Desperate Measures

by Fern Michaels

  In the living room Pete stared at the television, his mind as blank as the dark screen. Maybe he should turn it on so he could hear sound, see make-believe people walking around doing make-believe things.

  Jesus, he’d almost . . . If Annie hadn’t . . .

  Annie. What was she thinking? Usually he could just about read her mind. Annie’s feelings always showed on her face, except when she was in court, and then she was completely unreadable, just as her face had been unreadable when she left the room. Annie only presented an inscrutable face when something was important to her. He thought: And that makes you, Pete Sorenson, a first-class jerkoff.

  Hell, he couldn’t even pretend a memory loss or pretend he thought he was with Maddie. He’d known it was Annie from the get-go, and still he’d . . .

  He was so goddamn frustrated. Excuses, Sorenson.

  Pete reached for the stack of papers on the couch. Could he really keep reading this crap? Did he really believe in his heart of hearts that somehow he was going to get Maddie back? Not if she signed the memorandum of understanding. By now, if she was in the program, as she’d told Annie, she would have gone through the screening orientation. But she’s out, he thought. She walked out, she’s not in the program now. They were probably searching for her too. Was Maddie any match for the federal marshals?

  In the morning he was going to Virginia and present himself at the U.S. Marshals Service. He was prepared to raise all kinds of hell if he had to. “Who the hell do they think they are, mucking up my life? I have the right to know if she’s in or out of the program,” he sputtered. “I deserve to know what’s being done.”

  Jakes had advised him to write a letter and bring it with him. To what end? How in the hell was he supposed to write a letter now, after what he’d almost done? It didn’t mean anything. He knew it was a lie. It meant something to Annie, otherwise her face would have been readable. God, he knew her so well. Better now than he ever thought he would. The question was, what did it mean to him?

  “I love you, Maddie. Someday I’ll tell you about this. But not for a very long time.”

  Then he thought about Barney. What would Barney do? What would he think?

  Pete woke from a series of dreams that were so terrible he dripped sweat, his face fearful as he remembered brief snatches. He could feel his stomach start to churn when he swung his legs over the side of the couch. He’d slept here because he felt too guilty to sleep in the bed he’d shared with Maddie from time to time. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything. He’d contemplated it, and that made him feel guilty. He looked at his watch; 4:57. Almost five o’clock in the morning. He slumped back against the deep, comfortable cushions. His bare feet scuffed at the papers near his feet. He bent down to search for the one that most affected him at the moment. He knew the words by heart, but he read them again.

  From the marshals’ point of view, permitting mail to be forwarded both limits the client’s abdication of old responsibilities and decreases the distress associated with abandoning past life. Such procedures are offered as long as the witness requests them or wants them. In essence, the witness agrees to complete a change of address order so that all mail addressed to the old name is routed to a post office box number by the Marshals Service. Although notified of the availability of mail forwarding, the “Memorandum of Understanding” goes on to point out that the witness acknowledges the necessity to terminate correspondence.

  And on and on it went.

  Surely Maddie would have told the marshals to expect mail from him. Well, by the end of today, he promised himself, he would know for certain if she was still out on her own or if they’d picked her up.

  Should he write a letter? Would other eyes read it? Would it be an exercise in futility? His legal mind clicked into gear. He should talk it over with Annie and get her opinion. She was an observer, and could be analytical. And then he remembered Annie’s inscrutable face when she went to bed.

  Damn, he didn’t want to think about Annie now. He had enough problems without compounding them. Jesus, he loved Annie, would walk through fire for her. Next to Maddie, she was his one true friend in the whole world. How was he supposed to live with what they’d almost done last night?

  In his turmoil he decided to write the letter. What did he have to lose?

  Pete padded into the kitchen, turned on the lights and made a pot of coffee. While it perked he sat at the table to compose the letter to Maddie.

  My Dearest Maddie,

  To say I don’t know what is going on is the understatement of the year. I suspect I know what is going on, but cannot as of this date get a solid confirmation that you are in the Witness Protection Program.

