LETHAL OBSESSION

by Carey Regenold

  As his face turned even more crimson, she opened the door and left before he had a chance to answer. Ellen sat down at her desk not believing what had just happened. She wasn't even sure she could make her rent payment for next month. The hot tears could no longer be held at bay and trickled down her cheeks. With no job she could be out on the street.

  Ellen was so engrossed in her misery, she didn't see the man approach until he was standing in front of her desk.

  "Excuse me, Miss. My name is Mark Anderson and I have an appointment with a Mr. Danville. Would he happen to be in at this time?"

  The soft voice startled her. She looked up mesmerized by the most exquisite, hazel eyes she had ever seen. They seemed to reflect several colors at once. Ellen stared at him speechless, unaware that tears still glistened on her face. He had a handsome boyish face and a ready smile that almost made her forget her situation. Ellen looked away embarrassed from staring. "I'm sorry, you seem upset. It distresses me to see a beautiful lady cry."

  He handed Ellen a snowy white handkerchief which she accepted with shaky fingers. Before she could thank him, Mr. Danville's door swung open. Her now ex-boss, the creep began to talk before he noticed another person was in the room.

  "And one more thing, Miss Beacham." He pointed his finger at her. "Don't expect any references from me. I want you gone by the end of the day."

  Just as he turned to go back in his office, Mark spoke up. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Danville?

  The man turned to the man with a surprised look. "I am."

  Mark stared the man up and down with eyes like ice chips.

  "I'm Mark Anderson, your eleven o'clock appointment."

  Ellen looked on in amazement as Robert Danville turned into a simpering, eager to please lap dog. "Mr. Anderson, we've been expecting you. The bank is so very pleased to be acquiring the Anderson Enterprises account."

  "I'm sure it is, however I have changed my mind. I am no longer interested in doing business with you or your bank."

  Robert was sputtering like he was choking on his tongue. "What do you mean? I don't understand. Please come into my office and we'll talk."

  "Am I to understand you just terminated this lovely young lady?" He gestured towards Ellen.

  "I don't see where that has anything to do with our business arrangement." He stared at Ellen as if he had eaten something unpleasant. "If it will make you feel better, I can certainly rectify the situation."

  "Did she steal from the bank?"

  "No, of course not."

  "So what was her sin exactly that caused her to be terminated? You see, Mr. Danville, I have a thing for employee fairness."

  Danville's face was turning an interesting color of dull red. He attempted a smile at Ellen as if it might crack his face. "Miss Beacham, I'm truly sorry for our little misunderstanding. I did not mean what I said. Of course I want you to stay."

  Ellen couldn't believe her ears. Mark Anderson must be a very important client indeed. Wouldn't he be interested to know the true reason.

  "It's too late, Danville. I happen to be in need of a good office manager and Miss Beacham looks as if she would be perfect for the job." He shot a killer smile at Ellen. "How would you like to work for Anderson Enterprises? I can guarantee you a wage triple what you're making here plus a full package of benefits."

  Ellen got up from her desk, feeling like her fairy godmother just flew into the room. She gave Danville a go to hell stare then smiled at Mark. "Thank you for your generous offer, Mr. Anderson. I would very much like to work for you."

  "Wonderful my dear. Shall we discuss it over lunch?" He held out his arm as she slipped her small hand through it.

  Danville's eyes were ready to pop out of his head.

  "But..but..wait."

  If she had a camera, the moment would've been priceless.

  Ellen shared her childhood trauma with Mark, a story she had told no one. His kind eyes warmed her and his touch on her fingers kindled her. Mark promised her he would look into the idea of building a shelter for abused women and children. She never believed in love at first sight until this moment. Ellen was so in love with this wonderful man. They spent the remainder of the afternoon walking in the park, laughing and sharing stories.

  Mark Anderson was a self made man. He started small investing in real-estate. It seemed everything he touched turned to gold and his business grew by leaps and bounds.

