The Fourth Motive

by Sean Lynch

  At his arrival, Elsa and Paige stood up. Both were wiping their eyes. Paige avoided looking at Kearns.

  “Soup’s on,” Kearns announced, louder and more cheerfully than necessary. Elsa and Paige retrieved the salad and dinnerware from inside while he rescued the food from the grill.

  Kearns seated Elsa and Paige. He topped off Elsa’s wineglass and refilled Paige’s margarita before serving the salad. Then he lit the two candles on the table, as the sun had fully submerged below the brown hills, taking the daylight with it. He heaped the plates with baked potatoes covered in shredded cheese, roasted sweet corn, and finally, golden chicken breasts dripping in sauce.

  Once both women were served, he took his seat. Paige was looking at her plate and didn’t see Elsa wink at Kearns and mouth a silent “Thank you”. When Paige finally looked up, a self-conscious smile adorning her features, Elsa raised her glass.

  “Here’s to the chef,” Elsa said. “And an evening to remember.”

  “An evening to remember,” Paige echoed. The faint “tink of three glasses reverberated into the night.

  CHAPTER 35

  Elsa Callen entered the kitchen from the rear patio and approached Kearns. He had just finished the dishes from dinner and was sitting down at the kitchen table. Cody was at his heels and a fresh beer was in his hand.

  He’d left the women alone on the patio after dinner. More than an hour passed as Elsa and Paige chatted away in the enveloping darkness. He and Cody did the post-dining chores; Kearns mostly doing the dishes, and Cody mostly eating doggie snacks and rubbing against his leg.

  “Want to see something?” Elsa asked him.

  His curiosity aroused, Kearns followed Elsa outside to the patio.

  “Angelic, wouldn’t you say?” she said in a hushed tone, nodding her chin at Paige.

  Paige was slumped in her chair, her knees tucked under her dress. Her cheek rested on top of her knees and her eyes were closed. The gradual rise and fall of her chest was her only movement.

  “She’s dead asleep,” Elsa said. “She looks like she did as a child.”

  “It’s probably the margaritas,” Kearns said.

  He was forced to agree with Elsa’s assessment of her appearance. With her long blond hair cascading over her tan legs, her pretty, slack face, and her mouth parted slightly in sleep, Paige did indeed appear both childlike and angelic.

  “It’s not the liquor,” Elsa corrected, “though it may have helped. Haven’t you noticed a change in her since you arrived?”

  “Actually, I have,” Kearns admitted. “She seems to be calmer, more relaxed. I hardly believe it’s the same Paige Callen.”

  “She lives too stressful a life,” Elsa said. “Lord knows she had a stressful childhood. But whenever she came here to the ranch, she was always able to shed her worries and just be herself. I see it happening again now.”

  “Seeing is believing,” Kearns said. “And I’ve certainly seen a change in Paige. She hasn’t called me a foul name all day.”

  “And you thought I was crazy when I told you how sweet she is.”

  He laughed. “I’ll confess to that, but you have to give me some credit; you don’t get to see how she acts away from here. She’s a real ballbuster.”

  “Of course she is,” Elsa said. “She’s a Callen. I already told you; it’s her legacy.”

  Neither spoke for several minutes. Kearns looked up at the countless stars brightly winking overhead.

  “I couldn’t stand to live in a metropolitan area; can’t see the stars for the haze. I’d go insane,” Elsa finally said.

  “I grew up in the country,” he said. “I know what you mean.” Silence again prevailed for several minutes.

  Elsa quietly cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “I didn’t ask you out here to gaze at the stars, Hercules. We need to get Paige upstairs.”

  “Meaning I do the heavy work?”

  “Absolutely; somebody has to be the brains of the outfit.”

  Kearns laughed again, leaned down, scooped Paige into his arms, and stood up. She murmured but did not awaken. Elsa led him into the house.

  “She too heavy for you?” Elsa whispered with a hint of challenge.

  “Are you kidding?” he whispered back. “I was just about to climb the Empire State Building and start swatting airplanes out of the sky.”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Elsa chuckled.

  Once they mounted the stairs, Elsa opened a door and they entered a beautifully decorated bedroom. Kearns approached the bed and set Paige gently down as Elsa peeled back the covers.

  “Thank you, Kevin. I’m sure Paige will thank you herself in the morning.”

  “I wouldn’t bother telling her about this,” he disagreed. “She’s not that relaxed.”

  Kearns took a moment to glance at Paige’s peaceful features before leaving Elsa to undress her and finish tucking her into bed. As he descended the stairs, he found Cody at the bottom, staring up at him wistfully.

  “All right,” he said to the Labrador. “Enough with the concentration-camp eyes. I’ll get you a treat.”

  Cody wagged his tail and led the way into the kitchen and to the cabinet where he’d seen Kearns earlier deposit the treats.

  Kearns left an ecstatic Cody munching on a biscuit and strolled through the house. It was the first time he’d been beyond the kitchen since his arrival.

