McCain's Memories

by Maggie Simpson

  Cliff said, “Yesterday, I wasn’t ready to tell you who I was, but a little nosin’ around proved you are just what you say you are—a small-town lawyer.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She wasn’t sure if she was more offended by his remark about small-town lawyers or because he’d investigated her.

  “Don’t take offense—we never accept anyone at face value. Now, will you tell me what happened to you?” Cliff asked.

  Lauren began her story, but afraid to incriminate Jonathan further, she paused and looked over at him when she got to the part about him grabbing her in the cave. He nodded almost imperceptibly, encouraging her to continue before he walked over and sat on the other end of the sofa.

  When Lauren finished, Cliff said, “Now, I’m gonna give you some sensitive information, Ms. Hamilton, information we’re not ready to make public.”

  Lauren nodded her understanding.

  Cliff, with his hands in his pockets, paced back and forth in front of the fireplace as though he were searching for a place to begin. “Jon here works for the agency, too, but he’s undercover.”

  “What?” She had considered almost every possibility, but never this. Relief flooded through her veins. If he was undercover, then he wasn’t guilty of smuggling. She glanced at him and was surprised to see confusion written all over his face. Then she remembered he wouldn’t know about this part of his past.

  “Maybe I should start at the top. Jon and I were in the army together. We both worked in intelligence. He got out of the service and went into business in Mexico City. I went to work for the DEA. A few years ago, we got a tip about a big drug dealer in South America who was smuggling drugs through Mexico inside artifacts like the ones Jonathan’s company exported. We were hunting for someone to do a little work for us. Jon was the perfect guy to work undercover for us. And him being fluent in Spanish helped a lot. Since then, we’ve used his services again and again.” Cliff looked at Jon. “You can jump in any old time.”

  “No, you’re doing fine,” Jonathan said.

  “Okay, but hey, man, stop me if you have something to add.” Cliff sat back down and in the process hunched forward and propped his elbows on his knees, then began tapping his steepled fingers together. “In the past couple of years, Jon had a few close calls down there and got tired of the whole mess. He wanted out. Figuring he had a reputation to cover, he formed a dummy corporation and bought this ranch. He planned to sit back and take life easy. That didn’t last as long as a drop of water in the desert. Lots of stuff was going on here in the Pecos region. Jon’s past caught up with him, and it wasn’t but a short time before he was approached by the local sheriff.”

  Finding out who Jonathan McCain really was and what he was doing on a ranch with no cattle made Lauren so excited she couldn’t remain silent any longer.

  “So much for peace and relaxation. I guess Chester had an offer that couldn’t be resisted.”

  “You bet right. If Jon would allow planes to land, then the sheriff would see fit not to alert the proper authorities about Jon’s prior ‘drug dealings’ out of the country. Jon contacted us and we asked him to take up the sheriffs deal. We figured we’d have this end cleaned up in a few months.”

  As Cliff Atkinson talked, Lauren became angry. The agency hadn’t let Jonathan walk away. It had set him up and then had gone off and left him. They had let him get shot, wander through the desert and then cool his heels in jail for days. “Don’t you usually protect your men in the field?”

  “They’re pretty much on their own. If we’re too close, a connection’s made and the cover’s blown.”

  “How was Saul involved?” Lauren asked, wondering about the man who had been killed. “Friend or foe?”

  “Foe,” Cliff answered, his voice harsh.

  She felt the sofa cushions give when Jonathan propped his arms on his knees and buried his head in his hands, as if the memory of the killing caused him pain.

  Cliff stopped his pacing and asked, “Is there a bathroom I could use? Shouldn’t have drunk so much coffee this morning.”

  Jonathan looked up. “Down the hall and to the left.”

  Silence filled the room after Cliff left. Lauren was unsure where she and Jonathan stood. It must have been a shock for him to find out he was undercover. “What do you think?” she asked him.

  He ran his tongue over his lips. “Right now I’m a happy son of a gun to know I’m not a criminal, but I wish to hell I knew what did happen.”

