by Jade Powers
Wendy expelled the breath she was holding.
“Hang on a minute,” the phone was silent and then McFarland answered. Wendy detailed the situation.
“Damn. This confirms my suspicions.” McFarland asked a few questions about Carson’s injury which Wendy answered to the best of her ability. She said, “Do you think he’ll be okay? The people who took him wouldn’t kill him, would they?”
Wendy felt a sudden ache in her chest. She couldn’t bear to hear what McFarland had to say.
The man danced around the subject, neatly avoiding a real answer. He said, “I can make arrangements to help. Given your story, it seems you’re stuck. Do you need anything?”
“A hotel room and a few nights sleep. If there’s someone you trust, I could also use transportation and size 10 jeans and an X-Large t-shirt. I don’t dare return to the house. They’ll still be watching for me.
“Not for long, but you’re right to be cautious. I’ll take care of everything. Just a moment...” The phone was silent so long Wendy almost hung up. Had it been a call to a friend she would have. She needed help too badly to cut off her one life-line.
After several minutes McFarland came back on the phone. “You’re all settled. There’s a Wilson Inn hotel across the street from the cardiac offices on 4th and Fir Street. I’ve got you registered as Holly May and I’ve made it clear that you lost your identification. I’ll send a driver tomorrow. He will be using the name George Lemon.”
“Lemon?” Wendy asked.
“It’s easy to remember. Be careful. They’ll be looking for you until I can get this thing shut down.”
Wendy thanked McFarland and hung up the phone. She stayed in the shadow of the phone booth, watching. Eventually she’d have to leave, but she didn’t know what direction. Instead of dashing out and wandering around looking for the street and hotel, Wendy waited for someone to walk past. Hopefully someone with scrubs who knew the hospital grounds.
Holly May. George Lemon. Wilson Inn Hotel.
Wendy repeated the names over and over. Mistakes at this juncture could be deadly.
Finally a woman in blue scrubs walked by. Wendy was so excited to talk to her that when she swept out of the phone booth at a hundred miles an hour, the woman screamed.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for the Wilson Inn Hotel. It’s somewhere around here.” Wendy felt sorry for startling the nursing assistant. The woman had lifted her hand to her mouth and had already taken three steps backwards and was almost in the street.
It took the woman a second to realize that Wendy wasn’t assaulting her. Pointing, the woman answered, “Three streets down and two to the right.”
Wendy murmured thanks and headed in the direction the nursing assistant gave. She didn’t like the feeling of being out in the open. Not when she’d been running for a couple of days.
She might be more obvious running, but Wendy couldn’t help it. She felt the need to run. She sprinted down the road, stopping only when she came to the crosswalk. When she saw the hotel, she purposely turned sharply and went into the cardio offices. She hurried through the building, looking for another exit. She found a side exit and took it. Wendy ran the rest of the way to the hotel.
Chapter 11
CARSON KNEW HE WAS in trouble the minute four men showed up to escort him to another facility. One officer and two MP’s, at least that’s what they wanted everyone to think. They also had a ‘doctor’ who would take over Carson’s care.
It was highly unusual, but the hospital processed the paperwork. It must have looked official enough. It was scary what money could buy. When the men collected him, complete with ambulance and gurney, Carson smiled and shook the officer’s hand and leaned back without a complaint. He didn’t even act surprised.
They loaded him into the ambulance. One of the MP’s climbed into the back with Carson. He had no idea where everyone else went. The guy was under orders not to talk. That much was clear. Once the gurney was strapped in, the man took his place.
The trip took at least two hours, maybe more. When the ambulance stopped, the MP unstrapped the gurney. Carson was wheeled up the dock of a facility with razor wire and guard towers. It was a prison.
They wheeled him to the prison’s medical staff. He was processed as a prisoner. Carson asked, “What’s the charge?”
“Burglary.”
