“I did it anonymously. Let’s just say the last few time I said what I thought about this stuff, it didn’t work out very well.”
“We’re not asking you to go public. You won’t be exposed.”
“I’m just not sure of that. You know a lot more about us than we know about you. Besides, even though I don’t have a job to lose this time, I have to think of Melissa’s safety.”
“Which is why you brought a gun tonight?”
“How …?” Brian couldn’t hide his surprise.
“We knew as soon as you came in,” Malone explained blandly. “We brought one of these,” he went on, pulling a small, square device with a screen from a satchel next to him in the booth. “It actually couldn’t detect your weapon now. You’d have to put your coat back on. It’s a scanner that uses a sort of reverse infrared mapping.
“See, everyone’s body emits energy. This device tells us if there’s something on a person’s body that’s obstructing the emission. Works great inside twenty feet. We saw the shape of the handgun on your body as soon as you walked in.”
“You must have a gadget for everything,” said Brian, visibly annoyed.
“Pretty much.”
“And to answer your question, yes, I brought it just in case. And I’d use it if I had to. Nothing is more important to me than her.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but it seems a bit extreme under the circumstances.”
“You have no idea what extreme looks like,” Brian said, staring him down. “We do.”
Melissa was a bit taken back by the exchange, but she didn’t let on. Brian was always so steady and congenial in her presence. This was different. She’d seen Brian’s look of unflinching resolve on her behalf before, back on the tarmac at Area 51 when Neil Bandstra had engineered the first attempt on her life.
Her mind drifted back to that event, remembering how the two of them had run toward the jeep for cover from the attack dogs, how she hadn’t been able to keep up. The look she saw now was the same one Brian had worn when he’d turned around and run past her, throwing himself into the beasts to give her time to get under the jeep. She shuddered unconsciously and closed her eyes, trying to block out the images of the horrific aftermath.
“Are you all right, Dr. Kelley?” Neff asked from across the table.
“Oh … yes,” she answered, opening her eyes. “Just a bit of a flutter inside.”
“So what can I do to convince you we’re sincere?” Neff asked. “What do you need?”
“Peace of mind,” Brian answered. “Money can’t buy that.”
“Brian,” Melissa intervened, “that was a little rude.”
“No offense taken,” Neff said, folding his hands on the table. “Having a lot of money can buy you excellent security. But at the end of the day, it can’t change your state of mind.”
“No, Melissa’s right,” Brian acknowledged, “I was out of line.”
“Over and done. Now what—”
Neff’s cellphone went off, interrupting the conversation. He took it from his belt and glanced at the number. “Do you mind if I take this call?”
Brian and Melissa shook their heads.
“Hello? Yes … oh, no.” Neff’s expression became serious and drawn. The others saw immediately that something was terribly wrong. “Tell me what you need,” he continued. “You know we’ll do anything to help.… No, don’t reserve a flight. I can take you there tonight in the Lear, you’ll get there much faster.… All right, I’ll have Malone call the airport right away and have them prepare the plane.… Understood …”
Brian looked over at Malone, who was already dialing. His familiar, detached expression had been replaced by one of focused concentration. He got up and walked a few feet away from the booth to talk.
“And Aloysius,” they heard Neff say, “I’m deeply sorry to hear this. I know the two of you were close. I’ll pick you up at your house in about two hours.”
Brian and Melissa exchanged startled glances. Neff put away his phone and let out a deep breath. He looked over at Malone, who was still on the phone.
“My apologies to both of you, but we’ll have to cut the evening short,” he explained. “A bit of an emergency—a tragedy, really.”
“Pardon,” said Melissa, “but did I hear you call the man you were talking to Aloysius?”
“Yes.”
“You were talking to President Fitzgerald?”
“That’s correct. You don’t often meet someone named Aloysius, do you?”
“What happened?” Melissa urged, now visibly concerned. “Why would he call you in an emergency?”
“My relationship with Aloysius goes beyond my membership on the Board of Trustees. We’ve been good friends for almost ten years. But tonight he got news that he’s lost an even older and dearer friend—someone esteemed at the college, in fact.”
“They’ll have the plane ready,” Malone said, returning to the table, “and the coffee. I can fly this time, if you like.”
Neff nodded and looked again at Melissa. “We have to get President Fitzgerald to Nevada tonight. His friend had no next of kin, so he needs to fly out there to set his final affairs in order. He wants to bring the remains back here for a memorial service on campus. If we can get things done quickly, that can happen before Thanksgiving break begins.”
“His ‘remains’?” asked Malone, eyebrows raised.
“Aloysius doesn’t have many details, but this will be a closed-casket affair. His friend was found in Death Valley National Park. Apparently he got lost, which isn’t that uncommon, sadly. The investigators are guessing his body was exposed a month or so, maybe longer. A ranger found him. We’ll know more once we get there.”
17
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
—Thomas Moore
Melissa stared at the icon for her campus email account on her computer’s desktop. Brian, seated next to her at her desk, squeezed her hand. “We have to look.”
