In Shadows

by Sharon Sala

  Was this what the Americans called “up the creek with no paddle”? Had he, too, lost control? He was as afraid as he’d ever been. Even more afraid than the day he killed his first man.

  * * *

  Kaho pretended to sleep. She and her husband had to discuss what happened, but not here in this car. In private, back in their room. She felt his fear, but it would pass, once he understood that what he’d witnessed was grief and rage. She had sensed far more than they were told about the condition of their son’s body, and was greatly saddened about how Yuki’s life had ended. Her only comfort was knowing he did not suffer a moment of pain.

  And so the wheels beneath them continued to roll, and the comfort of Ken’s shoulder finally lulled her past pretense to actual sleep. When they finally reached their destination, she was refreshed.

  “Kaho, we have arrived,” Ken said, and gently shook her awake as the car rolled to a stop beneath the entrance to the Four Seasons.

  She sat up, blinking slowly, trying to acclimate herself to this place, when she’d been so far away in her dreams.

  “I dreamed we were in the snow at Yuzawa. Remember when we took the boys? It was their first time riding the rails. Adam didn’t like it. It was too cold and uncomfortable, but Yuki loved it. How old was he then? Four, maybe five years old?”

  Ken smoothed a strand of her hair back in place as he watched her lips forming words, then realized he was meant to give an answer.

  “Ah...I think he was four. It was the year before Sota became a teenager. At that age, he didn’t like anything.”

  Kaho nodded. “Yes, you are correct.”

  Then the driver was at their door, helping them out, and thanking Ken for the generous tip.

  “If you have need of a car again during your stay in Houston, I am available,” William said, and handed Ken his card.

  Ken dropped it in his pocket. Right now he was more concerned with getting his wife up to their room. They needed to talk.

  They were mostly silent during the elevator ride because they were never alone in the car, but once they reached their room, all bets were off. Ken hung his suit coat over a chair and removed his shoes.

  Kaho removed her shoes and moved to the sofa. “Ah, this quiet soothes me,” she said.

  Ken was more forthright, and the fact that he chose to sit on the opposite sofa so that he could see her face was telling.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Kaho smiled. “I know.”

  “What happened back there? I never saw that side of you before.”

  His wife shrugged. “I said what had been in my heart for years. I did not make him evil. That is who he is. I did not make him a liar, or a murderer. That is what he did. Calling him cunning only means he is sly, like the fox. Calling him soulless only put a name to what he’s always been.”

  “But you said you cursed him.”

  Kaho shrugged. “Those are only words. They are vocal ways of making someone look into a mirror. Words have no power unless the receiver hears them and recognizes himself in the accusations.”

  Ken frowned. “You are talking around my questions. You are trying to fool me. I do not want to see you this way!”

  She stared at him across the coffee table, then began slowly shaking her head. “Stop talking. I have never hidden a thing from you. You only chose to ignore it. Maybe you weren’t listening, husband! Maybe you saw only what you wanted to see!”

  Ken’s hands were sweating like they used to when he was still in school, afraid he was going to fail a test.

  Kaho stood abruptly. “Remember your first big deal? The one that set us on the road to success?”

  “Of course I remember,” Ken said. “I got the art pieces I wanted and the contract allowing me to reproduce them in mass quantities, and negotiated the artist down to one percent of the gross.”

  “But the contract stated one half percent on the contract he signed. I noticed it but said nothing. It was his mistake, not ours.”

  Ken’s mouth dropped. “You never said anything.”

  She shrugged. “Call the accountant. Have him look it up for you. It won’t take long, and while he’s looking, I will tell you now the things I have overheard the servants say and passed on to you, have kept men from betraying you, from stabbing you in the back, from wanting your seat on the cartel bad enough to take a contract out on your life.”

  Ken turned away from her and strode to the window in anger, but she kept talking.

  “Have you ever been sick since we married? No, you have not, because I have always had your health and best interests at heart and made sure you received only the best care. You never told me about the skiing accident you had five years ago...the one where you grabbed hold of that bush just before you fell over the cliff, but I found out anyway. I did not chastise you for keeping secrets from me. You were alive and that’s all that really mattered to me. I believe you are successful because we are a team!”

  “And what happens if I anger you? Will you speak a curse on me like what you did to Adam?”

  Breath caught in the back of her throat as tears suddenly blurred her vision. She held out her hand, as if warding off an approaching enemy.

  “How soon you forget,” she whispered. “You angered me beyond words when you banished our sons. I went to bed to die. That’s what happens when you break my heart.”

  Ken gasped and then ran across the room and took her into his arms.

  “My beloved...forgive me. That was hurt speaking. I felt you had been keeping something from me all these years, when it was I who refused to see you for who you are.”

  Kaho wiped away tears. This was too important to interrupt with weeping. He was such a stubborn, proud man, but she wouldn’t have him any other way.