  “Your memory will come back. I know it.” She had to believe that. Jonathan wasn’t just her partner’s client, he was everything she’d ever dreamed about in a man. She’d desired a hero, wanted the derring-do of danger, but when Jonathan had brought her face-to-face with both, she’d crumbled, hurting him in the process. Words seemed so ineffectual against her earlier actions, but they were her only tool. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I never thought you killed Saul, but the circumstantial evidence for drug smuggling was there.”

  “I know.” Jonathan stared off into the distance. “You don’t owe me an apology. You couldn’t ignore what it looked like I was doing, even though I took a bit of offense.”

  “Does Cliff know you can’t remember what happened?” She knew Jonathan was still withholding something from her, too. She felt it every time they broached the subject of his memory loss. Maybe now that someone from his immediate past was here, Jonathan could latch on to something to give him stability and trust.

  Trust.

  It was such a nebulous word, easily bantered about between people. But trust had a depth that she’d often avoided, afraid she would drown in it. Then Jonathan had lured her beyond the shallows and she’d almost plunged in heart first, until her head pulled her back to false safety. Instead of relief, she’d encountered an overwhelming sadness. For both of them.

  “No. I wanted to hear what he had to say first,” Jonathan said.

  “I think you need to tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Cliff strolled back into the room and settled into the big easy chair before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Go ahead.” Jonathan shrugged his shoulders as though he wondered why Cliff asked.

  “Don’t understand all that antismokin’ stuff myself.” Cliff hitched up one hip and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, cupped his hands around the flame and drew on the cigarette until a wisp of smoke circulated in the air. “Ahh—” he smiled and closed his eyes in pleasure “—a man should be allowed to enjoy his vices. Now, I need to hear everything you know up to this point, Jon.”

  “Well...” Jonathan leaned back and ran a finger under the collar of his chambray shirt, as though the open neck was suddenly tight. “I’m not sure I can tell you much.”

  Lauren sensed his dilemma and tried to intercede without giving him away. “Mr. Atkinson, I can’t tell you how thankful we are that you showed up. You have no idea how badly we need you to help answer some unresolved questions.”

  “What she means is, I don’t recollect anything about what you told me or about the murder or anything. Lauren thinks I’ve got amnesia.”

  “Amnesia,” Cliff blurted out, nearly dropping his cigarette as he stood. “Good God A’mighty. Whaddaya mean?”

  “I didn’t tell you everything about my being shot at,” Lauren interjected. She then told Cliff about Jonathan’s confusion in the cave and how his memory hadn’t cleared up. “Anyway, I think the head injury caused the amnesia.”

  “I was wondering what the hell was wrong earlier,” Cliff said, his pale hazel eyes turned toward Jonathan. “You acted like you were sizing me up when I came in.”

  “I was,” Jonathan said.

  “Seen a doctor?” Cliff asked, settling back on the edge of the chair.

  “Just the one who came to visit me in jail. I didn’t let on to him that anything was wrong:”

  Lauren explained, “I went out to the university and got some information. A
ctually, I was afraid for anyone to know Jonathan doesn’t remember anything, so I got on the Internet. Several physicians responded, saying time and being in familiar surroundings were what an amnesiac needs.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Cliff said. “But if it continues much longer, we’ll call in a department shrink. The immediate danger is the sheriff. Since you didn’t point a finger at him, he must know or at least suspect about your amnesia. It probably saved your life. That also means he’s got to get rid of you before you get your head on straight again.”

  “I know that. That’s why I wasn’t in the house Sunday to greet you.” Jonathan’s voice reflected an odd combination of exasperation and weariness.

  “Actually,” Lauren interjected, wanting to offer him a thread of hope, “Robert and I think we can get the murder charge against Jonathan reconsidered on my testimony and the photo, but that won’t prove the sheriff did it.”

  Cliff nodded his head in agreement. “Nope, but I’m glad you didn’t show all your cards at once. As long as the spotlight is shining on my buddy here, we can watch the folks skulking in the shadows.”

  “Regardless of evidence, I’m fairly certain that Chester killed Saul,” Lauren said. “He’s the one to watch.”

