“Why is my son tight-fisted with money he never earned?” Alisha asked. “While I hate to acknowledge it, I am no longer young. You need to help me live as your father wanted.”
“I attempt to be fair-minded,” Mathew said. “What I will do is review your financial situation with the trust administrator. I came here to meet you, to understand what you are like and to try to forge a belated mother and son bond. Having done that, I don’t see a relationship working if what you want is money.”
Alisha focused on her high-end salad, cornering every bit of shiny black caviar. She smiled a little to herself and spoke. “Are you sure you want your wine-country friends to learn about your sinful father and mother?”
Alisha’s knowledge of the vineyard caught him off-guard. He stared at her in surprise.
“Oh yes, I know a good deal about you, and I could enlighten your friends as well as any future bride about your not so pristine background,” Alisha said with a taunting tone. “Did you know your father did not die of cancer? He contracted HIV although he hid that information. I am a carrier. You see I favor teenage boys, and here they are easy to acquire.”
A wave of revulsion slithered over Mathew. This conversation reminded him of those horrible criminals they had arrested last year for trafficking in children and selling them into lives of prostitution. After two encounters with those felons, he had considered their incarceration too small a penalty for the destruction of adolescents they caused. And now he found his mother participated in the ruin of other young lives.
“My friends accept me for the man I am,” Mathew said, drawing on his discipline developed by the FBI to keep his emotions out of his voice. “Even if your poison shocks them, they will not turn from me.”
“What about your young woman with the long dark hair? And how about your business partner? The big agent – the one called the Boy Scout. Do you think he will stay your friend when he is made aware of where you came from?”
“He knows. So does his wife,” Mathew said.
“I will tackle the dark-haired beauty. I can give her hints about you and your heritage to turn her from you, unless -”
Mathew’s decided to cut off her bid at extortion by saying, “I will not pay you a cent for your silence. I try to be a man of character and others will believe in me.”
Alisha smiled a cold, dark smile that smacked of malice. “Put your FBI ideals away and be realistic. This is the way life goes. I need something, I get it. One way or another, you will support me.”
Mathew looked at the woman in disbelief. She made his skin go goose-pimply with revulsion. How could she be his birth-mother? Now that he was in her presence, he better understood the warnings his adoptive mother and his father’s attorney gave him. He wanted only to be away from this woman, fearful that she would taint his life.
He rose from the table, signaled for the bill and signed the tab, his mind working fast. He would rush to the airport, not only to be away from this woman but also to head off any attacks on his reputation. Hastening out of the dining room, Mathew ran up to his room, changed his return flight, hastily packed and headed out in a taxi. He called Steve on the way to his flight to ask him to talk with Rick and Sassy since the disclosure should be in person. Mathew planned to go to Arizona to track Callie down to forewarn her. While Alisha was toxic, he rebuffed the idea of feeling ashamed of his parentage.
Whatever worthiness Mathew possessed came from Laurel. He had always admired her devotion to her causes, even though she acted cold with him. He understood now that her despair over not having her own children and her jealousy of Alisha had driven her to seal more caring emotions deep inside. Yet in her way, she had influenced him for the better, making him thankful she had stood in as his mother. How had one family produced two sisters with such duality in their natures?
Chapter 19
Once in Arizona, Mathew found the car and driver that Steve arranged to take him up to Sedona to talk with Callie. All he remembered about the ride to Sedona was dozing in the car in an almost catatonic state. He called Callie as he came into town to find out where to meet her for lunch. Sensing he appeared revolting with his two-day stubble and messy hair, he flew into the restaurant restroom to make himself more presentable.
Callie sat at a table sipping tea, waving when he entered the cafe. He ordered milk with ice when he sat down.
“Poor thing, you must be exhausted,” she said, her face full of concern and sympathy.
“Been on planes for days. I need to talk with you to head off an issue.”
“So Steve said when he called.”
Mathew struggled to regain coherency despite his tired brain and stretched emotions.
“Mathew, tell me,” Callie said. “Don’t struggle to be eloquent.”
He nodded and said, “I told you that my parents each traveled most of the time, and I stayed with a nanny or housekeeper until I was sent off to boarding school.”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath. “Right before harvest, my mother came through Portland and invited me for lunch. She told me I am not her son. I am the son of her sister and my father. They began an affair which turned out to last a lifetime, and I am the result of the start of the liaison.”
Callie regarded him with compassion and reached over to take his hand. Mathew continued to relate his story describing his discussion with his birth mother. At the end he said, “The whole scene with that woman disgusted me.”
“Oh Mathew! Are you okay?”
“What she told me explained a good deal about why the woman I thought was my mother, Laurel, acted so cold to me.”
“Mathew, you are a treasure of a man,” Callie said, her eyes glowing with sincerity. “You put your life on the line to rescue Susannah. You served the United States in the FBI. You are thoughtful, brave and kind. You have been so caring and sincere with my family and me.”
“She hired a detective, found out about you and indicated she will give you and my other friends reservations about my character if I do not give her money. Classic blackmail, right? I told her my friends to believe in me, but . . .”
“You wanted me to learn about it from you and not be shocked by what this new mother might say.”
