He had forgotten he was talking to an attorney, a highly skilled one.
"Would you like to call him?" Sidney repeated. "I happen to know he's home because he called just a little while ago. The last thing I heard him scream over the phone was his plan to file a law suit against the FBI and Triton."
"Maybe I'll try him later."
"Fine. I just thought you'd want to do it now so you couldn't accuse me later of arranging for my father to lie to you." Her eyes dug into the agent's troubled features. "And while we're at it, let's address your other accusations. You said I somehow evaded your men.
Since I was unaware I was being followed, it would seem impossible for me to 'lose' anyone. My cab was stuck in traffic. I was afraid I would miss my flight, so I jumped on the subway. I haven't used the subway in years, so I.got out at the Pentagon station because I couldn't remember if I had to change trains there to get to the airport.
When I realized my mistake, I simply got back on the same train. I didn't take my suitcase with me because I didn't want to have to lug it around on the subway, especially if I had to run to make a plane. If I had stayed in New Orleans, I was going to arrange for it to be sent down on a later flight. I've been to New Orleans many times. I've always had good times down there. It seemed like a logical place, not that I've been thinking very logically lately. I had my shoes shined. Is that illegal?" She looked at the two men. "I hope burying your spouse when you don't even have a body is something neither of you ever have to go through."
She angrily tossed the newspaper on the floor. "The man in that story is not my husband. You know what our idea of a wild time was?
Barbecuing in the backyard in the winter. The most reckless thing I've ever known Jason to do was occasionally drive too fast and not wear his seat belt. He couldn't have been involved in blowing up that plane. I know you don't believe me, but right now I don't really care."
She stood up and leaned against the refrigerator before continuing.
"I needed to get away. Do I really have to tell you why? Do I really have to do that?" Her voice rose almost to a scream before it tapered off and she fell silent.
Sawyer started to reply but then abruptly closed his mouth as Sidney held up her hand and continued speaking, in a calmer tone. "I stayed in New Orleans all of one day. It suddenly occurred to me that I couldn't run away from the nightmare my life has become. I have a little girl who needs me. And I need her. She's all I have left.
Do you understand that? Can either of you understand anything?"
Tears were starting to trickle out. Her hands clenched and unclenched.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly. She abruptly sat back down.
Ray Jackson nervously played with his coffee cup while he looked over at his partner. "Ms. Archer, Lee and I both have families. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. You gotta understand we're just trying to do our job. A lot of things don't make sense right now. But one thing is for certain. A planeload of people are dead and whoever is responsible for that is gonna pay."
Sidney stood up again on unsteady legs, the tears now pouring.
Her voice was shrill, near hysterical, her eyes blazing. "Don't you think I know that? I went down ... there. To that ... that hell!"
Her voice rose to an even higher pitch, the tears streaming down the front of her blouse, her eyes at their widest. "I saw it." She stared fiercely at them. "Everything. The... the shoe... a baby's shoe."
Moaning, Sidney fell back into her chair, the sobs wracking her frame to such a degree that it looked as though her back would erupt like a volcano spewing forth far more misery than human beings had the ability to endure.
Jackson rose to get her a paper towel.
Sighing quietly, Sawyer put his hand on Sidney's and gripped it in a gentle squeeze. The baby's shoe. The one he had held in his hand, and also shed tears over. For the first time he noted Sidney's engagement ring and wedding band. A beautiful if small setting, she would have worn it all these years with pride, he was certain of that. Whether Jason Archer had done anything wrong or not, he had a woman who loved him, believed in him. Sawyer felt himself starting to hope that Jason would turn out to be innocent, despite all the evidence to the contrary. He did not want Sidney to have ro confront the reality of betrayal. He wrapped a big arm around her shoulders.
His body seemed to jerk and pitch with every convulsion that raced through her. He whispered soothing words into her ear, trying desperately to get her to come around. For a very brief instant his memory skipped back to the time he had held another young woman like this. That catastrophe had been a prom date gone terribly bad. It had been one of the few times he had actually been there for one of his kids. It had felt wonderful to wrap his burly arms around the small, quaking form, letting her hurt, her embarrassment, siphon off into him. Sawyer refocused on Sidney Archer. She had been hurt enough, he decided. The raw pain he was holding on to right now was not capable of being fabricated. Regardless of anything else, Sidney Archer was telling them the truth, or at least most of it. As if sensing his thoughts, her grip tightened on his hand.
Jackson handed him the wet paper towel. Sawyer did not see his partner's worried look as Jackson watched the gentle way in which he slowly brought Sidney around. The things Sawyer said to her, to calm her down, the way he kept his arms protectively around her.
Ray Jackson was clearly not happy with his partner right now.
