,” Cass said; “and Ross,” Steve said; “and Thomaston,” Matthew said; “and to Jonathon, the man I once called my best friend,” Robert finished their toast. Elaina, walking through the mowed lawn beside him, carried a cloth covered casserole in her hands.
“How is my CFO doing today?” Robert put a comforting arm around Sara’s shoulders as she reached out for the casserole Elaina was in danger of dumping.
“I’m fine Robert. Elaina, what do we have here?”
“It’s a lobster casserole. The first one I’ve made without disaster to my kitchen.”
After they’d eaten and their guests were settled on lawn chairs a safe distance from a pyramid of wood, Matthew lit the fire. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our memorial light for friends and loved ones gone.” When it flared up toward the heavens he tossed in a hanging glove. Sara added shiny pieces of a compact disk to the fire.
Peace was finally settling within her heart. She knew now her family was not gone; they were the very fiber of her soul.
Grief can tear you apart
Secrets can destroy you
But, Love can give you hope
And Peace…
Peace can only come from within
Mourning Dove Page 37