Mathew nodded, unable to shake the pessimism in his heart.
“You are the blameless one in all this,” Callie said.
“Being with the woman made me feel tainted. I am her natural son.”
“You chose to be different. Someone good. Tell her to call me. I will defend you,” Callie said, gripping his hand in both of hers.
Callie’s firm resolution made him realize the growing strength of her convictions about him. After giving their orders to the waitress, Callie smiled at him in a way that suggested she was surer of herself.
“While we’re opening up with each other, you know I came here to reconcile myself to my years with John Henry, right?”
“Yes.”
“Back when I got involved with him, I remained in many ways a naïve and innocent young woman. John Henry was my first man. My only one. I dated in college, but nothing became a regular relationship. During our marriage, his desires seemed inappropriate, even perverted. I wanted to please him, so I went along until I reached my limits. He craved what I considered warped. I found no lovemaking, not after he seduced me and I became pregnant."
Mathew reached over to take both her hands in his, warmed by her faith in him by opening up about her years with her husband. Hearing about Callie’s distresses made his concerns with Alisha grow smaller. John Henry was not only self-centered, but his behavior to Callie sounded depraved.
"I understand about the soiled part," Callie continued. "I am here to find a form of purification. Steve recommended reaching back to find the good and the light inside myself. I need to find whatever spark I may still possess.”
“Steve’s life used to be so empty,” Mathew said. “I doubt he verged into perversion, although he did years of what he called ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ enc
ounters.”
Callie laughed at that way of phrasing Steve’s habit of picking up women in hotel bars. “Yes, he told me about the bad times and his struggles. He thought a spiritual cleansing might help me address my troubles. You are not the only one with a problem person in your life. Mine is the oppressive John Henry and yours this wacky birth mother. What’s this woman’s name?”
“Alisha. Turner is her last name. She had many lovers, but no husband.”
Callie sat moving the salt and pepper shakers around in front of her. “We should tell Rick and Sassy.”
“Steve went over to talk with them. I didn’t want it to wait until I got home, in case Alisha calls them. I wanted to tell you by seeing you.”
“Do you mind if I talk to my attorney?”
“Why?” Mathew asked, surprised at the question.
“I want him prepared in case Alisha hooks up with John Henry. He could turn nastier than usual and use this situation in a custody battle over Susannah.”
Callie blushed a little. What she said would only matter if they became serious about each other. The thought made him both sad and happy.
“Yes, go ahead,” he said. “Tell him to call me or my dad’s attorney for particulars. I'll text you his name and number."
Their food came. Mathew had chosen as plain a salad as he noticed on the menu and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. He wanted to stay with Callie as long as possible but still get back to his flight later that afternoon and allow Callie to return to her healing center.
Before they parted, he took her face in his hands and kissed her the way she kissed him out in the vineyard, then he pulled back to gaze into her trusting eyes. Even if time and personal torments impeded their progress, they would find their way to each other, just as Steve and Ivy had reached out, grasped hands and become inseparable.
That evening Mathew plodded along like a walking zombie as he went up the Jetway to the Portland airport, coming in on a flight from Phoenix. As he walked along now, he replayed their conversation in his mind. Thoughts of Callie made him smile. paused in the airport hallway, leaning against the wall and savoring the memory of the way Callie’s dark eyes shone with the intensity of her belief in him. His thoughts drifted again to their conversation, and he slowly walked on.
He arrived at the point in the hallway where it went a little uphill back to security. A man walking past heading out to the gates gave him a piercing sideways glance out of remarkable bright blue eyes and moved on. Mathew did a quick head swivel, recalling the man from somewhere, but he needed a second view of him. The man walked out of sight. A crowd of people came down, making their way to the gates.
Mathew reversed his direction and walked back to search, his progress slowed by the other travelers. His agent’s mind froze in his memory the image of a man handsome as a sleek movie star, a little under six feet, slender and well-dressed. He checked out some waiting areas and ducked into the men’s room. The man seemed to have disapparated like a Harry Potter-style wizard.
Mathew turned to trudge back up the hallway to where Ivy and Steve waited to scrape up his weary self and take him home. He planned to chow down whatever dinner was placed in front of him, take a shower, pour a glass of brandy and crawl into bed. Even thinking must wait until tomorrow.
Mathew slept until noon. He vaguely heard Ivy and Steve poke their heads in the room a couple of times, placing chilled water by his bed and taking away the untouched brandy, but he slept on. Now he edged his way upright against the headboard. While he might be a bit woozy, his body had recovered somewhat. Mathew took a long swill of water, showered, dressed in a set of old sweats and shuffled down to where his pseudo-parents worked at their desks.
“Better?” Ivy asked as he sauntered in.
“Almost human again,” he replied. “How was the old Fuentes place in Santa Fe?”
“Found a few case artifacts. We’ll tell you over lunch. Might prove interesting,” Steve said.
Mathew squinted at Ivy’s screen and said. “He’s the guy at the airport last night.”
“You mean Julio?” Steve asked in surprise.
Mathew told them about his passing glimpse and how the man eluded him when he backtracked to find him.
