Fort Lupton

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  As if it were all too much, Yvonne gave a quick shake of her head.

  “I have to think,” Agent Muniz said. “Can you stay here today?”

  “In Phoenix or in this apartment?” Dionne asked. Her lip curled a tiny bit. Agent Muniz laughed.

  “My husband made a reservation for us at the JW Marriot.” Yvonne looked at her watch. “We have spa appointments in a couple of hours.”

  Agent Muniz smiled, and Yvonne shrugged.

  “He loves me,” Yvonne said.

  “What are you going to do?” Dionne asked.

  “We have to be smart about this,” Agent Muniz said. “If I go in and blab that you’re here and the evidence that you, and Sandy, can give . . .”

  Agent Muniz shook her head.

  “You won’t make those appointments,” Agent Muniz said. “My best bet would have been your sexy agent, Rasmussen. But he’s in hiding.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Dionne asked.

  “I’m going to think,” Agent Muniz said. “Yvonne and Sandy didn’t go through hell to have these guys get off.”

  “There're others,” Yvonne said.

  “Others?” Agent Muniz asked.

  “Other girls, other women—, others,” Yvonne said.

  “Can you make a list?” Agent Muniz asked.

  Yvonne nodded. Agent Muniz got up. She was gone a minute before she returned with a pen and paper. She watched as Yvonne wrote down names, dates, and places.

  “That’s what I remember,” Yvonne said as she pushed the paper toward Agent Muniz.

  Agent Muniz looked at the list and then back up at Yvonne. She nodded.

  “We have something to go on.” Agent Muniz smiled.

  “You’d better be careful,” Dionne said. “These men, they don’t play nicely. They will kill you, even if you’re a federal agent.”

  “I know,” Agent Muniz said. “Why do you think I live in this dump?”

  “Honey, I have no idea,” Yvonne said.

  “They took my house,” Agent Muniz said. “Took my car. Took everything I owned — my savings and my retirement. Some kind of ‘mistake’ with the bank. Even though the bank admitted they screwed up, I still don’t have the house back or the payout. They found my retirement money, but lawyers’ fees took my savings.”

  “Wow,” Yvonne said.

  “So, yes, they are dangerous,” Agent Muniz said. “But then, with your help, so am I.”

  Unsure of what the agent was saying, Dionne and Yvonne simply stared at her.

  “I’ll call you a cab,” Agent Muniz said. Got up and left the room. From her bedroom, she yelled, “Don’t want you to miss your spa appointments.”

  “Thanks,” Dionne yelled back. Yvonne shrugged.

  “One day at a time,” Yvonne said in a low voice.

  Dionne nodded.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Sunday evening — 6:01 p.m.

  “Any word from Jake?” Sandy asked Jill when she came into the kitchen with Bladen in her arms.

  Sandy set a stack of cloth napkins on the counter. Jill gave a quick sniff to hold back her tears and shook her head. Edie came into the kitchen carrying Tanner.

  “I haven’t heard anything either,” Edie said with a smile. “But I think there’s some kind of mist or fog around our queendom. My father used to generate it around our land, and my brother . . .”

  Edie’s eyes flicked to Jill.

  “Fin said that he and Abi were protected from the rot inside the queendom because they were here,” Jill said. “So Jake . . .”

  Jill gave a quick nod of her head. She picked up the stack of cloth napkins and left the kitchen.

  “Her father, Perses, is with them,” Edie said. “He’s ruthless, fair, and . . . I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  “But you don’t know,” Sandy said.

  Edie’s eyes expressed their worry and sorrow.

  “I don’t know either,” Sandy said. “That’s life. Can you carry the bread to the table?”

  “Of course,” Edie said.

  Sandy stared off for a moment. She whispered a quiet prayer for their loved ones, who had scattered to the wind. One day at a time.

  “Just come home,” Sandy whispered. “Please.”

  “What can I do?” Aden asked.

  Aden appeared in the kitchen. Honey rolled in right behind him. As Sandy’s prayer floated to the heavens, dinner was served.

