The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  She crossed her arms in front of her, lifted her chin and continued. “But I know something’s up with you. Just like Jessica, you wanted your past to remain behind you. It’s more than privacy you’re protecting. I can’t help thinking that there is something you just don’t want to come out in the open and I have to know what it is. That’s the only way I can truly help you. I helped you track down Jessica but if I don’t know the final destination of your trail, then I certainly can’t throw people off the track for fear of inadvertently helping them.”

  She settled onto the large couch in the center of the room and waited for a response.

  Michael took a breath and looked around the room. He thought of Jessica and exactly how much they had in common. His head shook in concern as he thought of the work he still had to do. The events of the past few months put him directly on a path he had spent years avoiding. Seeing Electra on the couch, he knew she would not give up until she had more information. He drew in a breath as he determined just how much to tell her.

  Electra finally broke the silence. “Is all of this about your family?” she prodded.

  He nodded. “I’m afraid of what people might say. It would make it difficult to remain in Perc, let alone as sheriff.”

  Concern flickered over her face. “What would people say?”

  “That I killed my brother and my mother killed herself because of me.”

  Electra sat motionless, stunned. “Well, we’ve certainly learned that murder rumors can get ugly but I think that if you were at all culpable for his death, you would have been brought up on charges long ago.” Her head lowered, “But as far as your mother’s death is concerned, well, I just don’t know what to say.” Back straight and chin up, she took on the stance of someone about to fight. “Fine. I agree that certainly makes bad press, but you can overcome that.”

  Michael put his head down. “If those fragments of information got into play in the press, I’m afraid a frenzy of investigations would surely follow.” He hated this and knew he had to tell his ally and business partner more than he ever wanted to. He took in a deep breath and continued. “Electra, my father is not dead as I led you to believe. He and I have barely spoken to one another since my mother’s death.”

  “And you’re afraid the publicity will help him find you?”

  He sniffed at the irony. “No. We’ve already found each other.” He paused, then added, “In Boston.”

  Brandy splashed to the floor an instant before it was joined by the snifter. Electra stooped down and began hurriedly picking up the pieces of broken glass. Things were sharpening into focus. She forced her voice to remain calm. “Oh?”

  Michael bent down and helped her pick up the pieces. “Yes. I guess you can see why I don’t want any publicity.”

  Electra straightened herself up, bracing herself for the questions she had to ask. “The papers have been very specific about the dealings of this Magnus fellow. I have to know everything and I want to hear it from you. Is Connaught your father?”

  Michael’s slate blue eyes deepened. “Yes.”

  In less than a second, the woman acted. He hardly noticed her movement until his cheek stung with the force of the slap.

  “How dare you drag me into your sewer with that monster of a father of yours.”

  “He’s my father but he is not a monster.”

  She caught herself and mocked an apology. “Oh! I am sorry. I just didn’t think that killing innocent families and spiriting away money to fund a terrorist organization were the acts of an angel.” Sarcasm arced around her words.

  “Electra. I don’t condone what he did at all. But you have to understand. He did what he did because he thought he could make a difference in people’s lives. He just lost sight of the method because he was too focused on his goals.” Michael’s brow formed a straight line as he acknowledged to himself that his father had indeed lost sight of his own goals. With pain, Michael acknowledged that both the goals and the methods of the Charity were corrupted leaving him trying to make sense of it.

  Electra’s eyes grew wide. “Damn you! You sympathize with him!” She sputtered as she began to put the pieces of their conversation together. “The money you’ve made... you’ve given it all to them, to that... that Charity.” The words were spit from her mouth as if just uttering them would poison her. “You are no better than he is! That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone looking over your shoulder. You’re afraid of being found out!” She brought her hand up to her mouth.

  He shook his head in concentration trying to help Electra understand what he was trying to tell her. “I did not give money to my father. Please, I want you to hear me out.”

  “‘Hear you out?’ I cannot believe that I have been a party to your schemes for as long as I have. You deceived me. You said these were humanitarian goals you were supporting.” Her ample frame grew rigid with fury.

  “They are humanitarian goals!” Words strained through clenched teeth. “They are in a cease-fire, damn it, and they need something to hold on to. To give them hope.”

  “What! To give them hope until the next bombing campaign?”

  “Electra, no. Listen to me. My money, no, our money went for education and other social support—not military.”

  Electra was too panicked to listen. The pieces had been there all along but she refused to believe what they led to. Her rage at Michael was fueled by the confrontation of her own stupidity. “One thing is certain. I will tell that reporter anything to get off your trail. Not for you, mind you, but for me. There is no way that I want the Lavielle name to be even remotely connected with anything as unsavory as terrorists and the IRA.”

  “My, um, our money never went to terrorists.”

  “But what about your father’s?”

  Michael paused, unsure of what to say. “Yes. There will be a lot of questions.”