Carson didn’t bother to say another word. Whatever they had was made-up and it didn’t do any good to argue, unless they were going to charge him for taking the bike. He just hoped Drake caught wind of this fiasco before he ended up prosecuted.
IT HAD BEEN A LONG, hard week. Wendy followed George Lemon into the New York skyscraper hoping that she wasn’t about to be jumped or murdered. She met McFarland on the sixty-fifth floor of his building.
McFarland was in a terrible mood. He shook Wendy’s hand with a deep scowl that scared her.
The clothes they had found for her were loose. At least she didn’t have to hold up her pants. After a shower and a night’s sleep, Wendy felt much better. Apparently she was the only one. When she saw McFarland, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“The traitor in our midst was my right-hand man. It took years to train him. He’s been arrested,” McFarland sighed. He ran a hair through grey hair and said, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I couldn’t believe it when Jason moved on you.”
“Jason?”
“We were on a first name basis. He was truly my most trusted coworker. With the laws he was breaking in my name, it would have been a matter of time before someone accused me. He would have joined my accusers and made sure it stuck. I’m lucky you uncovered him before it happened.” McFarland leaned back in his chair. He still had that ramrod posture. His leaning back was a bit different from the way a guy not in the military might have done it.
Wendy said, “And you think he killed my husband?”
“Although I can’t discuss the situation in depth due to the integrity of a few missions, I can say that he ordered the murder of seventeen people, your husband included. I requested a third party supervise the removal of my assistant’s computer from the office. At my request, a warrant was served to search his private property and a laptop with connections to several thefts and murders has been seized. It will take years to untangle the web, but you stopped him.”
It was what Wendy wanted, no, needed, to hear, but it still made her want to bawl like a little baby. If only McFarland had put it all together sooner, John would still be alive. She said, “What about Carson?”
“He’ll be on his way back to New York tomorrow. He was in a lot of pain from getting jostled in the ambulance, so the doc wants to keep him over night. I’m sending a car for him in the morning.”
“Thank you. I can’t thank you enough,” Wendy took McFarland’s hands.
He was clearly uncomfortable, carefully removing his hands from Wendy’s grasp.
She felt like she should apologize, but she held her tongue. McFarland said, “I’ve taken the liberty of sending your suitcases from the main house and setting you up in The Blue Tower. You can accompany me home for dinner with my wife and then I’ll drive you to the hotel. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine.”
Wendy managed dinner without a faux pas and returned to the hotel. The adventure was over, but the ending left Wendy feeling empty and unfulfilled. Carson would have no need to stick around now. She couldn’t sleep that night. She kept thinking about those nights with Carson and wondering what might have been.
Well, it didn’t matter. Wendy would go home, and Carson would go to his next assignment. It was over.
THE NEXT DAY WENDY was waiting when Carson’s limo stopped in front of McFarland’s offices. She would have run into his hug, but she didn’t want to hurt him worse.
Still, they had a dignified hug and when their heads were close together, Carson whispered, “Would you like to go on a date with me? Dinner and The Phantom of the Opera?
“I would love it,” Wendy s
aid. She hesitated. Her heart was vulnerable. She longed for Carson, but she wasn’t over John. Casual dating seemed like an insult to John. But dating for a partner seemed like too much pressure. Finally she said, “What are you looking for? I mean, I don’t want to casually date. If you’re planning on a few nights of passion and then running off to a job, we should just be friends and end it here.”
Carson lifted his good hand, brushing a strand of hair from Wendy’s forehead. Gazing into his eyes, Wendy knew he cared for her. She didn’t need words for that. But she wanted them. She wanted assurances that Carson wouldn’t disappear. She needed stability. He said, “I don’t have a home base right now. Ever since AIT closed down, I’ve been drifting. Drake took pity on me and has been throwing me half-bogus assignments. I don’t think he really believed that you were in danger.”
“He probably didn’t expect me to run off to New York to face down John’s killer either.” Wendy joked.