  That evening Mark picked Ellen up for dinner in his limousine. The following morning a dozen red roses arrived with a card signed, "Your Knight in Slightly Tarnished Armor." and by that evening, Cinderella had found her prince.

  Six months from the day they met, Ellen became the wife of Mark Sterling Anderson. If he had been penniless, she couldn't have loved him more. He was her soul-mate, her reward for a miserable childhood.

  Ellen continued to sit by the window, her mind in the past, until the present came crashing in like a killer tidal wave. She needed to know, more than a notification from the local sheriff. Ellen needed to go to where it happened and see Mark's plane for herself. It would be torture to do this, but there was no other way. For closure, she had to go now.

  Her hand reached for the TV remote, her finger poised on the button. Did she really want to witness Mark's demise thrown in her face by a TV anchor person?

  "We have breaking news this evening. A private jet owned by business tycoon Mark Anderson has crashed in a remote area of the Smoky Mountains. Fire crews have been dispatched to the site for containment."

  Ellen steeled herself to listen carefully to a location. She would be looking for this place in the dark. There was no point in waiting until morning when there would be swarms of people. She had to go tonight. It was somewhere close to the Asheville Airport, but where? There was a lot of rugged terrain out there. Perhaps her computer would help. Mr. Google knew everything. Ellen felt a little better having something to focus on. It took her mind off the inevitable. The printer churned out info as Ellen prepared for a gruesome trip.

  She went to the closet to select some sturdy clothes. And there they were, Mark's pressed suits and starched shirts just hanging there in innocence, waiting for their owner to return.

  Ellen flipped through the hangers until she came upon his favorite shirt. She took it off the hanger and put it to her nose inhaling Mark's special scent. The shirt was soft from frequent washings. Coming out of her robe, Ellen pulled on the shirt. It was the closest thing she had to snatch what comfort she could.

  Taking sweats, jackets and hiking boots out of the closet, Ellen quickly finished dressing and headed for the store room. Even in summer the mountains could get chilly. She would prepare herself with as much survival gear as possible just in case she got lost or stranded. Ellen would pack food and water to last for as long as it took.

  Juanita was getting ready to leave as Ellen appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes went wide as a gasp escaped her lips. "Senora, I will stay here with you tonight if you need me." Where you go dressed like that?"

  "I'm going to Mark's plane."

  "No Senora, it is getting dark, you must not. It too dangerous."

  "I have to, Juanita. I'll be fine. You go on home to your family and don't worry about me. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

  Ellen gathered the food and water and quickly made her way to the car to avoid any further argument. In the garage she found a yellow hard hat, and coveralls in case it was necessary to disguise herself as one of the workers.

  Mark had made Ellen vice president of the company and she had a badge to prove it. Putting the ID around her neck, she could obscure her name with fingers so only the company logo and vice president would show. Nobody needed to know she was the widow. She had no idea what to expect.

  Ellen got in her car. Staring straight ahead she sat there in the darkened garage. Jumbled thoughts were flying around in her head like leaves in a whirlwind. Ellen's fingers trembled at the ignition causing the keys to fly out of her hand and land with a chink on th
e floorboard. What was she doing? Was she really going to see her husband's burned out plane and maybe his charred body inside? Was it safe for her to drive? Did it matter? Did anything matter now? The garage door swung open. Ellen retrieved her keys and the engine roared to life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The gleaming silver BMW careened along the winding mountain highway. Gene clocked it at seventy. Stupid idiot, he thought. I'll bag this one real easy. Reaching down to activate his blue lights, the sheriff's patrol car sprung to life.

  Gene glanced at his watch knowing he was going to be late for dinner. Martha's panties would be in a wad over this, he thought. Tonight was prayer meeting at the church and he promised her he would be home on time.

  Blue lights twirled and the siren whaled. Cars pulled over and made a path for Gene, probably thankful he wasn't after them. Ellen heard the siren and saw the blue strobes in her rearview mirror. "Damn it," she muttered. She had no idea how fast she was going. Pulling over to the side of the highway, Ellen waited with barely concealed agitation.