  “But why would he if Saul was in on the smuggling, too? And from what you said, Cliff, there’s someone else working with him,” Jonathan stated. He looked at Lauren as though to say “Let’s not start this suspicion game again.”

  “What do you know about your partner, Ms. Hamilton?” Cliff asked.

  Again Lauren had to control her rising hackles, even though Cliff had asked a perfectly legitimate question. “I’ve known Robert Jordan and his wife, Eloise, for a long time. They’re completely trustworthy. I’m sure you searched Robert’s background and didn’t find a speck of scandal.”

  “No more than we found on you. But he’s older and has had more chances to slip up and then try to hide it.” Cliff raised an admonishing finger. “We only looked one layer deep, and if there’s cause, we’ll peel back more until his bones are showin’.”

  “I don’t care how many layers you look under, Mr. Jordan is not involved with anything illegal, unethical or even sneaky.”

  “I admire your confidence in your partner. I feel the same way about Jon here, though he can be a real jerk,” Cliff said.

  “I couldn’t work with Robert if I doubted his integrity.” While pleased with Cliff’s offhand compliment of Jonathan, Lauren was unsettled by the man’s suspicion of her partner. She cared little that the agent’s job was to look at everyone askance, for she knew how warmhearted and kind Robert Jordan was and how deeply concerned he was for the community. She’d seen the way he and his wife worked in their church, in youth activities, in making the town of Sierra wholesome.

  Cliff said, “I’m not trying to get a rise out of you, but I’ve got to try to help Jon. You seem to want him cleared, too. So I’ll buy that Jordan’s on God’s right-hand side. After this is over I give you permission to make me pay for the error of my ways. Okay?”

  Lauren studied Cliff’s earnest face. How on earth could this man irritate her one minute and charm her like a big teddy bear the next? “Okay,” she agreed.

  “So,” Jonathan said, getting back to business, “until I remember something definite, we don’t have much to go on.”

  “I got an idea.” Cliff began chuckling. “A common belief is that the first hit knocks out the memory and the second whack restores it. So how about if I knock you on the head, Jon?”

  John didn’t think the suggestion was all that funny, but Lauren seemed to find humor in it because she gave Cliff a big grin. John felt a stab of jealousy that she would find Atkinson funny. “I might hit back.” The matter was serious—at least to him.

  He was overcome with relief that he wasn’t a common drug smuggler, but this new information from Atkinson created almost as many problems as it solved. It didn’t change the fact that someone wanted him dead, and it still didn’t solve the dilemma of his identity. Despite what Cliff said, John still felt like a ranger, but here was one more person saying he was Jonathan McCain!

  “If you won’t let me hit you, how about you tell us what you do remember?” Cliff suggested.

  John repeated the events from the flashbacks he’d had, hoping that repetition would trigger more information. But it didn’t.

  Cliff leaned back. “Well, let’s look at it like this, Jonathan. You remembering the sheriff fired a rifle doesn’t prove anything, since you don’t know who or what he was shooting at, or when he was shooting, for that matter. The two of you might have gone huntin’ together before.” Cliff raised an eyebrow. “Also, you gotta remember who’s been charged.”

  Lauren intervened. “There’s always my testimony.”

  John started when he felt her hand close over his and give it a squeeze. She might have doubted him and he might have doubted her, but when confronted with someone else’s doubts, she stood by him.

  Her words were softer when she said for the second time since she’d come back in the room, “Your memory will return.”

  John wanted to believe that would solve the problem. He had to believe her or he would go crazy. He nodded and leaned against the back of the sofa, trying to control his growing frustration. He wanted something to happen. He’d had all of the sitting around he could stand.

  Lauren sat poised on the edge of her seat, as if she, too, was about to explode, while Cliff stared off into space with a glazed look on his face.

  Finally, Lauren asked, “Okay, what does your agency plan to do now?”

  Cliff absentmindedly stubbed out his cigarette. “I hear you have some photos.”

  “Only one that is of any consequence, but the image in it was too small to show anything. The negative is at a lab being enhanced.”