  Chapter Three hundred & twenty-two

  Everything’s new

  Monday morning — 7:30 a.m.

  New York City

  “Yes, ma’am,” Noelle said to the school administrator.

  Not sure what she had agreed to, Noelle shifted uncomfortably in the hard wood chair. She glanced at Seth, who seemed deeply focused on the conversation. Noelle’s head had started buzzing the moment she woke up. Even with Sissy there, she had been too nervous to eat. Noelle winced and wondered what would happen if she threw up right here.

  “I’ll show you to your locker.” The administrator stood from her chair.

  The woman smiled, but Noelle was too nervous to see any warmth in the smile. Noelle stood at her chair and followed the administrator to the door. Seth put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into him. They reached the door just as a bell rang.

  Students filled the hallway. The administrator waited for the crowd to pass.

  Art students. These were REAL art students, not fake artists who train with a guy whose studio is in the garage behind their house.

  Noelle swallowed hard.

  “What’s wrong?” Seth said in a low tone in her ear.

  “They’re all wearing berets,” Noelle said.

  “Didn’t you see that on the website?” the administrator asked. “We need to keep your hair out of the paint.”

  “But—” Noelle started.

  “It’s a school requirement,” the administrator said. “If you don’t have one . . .”

  Horrified, Noelle moved closer to Seth. A teacher called to the administrator. She threaded her way through the wave of students to where the teacher stood.

  “What am I going to do?” Noelle asked.

  “We’ll get a beret,” Seth said.

  “But she won’t let me go here and . . .” Noelle’s voice dropped to an angry whisper. “Mike said berets were A-R-M-Y! That’s not art; that spells army.”

  Seth gave her an amused look. Spotting movement in the swell of students, Seth nodded down the hall. Noelle followed his gesture to see MJ moving toward them.

  “What’s he doing here?” Noelle asked.

  “He was in town for work,” Seth said. “He called this morning and I told him your schedule.”

  “Does he have a beret?” Noelle asked.

  Still amused, Seth raised his eyebrows and started to respond. Just then, the administrator waved them over. With Seth’s help, they managed to cut through the students to get to the other side.

  “This is your teacher-advocate,” the administrator said. “He will track your progress. If you have any problems, first go to your teacher advocate.”

  Something else caught the administrator’s attention, and she moved farther down the hallway.

  “O’Malley,” Seth said and held out his hand for the teacher to shake.

  “Louis Bellerose,” the teacher said. “It’s a real pleasure to meet the Seth O’Malley.”

  The teacher looked at Seth for a moment. Seth gave him a guarded smile. The man nodded to Seth before turning to Noelle.

  “Norsen,” Noelle said in an imitation of Seth. She held out her hand for the teacher to shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Norsen.” The teacher shook Noelle’s hand.

  “Just Norsen, sir,” Noelle said. “My grandfather and I, we just go by our last names. It’s a family thing.”

  Noelle gave the teacher such a sincere nod that the teacher had to look away not to laugh. When he looked back, he noticed Noelle’s bare hair.

  “No beret?” Mr. Belleros
e asked. He scowled. “You’ll have to . . .”

  “Sorry I’m late.” MJ was suddenly towering over them.

  Surprised, Noelle gave a little squeal. She’d forgotten all about MJ. Seth raised his eyebrows, and MJ nodded. Before Noelle could ask what was going on, Seth nodded his chin to MJ.

  “Did you bring your beret?” Seth asked.

  “Oh, right,” MJ said. “Does it matter what color it is? I got this green one.”

  MJ took a dark green beret out of his pocket.

  “It’s one of the LC’s,” MJ said. He set it in Noelle’s hands. “See, it has the ‘F’ on the back. She wanted Noelle to have it.”

  “What’s an LC?” Noelle said in a low voice.

  “It’s Alex’s,” Seth replied.

  “Really?” Noelle grinned. She tugged the beret from MJ’s hand and stuck it on her head. “That’s wonderful! Thanks!”

  “You don’t mind if Noelle wears an active duty Special Forces beret, do you?” Seth asked.

