by ANDREA SMITH
Once again I felt shivers run up and down my spine as I wondered how much of a role Jack had played in this criminal network. He was at work now. I wondered if he was even aware that this had taken place. My cell phone rang; I jumped. It was Brenda again.
“So - did you recognize any of them?” she asked excitedly. I had shared with Brenda that Slate was not interested in Lindsey after the July 4th cook-out. I had not shared anything else per his instructions to me. As far as Brenda knew, Slate had left Indianapolis to take care of some pressing business and would be back at some point. She still considered him to be ‘shady’ as she put it.
“A couple of them yeah,” I replied. “I think one of them was called ‘Hammer’ and I definitely saw ‘Flush’ too.”
“As in he can ‘flush’ the rest of his sorry ass life down the toilet?” she asked, laughing.
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t recognize anyone else though?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hmm, I don’t know; thought maybe one of those guys in the FBI shirts might have caught your eye.”
(Holy shit! Brenda couldn’t possibly have recognized Slate. The one and only time she had seen him was for about ten seconds. That was months ago, plus his hair was longer back then. She was simply fishing.)
“Brenda - I’m not following you. What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Never mind Sam; just be ready when you wake up one morning to the sound of federal agents at your door.”
“That is so not funny, Brenda. I haven’t heard a damn thing in days from Donovan. Did you happen to see him there during the footage?”
“No and I was looking for him, too. Relax though, whatever Jack has been doing doesn’t implicate you. If anything, you have assisted the authorities.”
“You know that; I know that; but who is to say they will believe I had no knowledge of it all along?”
“Hey, I’m sorry, hon. I was just kidding about the knock on the door. I’m sure all the evidence resides at Banion.”
That didn’t make me feel a whole lot better when I considered that it was my father’s name on that company and the shame that would be brought to it because of Jack. I was really feeling depressed.
I showered and dressed for the day after I got off of the phone with Brenda. I managed to eat some fruit and granola; then set about keeping busy with household chores.
My mother called late in the afternoon to see how I was feeling. I told her about my recent visit to the doctor, leaving out the part about Slate barging in. I told her that everything was going well and the doctor was pleased.
“That’s good to know Samantha,” she said. “Your father and I wondered if you wanted to go out for dinner tomorrow for your birthday.”
“Does Jack have to go?”
“That’s entirely up to you, sweetheart.”
“Can I call you tomorrow to let you know, Mom?
“That will be fine, Samantha.”
She asked if I had been watching the local news at all today. I told her that I had. She wanted to talk about the big bust at the biker club. She claimed she had heard from several ladies at ‘the club’ that more arrests were to be made that included several prominent businessmen in the Indianapolis area.
(Oh dear Lord - if she only knew.)
I wanted so much to warn her about the impending disaster but I knew that I couldn’t. It tore me up inside.
“Listen Mom, I have to go put the clothes from the washer into the dryer. I will call you tomorrow about dinner, okay?”
“Okay Samantha; talk to you then.”
I finished up the laundry and got dinner started. Lindsey got home at her normal time; she told me that Jack had said he was stopping at the gym so not to hold dinner for him. She rolled her eyes when she gave me the information.
Lindsey and I sat down to dinner alone. She didn’t seem to be upset about anything so maybe things were slowly falling into place for her with the understanding that her parents would be splitting sometime in the near future. She told me that she was going to hang out with Julie later in the evening. They were going to the mall and then to the club for a late swim. Frankly, I was glad that she seemed to be getting back into the swing of things.
She cleaned up the kitchen for me before going upstairs to shower and get ready for the evening. It was just past 7:30 p.m. I had just settled down in the family room turning the television on when the landline rang. It was Jack.
“Sammie,” he said, “I am on my way to the airport to catch a flight to Charlotte. Some things have come up and it is urgent I get there as soon as possible for damage control.”
“What happened, Jack?”
“The general contractor over the project was skimping on building materials; wiring, piping, things like that. The building inspector caught it early but all construction has halted until we can get it sorted out and up to code. I may be there for a week or more.”
“Fine, Jack.”
“I’m sorry I won’t be here for your birthday, Sammie. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”
“Yes, there is. Please don’t call me ‘Sammie’ anymore. Call me Samantha; got it?”
There was a silent pause as Jack tried to figure out where the hell I was coming from on this.
“Sure thing,” he replied, “I’ll call you in a couple of days when I know more.”
“Goodbye, Jack.”
CHAPTER 42
I was sleeping peacefully beneath my sheets, dreaming of Slate. I felt his lips on mine as I welcomed his mouth with my own. I could smell his masculine scent; it was a mixture of soap and aftershave that was his alone.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered against my lips, his tongue tracing my lower one. My eyes flew open. I wasn’t dreaming; he was right here beside me in bed. His warm, muscular body was molded up against mine. I closed my eyes, moaning with happiness and pleasure. He was kissing my lips, the tip of my nose, my eyelids.
