by Ruth Kyser
Chapter 3
The next morning Sarah woke with a throbbing headache. As tired as she had been, she hadn’t slept very well. Sparky had started whining and fussing about five o’clock in the morning and Sarah had finally gotten out of bed to let him outside. When Sparky just wanted to run around the back yard barking, she had finally made him come back in. She had hushed him firmly, hoping her neighbors hadn’t been disturbed by his barking. The last thing she needed was complaining phone calls. Sparky was usually such a good little dog, but she had to assume he was picking up on her confused state of mind. After that episode she had gone back to bed, but had never really been able to completely get back to sleep.
Now she was awake, she lay in bed for a time and replayed the previous day’s nightmare in her head before she finally decided she might as well get out of bed. It was only about six-thirty in the morning - her normal time to get up to get ready for work - but today there was no reason for her to get up. It was a Tuesday with no job to go to – no friends to see. It was so difficult to believe that just the day before she had awakened to normalcy. If someone had told her when she woke up yesterday morning what was going to happen that day, she never would have believed them.
Lying in bed wasn’t making her feel any better though and Sparky was ready for his morning trip to the back yard. Hopefully he would be quieter about his necessary business this morning. She was still annoyed with her little friend for interrupting her sleep the previous night.
So, Sarah finally decided she might as well get up and shower and dress. The hot water pelting her weary body helped her wake up and made her feel a little more ready to face the world. Twenty minutes later she was dressed in her favorite pair of softly worn denim blue jeans and a well-worn tee shirt she’d received in the Walk for Cancer Drive the Herbert Chamber of Commerce had sponsored the summer before. She didn’t take the time to fuss with her dark brown shoulder length hair, but simply pulled it back into a ponytail.
Her head was still pounding and she knew it was probably an after effect of all the crying she had done the day before. Right then Sarah made the decision that she was done with crying and the pity party. An awful thing had happened but she had to go on with her life – alone – again. When her headache didn’t seem to lessen in its intensity, she finally gave in and dug around in the medicine cabinet for an aspirin, hoping that would help. She was eating a breakfast consisting of a cup of coffee and nibbling half-heartedly at a piece of buttered cinnamon toast when she heard her phone ring.
Sarah headed to the kitchen counter where the phone sat, thinking it was probably one of her neighbors, or maybe even somebody from the local church she attended several times a year – calling to check on her and find out more about what had happened the previous day. She looked at the phone for a moment before she picked it up, really hoping it wasn’t someone from the church. The way she felt this morning, the last thing she wanted to hear was someone telling her they were praying for her.
When she answered the phone though, she discovered she was way off base on her guess of who was calling. It wasn’t a neighbor or a church member calling to check on her. It was a reporter from the local newspaper asking for her comments on “yesterday’s tragedy”, as he called it. Sarah quickly stated “No comment” and hung up.
When it rang again a minute or two later and was the local radio station asking the same question, she decided to change the setting on the phone so it would go directly to her answering machine. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to any of the news media about the occurrences of the previous day. It was difficult enough for her to face the fact that her friends and job were gone; she didn’t need to be asked questions about it from the media. Didn’t these people have any feelings? She just wanted to be left alone.
Sarah went to the back door and let in a yipping Sparky, checking to make sure his paws were dirt free first so he wouldn’t track all over the clean kitchen floor. She watched as he scurried across the kitchen floor to his water bowl, stopping in his lapping of water once or twice to look up at her. Sarah couldn’t help but smile at the look on his little brown face. Sometimes she was sure Sparky looked like he was smiling at her.
At least she still had Sparky.
She turned from watching Sparky at the sound of the front doorbell. Walking through the kitchen toward the front entryway, she realized it was a reporter standing on her front porch wearing a blue sport coat and carrying a cordless microphone. Another man carrying a news camera stood right behind him. Sarah halted mid-step and quickly turned and went back to the kitchen where they wouldn’t be able to see her.
What was she going to do now? The last thing she wanted to do was talk to a reporter with a camera!
Okay. Plan of action needed.
It was obvious she wasn’t going to be able to answer her telephone or her door today. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the refrigerator door. Here it was only eight o’clock in the morning and it was already looking to be another terrible day.
Sarah looked longingly toward the side door which opened into the garage. If only she had somewhere else to go. She had been telling Stan the truth yesterday afternoon when she had told him she didn’t have any family to go stay with. And she couldn’t think of any friends she felt comfortable enough with to wake them up this early on a Saturday morning. Margie had been her only true friend, and now she was gone. Besides, she thought, Sarah Masters was not a person to run from adversity and she wasn’t going to let anyone intimidate her. She would just have to stick it out here for a few days and hope the news media eventually got tired of trying to get her to talk.