  Gene walked over to her car and bent down to the window as Ellen slid the glass down. That was when both of them did a double take.

  "Oh, it's you," she said.

  "It's me. Where are you going in such a hurry, Mrs. Anderson?"

  Ellen thought for a few seconds and decided the truth would be best. This man offered to help. Perhaps now was his chance.

  "You know where I'm going, Sheriff Stone. I need to see it for myself. Can you help me get there?"

  "Ma'am, I don't think the FAA is going to let you anywhere near that crash site. They have it secured like Fort Knox."

  Ellen flashed her ID badge. "I'm vice president of Anderson Enterprises and co-owner of that plane. Think again."

  Gene rubbed his face like he was totally defeated. "Look, it doesn't matter how many badges you flash at these people. And they wouldn't care if you were the Queen of Sheba. It's strictly their ball game until the investigation is over. They wouldn't let me in either."

  "You've been there?"

  "Yes."

  She continued to stare at him. "I have to go there and see it for myself."

  "Look, I want to help you. I really do. Are you going to go anyway whether I help you or not?"

  "You know I am."

  "That's what I thought. Okay, let me think for a minute."

  Then Gene figured out a way. If anybody could get in and out of tight places Slippery Stone knew how. He didn't inherit that nick name for nothing. Gene leaned down to Ellen's window. "I may know a way to get you in there but you need to understand I'm breaking the law and if we get caught..."

  "I'm willing to take the risk, and I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me, Sheriff Stone. I know you could just ticket me for speeding and walk away. I want you to know how much this means to me."

  "Yeah well, as an elected official, it will be my neck in the hoosegow for sure. Let's find a safe place to stash your car."

  For the first time, Ellen gave him that thousand watt smile and Gene felt his toes curl. Right about now he would risk his neck and just about anything else he had just to see her smile again.

  Clutching the seat with white knuckles, Ellen had never seen a night quite as black as this one. She sat in the patrol car next to the sheriff as they picked their way along a winding mountain road in the middle of nowhere. Heavy fog had moved in and even with the headlights it was impossible to see in front of them. Ellen didn't know how he managed to keep the car from veering right off into oblivion. The man obviously knew exactly where he was going. This was his territory and she never could've managed this trip on her own.

  Very little was said between them and Ellen didn't want to distract him by talking. It did give her a chance to study this law man who chose to go out on an illegal limb for her.

  His silver hair was curly and thick. Ellen figured he grayed in his twenties. Gene appeared to be older but it was hard to tell. He was handsome in a rugged, cowboy sort of way, very different from Mark. But it was his eyes that set him apart. Ellen had never seen eyes that blue. They seemed to glow from within, electric eyes.

  She wondered if he had a family. This area was considered the Bible Belt. It was the norm for people here to be married and attend church. When Gene glanced in her direction, Ellen quickly looked out the window with a burning face. She didn't get away with it. This man knew she was studying him.

  Lights like disembodied ghosts could be seen through the fog and dense trees. Gene pulled the car over into the high weeds. "We need to walk from here."

  "Okay."

  Ellen opened her door and was immediately assaulted by a thousand blackberry thorns. They tore at her jacket as she pulled it around her to protect Mark's shirt. Ellen tried to pick her way through chest high foliage. Don't think about bugs and snakes, she said to herself. This place had to be crawling with them. Unconsciously she started scratching. It was so pitch dark. Ellen could hardly see her hand in front of her face. God only knew what living things she was treading on.

  "It's going to be rough going until we get to the site. Are you still up to it?"

  "Lead the way, Sheriff."

  "I think you can call me Gene now. I am certainly not acting in an official capacity at the moment."

  "Okay Gene. And you can call me Ellen."

  "Here's the plan, Ellen. The FAA usually leaves one person at the site. He won't be alarmed if he thinks I'm doing my duty and making rounds. He would have no way of knowing I'm totally out of my own county. I will do the social thing and keep him occupied. When you hear me whistle, go in and get your look see, but stay out of sight and don't get caught. Trespassing like this is a federal offense and they won't care who you are, understood?"

