by Cat Connor
She smoked a cigarette and watched quietly out the window. I readied myself for the impending shit-storm. I’d had two years and four months to figure it out and I’d spent most of it daydreaming. Now it was decision time.
I had forever wondered how her world revolved, where she walked, what her smile was like, her laughter and her tears.
I thought I would never know her like this. And now I’m taking her home.
The End
3 EVERY BEAT OF MY HEART
I was humming but it wasn’t long before the words popped out my mouth, “Ho ho fuc’n ho, what a crock of shit…we all work for Beatrice Claus and I’m sick of it.”
“Not a fan of Christmas?” Mac asked with a wicked grin. “Or is it the lunacy of my mother that’s riled you up?”
“I’m sure the day will be… interesting.”
I stretched my arms above my head, and loosened my shoulders. I noticed a small twinge in my right shoulder blade. Nothing to write home about just an annoyance, a reminder of something I’d sooner forget. I dropped my arms and rotated the offending shoulder.
“Tired?” Mac asked cutting yet another piece of red paper adorned with Santa’s and reindeer. His face suggested concentration on the task.
“Yeah. Looking forward to a break from work,” I replied. “Seems like an extraordinarily tough year so far.”
This was our first Christmas as a couple, an engaged couple at that.
Also, my first Christmas without Mom; which wasn’t a bad thing, it was just different.
We had Mac’s mom making a production out of Christmas.
Such a familiar pattern. Over the top decorating, everything has to be just right.
Too much food.
Color coordinated everything, including wrapping paper. I picked up another roll and cut a length off for the next gift. Best to get on with it. A fated resignation fell over me.
I dropped the roll of paper onto the thick carpet and commented, “Nice of your mother to supply the wrapping paper.”
Mac grinned, wrapped another gift, and wrote on the tag. “And the tags.”
Guess we were lucky to be able to choose our own gifts for the family. I wrote on another tag and stuck it to the parcel I’d wrapped.
“What time tomorrow?” I asked.
“Eight,” Mac replied.
I didn’t think he meant at night. “When’s lunch?”
“About two.”
I saw a long day in front of me. A long tortuous day.
I could tell Mac was enjoying the idea of having company in his tinseled hell. We both remembered the hideous wooden bows she was making earlier in the year. At my suggestion, she added everyone’s names. Now the hideous things adorned the outside of their house – hanging on a large wooden Christmas tree she’d also made. We’re talking ugly about fifteen feet tall – painted, lit with lights and hung with the God awful wooden bows which themselves were at least thirteen inches wide.
“A long long day,” I whispered.
My trepidation escalated much like his mother’s creation of Christmas. Beatrice Connelly loved Christmas. She loved it so much no one else had to.
“Don’t suppose you wanna make coffee? Mac asked with a smile.
I raised an eyebrow. “Actually I do…”
“That’d be nice.”
I held the bedroom door open to leave and his cat stalked in with her nose in the air. She eyed me with disdain.
“Won’t she rip the paper?” I asked, kissing him as I left.
“Yes, that’s why she’s not staying.” Seconds later the cat and I stood staring at each other on the landing as the bedroom door closed. I shrugged. She skulked downstairs ahead of me. In the kitchen, I turned the coffee maker on then filled her bowl with cat biscuits.
I left the cat eating and hurried into the home office Mac and I shared. I pulled open a drawer in my desk – my hand sort out a small box hidden in the back. It didn’t take long to find. I pulled it out and opened the lid. Nestled against the white satin lining sat a pair of citrine embedded silver cufflinks. They sparkled in the lamp light.
The coffee maker gurgled. The smell of fresh coffee made from one hundred percent Arabica beans wafted down the hallway. I found the small square of Christmas paper I had stashed days before in the office cupboard. Thick gold paper embossed with baubles of blue and silver. With care, I wrapped Mac’s surprise gift and added a blue and gold gift card. I hid the present in my handbag that sat on the kitchen counter.
Under our tree in the living room sat large wrapped boxes. In multi-colored paper – defying the orders that only one particular red paper be used this year. It was my tree in our home; I’d have what I liked. It was the rebel in me, or maybe the large dose of contrary I was born with.
There were presents for my father and brother, gifts for my best friend, Holly. Gifts for my colleagues slash trusted friends in Delta A, namely Sam, Lee and our boss SAC Caine Grafton.
The wall clock ticked.
I called up the stairs, “Dad and Aiden will be here soon.” A car pulled into the driveway. “They’re here …”
The bedroom door opened then shut. Mac bounded downstairs three at a time and raced me to the front door. I won.
“You cheated!” he crowed.
“I did not,” I replied turning the handle and trying to open the door. It stuck. I jiggled the door handle.
“Karma,” Mac said. “You cheated and the door knows.”
I tugged harder and it swung open.
“Did not.”
Aiden was already unloading the bags from the trunk. I spotted Dad fetching things from the back seat. My cell phone buzzed in my jeans pocket at the exact same moment as a black Ford Expedition pulled into the driveway behind dad’s car. Lee leaned over the passenger seat and waved at me. I waved back and checked my phone. Sure enough, the text was from Lee. ‘Not a social call - we have a case.’