  “That’s right! Questions! And how do you think the press will deal with those questions before the courts and the lawyers are able to answer them?”

  Electra cut him off with the flick of a raised hand. The gesture spoke of her total disgust with him and his cause. “If Lainely found out about our business connections together, then that reporter can as well. You used me, Michael.”

  “Electra. That’s not true.”

  “You used me to legitimize your hateful past. I don’t want to be connected to you, your business, or your sympathies for terrorists.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Why should I even consider understanding a group of people who pride themselves in blowing up buses with women and children in them?” She looked at Michael as if she was seeing him for the first time.

  The look of fear in Electra’s eyes was not lost on him. Voices from the dinner party drifted into the den. Not having the privacy he wanted, he knew this was not the time to tell Electra his reasons. He was sorry to have to leave things as they were.

  “Electra, I’m sorry you’ve reacted this way. Please. We can talk about this some other time. But for now, thank you for helping me.”

  The shaking woman smoothed her coifed head with a trembling hand. “No. Get this straight, Michael. I am not helping you. I am merely protecting my own interests and the interests of my other guests. Being linked to something like this through mere implication would destroy them.”

  The door to the den swung open and a handful of guests walked in. A tall man with a thick mustache strode into the room and over to the bar. “Well! This is where you’ve been hiding!” He offered a fresh brandy to another guest.

  Electra did not skip a beat. Her face changed into the mask of the perfect southern hostess. “Reggie! You know I would never shy away from an evening of talking with you! Come! Everyone freshen your drinks and I’ll have coffee and dessert served here. It’s so much more comfortable.”

  The other guests smiled their approval
and settled in for a warm evening with friends.

  No one noticed the sheriff leave.

  “Toby! Toooobbyyyy!!!” The wind caught the mother’s words and raced them in tight swirls along the ground. Panic dug its cold fingers into her back. “Please, Toby, answer me!” She pleaded for a response and stood still, listening. Hearing nothing, she trudged forward through the trees. She had been at this for nearly an hour and was shivering with both fear and cold. Stopping was simply out of the question.

  “TOBY!! TOBY!!!” The wind mocked her and gave a high-pitched whine as it danced along the branches of the trees. It raced faster with delight each time the frantic woman stopped in hope that what she heard was the distant cry of her son. The wind rushed from tree to tree, bending and snapping their branches with abandon. The temperature was dropping, making the trees groan with the weight of the wind. The snow was setting up in the colder temperatures, making walking easier. The patches of snow were crisscrossed with her footprints. She could not see any trace of her son.

  “Please, Toby, please answer me! Come out now! Mommy’s here! Come out now, Toby!” No matter how she begged or pleaded, the answer was still the same. Only the wind greeted her cries.

  The woman looked at her watch for the second time in less than five minutes. She had run all of the way down the mountain path to the ranger station shortly after Toby disappeared. She told whoever she saw that her son was missing and that she needed help in finding him. Her terrified cries sent the few rangers working the station running in all directions. She gave approximate directions to where she would be and returned alone up the mountain to find Toby. Then all she had to do was wait for the search to begin.

  “TOBY!! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!!” Exhaustion weighted her legs, making her stumble along the steep slope. She looked at her watch and began to cry.

  The wind teased her with more sounds of voices darting in and around the trees. This time, the voices grew more insistent. Glycerin tears dried on her cheeks.

  “Mrs. Saunders? Mrs. Saunders!” A uniformed ranger touched her arm and she turned around. Huge sobs wracked her body.

  Ranger Devlin looked at the sobbing woman and gave her a moment to regain control. He was a man of moderate height, strong build with light colored hair that stood up from the top of his head like bristles on a brush. He fingered the radio secured by a holster to his belt. He had spent nearly fifteen years as a ranger for this park. Cumberland Park was his first choice for an assignment and he knew its geography better than anyone. It was one of the favorites in the state. Its steep terrain and vast expanse made it a favorite for locals and a frequently visited tourist spot. The park bordered national forest lands and well-marked trails wound around the slopes. Open all year, it was not unusual to have people picnicking or hiking in all types of weather.

  Over the years, he had gained a lot of experience dealing with the families of persons lost in these woods. He hid his concern and remained patient while the mother cried.

  “Mrs. Saunders. I want to double check the information you gave us earlier.”

  The woman wiped her nose with the back of her hand and blinked huge tears from her red eyes. “It was what he said he wanted to do for his birthday! It was the only thing he wanted! A picnic! Just a simple picnic.” Her words sounded to the ranger as if they could barely make their way around the lump in her throat. More sobs escaped.

  “Please, Mrs. Saunders, tell me again what he was wearing. What direction were you heading in when you last saw him?” The ranger gently probed for the needed information. Her first descriptions were garbled with her hysteria. He needed to hear it again from her. Giving her time to respond, he looked at the sky and felt the shift in temperature. An early spring storm was building and he wanted to find this kid before it began.

