Love and Lies: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

I looked at Mildred. “You okay?” It was hard to talk.

  “I fine.”

  “Wilson?”

  She smiled. “He's fine. He misses you.”

  I smiled.

  “My friends.”

  I must have drifted off to sleep because I dreamed about running with Wilson. It felt different than when the darkness had held me in its grip. It was a good dream. We ran in the sunshine. I felt happy … until three thugs showed up. They had guns. I didn't. But Monica did. Where had she come from? She hadn't been running with us. But there she was. When I needed her, she was there. She looked lovingly into my eyes ... and then her eyes changed and she shot the thugs: Pow. Pow. Pow.

  The sound of the shots jolted me out of my dream. I woke in a dark, quiet room. To my left, in a recliner, Monica sat, slumped in peaceful sleep. She was beautiful. She must have been exhausted. But she was still here. Everyone else was gone. But Monica was still here. She loved me. But so had Elaine. At least, she had said she loved me. But she hadn't. She'd lied. She’d taken a bullet for me, but she hadn't loved me. Or had she? But even if she had, she'd betrayed me.

  But Monica wasn't Elaine. Turns out, though, that even Elaine wasn't Elaine. I don't know who she was. Do I know who Monica is?

  I lay there in the darkness for a long time and watched her sleep. As I watched her slow rhythmic breathing, I began to feel very uncertain.

  Chapter 55

  I don't know how long I lay there watching Monica sleep. At some point I fell back asleep and was awakened by the nurse taking my vitals at five-thirty a.m. The nurse's presence and movements woke Monica as well.

  When the nurse finished and left, I said, “Good morning.”

  Monica smiled, stood, stretched and came and kissed me on the cheek. “Good morning, yourself. How'd you sleep?”

  “Okay.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Ravenous,” I said.

  “I think that's a good sign.”

  We both smiled, comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. There were things that needed to be said and we both knew it.

  “So,” I said. “The other night on PCH … I thought I saw someone following me. It must have been you.”

  “Yeah. From the moment you left your office. I was with you all day and night until you went home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was worried about you.”

  “I don't remember the driving all day part. Got no idea where I went or what I did.”

  “Drove,” she said. “You just drove. You jumped on the 101 and drove north. Went all the way to Pismo Beach.”

  “Pismo Beach?”

  She nodded. “Then you—we—drove around up there for a while. Stopped and sat and looked out at the ocean for a long time. Then you started back down. You weren't in any hurry. In Oxnard, you got off the 101 and cut over to PCH. It was getting dark by then. You found a spot on PCH and stopped and just sat again, looking out at the water for a long time, like you had up in Pismo. It must be calming. Or maybe it helps you think.”

  She shrugged and paused.

  I didn't say anything.

  “I just followed,” she said. “I went where you went, stopped where you stopped. I hung back far enough that you wouldn't notice. When you went home, I went home, but came back early the next morning. When Esposito’s men showed up, I was parked down the block, watching.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you. Because I was worried about you.”

  “Yeah, I know that's what you said. But ...”

  She looked at me for a moment, trying to decide what to say. Finally, she said, “Because I love you.”

  I pulled my eyes from hers and took a deep breath.

  “Look, Jake,” she said, “you don't have to say anything. You wanted the truth so I gave it to you. But I understand that you're not in a position to respond right now. Okay? I get that. You've just been through two traumatic events. Being shot, I think, probably not the worst of the two. You just found out that the woman you loved, the woman you thought loved you, turned out to be something other than who she pretended to be. You found out that she really didn't love you. No woman in her right mind could expect you to just jump up from that and ride off into the sunset with her, looking for happily ever after. So I'm not expecting anything from you ... except your friendship. All I want right now ...” Tears well up in her eyes. “... is to be your friend.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  I wasn't sure exactly what I was feeling. But I did know one thing. I took her hand and looked into her loving green eyes. “I do not have a better friend than you. And right now, there's no one else I'd rather be with.”

  She smiled and raised my hand to her lips and kissed it. More tears overflowed. “I thought I'd lost you.”

  We were silent for a moment. Then she said, “You want to talk about anything, Elaine or anything, I'll listen.”

  I nodded. “Maybe at some point,” I said. “Not now.”

  She nodded.

  “So how has my father been in all of this?” I asked.

  “Terrified. But trying to be strong, dignified.”

  I nodded. “That would be him.”

  “That would be you,” Monica said. “Watching him is like watching you. You're just like him.”

  “That's a little disconcerting,” I said.

  “You know what I mean. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

  “You really think I'm like my father?”

  “You don't look like him. But you have very similar mannerisms, very similar ways of responding, similar ways of coping. You're more like him than you realize.”

  That was something I'd have to think about.

  We chatted for a while longer, about Alex and Mildred. Monica told me about how many people came by to visit while I was out: Frank McGarry, Heidi, several FBI agents I used to work with, Jessie Garcia, June Morrison.

  “June Morrison? How did she even know ...”

  “I called her.”

  “You called her? Why?”

  “Because she cares about you and she deserved to know.”