“I just can’t,” she sighed.
“I know.”
The two of them had heard rumors on campus earlier that morning that classes on Thursday might be canceled for a special memorial service. Melissa had waited for Brian to arrive at her office before reading her email.
It had taken only minutes for a sickening suspicion to gnaw its way into their consciousness after their dinner with Neff and Malone the night before. Neither wanted to utter the horrible, haunting intuition. Their silence was only broken at breakfast, when they each confessed to having spent nearly an hour online the previous evening searching for details about the ghastly discovery Neff had described.
Stories about the tragedy were easy to find, but details were sparse. No name had been released to the public. There were only vague lines about how the authorities were working on an identification. But there was really no need for all that. Somehow they both knew it was Andrew. The only question was how he had wound up over a hundred miles from Las Vegas, where they had last seen him, and nowhere near his intended destination when they had parted. Assuming he’d made it back to Area 51, the fact that his body was found in an isolated, inhospitable desert could mean only one thing: It had been dumped there.
Melissa closed her eyes and steadied herself. She clicked on the icon and then silently logged in. She opened the all-campus message from President Fitzgerald.
President Fitzgerald, along with the administration, faculty, and the Board of Trustees, wish to express their profound sorrow at the passing of a beloved friend to the family of St. Ignatius College and its alumni. Father Andrew Malachi Benedict, Jesuit scholar and servant of his heavenly Father and Lord Jesus Christ, has passed from this life to the next. The entire college family is invited to attend a service of remembrance and celebration of this life, so faithfully lived, on Thursday, November 15, two o’clock p.m., in Martin Chapel. All classes scheduled to meet on Thursday have been canceled. A funeral Mass will be held on Friday, ten o’clock a.m., at Transfiguration C
atholic Church. Father Benedict will be interred on campus at Cedar Grove Cemetery following the funeral Mass.
Brian and Melissa sat silently, staring at the message with a feeling of helplessness. Although they had both anticipated the words, the deep ache that now throbbed inside them at the confirmation of their fears hit with full force. They held hands and cried, both out of their own pain and for Andrew, whom they felt with certainty had died dreadfully.
“I want to know what happened,” Brian said after a few minutes, wiping his eyes and gaining some composure.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Melissa asked after a moment.
“I can’t say I care,” he answered, then stood up.
“If there’s evidence that he didn’t just wander out there, the police will do all they can to get to the bottom of it.”
“We both know who’s responsible, and he won’t be answering to a local police department.”
“He won’t be answering to you, either, Brian.”
“Ferguson can’t be untouchable,” he replied, pacing the small office.
“He lives at Area 51. I’d say that qualifies him as untouchable.”
“And yet here we are,” he contested. “You never know.”
“And we want to stay here, don’t we? Out of sight, out of mind …”
Brian put his hands in his pockets and looked down at Melissa. The hint of anxiety in her eyes set his mind right. He couldn’t let any harm come to her, and he’d reached the point where he couldn’t bear to think of life without her. As captivating as she was, he was bound to her by something much deeper. With Father Benedict gone, as his own parents and Neil Bandstra before him, she was all he had—his sole friend, his confidante, his connection to life. She was all that mattered and all he wanted.
He silently reminded himself, as he’d done so many times already, to keep his feelings buried. He wanted to say more, but that would only turn what they had into something awkward and, ultimately, futile.
“Yes, absolutely,” he assured her. “We’ll ask President Fitzgerald about it after the memorial service. Beyond that, I won’t pry. I’ll let it go.”
“Thanks,” she replied, her expression lightening. “Let’s go home.”
18
Don’t let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.
—John Wooden
Brian and Melissa paused at the bottom of the concrete steps and looked back at the chapel. Hundreds of people streamed from its several exits.
“I had no idea there were so many people on campus,” Melissa said as she watched the crowd. “I guess I’m too cloistered.”
“We’ll never spot President Fitzgerald here,” Brian said, scanning the crowd.
“I saw him head for the exit behind the stage,” Melissa noted. “I’m sure he got out before we did. Let’s just head over to his office. His secretary, Gloria, left me a text message just before the service saying that he’d meet us there afterward.”
Brian nodded.
“Although, at the rate I travel,” she sighed, “it might take us the rest of the afternoon—unless you roll me there.”
Brian smiled and took her hand, helping her negotiate a small patch of ice. “I’m sure he’ll wait.”
The two of them made their way slowly across campus to the administration building, a majestic late nineteenth-century, Victorian-style structure built of red sandstone. Brian had never taken the time to really take in the campus. The medley of orange, yellow, and brown hues, flecked with scattered trees that glistened with the remnant of a light snowfall earlier in the week, produced a rugged yet beautiful landscape. A mixture of modern and period-style buildings, all meticulously maintained, punctuated the scene.