  When I got home today, I received your message. I played it so many times I probably wore out the tape. I really don’t understand a lot of your message.

  I fear for you, Maddie . . .

  Pete ripped the paper to shreds. What was the point of writing a letter if the marshals didn’t know where Maddie was? How could they forward it to her?

  “This is bullshit,” he snarled.

  As he drank the scalding coffee, he wondered if he was missing some vital piece of information in regard to Maddie. Between Jakes and himself, they’d covered miles of ground during the past few days. Bull Balog and John Naverez were still in jail without bail. He hadn’t been totally surprised to discover that Leo’s law firm represented the men in jail. Leo’s firm had the best criminal legal department on the East Coast. “Everyone,” Leo said when he’d called yesterday, “has the right to their day in court and the best legal representation possible.” He’d gone on to say client-attorney records were sacred. As if he didn’t know that. Leo had also said he wouldn’t interfere in any way other than to look over the case as any senior partner would do. “If there are any irregularities, they will be taken care of.” At that point he’d been dismissed.

  Pete poured himself a second cup of coffee and carried it into the bathroom, where he showered and shaved. He was dressed for the day when he walked back to the kitchen to start breakfast. Bacon in one frying pan, scrambled eggs in the other. Deftly he slid toast into the toaster and somehow managed to juggle everything so that breakfast was done when Annie entered the kitchen. The new pot of coffee bubbled comfortingly.

  “Just in time,” Pete said, setting a plate in front of her. “Annie, I want to talk to you. I don’t want either of us to leave this apartment until we ... until we talk about last night. It was all my fault. I don’t know what happened to me. I’m sorry, it never should have happened.”

  Annie eyed him over her coffee cup. It seemed a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, or was it his imagination? She appeared to be staring into the core of his being. “Sex,” she said coolly, “is a participatory event. Neither of us participated. I think we should put it behind us and not worry about what we didn’t do. Today is a new day. Yesterday is gone. I’m not the type of person who carries tales, if that’s what’s worrying you. These are good eggs, Pete. You’re a better cook than I’ll ever be. Listen, I have to run. I called the coffee man’s eight-hundred number last night before I went to bed, and hopefully he’ll show up at the store before I open for business. Will you be home this evening?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll call.” Pete looked at his watch. No damn wonder she was such a fine attorney. You couldn’t ever sidetrack Annie. Black was black and white was white. Just the facts. You deal with facts and go forward. If she was prepared to do that, how could he do less?

  “Annie ...”

  “Yes, Pete?”

  “There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you. You believe that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Pete.”

  Damn, she had that inscrutable look on her face again. He waited for her to say, “Vice versa,” but she didn’t. Dennis’s words rang in his ears. Annie’s been in love with you forever. You’re the only one who doesn’t know it.

  Jakes arrived at ten-fifteen dressed in a lightweigh
t summer suit. “Good impressions and all of that,” he said. “I have news. We’ll talk on the way to the airport.”

  Pete nodded. Whatever he found out today was going to affect the rest of his life. He crossed his fingers the way he had when he was a kid and wanted something good to happen. He wished for a grown-up Barney to confide in.

  What good was all the money in the world, and what good was a job that provided that money, if you didn’t have someone to share it with? What good was life without someone to share it with? He voiced the thought aloud to Jakes, who stared at him with undisguised pity.

  “You’re free, Mr. Sorenson. You can move about, do as you please. None of us has any idea what freedom really means until it’s taken away from us. To be alive and free has to be the greatest thing going. You’re thinking about yourself now, and I’m not saying that’s wrong, but if we’re right and Maddie was in the program, think about what she’s given up. Now that she’s left it, we have a new set of worries. Just to be alive. Think about that, Mr. Sorenson. We better get moving,” he said, looking at his watch.

  Freedom. Pete rolled the word around and around his tongue.

  Everyone’s inalienable right. Except for Maddie and the others he didn’t know about.