Lee hauled from the car. “Howdy Colonel, Aiden,” he said. My father strode over and shook Lee’s hand. Aiden followed suit a reserved smile upon his lips. Mac’s arm snaked around my shoulders as he whispered in my ear, “Lee’s early.”
I whispered back, “we’ve been called out.”
“You’re on leave,” he reminded gently.
“It’s not a job, it’s a way of life.” I kissed him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” A dark part of me hoped it was a messy involved case and I’d be busy until New Years.
“No problem. I’ll hang out with the Colonel and your brother and hear all about young Ellie.”
“There’ll be a quiz later – take notes.”
Lee coughed quietly, indicating he was close by. “All set?”
“One sec.” I hurried back inside the house. I grabbed my gun and holster, and snapped the holster firmly to my belt, then stuffed my ID wallet into my jeans pocket. Pulled on a jacket from the closet in the hallway, charged into the kitchen, and hooked my handbag over my shoulder. Ready I stepped out the front door into the cold afternoon air.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
Aiden glared at me. “It’s Christmas.”
“I know.”
Lee held the car door for me. The three men waved from the doorstep. Half way down the street, I asked about Sam.
“He’ll meet us,” Lee replied flicking the window wipers on to swoosh snowflakes from the windscreen.
“Snowing,” I muttered watching more stick. “Why were we called?”
“Caine wants us in, that’s all I know. He said you’d know why when we get there.”
Oh, goodie a mystery. I held my sarcasm in check. “Where are we going?”
“DC.”
No kidding Einstein. My phone buzzed, it was Sam.
“How long will you be?” he asked.
“On our way – trouble?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, and this ain’t good.”
I hung up, leaned forward, and pressed a button on the dash. Our rolling lights sent beams of red and blue into t
he snowy air, the siren wailed. Cars began pulling off the road and out of our way. The drive took longer than it should have, with fresh snow falling and slippery conditions.
The radio station cranked out Christmas song after Christmas song, the temptation to sing along was high, but luckily for Lee I resisted.
Propelled through an open door by an unseen force, I found myself standing in the spacious foyer of a very expensive home. Two police officers stood inside the front door. They greeted us with nods and small smiles. In one corner of the room stood a huge tastefully decorated Christmas tree. Its lights twinkled and blinked, making the glass baubles seem alive. Presents wrapped in gold and silver with bows and iridescent ribbons piled high under the tree. I smiled to myself – someone else color coordinated Christmas. The strangled sobs of a young woman emanated from somewhere unseen to my right. They made me wish I were home. I’d even take my chances with Beatrice the mother-in-law from tinsel-hell. Sam seemed to emerge from an ornate wall, he hurried over to us.
We shook hands. He placed a large hand in the middle of my back, both to usher me forward and to keep me close so he could fill me in using suitably hushed tone. Lee stepped into place on the other side of me.
We walked slowly, listening to Sam.
“At one this afternoon Judge Meaghan Hartwell disappeared from her chambers. She was supposed to pick up her four-year-old son from daycare at one twenty. She never showed.”
“Okay.”
“There was no sign of a struggle. Her car is still in the parking garage, her phone, purse, and keys still in her desk drawer.”
Even though we were further away from the sad sobbing, I could still hear it.
“Who is the crying woman?”
“The Nanny. There is a uniformed police officer with her.”
“How likely that she’s involved?”
“In my opinion, she’s not.”
Good enough for me.
“Anyone see anything? CCTV?”
“We have footage of the judge in the hallway outside her office at five minutes past one with an unidentified male.”
“That’s something. Get an ID. Find him. Family?”
“Her husband, Peter Hartwell is…”
“…is a Special Agent.” I thought the name Judge Hartwell was too much of a coincidence. There aren’t too many agents married to judges. And with that information in hand, I knew why we were called. “Has there been any contact? Any ransom demands. Is there any chance she could have walked away from her life, on purpose?” I was sure there hadn’t, Sam would’ve told me that first.
“No, no, and no to the later.”
I stopped and surveyed the distraught man holding a small boy on his knee.
They sat on a cream leather settee in front of us. I knew him. He knew me. This was no time for beating about the bush and taking it slowly.
“Peter –where is your wife?”
He held the boy tighter. “I don’t know.” He looked up at me, worry etched lines into his face.
“You’re certain?”
“Conway, I have no idea where my wife is.”
I wasn’t about to ask if he’d killed her in front of the child. Peter’s manner told me, he really had no idea. He wasn’t lying. Good to know. Spouses are always the first suspect, whether I know them or not.
“Where were you between one this afternoon and… when the daycare called you to pick up your son?”
Sam interjected, “Two. They called at two.”
“Working,” Peter replied.
“Case?”
“I’m investigating a cold case. Someone came forward with information, a missing person’s case from 1997.”
“Where exactly were you?” I asked.