  The house was elegantly but not ostentatiously furnished. He went from room to room taking in the décor. In one room were an elaborate series of bookshelves, laden with books, and a bulky desk. On the desktop were several framed photographs. He recognized Elsa. As he surmised, she was stunning in her youth. With her in some of the photos was a tall, outdoorsy-looking man and a young boy whose features were marked with traits of both parents. Elsa’s husband and son Mark, no doubt. There were also a few pictures of Paige in various stages of childhood. He was examining an array of shotguns in a handcrafted gun cabinet when he sensed movement behind him.

  “Quite an arsenal, wouldn’t you say?” Elsa asked.

  “I was just admiring your home,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Elsa assured him.

  He continued to examine the weapons. “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “My husband taught me a long time ago, but it’s been many years since I have. Why?”

  Kearns scratched his jaw. “It’s good to have a contingency plan, that’s all. I only brought a handgun. Good for close-range work but leaves a lot to be desired in open country.”

  “I haven’t forgotten why you’re here, Kevin. You’re welcome to use any of these guns if you think they’ll help keep Paige safe.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Do you think Paige’s stalker could find her all the way out here?”

  “Who knows?” He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. In any case, it’s better to be prepared.”

  “Given what Paige and her father have endured these past few days, I would say that’s a prudent philosophy. Do what you think is best.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well,” she said, yawning, “I’m going to bed myself. Thanks for a wonderful dinner. And for carrying Paige upstairs. Without you here, I’d have had to wake her up, and I get the impression Paige hasn’t been getting much sleep lately.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Elsa went for the stairs. Before she reached them, she turned and faced Kearns again.

  “Kevin,” she said tentatively, “do you think the police are going to catch this guy?”

  He took a while to answer. He contemplated placating her, but one look at Elsa’s strong, honest features put that thought to rest.

  “No,” he answered her at last. “He’s too good.”

  “What do we do? Nothing?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Elsa squinted at him, tilting her head. “Gene was right about you,” she finally said. “He may be a lot of things, but I will say this:
my brother is an excellent judge of character. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So am I. Goodnight, Elsa.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Bob Farrell lay in the tub, barely able to move. He had an ice-filled towel against the side of his head and a lit cigarette in his mouth. He also had a fifth of Kentucky bourbon at hand without the cumbersome middleman of a glass.

  It had been a little over an hour since he’d staggered up the stairs to his apartment, leaning heavily on the railing at each step. Once inside, he undressed, an operation that normally took a moment but tonight took many minutes. Each time he moved his arms, the muscles in his abdomen cried out in agony, and the act of getting his shirt off required a bourbon break. After disrobing, he checked himself in the bathroom mirror. In addition to the jagged hatchet scar running down his shoulder and the circular sphincter gunshot scar dotting his chest, both remnants of his final encounter with Vernon Slocum, he noticed the beginnings of bruises on his sides and back. He turned on the bathtub spigot and headed to the toilet. When he relieved himself, he was not surprised to find his urine pink.

  He gingerly checked himself and was comforted to discover no apparent broken bones. He was lucky and knew it; if the weighted leather sap had struck him in the front of his head instead of the side, he’d have orbital fractures around his eye. That none of his ribs were cracked was another gift he thanked his lucky stars for.

  After dragging the telephone by its extended cord into the bathroom, Farrell slid into the tub of steaming water and lit a smoke. It was another ten minutes before he mustered the strength to phone Jennifer at her hotel and tell her he would be unable to meet her and her fiancé for dinner. He’d planned to call Kearns at the Napa ranch where he was guarding Paige Callen, but the number was on a folded piece of paper in his wallet, and he didn’t have the energy to climb out of the bath and retrieve it from his trousers.

  Farrell’s eyelids were beginning to droop when the phone’s ringing startled him to wakefulness. He picked up by the third ring.

  “Farrell,” he answered wearily.

  “Bob, I can’t believe what you just did to our daughter,” came the shrill voice of his ex-wife, Ann, through the receiver. Though divorced since Jenny’s junior year in high school, she never missed an opportunity to berate him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know damned well what I’m talking about. Jennifer just called. She’s upset because you’re standing her up. She came all the way out here from Omaha to present her fiancé and–”

  “I’m not in a position to entertain tonight,” he cut her off.

  “Drunk again?”

  He held the receiver away from his ear, took a drag on his smoke, and then a long pull on the bottle. He finally put the receiver again to his ear.

  “No, but I’m working on it,” he said. “If it’s any of your business.”

  “You’re breaking her heart; do you know that?” Ann asked.

  “She’s not a child, Ann. Jen’s a twenty-four year-old law student; she’ll understand. Believe me, I didn’t want to stand her up. It was a particularly rough day at work, and I’m in no condition. I’ll make it up to her.”

  “You’ve been saying that for years,” she nagged.

  “I’m also not in the mood for any of your crap,” he said. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to know how disappointed and angry I am at the way you’re treating Jennifer,” she said.

  “Point taken. Why do you care so much whether I have dinner with Jen and her crummy boyfriend or not?” As soon as he asked the question, the answer hit him.

  “I don’t,” she weakly replied.

  “You were going to be there too, weren’t you?” Farrell accused. “At dinner tonight? That’s why you’re so pissed off about me not showing up. It wasn’t Jennifer who’s upset over my bailing out; it’s you.”