  Pete was about to lock the apartment door when he said, “Wait, I have to leave a new message on my machine for Maddie. I want her to know....”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Saston proved to be twenty miles from Provo according to the taxi driver. To call the dry, dirty dustball a town was being kind. Maddie paid the driver and stepped from the cab. Dust swirled up her sweaty legs. Her skin started to prickle, but not from the dust. She looked over her shoulder, checked the pickups in front of Dumfey’s Cafe. Everything looked normal.

  Maddie delayed the moment when she would walk through the fly-speckled glass doors of the café. God in heaven, she thought, looking around, Janny must be bored beyond belief. There wasn’t one single thing that could be called pretty about the town. Maddie was reminded of a western movie with flat storefronts and wooden sidewalks. Across the street was a store whose sign said GENERAL STORE. Next to it was another building that said DRUGSTORE. The two buildings on each side read, HARDWARE STORE and BARBERSHOP. Obviously no one in town suffered from an identity crisis. All the windows in the buildings had dark green shades that were aligned evenly. The merchants must check them in the morning to be sure they all met some invisible line, Maddie thought irritably.

  Maddie stepped up to the short walkway that led to the entrance of the café. Two black pots that looked like caldrons held flowers that had gone to seed. Weeds dripped down the sides. A sheet of paper with blue lines was Scotch-taped to the door. In black crayon it said, NO CREDIT. DON’T ASK FOR ANY!

  Maddie pushed at the door. It wouldn’t budge. She gave the bottom a kick with her foot. The door shot open at the same moment a huge cowbell overhead bonged to life. Startled, Maddie ducked and skittered to the side until she identified the sound. She was shaking when she shifted her straw bag from her left shoulder to her right. She stared through her dark sunglasses at the few customers sitting at the counter. The stools were red and patched with gray electrical tape. Three tables were against the far wall. Janny was sitting at the last one. Her face lit up when she saw her friend. Maddie quickly put her finger to her lips. She didn’t want to call attention to herself or Janny.

  Maddie’s chair wobbled so badly, she changed to another one, which wobbled even more. “Custom interiors by Bubba and Leroy,” she muttered. “God, I’m glad to see you, Janny. Look, don’t laugh or cry, don’t do anything that will call undue attention to either one of us. I’ve only been here a few minutes and already I hate it. How’s the food?”

  “If you don’t mind the roaches and the flies, I guess it’s okay. I didn’t think you’d make it. Unitec is up five bucks. All I do is cry. I hate it, Maddie. I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay here. They gave me eight hundred fifty dollars and told me it had to last all month. I have a little apartment that makes my skin crawl. I can’t find a job. In order to work in Provo, I have to get a car, and how am I going to do that when they took away all my credit history? There’s one bus a day from this dump if the driver feels like making the run. If he doesn’t, you don’t go anywhere. The one activity comes from three churches. Nothing is the way they said it would be.”

  Maddie nodded. “You know, Janny, I’ve had nothing to do but think since I’ve been on the run. I don’t think this program is geared to people like you and me. It’s for criminals who cop pleas and stuff like that. They’re grateful, I guess, to go anywhere as long as they’re safe.” She told her friend about the apartment in Fort Lauderdale. “A man could tolerate that, could tolerate those people and the excuses they came up with. For me, it was different. It was like they didn’t give a hoot about me. They thought they could bamboozle me and I’d take it. They sure wanted us to do what they wanted, when they wanted it done, but try asking them to move a little faster and see what happens. You had your identity, why wasn’t mine ready? They moved quickly and let me sit sucking my thumb. It’s not right and it’s not fair.”

  “What are we going to do?” Janny asked.

  “Does anyone check with you? Do you report to someone? How does it work? I had a twenty-four-hour guard. I had to tell him when I was going to the bathroom.”

  “Once a week I check in. No one has bothered me. Why should they? What’s to do in a place like this? I guess it’s because you’re the one who’s the real witness.”