“None of us expected that,” Carson said. He kissed Wendy on the forehead, “What I’m trying to say is that we have time. I know you’re still dealing with John’s death, and I’m not going to pressure you. I’d like to hang around in Arizona if it’s not too much pressure.”
Wendy smiled shyly and said, “Is there another place you favor more? I’ve been thinking about selling the house. It has so many memories and sometimes I feel haunted by them.”
“I’ll move to Arizona, get a job as a bouncer or bar tender. In the meantime, process your grief and figure out what you need. We’ll date proper. John would want you wooed and looked after. If you want to move after we’ve gone through a proper courtship, I’ll go wherever you want. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Wendy enjoyed every minute of the date. They stayed out late. Carson dropped her off at her hotel room door. With a smile, he teased, “No kissing on the first date. Would you like to go out with me tomorrow? I’ve got a pair of plane tickets to Arizona.”
Wendy giggled, “So you can get the ten dates over with faster?”
“Ten?” Carson asked woefully.
“You were calculating our first kiss and thought I would kiss you after three dates?” Wendy guessed, laughing. Her eyes danced with joy. It had been a long time since Carson had seen Wendy that happy.
“Yes, but I thought conventional wisdom said three.”
Wendy took Carson’s hand, her eyes blazing and she said, “Did you ever get the impression that I was conventional?”
Carson gulped. “It’s going to be a long ten dates.”
Wendy didn’t shut the door in Carson’s face. That would have been rude. Instead she grinned and took his hand. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Stepping back, Wendy closed the door very gently, her eyes laughing because of that silly grin on Carson’s face. She stood on tiptoe watching while Carson stood in the hall. She didn’t leave until he shook his head and strolled to his room four doors down.
That night Wendy dreamed again. This time she and John were on a ten foot boat with a single motor, the kind great for lakes. She and John had never owned a boat, but it had been his dream.
“I love you, John. I always have.” Wendy didn’t know what words to say to change time, to go back and fix things so that she and John could live to be an old married couple putting together puzzles and eating breakfast out.
“I know, Sweetheart.” John kissed her, and his lips tasted like golden syrup. The boat swayed under his movement. Wendy clutched John, unwilling to let go, afraid that he would leave her again. He held her for a long time, until she could bear the parting. Her soul filled up with his love and relaxed in the light of their bliss.
John had always been handsome, but now he looked ten years younger, his worry lines gone, and a big smile on his face. He said, “This will be the last time you see me. The next time will be when you join me. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”
“It’s hard not having you near. I won’t be happy for a long time, but I’ll get there eventually.” Wendy wouldn’t lie to John. It had never been her way.
Sunlight sparkled on the water. The colors were so vivid, more deep and bright and real than anything Wendy had ever seen. John said, “Don’t go back to the house. Stay with Carson for the next few weeks. Wendy, this is very important.”
“I can’t impose like that. He’ll think I’m forward,” Wendy loved John, but she couldn’t just tell Carson that her husband, the husband who passed, wanted her to live with Carson. Carson would send her to a therapist.
John rubbed her arm. It felt like the sun touching her skin. He said, “Tell him about this dream and tell him what I said. Then remind him of Grady road. I don’t want him guarding your house, either. He’ll just get himself hurt or killed. Take your jewelry, photos, valuables, and clothes. Take everything important. You’ll have a couple of days to gather your belongings, but then stay out of the house.”
“Why?”
“There is danger.”
“What danger?”
The dream ended.
Wendy opened her eyes, punching the bed when she realized that John hadn’t shared the rest with her. Wendy complained aloud, “Why is death so cryptic, so invisible? You could have just told me what was coming. Now I don’t even know what to prepare for.”
The room was silent. Somehow Wendy expected to hear John’s soft voice explain everything. If she could dream once, she could dream twice. Wendy spent the rest of the night in a restless half-sleep, anxiously calling for John, trying to recapture the lost dream.