  Another part of the feminine mind I didn't understand.

  “Norman Hanson also came by,” Monica said.

  “Norman? You call him, too?”

  “Nope. He just showed up. Said he’d be back in a few days when you were awake.”

  “Humph. How about that?”

  Breakfast came. The orderly brought a breakfast for Monica as well. We ate and talked. We seemed more comfortable now. I noticed that Monica had her knitting with her. I asked her about it. She had knitted three baby blankets while waiting for me to wake up.

  Just as we were finishing eating, my father and my sister Della arrived.

  Chapter 56

  Dad's face lit up when he saw me sitting up in bed talking to Monica.

  He smiled as he limped in with his cane, the strap of his small computer bag cutting diagonally across his chest. Della stepped to my bedside and leaned over to give me a hug.

  “’bout time you woke up,” she said.

  “Jeez,” I said, “can’t a guy catch a nap now and then?”

  Dad struggled with pulling a chair to my bedside. Monica let him do it himself. She had probably tried to help him at one point and he’d frowned at her and shook his head. Once he’d gotten his computer up he’d probably typed a message that thanked her for being considerate and offering assistance, but explaining that he’d rather do for himself as far as he was able. So, she let him struggle with it. We all watched him get himself situated, get his computer from his bag with only his right hand, open it and begin typing.

  “Son,” the electronic voice said, when he clicked on the speak button, “you scared the hell out of all of us.” He was smiling.

  “Didn't do me a whole lot a good either,” I said.

  He typed.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Okay, I guess. A little sore. I have
n't been up walking around, yet. Don't know how that'll go.”

  Just then, the doctor came in.

  “Well,” the doctor said, “look who's returned to the land of the living.”

  I guess he thought he was being funny.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  I gave him the same answer I'd just given my father.

  He took the gown down off my shoulders and pulled it down to my waist so he could check the bandage on my chest. Peeling back the tape, he pulled the thick pad of gauze away so he could see the wound. He put the bandage back in place, retaped it, and pulled the gown back up.

  “Looks fine,” he said. “You can get up and walk around whenever you feel like it. Don't push too hard, but don't baby yourself either.”

  “When do you think I can get out of here?” I asked.

  “You just woke up a few hours ago,” Monica said.

  “Yep,” I said. “And ready to go.”

  “Couple of days,” the doctor said. “We need to be sure everything in there is stabilized and functioning properly. But while you're here you need to walk as much as you can without straining yourself too much.”

  My father typed. The voice said, “I suspect that he's got himself a coach here who will be overseeing his rehab.”

  I looked from my father to Monica. She smiled. “In the army,” she said, “I made sure my people were in top physical condition.”

  “I bet you did,” my father’s substitute said.

  “Just don't over do it,” the doctor said and left.

  “Dad,” I said, “speaking of rehab, it's going to be a while before I can get back to work. How do you think the partners would feel about using Monica as your firm investigator until I get back to work?”

  My father looked at Monica and then began typing. In a moment, the voice said, “Two thousand a month for two days a week. Interested?”

  “Until Jake gets back to work, sure. Glad to help.”

  Dad nodded and typed. “I'll let the partners know.”

  Dad stayed for a couple of hours, telling Monica stories about me when I was a boy, stuff I didn't even know he knew about. Maybe he was paying more attention than I thought. A little after nine, Dad and Della left. Dad said they'd be back after dinner.

  Monica suggested I go for a walk round the floor. I was game to make the effort. Getting out of bed hurt. I was weaker than I thought I'd be. I took it slow, rolling the tall IV pole along with my right hand. Monica walked along beside me on my left. It took five minutes to circle the ward, a walk that normally would have thirty or forty seconds.

  At eleven, Jessie Garcia walked into my room.

  “Jessie,” I said.

  “Jake,” he said. “Let me guess, you're slowing down in your old age, and you couldn't get out of the way of the bullet?”

  “The guy cheated,” I said. “He was faster than I thought he was.”

  Jessie looked past me, smiled and said, “Hi, Monica.”

  They shook hands.

  “I don’t think I mentioned this before,” he said, “but nice job, taking out Esposito.”

  “It was a team effort,” Monica said. “If Jake hadn't gotten in the way of his shot, I'd be dead.”

  “Well, then, kudos to both of you.”

  “Someone must have told you the story,” I said.

  “Alex,” he said. Then he asked, “So how serious is this?”

  “A month,” I said, “maybe a little longer before I'm back to work.”

  “Well, you need anything in the meantime, let me know.”

  “Thanks.”

  After lunch, I was feeling optimistic, so we did two laps around the ward. Wore me out. I slept for almost an hour afterward.

  The next day I had a string of visitors: Alex and my father, of course. But also Norman Hanson, Heidi, June Morrison, and several agents I used to work with. It was nice to see everyone.

  Two days later, the doctor declared me fit and released me. Alex showed up to help Monica get me home and settled.

  It was good to be home.