He placed the child on the ground. The little boy looked up at me and smiled. “My name is Alec. I’m four,” he said holding up four fingers.
I smiled at him. “I’m Ellie and I’m too many to count,” I replied wiggling a hand full of fingers at him. He laughed and ran off.
Peter handed me his notebook. “I was interviewing a witness.”
“Great.” He had an alibi and I really wanted him to have one.
I hauled up information from a case I’d studied once.
It was an amazing blueprint of how scary stalkers can be.
“Peter I hate to ask this, but how long ago was the stalker situation resolved. I remember you were placed under the protection of the US Marshalls and they put you both into WitSec, yes?”
WitSec is the witness protection program, witnesses to crime, people who testify in major cases, are given new lives. In this case, the judge, and her husband were placed in WitSec to keep them safe from a stalker who used to be a special agent. They spent three years being moved from place to place before being able to return to their former lives. One thing about us special agents, we make the best stalkers. We’re very good at finding people and have astounding resources.
“Yes,” he said. “We returned to our lives three and a half years ago. We picked up the pieces in Richmond then moved up here to DC.”
“Any chance this is related?”
“None,” he replied.
“Do you think this is about Meaghan or you?”
“I have no idea. I’ve given it a lot of thought in the last hour and a half. Mostly my work is cold cases. Meaghan works for the family court.”
“She’s a superior court judge?” Lee asked.
“Yes.”
“Has she reported or mentioned anything untoward in the last six months?” he questioned, his voice smooth and calming. I watched and listened to Peter’s reactions and answers.
“No. She made the move to family court because it was less likely that anyone would come gunning for her over granting an adoption or a divorce.”
“Less likely but not impossible,” Lee said and turned to Sam. “Is someone going over recent cases and psych reports?”
“Yes, Chrissy is in Judge Hartwell’s office now. She’s about half way through the cases from the last six months,” Sam replied. “She’s paying special attention to any cases with court ordered psychiatric assessments.”
Music built up slowly until I recognized the song. The title track of an album I loved. Jon Bon Jovi’s Destination Anywhere. I scanned the room, just making sure it was in my head and not coming from a stereo somewhere. The movie came to mind then twisted and warped, taking the underlying tragedy of the loss of a child and re-formulating it. A light went on in my head. Everything it illuminated was ugly. I had a horrible feeling this was revenge. And it was about Alec but it went wrong.
My questions came with urgency. “Does Meaghan spend much time with Alec? How much responsibility does the nanny have –day to day?”
I watched him swallow hard and knew he was trying to remain patient and helpful.
“Meaghan spends time with him every afternoon. Nanny has him in the mornings; she usually drops him at Meaghan’s office at lunchtime. Today –she had a dental appointment so took him to daycare at about eleven and Meaghan was to pick him up from there.”
“She drops him off at the office every day, except today?”
“Yes.”
A feeling of cold dread was building.
My mind ran scenarios as fast as it could - building blocks of possibilities on the songs I could hear.
I held onto the feeling of a lucky escape for Alec but it mingled with dread.
“Peter, you know how this goes, and I do understand how tough it is to be the case and not be working the case.” God knows I’ve been there before. “Sit tight. Can I chat with Alec? He might just hold the key.” The second reason we were called; Kids like me.
He nodded. “Alone?”
“Will that bother him?”
Peter shook his head. “I doubt it, he’s a happy kid and out-going.” He pointed to the hallway and told me how to find Alec’s room.
I looked at Sam and Lee. “I think we’re looking for someone who had access revoked recently,
if that’s the case there is probably a police report attached to the court file. Or maybe this is someone who was turned down as an adoptive parent. Whoever it is I have a feeling the person is constantly at his or her lawyers complaining about every little thing while making themselves out to be whiter than snow.”
Sam smiled. “Must’ve been some song.”
“Was almost an entire album,” I replied. I was thankful I didn’t have to explain how I garnered so much information from an album that became a movie about grieving parents. I hurried off to find the boy. His door was open. He lay on a large rug playing with cars. One of those cool rugs that had streets and buildings woven in. I knocked. He looked up and smiled.
“Can I play too?” I asked.
“Okay. You can be the police car.”
I grinned and sat cross-legged on the floor. Alec gave me a car and pointed out the police station. I quickly learned just how bossy and imaginative four-year-olds could be. I let myself enjoy the game for a few minutes before asking questions. The game continued.
We chatted and played. With a loud sigh, Alec rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
“Yesterday at the park a man was playing with some kids in the sand pit.”
“Were they his kids?”
“I don’t know. They played with me on the swings.”
“What about the man, was he nice?”
“No. He said something to mommy and it made her cross and we had to leave.”
Bingo.
“Have you seen him before?”
He nodded and sat up. “He goes to the park a lot. By himself and he plays with kids.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
Alec thought for some time. I saw he was struggling and offered help. “As old as your daddy?”
He shook his head. “Older, he had not much hair and wrinkles.”
“Like Sam out there?”
“Is he the black man with a shiny head?”