“You’re really here,” I said, smiling up at him. His hands were now all over me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position.
“Where you going?” he asked, pulling me back against him.
“Slate - please. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”
He pulled himself up so that he was sitting beside me; I had his full attention.
“What is it, babe?”
“I saw you on the television yesterday morning. You were in a dark blue ‘FBI’ shirt; ball cap on backwards; leading ‘Hammer’ to the paddy wagon.”
He nodded, still watching me.
“So didn’t that blow your cover?”
“It’s kind of a moot point at the moment with the bikers.”
“But what about Jack; what if Jack has seen that clip and recognized you?”
“Sammie, it was a very brief clip; I doubt very much that he would have recognized me with the FBI garb and ball cap pulled down on my forehead.”
“I recognized you, Slate. If I did, then he could have, too.”
“Babe - do you have reason to think that he did?”
“Nothing concrete; it’s just a feeling. He told Lindsey to tell me he was going to work late last evening and not hold dinner. Then he called a little after seven and said he had to take a late flight out immediately to Charlotte; something about the construction being stopped on the distribution center that is underway for Banion. He made it sound like he could be gone for a week or more.”
“Shit,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his jean pocket and hitting a speed dial number.
“Donovan - who’s watching Dennison?”
There was a momentary pause; Slate rubbed his thumb back and forth on his forehead waiting for an answer.
“What’s that? His car is still there in the parking garage?” He looked over at me, covering the mike on his phone.
“Have them check to see if Susanne Reynard’s car is still there. She drives a 2012, black Ford Mustang convertible,” I instructed.
I could tell Slate was on edge; I was certain that Jack had eluded them and slithered out by way of Susanne’s car. He probably had crouched down in the backseat like the coward he was.
“What’s that? God damn it,” he snarled, “You tell Agent Hatfield I want to see him at field headquarters at zero eight hundred hours. Send Daugherty to the airport to see what he can find out; I’m sure it’s too fucking late at this point.” Slate shut his phone off. At that moment I felt very fortunate that I wasn’t Agent Hatfield.
He turned back to me; raking his hand through his thick, dark hair.
“Call Jack right now on his cell phone,” he ordered none too gently.
I jumped to grab the landline phone and pushed the speed dial to Jack’s number. A recording came on stating that the cell phone number was no longer in service. I held the phone up so that Slate could hear it.
“Fuck,” he said. “Is there anything else you can think of to tell me?”
“Yes, there is. You need to know right now that I’m afraid. You don’t tell me shit because of blowing your cover then I fucking see it on the local news; I have no clue how deep Jack is involved in this whole mess. Am I going to have to find that out on the local news as well? Am I going to be one of those persons that wake up one morning to the sound of federal agents at my door?”
“I actually prefer sliding in through the unlocked terrace doors to your bedroom in case you haven’t noticed, babe.”
“It’s not funny, Slate. This is my life we’re talking about here; this involves Lindsey’s life, too. You’re not telling me shit about anything.”
I was pissed now and making no bones about it. Tears of frustration were building up; I felt like kicking and screaming. I might have done so except for the fact that I had heard Lindsey come home a little after midnight and I didn’t want to risk waking her.
“Hey, come here,” he said gently, pulling me up into his lap. He gently stroked my hair with his hand. “It’s because I can’t, baby. Do you trust me?”
“What choice do I have?”
“You have a choice, Sammie. Everyone has a choice. Now do you trust me?”
“I guess I do; I’m just not sure that you trust or believe me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, Slate - you’ve never once told me that I have nothing to worry about; that I’m not under suspicion; that Jack hasn’t somehow involved me in this by the mere fact that we are married and have joint accounts. You’ve never once assured me that my baby won’t be born inside some woman’s prison,” I sobbed to him, burying my face into my arms that were wrapped around my knees.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, kissing the top of my head, “I’m sorry, baby. I guess I didn’t think how this might be affecting you. I have never doubted your innocence, okay? This is my investigation; I’m the lead on this and trust me, I have seen my share of evidence and in no way does it implicate you; or your father’s company as an entity. I can tell you that much.”
“What about the biker that is still at large. Can you tell me who it is?”
“It’s Slash,” he replied, kissing my face. “He can’t get to you, don’t worry.”
“Did Slash have any direct dealings with Jack?”
“No,” he replied, “It was all very indirectly done through an intermediary in Fort Wayne, okay?”
I nodded; then worried once again.
“Is Slash after you, Slate?”
“Probably. I’m not worried though. I don’t want you to be worried that he’s followed me either, understand? I would never put you at risk. Besides, Slash is more worried about saving his own hide at this point than retribution.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“So are we good then?”
I raised my face up to his and we kissed.
“Maybe,” I said, starting to feel better.