  "Yes."

  "When I whistle again, you hightail it out of there and meet me back here. Can you find your way back?"

  "Yes, I hope so." Ellen looked around dismayed. There were weeds she could barely see over. She certainly didn't want to get lost out here. Ellen leaned up and gave Gene a kiss on the cheek. "You're the greatest, thank you."

  "Okay, there is a small deer trail right here." He pointed his flash light. "Can you see it?"

  "I can." Ellen only had a small flashlight but she watched carefully where they were going so she would not get lost coming back. It was a huge black forest out there with drop offs of thousands of feet. She felt an involuntary shiver move up her spine.

  Ellen crouched in the bushes and waited as Gene veered to the right where a security person sat in a camp chair. In the distance she could just make out the skeleton of a smoking, burned out aircraft lying on its side. Ellen's heart squeezed painfully. It had been a beautiful plane and she loved flying with Mark. How many times had they sailed through the sky together? Was his body still in there, his essence?

  Ellen heard Gene whistle and slowly picked her way through the trees, staying in the shadows until she was standing in front of grotesque, twisted metal. Some of it looked to be still smoldering.

  She couldn't describe the feeling of being out here in the dark on a mountainside gazing at the wreckage of a big chunk of her life. This plane was all she had left of Mark. At least here she felt closer to him if that was possible.

  There were bright lights shining throughout the site. Ellen could see where Gene was sitting with the guard drinking coffee and chatting. She had to pick her way among the twisted debris. A suitcase was spotted, ripped to shreds. Ellen went to her knees running trembling fingers over the engraved initials, MSA. That's when the first tear trickled down her cheek. A sky blue silk shirt lay next to it amazingly still intact. Ellen put the shirt against her face remembering how thrilled Mark was over this Christmas gift. Rolling up the shirt, she put it in her jacket pocket.

  When Ellen reached what looked like the cockpit, she put her hand on the charred metal where the Anderson Enterprises insignia was still visible. Something glittered inside the dark cavity catching what little light there was. Ellen put her hand in. A
sharp pain made her wince. The enclosure was like a booby trap of razor sharp, twisted steel. Reaching the object might inflict some nasty cuts but Ellen felt compelled to retrieve the shiny object. She moved her arm carefully, bending, twisting and reaching. The metal was scraping and cutting but she kept going. Finally her hand closed around a ring. Ellen knew without checking the engraving that it was Mark's wedding band. Pulling her closed fist back was like going against a gauntlet of knives. She took the blue shirt out of her pocket to rap around her bleeding arm and hand. Clutching the gold band to her chest Ellen sat on the charred ground leaning back against the body of the plane. The tears began as a trickle and soon became a torrent. She was sobbing into the blue shirt now saturated with blood.

  When Gene's whistle sounded Ellen startled and looked around, momentarily confused. Then she heard the whistle again and leaped to her feet hoping she could find her way back to the patrol car. She placed the ring on her finger securing it in place with her own wedding rings. Following the small round glow of the flashlight, she picked her way back through the tall weeds.

  Gene met her half way. When he saw the blood he grabbed her hand. "What did you do to yourself?" Gene unwrapped the homemade bandage on Ellen's arm. "Jesus, how did you manage to cut yourself like that?"

  "I found this." She held up her ring finger. "And that shirt you took off my hand was a Christmas present I got for Mark."

  "Well," he handed the shirt back to her. "I hope the blood stains come out." Gene took her left hand and looked at the larger ring. "I guess this was a prize worth going after. I'm glad you found it, Ellen." Gene pulled out a large first aid kit from the squad car and began cleaning Ellen's injuries.

  "You need stitches for some of these cuts but the steri-strips should work. I can take you to the Emergency Room if you want but they will ask questions."

  "This is fine, Gene."

  "Okay, let's get out of here and go pick up your car."