by M. E. Logan
“That was Waldo’s first trial.”
“Figured that part out later. My being there, just being there was a message to him from Papa that he wasn’t forgotten, that he wasn’t in any trouble.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Were you looking? We didn’t know each other until afterward. I’d never sat in on a trial before, thought it was interesting. God, was I naïve.”
“And later, when you kept coming back. You always said you were on business, were in the area. Was that so?”
“Yeah. My business. I started up a courier service, very select clients, very lucrative.” She smiled at the memory as she set the glass down on the step.
“Drugs?” Jessie asked tentatively.
“Drugs might have been safer,” Diana said with a rueful laugh. “I transported gemstones. Sometimes when I stopped in Lexington I may have had a couple hundred thousand dollars worth of gems either on me to deliver or I’d already delivered.”
“Jesus!” Jessie shot up, her anger forgotten. “Are you kidding me? Stones are untraceable. You could have gotten robbed.”
“Did once. Went crying home to Papa. The stones were returned the next day. The insurance companies loved me. I looked like a college girl out on a lark, vacationing, going on a shopping spree. Except for that once, which I really think in hindsight was just a fluke. They had no idea what was in my jacket when they lifted it, just an expensive jacket.”
Jessie shook her head. Diana’s revelations were just one shock after another. “What made you get into that?”
“Met someone who needed some gems transported. I’m not even sure if that first one was legal. I mentioned I was going to Atlanta, he asked if I’d deliver a package. It seemed like a fun thing to do, harmless, so I said yes. When I delivered it, the jeweler asked was I taking on any other clients. He thought I was in business, so I said yes, and started up the service. Just sorta fell into it. Used the money to put myself through college. By that time I knew about Papa’s money. Didn’t want it. This paid lots of money for very little work, and I got to see different parts of the country.”
“I never would have dreamed,” Jessie said slowly.
“Well, that was part of it too. I never looked like one would expect. Still waters and all that. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” For the first time, she turned and looked at Diana. She still felt the rush of anger at Diana’s deceptions, but she didn’t see Diana as a monster any more. “What happened to your mother?”
Diana poured herself another shot. “She went into a depression after I was born. Probably postpartum. She committed suicide.” She slowly drank.
“I’m sorry.”
Diana set the half-drank glass down. “One of the things we had in common: motherless, with great relationships with our dads.”
Jessie bristled at the thought of her father being compared with Czar Randalson about anything.
“I’m not stupid or naïve,” Diana went on in a low voice before Jessie could protest. “I know what Czar Randalson is. I know he could be a cruel and vicious man. I know he did terrible things, things I turned a blind eye to. But he was my papa, and he loves me as much as your father loved you. And in turn, I love him as much as you loved your father.”
If he loved you, why is he leaving you in this position? Jessie wanted to demand but she couldn’t say it. All she could think of was the legacy her father had left her, his good name, and how supportive and sympathetic Diana had been when Jessie’s father died. And now Diana’s father was dying.
“You don’t have your father’s name.”
“He made me take my mother’s. I’m not sure Randalson is even the name he was born with. He always talked that my mother’s name was a good one for generations, I could be proud of it.”
Jessie didn’t make any response, unable to say anything positive. She was silent for a few minutes before she spoke. “This is,” Jessie started slowly, “really hard for me to take in.”
“I understand.”
Probably not, Jessie thought, but left it alone.
“Your papa…” Jessie discovered she could not refer to Czar by name, not without anger coming back. “Your papa,” she repeated carefully, “when he dies, there will be a lot of changes.”
“That’s true.” Diana sounded noncommittal as she took out her cigarettes.
“Your position will change.”
“Yes.” Diana lit her cigarette.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Could be.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Maybe.”
“Can I ask?”
“No.” Diana sounded firm. She picked up the rest of the drink. “It took me a little while to figure out how much this could reflect on you and your job,” she said after she finished it. “If you don’t know, you don’t have any conflict. If you do know, I’m afraid there might be some idea of collusion from your peers.”