  “What you must understand is that I am as knee-deep in the cartel as you are, but they don’t know it. And as long as they see me as nothing but the dutiful wife, I am safe, and so are you. We are not innocents in the world. What’s happened to us now is part of our punishment. We let ourselves be corrupted, albeit overtly, but it marked our sons to fail. There is always a price to be paid.”

  Seventeen

  Jack was sitting in their porch swing, watching Shelly hose off the patio. It was something she liked to do because she could get into the shade whenever she wanted, and still be able to enjoy the warm day and the cool water. And she looked hot as all get-out in the cutoff jean shorts and a halter top, even though it left the wrap on her cracked rib showing.

  Shelly was enjoying the day. She was feeling better and stronger every day, and her black eyes were fading into faint purples and greens, which she mostly ignored until she saw her reflection in the shimmer of their pool.

  “Just look at me! I look like a kid who got caught playing in her mother’s eye shadows.”

  “Stop fussing,” he said. “You look beautiful in all that purple and green...like the Northern Lights.”

  Shelly laughed, then turned the hose on his bare legs.

  “The Northern Lights? Really?”

  He grinned. Making her laugh was what he intended. They used to laugh a lot before he began working undercover. He was just beginning to realize how much that job had changed their dynamics. Now they had to find their way back to the easy comfort they had before.

  She turned off the water and then rolled up the hose. “That felt good to do something normal.”

  Jack smiled as he watched her puttering about, then leaned back in the porch swing and set it to rocking. The simple joy of no longer living a lie was such a relief.

  “Hey, baby, you do know you get the stitches out of your lips tomorrow?”

  “Is that tomorrow? Yay! Finally I get to go somewhere.”

  He frowned. “There’s no need for you to feel shut-in. We can go somewhere every day if you want to. I’ll take you out anyti
me.”

  “I know. I just don’t like being stared at.”

  “Oh, stop it and come here to me,” Jack said, and held out a hand.

  He was her magnet. She could never tell him no. She reached for his hand, then smiled when he gave it a tug.

  “People have been staring at you for years because you’re gorgeous. It’s no different now,” he said, then slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her down into his lap just so he could kiss the back of her neck.

  She laughed because it tickled, but he already knew it, which was why he’d done it. When he had her in a better mood, he pushed off in the swing again and set it to rocking. Shelly leaned against his chest and pulled his arms around her.

  Her curls were soft against his cheek. The weight of her breasts was warm against his arms. She was his love—so entrenched in his life there was no way to tell where one began and the other ended.

  When he’d first seen her in the warehouse and thought she was dead, his whole life had flashed before his eyes. Without her he was only half a man. She’d been so broken, and now all he could do was marvel at her resilience.

  “So, I want to get your feedback on something.”

  “Okay, I’m listening,” she said.

  “Remember our trip to Hawaii?”

  “Yes, on Oahu. It was wonderful,” Shelly said. “We hiked Diamond Head. And we took the ferry out into the open water and boarded a little mini-sub to fish watch. It was like snorkeling but without getting wet. So touristy, and so much fun.”

  “Do I still have that floral shirt? The one I bought the day before we left?” Jack asked.

  Shelly frowned. “No. You loaned it to Charlie one Halloween. He never gave it back.”

  Jack looked out across the backyard, watching sunlight glittering on the surface of their pool like diamonds.

  “You’re right. I did. I’d forgotten that.”

  Shelly rubbed the back of his hand in an absent motion.

  “How do you feel about what happened?” she asked.

  “You mean Charlie?”

  She nodded. “You two were such good friends.”

  He shrugged. “He was my friend, but I wasn’t his. If I had been, he wouldn’t have done what he did. He just wasn’t who I thought he was, and that was on me, not seeing past the lie he was living.”

  “I guess, but I didn’t see it, either,” Shelly said.

  Jack shrugged. “His own wife didn’t know what was going on. He got in debt and took the easy way out to solve that. I never once heard him mention owing money, or paying off a debt. I never saw that weakness in him to take shortcuts to what he wanted. He was a damn good actor and in a position within the Bureau to do some serious damage. What happened to him was his own doing. Hell, he even took the shortcut to resolving the problems he caused by killing himself.”

  Then Jack began rubbing her back in a slow, circular motion.

  “Enough about him and back to Hawaii. What would you think about living there?”

  Shelly gasped and then slipped off his lap onto the swing beside him and grabbed his hand.

  “Seriously? What would we do?”

  “I have a pilot’s license. I wouldn’t mind piloting a chopper from island to island for sightseeing tours. Tourists are a year-round business.”

  Shelly jumped right into the fantasy. “I can do my job anywhere. Every business needs an accountant.”

  They looked at each other and grinned.

  “Are we being serious now?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Oh, I would so love to do this,” she said.

  Jack knew she had a lifetime of PTSD ahead of her and she didn’t realize it. But not living in the house from which she’d been abducted would be a huge plus, and getting away from the city in which it happened, even better.

  “Then let’s keep this in the back of our minds,” he said.

  Shelly threw her arms around his neck. “We can do anything when we do it together.”

