Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  12

  Retribution

  A knock on the door awoke me. Conner, already up and dressed, covered me with a blanket.

  “You can come in now, Darcy,” he said, sitting down at the table near the bed.

  Darcy was a short, middle-aged, heavyset woman with gray-speckled brown hair. She had been Conner’s housekeeper for over five years. She entered, carrying two food trays, and smiled when our eyes met. “Good morning, Miss Jones,” she said, putting down a tray in front of me.

  “Good morning, Darcy. How have you been?”

  “Fine. We’ve missed you around here.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Can I get anything else, Mr. Crussett?” she asked, placing the other tray on the table in front of him.

  “No. That will be all.”

  She left, closing the door behind her.

  I gazed at all the food on the tray. “Breakfast in bed.”

  “After yesterday, I thought you deserved it,” he said between bites.

  “You’re the one who deserves it.”

  He leaned over and squeezed my hand. “I had no idea that abstinence would affect you like this. Had I known, I would have taken longer business trips.” Conner traveled often on business. He was never gone for more than two nights.

  Because I was happy being with him, I beamed as we ate breakfast. Then my mind drifted back to when I left him. I wondered if Lindsey had followed me all the way from Houston. On the first bus route, an elderly woman sat next to me. She convinced me that I should go to Billings. Was she somehow connected to the cult? I couldn’t recall seeing Lindsey before she sat next to me on the bus in Nebraska. I instantly liked her. Did she befriend me because she was a cult member? What was Simon Ellis’ connection? And what about his girlfriend? So many questions and no answers.

  “What are you thinking?” Conner asked.

  “Just wondering how I could have ever left you.”

  “Well, you’re back now.” He caressed my arm. “Let’s try to close the hole that was left when you were gone. First, I need the documents.”

  My lips quivered. My eyes dropped, and I stared at the floor. I knew he’d ask about them again. I had hoped he’d wait another day.

  He raised my chin and studied my face. “Sara, if you want our relationship to survive, you need to tell me the location of the documents.”

  “I know. They’re in Nebraska.”

  His brows drew together in a puzzled expression. “Why Nebraska?”

  I hesitated.

  “Sara.” He glared. “Why Nebraska?”

  “The bus stop there was right next to a bank.”

  “So you left on a bus?”

  “Yes. The bus depot was only a half a block from the fitness center.”

  “That was convenient for you. You didn’t travel under your own name, and no one there remembered seeing you.”

  “I didn’t want to be followed.”

  “What time did you get on the bus?”

  “Around 9 a.m.”

  “You traveled under the name Ethel Martin.”

  I tilted my head. “How did you know?”

  “I have ways of finding out things.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Ethel Martin’s first ticket was to Rapid City, South Dakota. In Oklahoma she bought a ticket for a woman going to New York, and that woman bought a ticket to Colorado. You only used that ticket to the next bus stop. There you traded tickets. You paid women to take different routes to their destination. At one bus stop you traded tickets at least three times and paid each person five-hundred bucks.”

  My heart pounded in my chest as I realized I hadn’t been creative enough to hide from his determined pursuit to find me. “If the spider problem in Billings hadn’t caused my picture to be on the news, how long do you think it would have taken you to find me?”

  “Two, maybe three more weeks.”

  “Would it have made any difference if I had changed my name?” I wanted to know if I had made a mistake about that.

  “We weren’t looking for a person using the name Sara Jones. I didn’t even know you were missing until that evening.” He squinted as he gazed at me. “I’m sure that’s how you planned it.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He stood, put my tray on the table, and sat down next to me. “Where is this bank in Nebraska?”

  “In Sidney.”

  “Do you have the safety deposit key with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it in your purse?”

  “Yes, I’ll get it.” I scooted out of bed around him, took my purse from the dresser, and ripped open the inside seam. I removed the key from the lining and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said, continuing to stare at me.

  I remained quiet, slipping on my robe. The look in his eyes sent shivers up my spine.

  “We’re going to leave for Nebraska as soon as you’re dressed.” He abruptly left without saying another word.

  Conner’s house was located next to the homes of other family members in a gated community with security guards. Two of their top employees also owned houses here. I had been told they were executives of the investment company. I used to believe their concocted business portrayal. Their names appeared on the company stationery and they had offices in the building. When Conner was gone on business trips, I felt protected living within these walls. Now the safe haven had turned into a prison. I was trapped.

  While I was in the shower, I thought about Brett. Part of me feared I’d see him again, and part of me longed for him, especially after the way Conner had questioned me. I wanted to run away from all of them. Start over again. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. I dressed and went downstairs to meet my fate.

  Conner sat at his oversized, oak desk in the den with a credenza and bookcase behind him, talking on the phone. He ended the call when he saw me. With a stern expression he rose, took my arm, and led me to the waiting limo. The chauffeur opened the door. I slid in.

  Driving out of the compound, a car slowed as it passed us. A wave of terror flashed through me. The driver looked like Lance. The person in the passenger seat resembled Lindsey. Did they follow me back to Houston? If it was them, they couldn’t have seen me through the limo’s tinted windows.

  As I attempted to figure it out, my pulse quickened. My breath came in wild gasps. My body’s lustful need had returned. Not again. Conner hadn’t said anything to me since he left the bedroom. The way he was acting, I didn’t want him close to me. I inhaled deeply.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my knees together. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t restrain my body; the craving was too strong. “I want you so much. I can’t stand it,” I said, clasping onto his hand.

  His expression softened and he smiled. “I just want all this business behind us.” He leaned over and kissed me.

