I'll Take Forever Kobo

by Barbara McMahon

  ***

  Shasta quickly learned his territory and would roam the area around the home when let out, never going far, always returning promptly when Jenny called. They enjoyed hiking further from home. Jenny was glad to get out in the fresh air and glad for a companion on her walks. She was healthier and more fit than ever.

  Her phone was ringing when Jenny got home one day from an excursion. She dashed in to grab it, slightly out of breath.

  'Is this Jenny Warwick?' an unknown voice inquired.

  'Yes. Who is this?'

  'Stuart Brownley. We've never met, Mrs. Warwick. I'll be in Palmer this afternoon and wondered if you could spare me a few minutes of your time. I work for the US Justice Department.'

  'Is this the IRS?' Quickly she reviewed tax filings she’d done on behalf of her clients. None were complicated or questionable. Was it a random audit?

  He chuckled. 'No, Mrs. Warwick. The Treasury Department has that responsibility. This is a different matter. May I stop by and see you?'

  Jenny was perplexed. She had no idea why someone from the Justice Department would want to see her. If she wasn't going to be audited by the IRS, what could it be?

  'What is this about, Mr. Brownley?'

  'I would rather explain in person, if it's all right with you.'

  'I guess so. I'll be in all afternoon. Do you know where I live?'

  'Yes. I’ll be there before three.'

  Jenny hung up slowly. If this was a legitimate call, why come to her? Wouldn't they ask her to come to their offices? She looked at Shasta, glad she had him for protection. Though, it was unlikely a robber would call to make an appointment.

  Shortly after two-thirty, a nondescript black sedan pulled into her driveway, stopping close to the house. Jenny watched from the front window as the man walked up to her door. He was of average height, brown hair, brown suit. Brownley suited him.

  Shasta barked and ran to the door. Jenny followed.

  She opened the door to his knock, instructing Shasta to sit at her left knee. The dog obeyed immediately, his eyes intently watching the visitor.

  'Mrs. Warwick?' The man looked surprised.

  'Yes. You're Mr. Brownley?'

  'Yes, I am. Sorry if I looked startled. I'm afraid I was expecting someone a little older; I understood that you were a widow. May I come in?' Brownley drew his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open. 'My identification.'

  Jenny took it and read the card. He looked very like his picture. She handed it back.

  'Your information’s correct, I am a widow. What can I do for you, Mr. Brownley?' she asked a couple of moments later when they were seated in the living room. Shasta kept watch as he lay at Jenny’s feet.

  'I'll come straight to the point. I represent the DEA the arm of Justice that investigates drug abuse in the United States. My particular area is marijuana in California. I'm sure you've read about the large areas under cultivation.'

  Jenny nodded. 'I thought it was mostly in Mendocino County, though.'

  'There’s a lot there, unfortunately. No sooner do we clear out a farm than another one pops up. Other areas, too. We've reason to suspect it’s being grown around here. Either on private land or in the El Dorado National Forest. What we want to do is infiltrate the area to try to pinpoint where it’s being grown and by whom.'

  'What do you expect from me? I don't know anyone growing marijuana. I don't even know what it looks like.'

  'Well, I'm glad to hear that.' He smiled briefly. 'Actually, the department would like to have one of our men here on site. What we need, however, is a cover. Small towns are notorious for being suspicious of newcomers. Rather than take years to build a background, to gain acceptance, we were hoping an established resident could provide the cover we need.'

  'Why me?'

  'Your house is rather isolated. Easier for our man to come and go as he pleases without nosy neighbors wondering what he's up to. You and your family have been residents of Palmer for generations, respected, well liked. Anyone you vouch for will be accepted.'

  She narrowed her eyes as she studied the man. It was all true. Should she cooperate? It was hard to imagine any of her neighbors involved in the drug trade. 'And the cover story?'

  Brownley looked at her for a long moment. 'A visiting cousin?'