It was the sort of place he’d have enjoyed as a professor—a small student body, colleagues more focused on teaching than research, a community with some unified sense of purpose. None of that was ever going to materialize now, but he was glad to be here. He’d have to try harder to make friends and fit in. Preoccupation with Melissa, their circumstances, and fulfilling his promise to Andrew had pushed mundane realities aside. It only hit him now that he needed to start planning for the future.
“Why so quiet?” Melissa asked.
“Just thinking.”
“I can see that.”
He nodded.
“This is the part where you tell me what’s on your mind,” she coaxed.
“Sorry, I’m just wondering about what to do next—you know, finding work …”
“You wouldn’t have liked real estate anyway. And we have plenty of money right now.”
“Sure, right now. But I need to start contributing.”
“Are you sure you just don’t want to get out of the house?”
He gave her a perplexed look.
“You know, I was hired with an agreement for a paid sabbatical for maternity leave next semester. Winters are long here. We’re going to be stuck together in the house for months. You might be looking for some time away.”
Brian eyed her curiously. He assumed she was teasing him, but there was something in her expression that made him unsure. “That’s the last thing I’m looking for.”
“Really?” She stopped and looked up at him earnestly.
“Absolutely.”
“Are you reconsidering putting the babies up for adoption?” Brian asked as they resumed their journey.
“No, I’m still planning on it. It’s not like they’re mine …”
“But …?”
“When I was young, there were a lot of couples at church who were foster parents. I remember thinking I’d enjoy that. But that was a lifetime ago.”
“Well, no matter what,” he said, “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. You won’t be alone. You know that, don’t you?”
She stopped again and turned to him. “Absolutely,” she replied, imitating his familiar answer, the corner of her mouth easing into a demure smile.
“Good. And one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re still young.”
A few minutes later they reached their destination. The door leading into the small reception area outside the president’s office was open. Melissa peeked inside. Gloria was at her desk, busily typing.
“Might as well answer some email while I’m here,” Gloria sighed pleasantly, noticing Melissa. “Lord knows it never ends. Dr. Fitzgerald will be available in a moment, dear. He has some out of town company, but he assured me you two wouldn’t have to wait long. Please have a seat.”
Brian took Melissa’s coat. They turned toward the chairs adjacent to the president’s office, but, as if on cue, his door swung open. Brian and Melissa gasped in unison as a lanky African-American man emerged. He stopped in mid-step, stunned into silence at the sight of them. The three of them stood staring at each other in a moment of bewildered disbelief before they all broke into a joyous grins.
“Malcolm!” Brian exclaimed and rushed toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders before pulling him into a bear hug. A delighted Melissa beamed at the unexpected reunion.
“Whoa, dude,” Malcolm said with a laugh, jolted by the embrace. “You’re gonna break something!”
Brian released him and took a step back. “I can’t believe it!”
Malcolm moved to hug Melissa but stopped, taken again by surprise. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“That’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?” Melissa answered. She glanced back at Gloria, who was still seated at her desk and smiling approvingly at the threesome. Melissa reached for Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm embraced her and listened as Melissa whispered into his ear, “We’re pretending to be married here. We’ll explain later. Same first names, but our last name is Carter.”
Malcolm broke the embrace with a smile, but she saw unmistakable concern in his soft brown eyes. He looked at Brian, who read the logical question on his face. Brian glanced at Gloria, whose attention had returned to her computer sc
reen. He looked again at Malcolm and quickly shook his head just enough for him to catch the gesture. Malcolm’s face filled with anxiety as he turned to Melissa. Her helpless eyes gave him the answer. His lips tightened in a thin, hard line.
“We’ve got to find a private place to talk,” Brian whispered after taking a step closer to him.
“For sure,” Malcolm agreed. “I need to talk to you both, too. Something’s going on, and I don’t like it.”
“Where’s Dee?” Melissa asked softly. “Did you get her out?”
Malcolm hesitated. “We never made it.”
“What? Then how—?”
The door to President Fitzgerald’s office opened again. Graham Neff exited and turned toward Gloria to say something, but he stopped abruptly at the sight of the three figures huddled together in hushed conversation.
“You all know each other?” Neff asked, shocked.
“Malcolm, how do you know this guy?” Brian asked incredulously in the same instant.
“It’s a long story,” Malcolm answered slowly, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much information. “Graham … got us out … of our last arrangement.”
“ ‘Us’? Where’s Dee?” Melissa asked again, eyeing Neff with a mixture of suspicion and wonder.
“You know her, too?” Neff asked.
“Yes,” Melissa answered, studying his startled expression.
“She’s with President Fitzgerald and Malone,” Neff answered. “She should be out any minute. I’ll let everyone know you’re here,” he added and went back into the office.
“Both of you, listen,” Malcolm said in a hushed tone after Neff was gone. There was an uncharacteristic tone of uncertainty in his voice. “I really don’t know who this guy is or what he’s about, but he got us out of Area 51 and away from Colonel Ferguson. He doesn’t actually know that’s where we were, though. We’ve been out for a couple weeks. He told us about Andrew a couple days ago, and we insisted on coming for the memorial.”
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