  “I . . .” Mr. Bellerose said. “I’m not sure we’ll have to . . .”

  The hallway had almost cleared of students. The teacher pointed to the administrator, and she moved toward them. She was a foot from them when she saw Noelle’s beret. Her hand came up to touch the black Vivaldi script “F” on the back of the beret.

  “Where’d you get that?” the administrator asked in a low tone.

  Her eyes flicked to look at the teacher before noticing MJ was standing next to Seth. MJ gave the woman a firm nod of his head.

  “You must be Sergeant Scully,” the administrator said.

  She shook MJ’s hand. MJ nodded toward his black jacket with the Vivaldi script “F” on it. The administrator gave an acknowledging bounce of her head.

  “This is Alex’s beret,” Noelle beamed. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. I’m going to wear it every single day and be brave like Alex.”

  “I . . .” the administrator scowled. “Uh . . .”

  “Alex gave it to me,” Noelle said.

  “I knew you’d understand,” Seth said with a smile. The administrator gave a slow nod. “Now, we were going to get Noelle’s locker set up and purchase her books. Can you point us in the direction of the F-wing? That’s where Noelle’s locker is located.”

  “Down the corridor to your right,” Mr. Bellerose said. “I’ll check in with you later, Noelle.”

  “Norsen,” Noelle corrected.

  Noelle gave Mr. Bellerose a wave before she, MJ, and Seth went to find her locker. With Alex’s beret on her head, Noelle felt like a new person. She was actually excited to be here. To be nice, she let Seth help her with her locker.

  She only had a few minutes before her live model class. They jogged up the stairs to a large open classroom with a hundred easels set up around a small platform.

  “Oh great, you’re here,” the painting instructor said.

  Thinking she meant her, Noelle swallowed hard. Noelle stepped back into Seth, and MJ stepped forward. The instructor shook MJ’s hand.

  “What’s going on?” Noelle asked.

  “MJ’s going to stay with you,” Seth said. “When your instructor heard, he asked if MJ would model for this class.”

  “Naked?” Noelle’s voice rose with anxiety.

  “His leg,” Seth said in her ear.

  Noelle nodded. She knew MJ had lost his leg in the war in Iraq.

  “You must be Noelle,” the instructor said.

  “Norsen,” Noelle remembered to correct him.

  “Very well.” The instructor smiled. “Norsen, your easel is over here.”

  Seth gave her a little push. She stumbled before catching her footing. She found herself at an easel between a teenaged boy and a girl about her age. She smiled at them before turning her attention to her easel. The easel was larger than she was and made out of plain wood. There was a thick pad of sketch paper attached to the easel. Basic art supplies lined the shelf below, and a drawing pencil was sitting on the top of the thick pad of paper.

  “Your attention, please,” the instructor said.

  The students stopped speaking to each other and the room became very quiet. Noelle looked over to see that Seth had found a chair and was sitting near the door. Noelle looked up at the front of the room to see that MJ had stripped down to shorts. He had taken off his prosthesis.

  “In this exercise, we are looking at how life interacts with the perfect human figure,” the instructor said. “I want you to take special note of Sergeant Scully’s scars. Some are deep.”

  The instructor gestured to MJ’s back and belly.

  “And some seem superficial.” The instructor waved his hand near MJ’s missing calf. “And yet the injury is clearly profound.”

  The room was silent as the students stared at MJ.

  “Take it all in,” the instructor said. He paused for a moment. “Pick up your pencils.”

  He paused and looked around the room.

  “Go.”

  Noelle’s hand sped across the page. Her anxious thoughts slipped out of her head. She was clear, focused, and drawing. At some point later, she remembered Seth. Looking toward the door, she realized he was gone. MJ caught her look and winked at her. She smiled, adjusted her beret, and went back to work.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Monday morning — 9:58 a.m.

  New York City

  “Right, but the thing is,” the girl next to Sissy whispered to the girl on her other side, “ . . . he’s really mean.”

  They were sitting on a metal bench in the girl’s locker room. Sissy was setting up her locker, so the other girls just ignored her. Seth had returned from dropping off Noelle in time to take Sissy to school. This morning, she was scheduled to take a class that focused on only one ballet form each session. It was supposed to be equally grueling and necessary.