  'I don't have any cousins. Everyone in town knows both my parents were only children. I'm an only child.' She thought a moment. 'Maybe a son of an old school-friend of my mom's. She has several friends from other areas of California. She's forever going visiting.' Jenny shook her head. 'I don't know, though. A friend's son would stay with Mom, not me.'

  'A cousin of your late husband?'

  Jenny considered that, then slowly nodded. 'Yes, Johnny's dad had several brothers and sisters that live elsewhere. He's dead now, too, and Johnny's mother went to live with her sister in Sacramento.' She looked at him. 'Why would he come to stay with me, though?'

  'He's a writer, needs a quiet place to work? Given to wandering around while thinking up a new plot?' Brownley suggested.

  Jenny shrugged. 'If you think it’ll work.’

  ‘We’ll fine-tune the story as we go. Maybe you could rent the room. You probably could used the money renting a room would bring.’

  She shook her head. ‘As an accountant, I need to project confidence in my clientele, which I would not do if I couldn’t manage my own finances.’

  ‘Then you’ll be helping out your husband’s cousin. It’s the peace and quiet he’s looking for,’ Brownley mused as he appeared to be talking to himself.

  ‘When would he arrive?’ she asked, wondering how dangerous it would be. If there were truly pot growers in the area, they could be ruthless. Would she get any fallout from harboring the DEA agent?

  ‘Actually, not for a few weeks. The reason I wanted to lay the groundwork is so you can start talking about your expected visitor. Springing to your friends would cause as much talk as if our agent just pitched a tent in the town center. We'd like you to begin telling people your husband's cousin is coming this summer, lay the foundation of his relationship. Get people used to the idea.'

  'And how long will your agent stay?'

  'Until we find out where the fields are and who might be responsible. It could be months, maybe a few weeks. The department will pick up the cost of housing him with you, of course.'

  Jenny looked at her visitor, considering the implications of the proposal he had made. Then the thought of marijuana being grown near Palmer, the thought of all the havoc drugs caused helped her make up her mind.

  'Okay, Mr. Brownley, you’ve got a deal. What do I do?'

  'We'll be in touch with all the details as soon as we formulate them. We wanted your co-operation before going further with the planning stage. Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Warwick.' Brownley stood. 'If you have any questions, or second thoughts, please give me a call.' He handed her a business card. 'If for any reason I'm not there, my secretary can locate me. One more thing. Men who deal in drugs are ruthless and uncaring about any harm they cause. They’ll protect their business at all costs. Don’t tell anyone about my visit or our agent’s mission. Even a best friend could inadvertently let something slip that could mean serious danger for our agent and you.' He glanced at the dog. ‘At least you have some protection.’

  ‘The very best,’ she said, resting her hand on Shasta’s neck.

  Shasta had stood when she did, never taking his eyes from Brownley.

  Jenny walked him out and watched ass the car vanished down her drive. Sitting on the top step, Jenny hugged Shasta. 'So we're to become government agents. What fun!'

  Shasta rested his head on her leg and waited patiently as Jenny sat on the porch, her imagination running riot. Who could be involved in something like this? She reviewed all the families she knew, imagination balking at anyone's involvement. Maybe it was a false alarm. She wished she could talk with Betsy or April. They’d all been friends from kindergarten. But mindful of the inherent dangers, she
’d honor Brownley’s wishes and keep silent.

  ***

  Jenny waited more than two weeks before the next call from Mr. Brownley came.

  'I'll come straight to the point.' He was all business, no pleasantries. 'The cover story needs to change a little. Have you told many people yet?'

  'Actually, I only mentioned to my parents that one of Johnny's cousins might be coming this summer. Thankfully it was in a store and they didn’t have a chance to ask questions. I'm not very good at this. I need more information on the background on this guy so I'm ready for the next time I see them. If they buy into to, I’ll tell a few friends, one who is a notorious gossip.'

  'Scrap the writer story, if you can, or change it. This cousin was injured in a motorcycle accident and needs time to convalesce. Fortunately he's a college professor and has the summer off. The accident occurred the day after spring break started, so he's disappointed not to be able to finish the year and take his summer vacation to Europe as he planned, but is grateful his cousin's widow will let him recuperate in the mountains. Think you can handle that one?'