Jessie nodded, surprised Diana had thought of that. She breathed a little easier that Diana had thought of her. But she still needed to think about how she felt. That would come later, when she was home safe, and Julie was home safe, and she didn’t have to worry about what might happen next. “How long are we staying here?”
“Until Papa dies,” Diana said simply.
“Are you ready for that?” Jessie could ask with some sympathy.
“Yes, I’m ready for it to be over, get things settled. No, I don’t want to lose him.” Diana drew up her legs, wrapped her arms around her legs. “Always mixed emotions.” She rested her forehead on her knees.
“I have to ask one more thing, Diana,” she said quietly. “There’ll probably be more later, but I just need to know one thing.”
“What’s that?” Diana didn’t raise her head.
“Was I just a toy, something to play with when you felt like it?”
“You were never a toy, Jessie.”
Somewhere deep inside, Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. And with that settled, she could move over to Diana, set the bottle on a lower step, and put her arm around Diana’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re losing your papa,” she could say with some sincerity.
And I hope Czar Randalson dies soon, and we get through this.
Chapter Twenty-One
That night, Jessie dreamed of Diana, old dreams of her Diana, when they were young and together. She was holding her again, wrapped around her, burying her face in soft flesh. She moaned, holding tight, not wanting to leave even though someone was calling her, repeatedly, insistently.
“Jessie, Jessie, you’ve got to wake up.”
She came awake abruptly, looking around, staring unbelieving at the pillow in her arms. She shook her head, shaking off the dream.
“Something’s going on,” Julie was saying. “You’ve got to be awake.”
Jessie rolled over, still trying to acclimate herself to wakefulness. She sat up, put the pillow down. It was early morning, the room was just barely light. Then she heard it, vehicles, voices.
“Get dressed,” she ordered Julie. She was already reaching for her clothes. Damn, she was a fool. Diana had said she had a plan, and with the old man dying, she wouldn’t delay.
“What do you think is happening?” Julie asked even as she dressed. “I hated to wake you, you were dreaming.”
“Yes.” Jessie didn’t even want to go there. “How long?”
“Dreaming?”
“No,” Jessie rasped, glaring at Julie. “Cars. How many did you hear?”
“Two, then a third one. But there were more voices than three.”
“Could you understand what they were saying?”
“Sounded just like greetings, friendly sounding, like old friends greeting.”
Just then they heard another car pull up. Listening carefully, Jessie could hear car doors slam, one, two, three. She moved over to the door, tried it. It was locked. She pressed her ear against it.
“God, I hate these early morning t
hings,” she heard someone say, an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
Jessie went to the windows. They faced away from the parking area, and all she could see was the back end of an SUV, red. She pressed against the glass, trying ineffectually to see around the corner.
“Damn it,” she muttered, going back to the door. She tried the doorknob, tried shaking it. It didn’t budge. Julie stood off to one side, watching her. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” To know there was something going on, and not being able to do anything. She pressed her ear back to the door. They were probably coming in through the kitchen but where would they meet? The library? And it was right underneath them.
Jessie went over the room, the bathroom, listening at the vents, anything. The house fell silent.
“What do you think is happening?”
“I don’t know. Diana said last night she had a plan.”
“About?”
“What she was going to do.” She searched the room, checking each wall, even the floor to see if any sound traveled. She heard muffled conversation and then it moved away. There had to be a fake door in the library somewhere. Diana had disappeared there or appeared there more than once. She was stupid, she should have checked the bookcases. There had to be something from this room. It was the master bedroom, Diana wouldn’t let herself be trapped. She went over the entire length and width of the flooring, stamping.
“Isn’t someone going to hear you?” Julie demanded.
“They’re too busy elsewhere.” She moved the bed, the dresser, gritting her teeth and ignoring the pain until finally Julie helped her. She finally sat down on the corner of the moved bed, exhausted. She had to think. She was surely missing something. A sharp knock on the door brought her to her feet, her heart pounding. Julie looked fearfully first to the door and then the reorganized room. Had someone finally heard something and come to investigate?