In the morning, she despaired because it was truly over. John had said it was the last time he would see her in her dreams. Wendy had wanted him to be wrong so badly. She felt pain in her heart, but it was more a final letting go pain than grief. Somehow, he had soothed her enough that she could bear the idea that they had finally parted. She would see him again. Now she had no doubt.
Chapter 12
THE FLIGHT HOME WAS a time for sharing. Wendy discovered that Carson was allergic to shellfish and loved home-made chocolate chip cookies while Carson heard of Wendy’s embarrassing first date with John, and how she watched a clock that never moved when she worked at the mini-mart.
“You don’t really want to go back to work next week, do you?” Carson asked. His tray table was down and he was deeply engaged in a concentrated bout with the complimentary peanut bag which did not want to open. The bag of peanuts was winning.
Wendy must not have been able to keep the longing for freedom out of her voice when she talked about going back. Even with the danger and the fear, Wendy had felt alive while they were in New York. She couldn’t stand another day staring at the second hand and realizing that only five minutes had passed since the last time she looked. She had been so close to all of her dreams two years before.
Carson hauled Wendy’s suitcases from her trip to New York into his rental home. Wilkerson was a small community. Carson was lucky to get the small rental a few miles out of town on such short notice. He’d signed up for a month. Unfortunately, it was a firm move-out date.
Carson showed Wendy the guest room. The house was fully furnished with three bedrooms. Wendy had a no-nonsense way of dealing with things that Carson liked. The first night at the house, Wendy offered to cook. She wanted to show off her mad skills with a frying pan.
“I don’t have any food in the house,” Carson admitted just as Wendy was opening the refrigerator door to see what was available.
He wasn’t kidding. Empty didn’t describe it. Barren was closer. “You don’t even have ketchup.”
“We could order out tonight and go shopping tomorrow,” Carson suggested. After their flight, they were both ready to relax.
“That sounds good but you do realize we’re in a small town. There’s no place to order out...unless you want to get something from the diner to go.”
“Do you want to do that?”
“If it’s not safe to go to my house, how would it be saf
e to go to the diner?” Wendy asked.
Carson thought back to what Wendy said. With a triumphant hoot, he said, “In your dream, John said you had a little time to pack your house, which means you also have time to go to the diner. We’ll eat out tonight, pack your house tomorrow morning, and then hide away here in my mountain abode for the rest of the week.”
Wendy couldn’t find fault with the plan, so she agreed.
CARSON SLEPT A GOOD fourteen hours. Between his injuries and the flight, not to mention helping her move her house, Carson was exhausted. They had packed all of the important things, the treasures and keepsakes, jewelry and clothes. Carson had reminded Wendy to get the photo album. By the time she was done, her own house looked like an austere museum. They loaded the car with boxes and stuffed them into the rental house garage.
The strange part about it was that it was Carson who pushed Wendy to get her most important items out. He reminded her what John said, finishing with, “It’s better to take them and feel silly that nothing happened than not take them and be devastated because it did.”
One thing for sure...Wendy would be ready to sell when she finally did decide what she was going to do for the rest of her life. Wendy puttered around the rental home for an hour feeling utterly at odds with herself. She had even cleaned out her cupboards, packing any dry good food items that she had on hand and bringing them to Carson’s rental. Between that and grocery shopping, they were well settled.
Taking the tea kettle from its perch, Wendy set a pot of water to boiling. Waiting with a box of PG Tips, Wendy came to a startling realization. That low-grade pain that had accompanied her since John’s death was gone. It was as if she’d been given antibiotics for a long-term infection or had a tooth filled. That ache that undercut every single thing she did had disappeared. She hadn’t realized how much her heart had hurt all those months.
Now, Wendy felt hopeful. She took her cup of tea outside, sitting on the patio chair that faced the mountain side. The house stood halfway up the mountain and the view was spectacular. She breathed in the cold air and sipped her tea. The moment was peaceful and full of possibility. She felt truly free.