  'Yes, of course. When will he arrive?'

  'Late next week.'

  'So soon? I'd better get to town and casually drop hints around. Good cover story, Mr. Brownley. No one expects an injured man to be fit enough to tramp around in the woods or to be able to tackle criminals.'

  There was a pause on the other end. Jenny thought she detected a trace of amusement when he spoke again. 'Yes. I see you're entering into the spirit of the adventure. A word of caution, Mrs. Warwick.' His voice grew serious, 'This is not a game. The stakes are high. Men have been killed over less. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let our agent know or call me. I appreciate your help, but I don't want anything to happen to you because of it. Am I making myself clear?'

  'Yes, sir. I've no desire to be a heroine. But I am glad to be of some help. The room will be ready. What's his name?'

  There was another pause, then, 'Good grief, I don't know what we want to call him! I'll check back with you on that. We’ll we need to tally with the background we're providing. Talk to you soon.'

  As soon as Jenny hung up the receiver, she thought of a couple of other questions she should have asked. Should she call him back? No, it was only a week or so until the agent arrived; she could flesh out the story then. A name would be good, however. She hoped no one asked her specifically.

  Going into town, she casually mentioned the arrival of the invalid to each of the owners of the businesses she worked for. Going to the drug store, she also dropped a word in Susie Lewis's ear. Susie, while one of Jenny's long-time friends, delighted in spreading all the scoop as she called it. The whole town would know in a couple of days.

  Twice more in the next few days she ventured into town, and brought the subject up. When she had lunch with April, her friend asked specific questions that she didn't know the answer to. She was vague, suddenly realizing she could put a man’s life in jeopardy if she made a mistake.

  'You know Johnny. He was never big on family. I've heard him mention some of the cousins, but I've never met any that didn't come here to visit. We always meant to go one day.' Her sad look immediately caused a change in conversation and further answers were not required. Jenny felt badly about deceiving her friends, but the warning from Brownley dominated.

  Returning home on Tuesday, Jenny stopped by the garage in total surprise when she saw who was on the porch, leaning against the front door. Large as life with Shasta lying complacently by his side, sat Kyle Martin!

  'What in the world are you doing here?' She climbed out of her car and walked quickly up the path to the porch steps, glancing around to see if there was anyone else in the area. Only the soft chirping of birds could be heard.

  'I checked the back door but, since the glass has been repaired, I didn't want to push my luck by breaking it again. I've been waiting for you.' He didn't get up and when Jenny got over her initial surprise she looked him over.

  His left arm was in a sling. He still leaned against the door, looking tired and drawn. Her eyes were drawn to the duffel bag and laptop case nearby.

  'Kyle,' she said warily, 'what are you doing here?'

  'Thought I'd come to pay you a visit. Got my present, I see.' He ran his hand along Shasta’s back. The German Shepherd wagged his tail.

  She glared at the dog. ‘Some guard dog you are,’ she scolded. 'Don't you know a crook when you see one?'

  Kyle chuckled, ruffling the fur on the dog's neck. 'He's a nice dog, I think. Do you like him?'

  'Kyle, you've got to go. You can't stay here. I'm expecting someone later this week. You can't stay.'

  'What a girl you are for always expecting someone! Your husband last winter, a visitor later this week.'

  'I mean it, you can't stay. You'll be lucky if I don't call the police.'

  'You didn't last time.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I know.'

  'Are you on the run?' she asked suspiciously, again glancing at the luggage.

  'I need a place to stay for a while, and I thought you could put me up.'

  Her heart lurched against her ribs at the thought. Why was he so attractive? His dark hair was wavy, an unruly lock falling across his forehead, his dark eyes fathomless and remote. She realized she hadn't forgotten one detail about him. It wasn't fair that rogues and crooks should be handsome. They should be as ugly as their deeds.