A few minutes later Sidney was sitting in front of a fire that Jackson had quickly prepared in the living room fireplace. The warmth felt good. When Sawyer looked out the broad picture window he noticed that it was snowing again. He looked around the room and his eyes settled on the fireplace mantel, where a procession of framed photographs held forth: Jason Archer, looking anything but a participant in one of the most horrendous crimes ever committed; Amy Archer, as pretty a little girl as Sawyer had ever seen; and Sidney Archer, beautiful and enchanting. A picture-perfect family, at least on the surface. Sawyer had spent the last twenty-five years of his life constantly probing beneath the surface. He looked forward to the day when he would not have to do that. To the time when delving into the motives and circumstances that turned human beings into monsters would be someone else's job. Today, though, that duty was his. He turned his gaze from the photo to the real thing.
"I'm sorry. I seem to lose it every time you two show up." Sidney spoke slowly, her eyes clamped shut. She seemed smaller than Sawyer had remembered, as though crisis on top of crisis were causing her to collapse inward.
"Where's your little girl?" he asked.
"With my parents," Sidney replied quickly.
Sawyer nodded slowly.
Sidney's eyes fluttered open and then closed again. "The only time she's not asking for her father is when she's asleep," she added in a hushed voice, her lips trembling.
Sawyer rubbed tired eyes and drew closer to the fire. "Sidney?"
She finally opened her eyes and looked at him, gathered around her shoulders the blanket she had taken from the ottoman, lifted her knees to her chest, and settled back into the chair. "Sidney, you said you went to the crash site. I happen to know that's true. You remember running into somebody out there? My knee still aches."
Sidney started, her eyes seeming to dilate fully and then slowly recede as she stared at him.
Sawyer continued to look at her. "We also have a report from the deputy on duty that night. Deputy McKenna?"
"Yes, he was very nice to me."
"Why did you go there, Sidney?"
Sidney didn't answer. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. Finally she looked up. However, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall rather than on the two agents. She seemed to be looking over a great distance, as though she were reaching back to the painful depths of a great hole in the earth; to a dismal cavern she had thought at the time had swallowed her husband.
"I had to." She abruptly closed her mouth.
Jackson started to say something, but Sawy
er stopped him.
"I had to," Sidney repeated. The tears started to tumble again, but her voice remained steady. "I saw it on TV."
"What?" Sawyer leaned forward anxiously. "What did you see?"
"I saw his bag. Jason's bag." Her mouth trembled as she said his name. One shaky hand fluttered to her mouth as though to corral the utter grief concentrated there. Her hand dropped back down. "I could still see his initials on the side." She stopped again and dabbed at a tear with the back of her hand. "It suddenly occurred to me that it was probably the only thing ... the only thing left of him. So I went to get it. Officer McKenna told me I couldn't have it until the investigation was over. So I went back home with nothing. Nothing."
She said the word slowly, as though it summarized the desolate status of the life she had left.
Sawyer leaned back in his chair and looked at his partner. The bag was a dead end. He let the silence persist for about a minute before he began speaking again. "When I said your husband was alive, you didn't seem to be surprised." Sawyer's tone was low and calming, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
Sidney's response was biting, but the voice was tired. She was obviously running out of steam. "I had just read the article in the paper. If you wanted to see surprise, you should have shown up before the paperboy did." She wasn't about to go into the humiliating experience at Gamble's office.
Sawyer sat back. He had expected that very logical answer, but was still gratified to hear it from her lips. Liars often opted for complicated stories in their effort to avoid detection. "Okay, fair enough.
I don't want to drag this conversation out, so I'm just going to ask you some questions and I want some straight answers. That's all. If you don't know the answer, so be it. Those are the ground rules. Are you willing to do that?"
Sidney didn't respond. Her weary eyes swung between the two FBI agents. Sawyer hunched forward some more. "I didn't make up those accusations against your husband. But in all honesty, the evidence we've uncovered so far does not paint a real benign picture of him."
"What evidence?" Sidney asked sharply.
Sawyer shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. But I will tell you it's strong enough for an arrest warrant to have been is sued for your husband. If you didn't already know it, every cop in the world right now is looking for him."
Sidney's eyes glistened as the incredible words sunk in. Her husband, a fugitive sought worldwide. She looked at Sawyer. "Did you know all this when you were here the first time?"
Sawyer's expression became slightly pained. He finally said, "Some of it." Sawyer shifted uneasily in his chair while Jackson picked up for his partner.
"If your husband didn't do the things he's accused of doing, then he's got nothing to worry about on our end. We can't speak for anybody else's agenda, though."
Sidney riveted her gaze on him. "What do you mean by that?"
Jackson shrugged his broad shoulders. "Let's say he didn't do anything wrong. We know beyond doubt that he wasn't on that plane.
So where is he? If he had maybe missed the plane by accident, he would've gotten on the horn right away to you, to let you know he was okay. That didn't happen. Why? The partial answer to that is that he's got himself involved in something not exactly legit. On top of that, the kind of planning and execution we're looking at on this one leads us to believe that it's more than a one-man show." Jackson paused and looked over at Sawyer, who nodded slightly. Jackson continued. "Ms. Archer, the man we suspect actually sabotaged that plane was found murdered in his apartment. It looked like he was getting ready to leave the country, but somebody had a change in plans for him."