“Only maybe?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, his eyes full of amusement. “How can I change that ‘maybe’ into a ‘definitely’?”
“Hmm - well maybe the G-man can make nice to my G-spot,” I said, squirming away from him on the bed. I pulled my nightgown up and over my head; Slate was naked within seconds. We dove underneath the sheets together.
“I think that can be arranged for the birthday girl,” he whispered as his hands expertly started their exploration.
When I awoke Slate was gone. I pulled the sheet up under my chin, and bit my lower lip like I always did when I worried about something. We had made love several times throughout the night. I didn’t give a damn what he said; it was not fucking this time; it was love. I worried that somehow this piece of happiness I had found would disappear as suddenly as it had arrived. I really did love him.
I got up to use the bathroom. I had to pee more than usual which was to be expected as my pregnancy progressed. I was officially thirty-six years old I thought as I glanced in the mirror to see what that looked like.
I didn’t look any different than I had the day before when I was still thirty five - with one exception: I now had a large hickey over my left boob.
I had to smile as I thought about my Slate; his hickeys were the equivalent of a male dog marking ‘his territory.’ It really was kind of cute.
I showered and dressed. As I pulled the bracelet that Slate had given me out of the jewelry box where I stored it, I found something new in there. It was wrapped in tissue paper. I opened it carefully and found a pair of beautiful diamond stud earrings. There was a note folded up beneath it. I opened it and read:
‘Happy Birthday, Diamond Girl. - Love, S.’
CHAPTER 43
When Lindsey got up I was already in the kitchen making breakfast.
“You sure seem chipper this morning, Mom. Is it because it’s your birthday?” she asked with a wicked little smile on her face.
“Ha Ha,” I said, flipping a pancake onto her plate. “You are so funny, daughter. No, I just slept well, that’s all.”
“Well Happy Birthday, Mom. How are we celebrating your birthday anyway?”
“Oh,” I said, setting a glass of orange down in front of her, “Your grandmother called yesterday and wondered if we wanted to get together for dinner this evening.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said, sipping her orange juice. “Where’s Daddy? Has he already left for work?”
“Well no; actually he called while you were in the shower last evening, Lindsey. I didn’t see you before you left but he had to fly to Charlotte on a late flight. Apparently there is some trouble with the construction in Charlotte.”
“How long is he going to be there?”
“He said it might take up to a week or more to get it straightened out with the county inspection people.”
“Hmm,” she said, digging into her pancakes. I got the distinct impression that she wasn’t buying it either. It was uncanny how perceptive Lindsey was even about the father she loved dearly. It made me wish I had possessed the same gift at that age; things might have been a whole lot different now.
She finished up her breakfast and got ready for work. She wished me a ‘Happy Birthday’ again before she left, letting me know she would be home by six.
I had just finished cleaning up after breakfast when my cell phone rang. The caller identification came across as ‘G-Man’?
“Hello?”
“Hey baby,” the soft, sexy voice said.
“Slate?”
“Who the fuck else would be calling you that?”
“Did you program your number into my cell phone?”
“Uhh, yeah - is that a problem?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, “I just don’t remember you having access to it.”
“Baby, I can get access to about anything I want. Don’t you know that by now?”
I rolled my eyes, laughing at his cockiness.
“Hey,” I s
aid, “Thank you for the earrings. I found them this morning. I love them, Slate.”
“You’re welcome, babe. I thought they would look great on you. Listen, this call is about business. The Intel that we received this morning confirmed the fact that Jack was not on any flight to Charlotte. He was, however, booked on a flight from Indianapolis to Dallas, then a connection from Dallas to El Paso.”
“El Paso?”
“Yeah - it’s a border town. Most likely he has crossed over into Mexico.”
“I don’t understand. Jack has a passport. Why wouldn’t he simply fly into a city in Mexico?”
“Because babe, he is there illegally and doesn’t want a record of it. He is a fugitive from justice. There are outstanding warrants for him in the U.S. He got wind of it and booked. I need for you to meet me and Donovan at your bank. We need to check your accounts and with your permission it will be much quicker than getting a subpoena. Bring your identification and meet us there in thirty, got it?”
“Yeah - okay, Slate. See you then.”
Donovan and Slate were already there when I got to the bank. I knew Slate must have thought it strange that I couldn’t access my balances from the home computer, but there were two problems with that: Jack had taken the home computer out of the home; he had changed passwords on the savings and checking accounts. I had basically been using my debit card with no consideration given as to whether the charges would clear; they always did. Jack had not wanted me poking around in our finances since my last run-in with him. I hadn’t pressed the issue for obvious reasons.
We immediately got with the branch manager and sat down to go over the balances in the joint accounts. Jack had cleaned the savings out leaving a token $500 balance in it out of good faith. I would have had to sign something had he fully closed it out. Our checking account had a total of $5000 left in it.