  He grinned. “I think I told you that our junior year in high school.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s because you wanted me to go with you and your family to your dad’s hunting cabin up in the mountains above Denver.”

  He laughed. “Well? Was I wrong?”

  Shelly sighed. “No. You were right, but that was also the weekend I decided I would marry you one day.”

  The grin spread across his face. “Really? Why?”

  “You fell asleep with your head in my lap one afternoon and you were talking in your sleep.”

  His eyes widened. “You never mentioned this before. What was I saying?”

  “You just kept saying my name over and over,” Shelly said.

  Jack frowned. “I don’t get it. Why would saying Shelly make you want to marry me.”

  “Because you weren’t just saying Shelly. You kept saying Shelly McCann. Shelly McCann. Not Shelly Hartman, which was my name at the time. It was like you were trying out the way the name felt on your tongue. I liked the way it sounded, too.”

  Jack leaned across the gap between them and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “I still like the way it sounds.”

  “Ditto,” Shelly said.

  “Speaking of doing things together, how do you feel about meeting the men who saved me?” Jack asked.

  “Now?”

  “Whenever,” he said.

  “I say let’s get my stitches out and I’m ready. Do you want them to come here for dinner? I think I’m up for that.”

  “If they come here, we’re having it catered.”

  “That sounds like fun. All the good food and none of the mess. Yes, please. What do they like?”

  “Probably everything. They are the least pretentious people you will ever meet. I think the best way to describe them is unique.”

  “This is fun. We’re planning a party. We haven’t done anything like this since you began undercover work. I can’t wait! Definitely, invite them.”

  “Will do,” Jack said.

  After that, they sat awhile in mutual silence, still swinging, but each lost in their own thoughts.

  He was thinking about going inside to get them something cold to drink when Shelly’s feet suddenly hit the patio, stopping the motion of the swing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, but she didn’t answer.

  It was as if she had gone on alert, her head cocked to one side, intently listening. Then every emotion on her face just disappeared—like she’d turned to stone and he didn’t know what triggered it.

  He was afraid to touch her for fear of setting off a full flashback, but he couldn’t just sit and do nothing. He leaned a little closer.

  “Shelly...baby, what’s wrong?”

  She grabbed his hand and moaned.

  Then he heard the sound of an airplane flying overhead. Although they weren’t in a flight path, it happened now and then.

  “Shelly?”

  She was shaking now, her gaze fixed on something only she could see.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, as her voice slipped into a whisper.

  “Planes. Taking off. Landing. Taking off. Landing.”

  Now he knew. She was back in that warehouse, still tied to the bed.

  “Can’t get loose. Can’t see. People so close. Planes too loud. No one hears. Help me.”

  Jack got up, then stood directly in front of her.

  “I’m here, Shelly! Look at me! I’m here!”

  She took a slow, shaky breath and looked up.

  “Jack.”

  He took her hands. “Yes, it’s me. Let’s go inside now. We’ve been out a long time. We’ll get some sweet tea.”

  She was trying to wrap her head around what had just happened as she followed him into the kitchen.

 
; One airplane flying overhead had triggered that. She was weary of waking up screaming—afraid to go to sleep. Just when she thought she was getting a grip on flashbacks, something like this would happen.

  “I don’t think I want anything to drink right now,” Shelly said. “I’d rather go lie down for a bit. Later this evening we could go out for dinner if you want.”

  Jack slipped his hand beneath her hair and pulled her close. Her whole body was trembling.

  “We’ll see how you feel at dinnertime. I think resting is a good idea.”

  She looked at him. “Will you lie down with me for a while?”

  “I would love to,” he said, and walked her to their room. “On top of the covers or under them?” he asked.

  “On top and maybe one of those lightweight blankets.”

  Shelly crawled into bed and rolled over on her side, facing the wall. She felt Jack climbing into bed beside her, then pulling a blanket up over the both of them.

  When he curled up behind her and tucked his arm around her waist, she felt safe enough to close her eyes.

  “Love you,” she whispered.

  “Love you, too,” Jack said.

  Jack felt her body beginning to relax. A few minutes more and he could tell by the sound of her breathing when she finally fell asleep. When he closed his eyes, his thoughts went to finding Shelly at the warehouse. He would never know the whole story of what she’d gone through, and in hindsight, it didn’t matter. She was alive and they were home.

  * * *

  Adam Ito was trying to call out to a nurse to tell her something was wrong when he felt his bowels give way. The next thought in his head was that he hoped he was dying, because he couldn’t move. Inside, he was screaming for help, but no one could hear.

  My mother did this. Because I killed my brother, she killed me. She didn’t have to touch me to make me die, because she cursed me.

  Even in this state of being, Adam wasn’t taking responsibility for any of it. The fact that he’d been tied to a chair, shot three times and left bleeding profusely didn’t play into it. Or the extent of surgery he’d undergone afterward, or the continuous bouts of sudden rage that had been with him all his life. No. It was his mother who was to blame. So he lay in the feces, locked inside a body that wouldn’t respond, cursing her for delivering him to this fate.