Sarah went over to the counter and picked up the remains of her breakfast and threw it in the garbage, dumped her leftover coffee from her mug into the sink and quickly rinsed out her mug. Her appetite was gone.
The next few moments were spent wiping down the kitchen counter tops and straightening up the kitchen. Five minutes later she lifted her head at the sound of footsteps on the front steps and porch, then her front doorbell ringing again. This time though, the doorbell was followed by someone knocking on the door. These people were relentless! Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She took a deep breath of courage and headed toward the front door. She’d had enough! They were going to quit harassing her or she was calling the police.
The party on the other side of the door knocked again. “Miss Masters, Federal Agents. Please answer the door.”
Sarah stopped in her tracks. Had she just heard what she thought she’d heard?
She stooped down and quickly scooped up Sparky and shut him in the back laundry room where he’d be out of the way. Once she reached the front door, she unlocked it, opening it just a little, skeptical of whom she might find on the other side. On her front porch stood a tall dark-haired man who appeared to be in his late thirties and a tall slim African-American woman who looked to be about Sarah’s age. They had both turned to look at the same reporter and cameraman Sarah had seen at her door earlier. Sarah watched the young woman hold up her hand, palm out, and shout toward the reporter, authority oozing from the tone of her voice.
“Sir, this is private property. I suggest you stay on the street side of the sidewalk and don’t come into this yard again. Otherwise the homeowner has the right to press charges against you for trespassing – and I will be forced to arrest you.”
Sarah had to suppress a smile at the frightened look on the reporter’s face as he and the cameraman quickly backed away and left her yard. At least that annoyance was taken care of.
The man standing on her front porch, dressed in dark slacks and a sport coat, turned his attention back to the now fully open door and Sarah. As she felt his eyes quickly scan over her face, she felt strangely unsettled.
“Sarah Masters?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
The man and woman both pulled badges and photo ID’s out of their pockets to show her.
“I’m Special Agent Sam Morgan,” the man said. “And this is Agent Jessica Thorne. We’re with the Critical Incident Response Group Division of the FBI and would like to talk with you about the explosion yesterday at Brown and Associates. Could we come in for a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Sarah hesitated. Why would the FBI be investigating a gas explosion here in Herbert? And how did she know they were legitimate federal agents and not some of the news media trying to get a scoop? Or maybe they were crazies. You couldn’t be too careful anymore. She tried to calm her paranoid thoughts. They had shown her their badges. If they weren’t legitimate, they had gone to a great deal of trouble to look the part just to get a chance to talk with her.
She finally opened the door the rest of the way and motioned to them to enter. Leading them to her small living room, she took a seat in a small overstuffed chair and waved them to have a seat. They both sat down on her small floral fabric covered couch. The man who had introduced himself as Sam Morgan looked rather large perched on such a delicate piece of furniture and more than a little out of place. She had to suppress a smile. Good. Maybe if he wasn’t comfortable, they wouldn’t stay very long.
He spoke first. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Miss Masters. If it weren’t important, we wouldn’t be bothering you today. We know you had a rough day yesterday.” He paused and looked at her for a moment before he continued. “You were employed at Brown and Associates, is that correct?” he asked.
“Yes.” Sarah looked from him to the other agent. She was still confused as to why the FBI was involved in all this. It was a gas explosion at a small business in a small town, so what were they doing here? And why were they asking her questions?
What was going on?
She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Was it ever going to get any easier, talking about what had happened yesterday?
“I lost all my friends yesterday. I still can’t believe they’re all gone and I’ll never see them again.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss, Miss Masters. However, we aren’t convinced that it was an accident. Were you aware that Adam Brown, the owner of the firm, had recently received a death threat?”
Sarah quickly raised her head and looked across the room at Agent Morgan. She felt her heart start to beat loudly in her ears and struggled to breathe. There was that phrase again – ‘death threat’.
“What? That’s the same question the Police Chief asked me yesterday. Listen, Agent Morgan, there has to be some mistake. Why would anyone threaten Adam Brown?” She looked from one agent to the other. They were serious.
“What is going on?” This whole line of questioning was confusing her and she was starting to get angry at the intrusion on her life. What did they want from her anyway?
Sarah heard the chirp of a cell phone and saw Agent Morgan frown as he dug in his pants pocket.
“Excuse me for a moment. I have to take this.” She watched as he stood and walked over near the front foyer, his cell phone to his ear.