“Yes,” Jessie called, determined to get some answers.
“Ready for breakfast?” Margaret called.
“Yes,” Julie responded at Jessie’s direction as Jessie moved up against the wall, beside the door.
“Very good. As soon as both of you sit on the bed.”
Jessie immediately looked around for the camera. Stupid, why didn’t she think the bedroom would be under surveillance? She had let Diana lull her into false security. She shrugged and walked back over to the bed. When Julie sat down on the bed, they heard the lock in the door.
Someone else opened the door but it was Margaret who brought in the card table. She carefully set it up then reached back for the tray of food that someone handed her. The door closed, and they heard the lock click.
Margaret glanced around the room. “Been busy this morning, haven’t you?”
Jessie said nothing, the time for congenial conversation was over. Julie looked from one to the other.
“Go ahead and eat,” Margaret invited. She stepped back against the wall. “Diana sends you a message.”
“And what might that be?”
“She’s sorry for the inconvenience. It just seemed best this way.” For the first time, Margaret looked sympathetic. She glanced around the room again. “Glad you’re feeling stronger, Jessie.”
“How long do we have to stay in here?” Julie asked.
“Until her meeting is over.”
“And then?” Jessie asked. She hadn’t overlooked that Margaret had used her name. The old girl was softening in her attitude toward Jessie.
“Then we wait for the end.”
Julie slowly went over to the table to see their usual breakfast, eggs, bacon, pancakes this morning instead of french toast. “Why aren’t you in the meeting?”
“Diana will tell me what I have to do.”
“And you’ll just blindly do it.”
Jessie got up and went over to the breakfast table. Maybe she could needle something out of Margaret.
“Not blindly.” Margaret watched as they took their plates. “You underestimate Diana. She is her own person, and she has a good heart.”
“Perhaps you don’t have the best perspective,” Jessie replied caustically.
“Perhaps better than you. I’ve known her longer.”
Jessie took her plate and went back to sit down on the bed. “That’s right. You were her nursemaid, weren’t you? So how did that happen? You seem about the same age.”
“Don’t say that to Diana, please. She’ll think you think she looks old. She would be upset.”
“So?” Jessie sat back, trying to look relaxed. If she could get Margaret talking, perhaps, well, if nothing else, she could learn something. Maybe. “How did you come to be Diana’s nursemaid?”
“Her papa bought me.” She watched them for their reaction.
Jessie stopped eating but Julie was scandalized. “Bought you?”
So they are into trafficking, Jessie thought, feeling sick. She really had been blind to Diana.
“You know Czar?” Margaret asked and Jessie realized the question was directed to her.
Jessie nodded. “Know of. Saw him once or twice.”
“He’s not charming,” Margaret commented, glancing at Julie.
“No,” Jessie agreed. “He’s not charming.”
“I was born in the Ukraine,” Margaret said slowly. “My name was Margarta. We were very poor.” She gave a cynical smile and shook her head. “Poor there is not like being poor here where you can get food stamps, go to school, and get government aid. No, we were poor because there was no work, no money, no nothing. I was always hungry, there was no education. It was terrible.”
She took a deep breath and went on. “My—” She stopped to rephrase. “The man who was my father sold me. He promised I would work to pay off the debt. The money he got for me fed the rest of the family. So I went away. I was fourteen. The man who bought me had brothels. He decided I wasn’t pretty enough for the sex but there were other things to do.” Jessie watched the tough, contained woman shudder at the memory.
“One day, this man comes in. He’s well-dressed, nice suit, very polite. He wants to buy a woman, a girl. He has very specific conditions. Young, impressionable, not stupid but not smart, not pretty. Must be a virgin, healthy. Virgins in a brothel.” Margaret shook her head and laughed, but it was a bitter laughter.