  “Where do you call?” Maddie asked.

  “A number in Provo. My contact is a person named Steven Maloy. He seems nice enough. I don’t know what he’d do if I didn’t check in on time. I don’t have a phone because I don’t have enough money for the deposit and connection charge, and since I’ve never had a phone in Utah before, they won’t hook one up unless I can produce a credit history. The utilities are included with the rent, so I didn’t have to worry about that. I suppose if it was an emergency, my landlord would let me use her phone. I haven’t gotten friendly with her,” Janny said tightly.

  “How do you spend your time?”

  “Believe it or not, this town has a traveling library. A guy drives through every Thursday, and you can take out books. I now have a library card with my new name,” she said sourly. “But to answer your question, I read and drink ice tea because it’s cheap.”

  “It is so good to see you, Janny,” Maddie said, gripping her friend’s hand on the table and squeezing it. “Listen, do we order and hope we don’t get ptomaine, or do we leave and go back to your apartment? I assume it’s within walking distance.”

  “Let’s leave. I’ll give the waitress a tip. Come on,” Janny said, getting up from the table.

  Maddie watched and listened as Janny handed the waitress a dollar bill. “My friend has a bad headache so we won’t be staying for lunch. Guess I’ll see you next week.” The waitress pocketed the dollar and nodded, her expression uninterested. No one at the counter paid any attention to either one of the women as they walked out the door.

  It was a short walk to Janny’s small second-floor apartment. It was clean and neat, but incredibly hot. The furniture was worn, the carpet threadbare in places. The kitchen was old-fashioned. The stove had legs, the oven was on the side. It also had a large overhead warming oven that Janny pointed out. The sink had a paisley skirt that was tacked to the wooden frame around it and matched the kitchen curtains. “How about a sandwich? I have baloney and cheese, or you can have canned Spam. I even have a jar of pickles. I eat a lot of soup and sandwiches. I just don’t want to do anything, Maddie. What’s my incentive? There isn’t any,” she said through clenched teeth. “We’re going to leave, right, Maddie?” she said, her face full of despair and hope.

  Maddie put her arms around her friend and hugged her, then stepped back and regarded her with a smile, despite the tears in her eyes. “I’ll take that sandwich and two pickles. Ice tea, if you have it
. I need to talk this out, Janny. We both agree nothing is the way it was presented to us. Right?” Janny nodded. “That stupid orientation they presented didn’t in any way indicate you would be living like this or that I would be in the kind of place I was in, waiting for a new identity that never materialized. Right?”

  Janny nodded again, and said, “Nester seemed like an okay guy. At least to me he did.”

  “As long as it was just the police, yes. As soon as Justice, the FBI, and the marshals got involved, it all changed. Nester is just a hardworking cop trying to make the city a little better. At least that’s how I perceive him. Those other men, they’re the big guns. They ... they took over. Nester is out of it for now. All along I’ve been thinking that I got away so easy. In the beginning I refused to look over my shoulder. I think I was trying to prove something to myself. That marshal could have followed me. I don’t know that he didn’t. They’re professional. I’m just a scared, dumb woman who doesn’t know the first thing about crime and what all it involves. Look at me, Janny. I cut and dyed my hair. I look like a witch that’s been on her broom too long. I bought a doll and a blanket and thought that would be the perfect disguise. As we speak, there’s probably some damn marshal hiding in the bushes out there just waiting for the perfect moment to make his presence known. I wonder if they’ll ever give me back my belongings—you know, that box of treasures I had. My dad’s pictures, my baby pictures, all the things I love so much. I understand you have to start fresh with nothing but your clothing, but what harm could there be in having a few momentos of your past, things that don’t speak of a specific time or place? It would make survival so much easier. They robbed us of everything. I hate them for that,” Maddie said bitterly.

  “I’ve come to love Spam,” Janny said, setting Maddie’s sandwich in front of her. “The mustard kills the taste, and when it’s fried, it’s not too bad. I can eat three days on a can of Spam.”