Sidney mouthed the word slowly. "Murdered." She thought of Edward Page lying in a vast pool of his own blood. Dying right after talking to her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her. She hesitated, debating whether to tell the agents about talking with Page.
Then, for a reason she could not precisely pinpoint, she decided not to. She drew a deep breath. "What are your questions?"
"First, I'll let you in on a little theory of mine." Sawyer paused for a moment, compiling his thoughts. "For the moment, we'll accept your story that you went down to New Orleans on a whim. We followed you down there. We also know that your parents and your daughter left this house shortly after you did."
"So? Why should they stay here?" Sidney looked around the interior of her once beloved house. What is here anymore except misery.)
"Right. But see, you left, we left and your parents left." He paused.
"If this has a point, I'm afraid I'm not getting it."
Sawyer abruptly rose and stood with his broad back to the fire while he looked down at Sidney. He spread his arms wide. "There was no one here, Sidney. The place was completely unguarded. Regardless of why you went to New Orleans, it had the effect of drawing us off. And that left no one watching your house. Now do you see?"
Despite the fire's warmth, a sudden chill stalked through Sidney's veins. She had been a diversion. Jason knew the authorities had been watching her. He had used her. Used her to get at something in this house.
Sawyer and Jackson watched Sidney carefully. They could almost see the powerful mental gymnastics flowing behind her forehead.
Sidney looked our the window. Her eyes swept across the gray blazer lying over the rocking chair. The disk resting in the inside pocket. She suddenly wanted to hasten this interview to an end.
"There's nothing here anyone could want."
"Nothing?" Jackson sounded skeptical. "Your husband didn't keep any files or records here? Nothing like that?"
"Not from work. Triton is very paranoid about things like that."
Sawyer slowly nodded. Based on his own experience with Triton, that was one statement he could readily believe. "Nonetheless, Sidney, you might want to give it some thought. You haven't noticed anything missing or disturbed?"
Sidney slowly shook her head. "I haven't really looked, though."
Jackson stirred. "Well, if you don't have an objection, we could search the house right now." He looked over at his partner, who had raised his eyebrows at the request. Then Jackson looked at Sidney, waiting for her answer.
When she didn't deliver one, Jackson took a step forward. "We can always get a warrant. Plenty of probable cause. You could save us a lot of time and trouble, though. And if it's like you say and there's nothing here, you shouldn't have a problem with that, right?"
"I'm an attorney, Mr. Jackson," Sidney said coldly. "I know the drill. All right, help yourself. Please excuse the dirt, I haven't really kept up the household chores." She stood up, slipped off the blanket, reached out for her blazer and put it on. "While you're doing that, I'm going for some fresh air. How long will you need?"
The two agents looked at each other. "A few hours."
"Fine, help yourself to the fridge. Searching can be very hungry work."
After she had walked our, Jackson turned to his partner. "Damn, she's a piece of work, isn't she?"
Sawyer stared after the lithe form as she headed toward the garage. "She sure is."
Several hours later Sidney Archer returned.
"Nothing?" She looked at the two disheveled men.
"Not that we could find, anyway." Jackson's tone was one of reproach.
She stared him down. "That's not my problem, is it?"
The two looked at each other for several moments. "You had some questions?" Sidney finally said.
When the two FBI agents were leaving about an hour later, Sidney touched Sawyer on the arm. "You obviously didn't know my husband. If you had, you would have no doubt that he couldn't..."
Her lips moved, but no words came out for a moment. "He could never have had anything to do with that plane crash. With all those people..." She closed her eyes and steadied herself against the front door.
Sawyer's features were troubled. How could anyone think someone they loved, had a child with, could be capable of anything like that? But human beings committed atrocitie
s every minute of every day; the only living things who killed with malice.
"I understand how you feel, Sidney," the agent said quietly.
Jackson kicked a piece of gravel on the way to the car and looked over at his partner. "I don't know, Lee, things just aren't adding up with that woman. She's definitely holding back."
Sawyer shrugged. "Hell, if I were in her position, I'd do the same thing."
Jackson looked surprised. "Lie to the FBI?"
"She's caught in the middle, doesn't know which way to turn.
Under those circumstances, I'd play it close to the vest too."
"I guess I'll go with your judgment on that." Jackson's words did not sound very confident as he climbed in the car.
CHAPTER FORTY
Sidney raced to the phone but abruptly stopped. She looked at the receiver as though it were a cobra about to sink venom into her. If the late Edward Page had tapped her phone, how probable was it that others had? She put the phone back down and looked at her cellular phone, which sat recharging on the kitchen counter. How secure was that? She slammed her fist against the wall in frustration as she imagined hundreds of pairs of electronic eyes monitoring and recording her every action. She slid her alphanumeric pager into her purse, figuring that form of communication was reasonably safe. It would have to do, in any case. She put her loaded pistol in her purse and raced to the
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