  He stood and adjusted his pants. “When do you think you can have that photo back here?”

  “My brother’s on business in El Paso right now. I’ll have to make a call, but I’m sure Ted won’t mind picking it up and delivering it here in the morning.”

  “Good. Then try to schedule a meeting with the judge and D.A. for tomorrow afternoon.” He started toward the door. “Do you guys mind if I have a look around outside?”

  When both Lauren and John stood, Cliff shook his head. “No need to come with me. I just want to do a little snoopin’.”

  After the door closed behind him, John slowly turned to face Lauren. He’d already apologized and she’d accepted, but the warm look he associated with her wasn’t back on her face. He wanted her to throw her arms around him and show him he was forgiven. Yet he knew he could also make the first move.

  As he thrust his hand in his pocket to keep from reaching out, a sinking feeling filled his gut. Why was he, Captain John McCain, living the life of another McCain in another century? Until he found the answer he had to try and stay away from Lauren. He couldn’t offer her anything but confusion.

  Chapter 12

  “Here you are, sis.” Ted threw a large manila envelope on top of Lauren’s desk. “I had two blowups made in case something happens to this one.”

  “Thanks for cutting your trip short to bring these back to me. I always knew brothers were good for something.” She ignored his snort. After learning that Jonathan worked for the DEA, Lauren had wanted to move as fast as she could. She was anxious to see the picture but was also afraid that she’d sent her brother on a wild-goose chase. She lifted the flap and peered inside the envelope. Closing it, she looked up at Ted and their eyes locked in understanding.

  “You nailed him, Lauren,” he told her, his voice soft and emotionless. Ted walked over to the window, lifted a slat with a bent finger and stared across the street.

  Yes, she had, but it did little to make her happy. It hurt to know that someone she’d known for a long time had crossed the line of the law. “Do you feel as bad as I do about it?”

  “Yep. Chester’s had a hard time the last few years, but, hell, th
at’s no excuse. He could have killed you.”

  “Yes, he could have.” Her perspective restored, Lauren buzzed the secretary. “Lyna, would you call Cliff Atkinson and ask him to come to the office? He’s staying at the Sierra Hotel. Then you and Robert might want to come in here for a few minutes.” She’d call Jonathan just as soon as they had talked to the judge.

  Lauren slumped in her chair and swiveled it to face the windows so she could look out across the street toward the mountains. The elation she felt at being able to help Jonathan was tempered with sadness. She was sick to her stomach. Suspecting Chester had been one thing, but actually knowing he’d shot at her was another. “Have you told Dad?” she asked Ted as she twirled the chair back around.

  A crooked grin graced her brother’s face. “You gotta be kidding. He’s gonna be madder than ten kinds of hell that you didn’t let him know what was going on at the beginning. That job’s yours, big sister.”

  “Thanks a lot. I’ll call him tonight.” That would give her dad time to blow and bluster before she saw him face-to-face.

  Robert stuck his head in the door. “Lyna said you sounded excited about something.”

  Lauren nodded and stood up. “The picture’s here.” She didn’t have to say any more. Robert knew what she was talking about.

  “Let’s see it,” he said.

  She withdrew the still somewhat indistinct and grainy photograph from the folder, turned it around and laid it on the desk. “This is a picture of the man who shot at me in the canyon a couple of weeks ago.” Robert and Lyna hunched over the photo and studied the figure of a Caucasian male carrying a rifle. The man was dressed in a khaki uniform.

  “It’s Chester,” Lyna gasped. “Oh, my Lord, I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s the first time you’ve ever been at a loss for words,” Robert commented.

  Clutching her briefcase tightly, Lauren paced the cavernous hallway in the courthouse Wednesday morning. Robert had contacted Judge Estrada the afternoon before to make arrangements for a hearing, and now that it was time, she was nervous. Jonathan’s future depended upon her ability to convince the judge that he had been falsely accused. Robert was already in the judge’s chambers, but she was waiting for their client. She glanced at her watch. The appointment was only ten minutes away and Cliff hadn’t arrived with Jonathan yet.