  “No toe shoes?” the girl on the other side of Sissy asked.

  “No toe shoes.” The other girl nodded. “Not until he’s sure of the strength of our feet. Our feet!”

  The girls gave each other sincere but panic-filled nods.

  “What if we hurt our feet?” the girl to Sissy’s right asked.

  The girl on Sissy’s left gave an overly dramatic shrug. A few minutes later, the girls left to use the restroom. Once they were gone, Sissy looked down at her own feet. Sandy had taken her to get a pedicure on Saturday. Looking at the clear polish, Sissy remembered Ivan’s words.

  “Clear polish only,” Ivan had said. “You must be able to see the health of the nail bed. It is the only way to test your circulation and the health of the toes.”

  “Healthy toes make healthy dancers,” Sissy repeated Ivan’s words under her breath.

  Sissy felt a wave of longing for her teacher. Missing Ivan led to missing Sandy and home and Charlie and Nash and precious Rachel and everyone at the Castle and Buster the ugly dog. She wished she hadn’t sent Seth away.

  Sissy dropped down to the bench to stare at her feet. They were the most important thing to her career. She could have a bad car accident and overcome it. But if she injured her feet, she would never dance again. Sissy nodded. At least that’s what Ivan always said.

  For a moment, her sorrow transformed into pure raw panic. She dropped her head to her knees to try to breathe.

  She’d wanted to be a ballerina all of her life. She’d worked and worked and worked to make her body into that of a ballerina.

  And this was her chance.

  “Hey,” a girl’s voice said. Sissy felt a tap on her shoulder. Sissy looked up. “You don’t want to be late.”

  Sissy nodded and got up. She locked her locker and left the locker room with the other girl.

  “Ramona,” the girl said.

  “Sissy,” she said.

  The girls walked down the hall toward the classroom.

  “Nice to meet you,” Sissy added.

  “You too,” Ramona said. “Don’t be intimidated. We have this new teacher who’s really mean. He had a fit last week b
ecause our feet are so messed up. Most of the girls were mad, but I just figure that it can’t hurt to take care of your feet.”

  “They’re your career,” Sissy repeated what Ivan always said.

  Ramona nodded. They continued down the hallway.

  “How old are you?” Ramona asked when they turned the corner.

  “I just turned fourteen,” Sissy said.

  “Fifteen,” Ramona said. “You’re not in the dorm.”

  “I’m staying with a family friend until I get settled,” Sissy said.

  “Nice,” Ramona said.

  Taller, Sissy opened the door for Ramona and followed her into the room. The girls were standing along the bar at the back. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Having left her belongings in the locker room, Sissy slipped off her clogs and went to the bar. Ramona stood behind her.

  They waited and watched the clock. The class was supposed to start at 10:10 a.m. The girls shifted uncomfortably, and Sissy cleared her throat. She was about to say something when the door moved a little bit.

  “Here he comes,” the oldest girl said. “Get ready.”

  Ivan walked into the room. Sissy almost cheered out loud. He shot her a fierce “shut-up” scowl.

  “Time to dance,” Ivan said.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Monday morning — 8:35 a.m.

  Phoenix, Arizona

  “Hello, gorgeous,” Yvonne purred into her cell phone and then listened to Rodney’s breath catch.

  Dionne stepped away so that Yvonne could have some privacy. After a moment, Rodney chuckled.

  “You always do that,” he said.

  “I do,” she said brightly. “Nice to know I still have the touch.”

  “Yes,” Rodney said.

  She expected him to say more but he didn’t.

  “You called me,” Yvonne said.

  “Oh, yes,” Rodney cleared his throat, “I did.”

  A police cruiser with its siren blaring rolled past Yvonne.

  “Is that for you?” Rodney asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Yvonne said.

  “Where are you?” Rodney asked.

  “We’re standing outside the FBI headquarters hoping to catch the agent,” Yvonne said. “We tried her house, but she’s out running.”