Sarah sat quietly in her chair, well aware that she was being watched closely by Agent Thorne. She decided to stare back at the other woman. What she saw was a tall, attractive woman with dark eyes, full lips and abundant wavy black hair that was pulled back in a ponytail with a clip. Her brown eyes gazed steadily at Sarah with an air of authority that made her feel intimidated even sitting in her own house.
Sarah finally broke eye contact with her and shifted awkwardly in her chair while trying to hear what was being said in the phone conversation, but Agent Morgan didn’t say much other than “thanks” before he disconnected the call. He turned back and looked at her, his gray eyes studying her in a way that made her feel like he was trying to make a decision.
“Miss Masters, would you be willing to come down to the police station with us and answer some questions?”
Sarah looked up at him standing there and started to feel a small amount of fear building in the pit of her stomach. Now he was talking about taking her to the police station. This wasn’t sounding good at all.
“Agent Morgan, what exactly is going on? Am I under arrest?”
He quickly shook his head. “We just want to ask you some questions about what happened yesterday. Since you are the only one that was there, you are the only one who can tell us. Surely you understand.”
Sarah nodded and tried to keep her voice steady as she slowly replied. “I do understand, but I was questioned yesterday by Police Chief Warner. I told him everything I could remember. Maybe you should talk to him.”
He nodded and smiled a little, obviously trying to make her feel more at ease. Well, it wasn’t working.
“I understand, Miss Masters. But we would still like to go over everything with you again – and get it all on tape this time. Maybe there were some things you didn’t remember to tell the Chief yesterday. I know it was a stressful time for you. Sometimes the next day you can remember more.”
Sarah swallowed hard and asked the question again. “Am I a suspect, Agent Morgan? Am I under arrest?”
Agent Thorne spoke for the first time. “Everyone is a suspect…”
Sarah swiftly glanced over at the female agent and felt a moment of fear. She looked back again at Agent Morgan who had turned and given the woman agent a scathing look of displeasure. The female agent spoke again, a chagrined look on her face.
“…until they aren’t.”
Sarah felt another moment of fear which quickly turned to anger. How dare these people come into her house and threaten her – especially after what she had just gone through yesterday!
Then Agent Morgan surprised Sarah by sitting down on the end of her coffee table in front of her chair so his face was at eye-level with her. She couldn’t help but notice the kindness in his gray-green eyes. This was a man she should fear. He could very well hold her future in his hands, but for some unknown reason, she felt like she could trust him. She looked into his eyes as he spoke to her, his deep voice soothing.
“Miss Masters, that phone call I just received was from my other field agent, Bill Parker. He’s been working with the State Fire Marshall the last hour, processing the scene of yesterday’s fire. They found a timing device, the type used to set off plastic explosives. What that means is what happened yesterday was not an accident.”
Sarah’s mind spun. “’A timing device?’” she repeated out loud. “You mean like a bomb?” She couldn’t help her voice squeaking a little.
He looked at her steadily. “We need your help if we’re going to find the people responsible for this. Will you come with us?”
She looked him in the face a few seconds longer before she closed her eyes and nodded.
“Just let me get my purse.”
She watched him stand back up and motion to Agent Thorne. “Jess, pull our car up into the drive as close to the garage door as you can get.” She watched him throw a set of what she assumed to be car keys toward Agent Thorne who deftly caught them out of the air with her right hand and headed out the front door.
Sarah walked to the kitchen to find her purse and keys. On the way through, she grabbed a navy blue zippered hooded sweatshirt from a hook near the back door. She might not need it now, but who knew what the weather would be like later when she came back home. It looked overcast and the weatherman had predicted the possibility of rain. Opening the laundry room door, she peeked in to check on Sparky who was curled up on his rug in the corner and looked quite content. There was plenty of water and food in his bowls, and hopefully he would be a good dog until she returned.
When she went back into the living room, Agent Morgan was waiting for her near the front door. She locked the door from the inside, pulled the door closed tightly behind her, and quickly followed him as he led her to the rear passenger door of a large dark blue SUV parked in her driveway. Agent Thorne was already in the driver’s seat with the engine r
unning. Sarah quickly got it and started to put on her seatbelt. Seconds later, Agent Morgan got in the passenger side of the front seat and shut the door. Sarah felt the car backing out of the driveway before Agent Morgan had even settled in his seat.
They weren’t wasting any time leaving.
“Try and get us out of here and past the media as fast as you can,” he said quietly to the female agent.
Sarah closed her eyes as they backed out the drive and quickly took off. She knew the cameras and media were out there, but she didn’t want to see them. For the first time in her life, she understood what the rich and famous had to endure on a daily basis from the paparazzi. But she didn’t want to be famous. She just wanted her nice quiet life back again.