  Monica stayed with me while Alex went to Mildred's to pick up Wilson. We were glad to see each other. He sensed something was wrong and was not as exuberant as he normally is. He took time to thoroughly sniff my bandage.

  “Are you sure you're going to be okay here by yourself?” Monica asked. “I don't mind sleeping on the couch.”

  “I'll be fine. How hard can it be? I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom, then I walk to the sofa and sit down. I'm just walking around the house. I'm not going to hurt myself doing that.”

  “What about meals?”

  “I call for some take out. Pizza and Chinese.”

  “That's what you're going to eat?”

  “That's what I always eat.”

  “Who's going to walk Wilson?”

  She had me there. I hadn't remembered about walking Wilson.

  “Okay, look,” she said, “I'll be coming by twice a day anyway for your exercise. We can walk him as part of your rehab. If he needs out more than that, maybe Heidi can walk him.”

  “Sure, Heidi will do that.”

  After a brief moment, Monica said, “She's very attractive, isn't she?”

  “Who, Heidi? I guess. I hadn't really noticed.”

  “Jake Badger, you are such a liar. You notice every woman within fifty yards of you. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Heidi is very attractive.”

  “Okay. I guess she's nice looking.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She's a friend,” I said. “A neighbor. That's all. I have no interest in Heidi.”

  “Even though she has an interest in you?”

  “Heidi?”

  She gave me one of those looks.

  “She's just a friend,” I said.

  “She wants to be more than a friend.”

  “So do you,” I said.

  We looked at each other for a long moment.

  “I'm not interested in Heidi,” I said. As I said it, I was trying to remember if she knew that Alex had a sister, Susan, that I’d gone out with a couple of times. If Monica had any competition, it was Susan, not Heidi.

  “Okay,” Monica said. “It's lunchtime. What do you want to eat?”

  She went and got some Chinese take out and we ate together, talking about how my rehab regimen should go. She was not going to take it easy on me. She left at two and said she's be back at six for dinner and evening exercises.

  It was the first time in a week I was alone. I liked it.

  Chapter 57

  Monica and I had slipped into a comfortable routine of exercising twice a day, after breakfast and before dinner. In the beginning, there was walking, stretching, and light weightlifting. After our evening workout, we'd eat dinner together. Sometimes she’d cook, sometimes we’d go out. Usually she’d go get something and bring it back to my apartment. We talked about our families, our childhoods, our experiences in the military. We talked philosophy and religion, politics and history. She was very well-read and very smart.

  We talked about cases we had worked, especially about the ones that stumped us. We talked about our dream vacations, our favorite movies list and our favorite books list. We talked about things that scared us. It was spooky how similar she and I were. That all by itself was a little scary.

  I found myself looking forward to being with her each morning and afternoon. When we were apart, I missed her. That, too, when I thought about it, was a little scary. When we were together, she would ask me lots of questions ... about all sorts of things, but nothing about my time at the FBI. She was trying to avoid anything that might make me remember Elaine. Actually, though, I thought about Elaine quite often. I thought about her betrayal and how I could not let what she did to me control me. I had mourned her death for over three years, blaming myself for what had happened. But I had not been at fault. She had lied. Her actions had caused me grief and tears that she did not deserve. I had deprived myself of love out of love for her—the
kind of love she had never felt for me. That made me feel foolish. I regretted having been deprived. And yet I was also not yet ready to forge ahead into a new relationship. Why was that? Maybe it took time to learn to trust again. How much time? I had no idea.

  By the end of the first week, the walking had turned into running. Slow at first, and only short distances. But each day we ran a little harder and a little longer. At the gym, I increased the weight I was lifting by a few pounds every other day. I ate a lot of protein and lifted as much weight as I could without hurting myself. In between workouts, I slept a lot. At the beginning of the third week, in addition to weight training, I started hitting the heavy bag. It hurt at first, especially hitting with my right hand. But after a few days, the pain began to lessen and I could hit harder. Not hard enough, though. I was just exercising. In a real fight, I'd have been useless.

  By the end of the fifth week, I was back to running four miles a day. Of course, when I got home I was exhausted. But I felt like I was making good progress. Monica was happy with my progress as well.

  On the Saturday morning of the fifth week, Alex decided to join us on our run. He said he'd meet us at the park. He pulled into the parking lot at seven, just after we did, and swung his big Navigator into a spot next to my Wrangler. When I saw that he brought his sister, Susan, I felt my stomach tighten up. He knew Monica would be there. What was he thinking?

  Susan got out of Alex's Lincoln and came around to greet me.

  “Jake,” she said, smiling. “it's so good to see you. You look great.” She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.

  Monica was smiling the way I imagine a lioness might smile before lunging for a gazelle. She looked at me. I tried not to look her in the eye. I didn't want my face to melt. She stepped up, extended her hand to Susan and said, “Hi, Susan. Nice to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you again,” Susan said. “You look great. Doesn't she look great, Jake?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Both women were looking at me.

  “She does look great,” I said, too tentatively, I thought. So I added, “She always looks great ... Like you. You always look great, too. Doesn't she, Monica? Doesn't she look great, too?”