“He had eyes like ice, cold, devoid of feeling. A lot of the girls hid. I did too. But they brought us all out. He went down the line. Too pretty. Too smart. Too flirty. I was so scared as more and more of them went away and I was still there. This man was not good.” Margaret paused, lost in thought. Then she came back to the present. “He picked me.” She looked up at Jessie and Julie. “He took me to one of the rooms, took my clothes off, looked at me, felt me. Felt my hair, looked at my teeth, my fingers, my toes. Like he was buying a horse or a cow. Then he nodded. I got dressed and we left.”
She paused again, perhaps lost in memories, perhaps trying to find the words.
“I was so afraid, but I thought, at least he is just one, not like different men each night. He’s rich so maybe I would have better food, more clothes. We went to a hotel, and there’s all these men around him. Then one woman comes in, and he gives her instructions. I didn’t understand any of this. She took me away. She gave me a bath, brought me new clothes to wear, brought me a big dinner. I did everything she wanted but I was so scared. I waited, waited, and I waited. And finally I fell asleep.”
Jessie went back to eating. They had long suspected Czar had his fingers in the Eastern European trafficking. This seemed to confirm it. “What’s this got to do with Diana?”
“Oh, you’re interested now?” Margaret asked with some sarcasm.
“I’m listening. And I hear you.”
Margaret shook her head but she moved over to the chair. “Do you mind if I sit? It can be a long story.”
“Go ahead,” Jessie said. “Have some coffee. It appears we have time.”
Margaret poured coffee from the insulated pot. She sat down where she could see them. Then s
he began again.
“When I woke up, I wasn’t there anymore. I felt terrible, I had a headache, I was hungry. Everything was different. It was very bright. I was in this room all by myself in some strange house. A woman came in, took me to the bathroom, checked me over. She took me back to the room, brought me a meal. She won’t talk to me. Well, she talked but I don’t understand. She was speaking some language I never heard. I was terrified. I had no idea what was going to happen.
“Later, the man you know as Czar comes to see me. He took me downstairs to a nursery. This little baby was in a crib, laying there, bright-eyed, kicking, dark hair, gurgling. He picked her up and there was no ice in his eyes. ‘This is Diana,’ he tells me. ‘You’re to take care of her, all the time. If anything bad happens to Diana, it will happen to you. Understand?’
“I understood. So I took care of this little baby, me who never had babies.” Margaret’s face softened. “She was such a good baby, a happy baby.” She looked up at Jessie. “At first, it was hard for me, tied down, but then one day, she grabbed my finger in her tiny little hand and wouldn’t let go, like she was telling me that we were in this together.”
“Bonding,” Julie said.
“Yes. So I cared for Diana, and anything I needed I could have, as long as Diana was taken care of, full time, twenty-four hour a day job.” She drank some coffee. “He didn’t like my Ukraine name so I became Margaret. When she started to talk, he doesn’t like my accent, so I must learn proper English. And then I must do this or do that, all for Diana.” She looked at Jessie. “And this man who can look at you and your blood turn to ice turned to mush when she looks at him. Oh, yes, I took great care of Diana.”
Julie began to eat again, and Jessie began to relax a bit. Interesting about the old man, but she saw lots of men melt at babies, daughters and sons. Interesting side to the old man. God, what a scary thing for a fourteen-year-old. “Then what happened?”
“When Diana was three…” Jessie noticed her tone changed. “Czar sent me away. He said Diana didn’t need a nursemaid anymore. He sent me to one of his sweatshops. After three years of having almost everything I wanted with Diana, that was hell. Within three days, I knew I had to get out of there, one way or another. Before I could do anything, I saw Czar’s right-hand man. He came back for me. Took me out of there without a word. I’d been gone for four days. He told me Diana had been screaming for three, regular little temper tantrums. Czar was beside himself. She’d hold her breath mid-scream, pass out, come to, look for Margee and start all over again. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go to bed, searched the house over and over again, cried for Margee. Czar was furious. He could make men wet their pants with one look, and this little three-year-old screams at him demanding where has he hidden Margee.”