  The woman looked at the ranger, as if surprised that he was there. “He was wearing green corduroy pants and a yellow jacket. You know, all of the children of the Franklin School wear that outfit whenever they leave the grounds.”

  The ranger stopped and looked at the woman in disbelief. “The Franklin School? Ma’am? Are you saying that your son is a resident there?”

  She fished through her pockets and eventually found a tissue. Her knuckles were red and chapped. She did not have any gloves and her hands were clumsy with cold. “Yes. He’s a new resident there. We had just decided to place him there a couple of weeks ago. He loved the school because of these mountains.” She felt a need to explain. “He’s a high functioning child with Down’s Syndrome and his father and I, w-we just thought the program there would do him a world of g-good while we sorted out this divorce. It’s Toby’s birthday today and... and...” Her words trailed off as she looked beyond the ranger to the forest behind him. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Okay, take it one step at a time, Ma’am. Tell me again where you were when you noticed he was missing.” Mental cues clicked in his head. If the mother was so unprepared as to not have gloves on, then how warmly dressed was the child? He clicked away the factors working for and against them. The odds were not shaping up well.

  The woman looked around the darkening mountainside and rolled her eyes in helplessness. “I don’t know anymore. I thought it was right over there, but I can’t find the spot again. I never should have left the mountain to go for help! I should have told him a hike in the mountains was not a good idea in the cold, but he insisted!” She gulped back the sobs.

  The ranger shook his head. Situated at the base of the tallest peak in the state, the area where the woman and son had chosen to picnic was one of the prettiest spots. It was perched on a smaller hilltop, next to a waterfall and offered a beautiful view of the rest of the park. Sheltered from the wind, it was angled slightly to the south so that the sun warmed its visitors and encouraged them to stay, especially during the winter months. Since the day had started out sunny and warm, he was not surprised the mother had brought her eight-year-old child here for a day outdoors.

  The ranger pointed to a spot over a ridge. “That’s the picnic area you and your son were at. Now, can you tell me where you were when you last saw him?”

  The woman broke down into uncontrollable sobs. “No. No. I can’t.”

  Making one last assessment of the clouds, he made a decision. Taking his radio out of its holster, he used his face and hands to shield it from the wind. “Base Twelve? Base Twelve. Come in please?”

  The radio snapped to life. “Base Twelve here. Go ahead.”

  “We’ve tracked out the first sector. The snow set up too much to leave footprints. No sign of the child. We had better get more people up here and help us with this search before nightfall. Devlin out.”

  “Roger, Devlin. Bring the mother back to base and we will continue coordinating expanded search efforts.”

  The ranger looked at the woman. He would not let his manner betray the building concern he felt for her son. “Mrs. Saunders, we have to go and help coordinate a team effort to search for your son.”

  She stared a little blankly at him. His words finally registered. She nodded weakly. “Yes. Of course. A search team would be the right thing to do.”

  Ranger Devlin never saw the brief smile that crept to her lips.

  “Ma’am. Please calm down. You’ve got to tell us all you know.” Park Ranger Devlin handed the woman a steaming cup of coffee. He watched as trembling hands wrapped around the cheap ceramic mug.

  “I have told you! I’ve told you everything over and over again! Please find him and just leave me alone!” Mrs. Saunders focused her red eyes on Devlin.

  He could not help but think he saw a look of contempt. After Devlin had brought the woman down to the park station, he left her alone while he organized search efforts to find her son. Getting most of the details tended to, he returned to the office where she sat with a mug of coffee. He had seen the reactions of a lot of family members of people lost on the mountain,
but this one had him stumped. When he entered the office, she was just sitting there, arms crossed and tapping her foot. It was like she was annoyed at being there. As soon as she heard him, the tears started to flow like a river. He shook his head.

  “That’s okay, Ranger Devlin, I can take it from here.”

  Devlin poked his head around the door and smiled. “Sheriff Conant! Nice to see you again, sir. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

  Michael took the extended hand and shook it firmly. “Me too. Your assistant told me about the boy. I’d like to talk to the mother for a moment if I could.”

  The old ranger was relieved to be unburdened of the woman. “Yes sir. She’s pretty upset.”

  The woman turned her head and looked up at the men. Something unreadable flickered over her face and quickly faded. “You’re Sheriff Conant?”

  Michael shook her hand. “Yes. I understand your son is a resident at the Franklin School?”

  New tears cascaded from her eyes. “Yes. He started there not too long ago and just loves it.”

  “Good school,” he responded half under his breath as he thought of something. “That terrain is a little rough for a kid like that, don’t you think?”

  The woman stiffened against the implication. “Hardly. Toby loves the out-of-doors. We chose the school because of where it’s located. Besides, Toby is very capable of taking care of himself on a hike and this is what he wanted to do.”