“You sure you weren’t hallucinating? You had as much starch left in you as a sodden old pair of boots,” said Ivy.
“Julio was the man walking the other way. He surreptitiously checked me out. Then he disappeared.”
“Julio might sneak into a ladies room,” Ivy said.
“If it was Julio, he was out here for a reason,” Steve said. “Scouting us out. We need to step up our monitoring. Time we got 24-hour agent protection here too. I’ll make the request now while you two go upstairs and set the table. Should I ask Lenny in?”
“Parsnip soup with grilled cheddar and bacon sandwiches – easy for me to scale up for more people. An apple tart for dessert,” Ivy said. “Ask Fred and Federico as well. They may as well be briefed at the same time.”
Back upstairs over lunch Lenny listened to the latest update from Steve and said, “Yesterday, huh? This stocky guy walked down the road and stopped to talk to me for a couple of minutes, wanted to know about trails in the area. He carried a hiking stick and wore well-used leather hiking shoes. While he might be spying for someone, he gave the impression of being out for exercise.”
“What else can you tell us about him? Hair color, eyes? Facial features?” Steve asked in his usual direct style.
“Sunglasses and a wide-brimmed felt hat. Dark hair.”
“Anything else?”
Federico went to speak, hesitated and then said. “Night before last about eight-thirty, up at tree house with night goggles.”
He stopped bringing both hands up to his eyes as if using night binoculars. “Movement in the vines behind the house. Coyote run out. Maybe he was alone.”
Federico shrugged his skepticism.
Steve frowned and said, “Or someone flushed him out.”
“Si. Motion too high for a coyote, more like a person in a . . .” he turned to Fred and spoke a few words in Spanish.
“Like someone in a half crouch,” Fred commented.
“And the coyote came out like he was scared,” said Federico. “Run fast. Stop. Look back.”
“Someone could be stalking us,” Steve said. “From now on, we go out in pairs. Each of us always armed. Lenny and Federico, you are doing excellent work. Likely the danger level is going up. I will get FBI coverage here 24/7, starting this afternoon. Both of you will be scheduled for the day shift, going out in tandem or with Fred. Be cautious. You see anything, you ring my cell right away.”
“You want to re-activate the Agent Ghosts from Operation Spook Hills last year? Close enough to Halloween,” Ivy said, her eyes brightening with a devilish gleam. “I stored the costumes out in the barn.”
“Not sure your trick will work twice,” Steve replied. “Let’s put out dummies in the wraithlike garb along with pumpkins, corn shocks and broomsticks to celebrate the spooky season.”
Mathew said, “I better alert Moll and Brian. Even though they are only home about half the time, they need to be vigilant too. Fred and Federico, if either or both of you are uncomfortable with this, you can stop working for us. When this siege or whatever is over, we will take you back on.”
“No man. We’re in this with you,” Fred said, pointing to himself and his father. “We were never in a gang before. Now we’re in your Spook Hills Gang.”
“Si. You were there for me. We are with you,” Federico said.
“Be certain of this,” Steve said. “These are big-time gangsters. They are capable of contracting assassins if they want to take us down. Time shows they are relentless.”
“Si, but we are amigos. And we are smarter,” Federico said.
“Glad you are with us,” Mathew said with a grim smile.
“We should develop scenarios of what might happen,” Steve said.
“Yeah, my mind’s sluggish – st
ill fuzzy from the forever journey.”
Steve gave a sharp nod. “Let’s start in half an hour, downstairs. Now whoever does not have their piece – gun, knife, whatever -- get one. Put protective vests on and leave them on.”
“Would you print up a list of the offenders we had arrested or killed in the past and, for those incarcerated, the dates of their release?” Mathew asked.
“All the facts point to the two Fuentes cousins,” Steve said in protest. “Raiding the gravesites for his brothers’ bones, Julio appearing out here, the matches on the passports in and out of the U.S.”
“Except one thing,” Mathew replied. “If Cruze is alive and he left the drug business early, why is he risking trouble? This Julio/Annetta cousin, no rap sheet. Are they the sort to seek retaliation on federal agents? I don’t think so. The Miami office found he/she might be a gatherer of information. They discovered no proof of wrongdoing. He is a man of some means who reports income from his investments on his taxes. They suspect he slinks between the fashionable world and the shadows. They reviewed his computer usage. The texts and messages they find are either encoded or not devious. No signs he is a hacker. All the people he communicates with are by code names, like many folks under 40 do.”
“What lured Julio out here then?” Steve asked.
“Likely reconnaissance. Still, I think we should examine other possibilities.”
“Cruze might be the typical middle child,” Ivy said, interrupting the two men. “Often one twin is more dominant than the other. Middle children tend to be the peacemakers. I’ll reread the psychological profile of Cruze to analyze if he might want to exact revenge. In parallel, you two discuss these other criminals. Possibly more than one is after us. Who hates you enough to want to kill you?”
“You kidding?” Steve said. “Any of them.”
“Some will stand out more than others. How many would classify you as personally responsible for their downfall? You two put together a matrix of past perpetrators, rate the likelihood of each one or a family member coming after you and why.”
New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) Page 18