  The silence over the phone confirmed his presumption.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “What do you expect me to say?” she huffed. “I thought for once, just once, on the occasion of your only daughter’s engagement, we could be together as a family and be civil to one another. Is that so bad?”

  “Yes, Ann, it is. I don’t like you, and you hate me. We’re divorced, remember? We don’t get along. Being together with you under any circumstances is not my idea of a pleasant evening. And bushwhacking me at dinner is not something I suspect Jenny had anything to do with; that idea’s got your fingerprints all over it.” He shook his head, sending shock waves of pain throbbing through his skull. “And to think I was actually feeling guilty about stiffing Jennifer.”

  The sounds of Ann as she began crying emanated from the telephone. Farrell rolled his eyes.

  “Ann, I really don’t need this,” he said.

  “You don’t even know what today is, do you?” she sobbed. “You have no idea.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “It’s Friday. It’s also the day I got the shit kicked out of me.”

  “It’s our silver anniversary,” she cried. “We got married twenty-five years ago today.”

  Farrell’s shoulders slumped and his jaw dropped. He stared at the receiver in disbelief.

  “That’s why you wanted to have us all together tonight?” Farrell asked incredulously. “Even though we can’t stand each other? Because it’s our wedding anniversary?”

  Truth is, he had no idea it was their anniversary. He didn’t remember their wedding date, especially since divorcing her.

  “I thought it would be… special… for Jennifer to announce her engagement on our anniversary,” she bawled.

  “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard,” Farrell bellowed into the phone. “Our marriage was a disaster. And you want our daughter to launch her engagement on our anniversary? Are you nuts? That’s like shooting off fireworks to commemorate Hiroshima.”

  Weeping was all he heard in reply.

  “Ann,” he said, softening his tone. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to–”

  “You’ll never understand,” she cut him off. “Men never appreciate the significance of an anniversary. It doesn’t matter that our marriage fell apart; it began because we loved each other. The anniversary is supposed to honor the beginning, not the end.” She cried some more. “You never did understand.”

  “Ann–”

  “Goodnight,” she said, still wailing. “Enjoy your booze.” The line clicked dead.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, reaching for the bottle.

  CHAPTER 37

  Paige stretched her stiff muscles, her body aching and disjointed. She’d arisen early, her head thick from alcohol consumption the night before. She splashed water on her face, tied her hair in a ponytail, and laced on her running shoes. Then she crept quietly downstairs and out through the rear door.

  The morning dew was heavy on the ground, but she sensed the day would be another scorcher. After executing a series of limbering exercises, she set the timer on her digital wristwatch and set off.

  It felt good to be running again for the first time in over five days. She passed the long dirt road that served as a driveway and was ascending a path leading up the hill when she sensed motion behind her. Breaking stride long enough to glance over her shoulder, she saw Kevin Kearns behind her in the distance. Cody was at his heels. He was running to overtake her.

  Kearns was shirtless and clad in running shorts and shoes. Paige didn’t slow down, instead continuing her ascent with a steadily increasing stride. To her surprise, within a few minutes he caught up with her. Cody galloped alongside.

  “Whoa, there,” he breathlessly called out as he approached. “You run one helluva pace.”

  “If you don’t want to be on stage with the big girls,” she replied without looking back, “stay in the dressing room.”

  “Mind if we join you?”

  “Would you leave if I did?”

  “Nope.”

  They ran together in silence over the brown hills. Paige
occasionally looked over to see how Kearns was managing and was mildly impressed. She’d deliberately stepped up the pace once he cruised up to her, hoping for the satisfaction of watching him suffer keeping up. If he was suffering, he didn’t show it.

  She knew Kearns possessed the muscular physique of a regular weightlifter, but didn’t expect him to exhibit the stamina of a consistent runner as well. She also noticed the scars. Paige knew she was setting a blistering pace, but he showed no signs of slacking off. In fact, he was smiling.

  “I realize you’re trying to run me into the ground,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “If I concede that you’re tougher than me, will you take it a little easier?”

  She nodded, slowing her pace. “I get a little competitive sometimes.”

  “So I noticed.”

  Several more minutes passed in silence. The sun crested the horizon, and with it the temperature rose noticeably. The trio ran up and down the rolling knolls, their feet pounding on the uneven terrain. The vineyards surrounding her aunt’s home below them, shrouded in mist burning off with the sun’s arrival, created a magnificent view. Kearns said so.

  “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”

  “Are you trying to make small talk?”

  “I guess I am. Bothering you?”

  “Considering I came out here to be alone, you could say that.”

  “What a difference a hangover makes,” he joshed to Cody, rubbing the dog’s neck. “She was splendid company last night, and this morning she’s back to being the Wicked Witch of the West.” Cody’s tongue lolled as if in agreement.

  “Speaking of last night,” she said, “I found myself in bed this morning with no recollection of how I arrived and without my clothes. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

  “Now I know why she’s in such a charming mood, Cody old boy,” he chuckled. “She thinks I molested her.”

  “I didn’t say that.”