  Frustrated that he wouldn't take no for an answer, she shook her head firmly. 'No, you can't stay!'

  Slowly he struggled to his feet, pale and unsteady. Jenny bit her lip, longing to reach out to help him. She remembered him as strong, large, and very virile. What had happened to him? Why was his arm in a sling?

  'Were you in a gun fight?' she asked, suspiciously.

  'Yeah. I'm going to make it, though.' He drew out his wallet, flipped it open and held it out to her. 'Read it. The joke’s gone far enough. I need to lie down and you won't let me in until you know. I'm the DEA agent Brownley sent.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jenny was astonished!

  'You're a government agent? A law enforcement officer?' Her surprise reflected in the disbelief of her voice. 'I don't believe it!'

  Kyle smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way she had remembered so many times. His skin was pale, however, without the healthy tan he’d had last March. There were new lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked haggard and ill.

  'That's me. Check out the ID. Then can we go in? I haven't been out of the hospital long, and the ride up was tiring.'

  She looked at him suspiciously again. 'Let me see that ID.' She studied it carefully. It was very like the one Stuart Brownley had shown her. Slowly she handed it back.

  'Since when does the US government condone tricking its citizens, condone breaking and entering and...'

  'Jenny, have a heart, I'm about all in. Can we go into this later?' Kyle leaned against the wall, his skin whiter than ever.

  Jenny stepped by him to unlock the door and open it. 'Stalling for answers?' she asked.

  He made no response, reaching for his duffel bag.

  'I'll bring your things, you do look all in,' Jenny said in concern. 'I made up the guest room for you—for the agent, that is. It's upstairs in the back of the house. Can you handle the stairs?'

  'I know the way,' he murmured audaciously as he entered the house. ‘And yes, I can manage the stairs.’

  Leading the way, Kyle headed straight for the bedroom in question, Jenny close behind with his duffel bag and laptop.

  'God, I'm so tired.' Kyle sank down on the edge of the bed.

  'Lie back and rest, then,' Jenny said practically. 'I'll you something to drink.'

  ‘Thanks, that sounds good.’

  When she returned with the water, he was already asleep. Gently putting the glass on the dresser, she turned to watch him, see how he looked, curiosity about his injury rising by the moment. Time enough to ask about t
hat later, though, along with a few other things! He must be exhausted to fall asleep so quickly.

  As she worked during the afternoon, an ear cocked in case he awoke, a slow anger began. If he was a DEA agent he should have told her last winter. Or any time in the months between then and now.

  When she finished work for the day, there was still no sound from upstairs. She wavered between anger and compassion. Had he really been in a gunfight? He looked totally wiped out when he’d reached the bedroom. But it was hard to believe anything given their history.

  Knowing she would be cooking for two, Jenny had stocked up on her last grocery shopping trip. Now, as she warmed the green beans for dinner, anger seemed to flare again.

  How dared he not identify himself last winter? He had known she was scared, and one flick of his ID badge would have cleared everything up. And how dared he tease her today? If he were an agent, and his identification looked like Mr. Brownley's, then he should have made himself known to her instantly on both occasions. Especially last winter. There would have been no need to break into her house. He could have identified himself, and she would have let him in.

  A sudden thought came to her–had he suspected her of dealing in marijuana?

  Impossible. He probably got off on keeping things mysterious. He likely thought it hilarious that she didn't know he was the agent Brownley was sending. She was surprised he hadn't broken in the window again; he'd had no compunction last winter. He probably thought it amusing to use her home as his base. Why hadn't she had any suspicions that he was the same man?

  Because he had never identified himself and she’d thought he was a crook.

  By the time the meal was ready, Jenny still hadn’t heard a sound from upstairs. Should she call him to come to dinner? Should she let him sleep?

  A small twinge of guilt niggled at her. She had thought Brownley's new story a cover-up, faked to fool the drug growers into thinking the agent was weak. In fact, he was, but was it the result of a motorcycle accident or a gunfight?