  I slipped off his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Sara, this isn’t a good time.”

  “I don’t want to wait for the right time.”

  He kissed my neck. “Well, it is a long ride to the airport.”

  Conner pushed a button, sending a privacy panel across the window between us and the chauffeur. We stripped off our clothing and satisfied our passion.

  Tucking in his shirt, he said, “I’m already looking forward to the plane ride.”

  When we arrived at the airport, we were both dressed and my hair was combed. We boarded the plane, followed by four of Conner’s men. The stewardess handed us a glass of champagne, without offering anything to Conner’s men. We sat down and buckled up. I glanced at the men wondering why they were going.

  “We can’t take off for thirty minutes,” the pilot announced over the intercom.

  Conner clenched his jaw, snapped off his seatbelt, and stormed into the cockpit.

  About ten minutes later, he came out. His expression was hostile,
furious. “Damn air traffic,” he snarled as his eyes darkened. “There’s an emergency, so we have to wait.” He glared at the stewardess. “Get me a drink. Make it a double martini.”

  The stewardess jumped up and scurried to the galley. I had never seen him react like this to a delay in taking off. I had seen occasional dashes of his temper that were frightening.

  Conner gulped the rest of his champagne and threw the glass against the cockpit door. It shattered, sending shards of glass across the inside of the plane. The stewardess’ shoes crunched on the broken pieces as she brought him his drink. He took a swig.

  “This needs more vermouth.” He poured it onto the floor, splattering it on her legs.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the stewardess said, reaching for the empty glass with a trembling hand. “Let me get you another one.”

  “Make it quick,” he ordered, giving her a sharp look. “And clean up this mess.”

  I wanted him to calm down, but I knew it wouldn’t help her if I attempted to intervene. Past experience had taught me to wait for the rage to end.

  Within a minute, Conner had another drink in his hand. He tapped his fingers on the armrest while the stewardess swept up.

  “Fasten your seat belts,” the pilot said over the intercom. “We’ll be in the air within five minutes.”

  Conner drained his glass and handed it to the stewardess as the plane taxied down the runway. He calmed down once we were able to go to the bedroom. I felt blood surge up into my cheeks as our bodies molded together.

  After, we were lying peacefully with his arm around my shoulders and my head resting on his chest. The stern interrogator who had grilled me for information that morning was gone. I knew I’d be safe until he got the documents.

  Thinking about my prior life with Conner made it hard for me to hate him, and that was what I needed to do—hate him. My heart just wouldn’t let me bury those tender moments. What was wrong with me? He was dangerous. Still, I did genuinely love him. I had to somehow find a way to appease my internal struggle. Logic had to prevail and overcome my desire to be near him; otherwise, I might not survive.

  Earlier I had checked my wallet to make sure nothing was missing. The money and my driver’s license were right where they belonged. I thought about the bank’s layout, attempting to recall how many exits it had and where they were located.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, brushing my hair from my face.

  “About us. Will you ever forgive me for leaving?”

  “You don’t think I already have?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How can I prove it to you?” he said, leaning over me.

  I felt the warmth of his flesh, and our bodies became bound as we made love again.

  He smiled. “Do you want more proof?”

  “Let me catch my breath first,” I said, returning his smile.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, starving.”

  “Do you want food brought in here or do you want to eat in the main cabin?”

  Eating in the main cabin surrounded by his men wasn’t anything I wanted to do. “Can we eat in here?”

  “Yes.” He pushed a button on the intercom. “We’re ready for lunch. What’s on the menu?”

  “Just what you ordered: shrimp cocktails, salad, and beef stroganoff. And for dessert: chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream. Where would you like it served, sir?”

  “Bring it in here.”

  “I’ll have it right in.”

  We put on robes, sat at the table, and then came a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Conner said.

  The stewardess entered, carrying a large tray of food along with a bottle of Merlot. She placed everything on the desk, removed a tablecloth from a cabinet next to the door, and elegantly set the table before she left.

  As we sipped the red wine, I wondered if maybe my arousals had something to do with the booze I had been drinking. No. I was sure it had been caused by drugs; either in the wine I drank at Rex’s place, or the liquid I consumed in the woods.

  “Is the wine okay?” Conner asked.

  “Yes. It’s good. When I was in Billings, I drank some wine that tasted like a blend of various kinds. It was almost like a mix between a Merlot and a Sauvignon Blanc. Have you ever tasted anything like that?”

  “No. It sounds interesting. Did you get the name?”

  “No.”

  We finished eating and the stewardess cleared off the table. Then we decided we needed a nap and climbed back in bed. He held me close as we dozed off.

  13

  Rules

  “Sara.” Conner awakened me, gently shaking my arm. “We have to get up. We’ll be landing soon. The plane’s already started to descend.” I gazed at him, and he lightly kissed my lips. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

  As we put on our clothes, we had to hold onto the bed because of the turbulence. He was dressed first, sat down and buckled in, holding onto me all the time. Then he pulled me down into the chair and secured my seat belt just before we touched down.

  “Boy, was that a rough landing,” I said, unbuckling.

  “But it was a great flight.” He smiled coyly.

  We disembarked and got into a waiting sedan. “Do you want me to give the driver the address?” I asked.

  “No. I’ve got it.” He leaned forward and proceeded to give the address. Sitting back on the seat, his posture stiffened as he glanced through some papers in his briefcase.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” he answered without looking at me.

  I went to touch his arm, but he adjusted himself in the seat and placed his briefcase between us. He didn’t say a word during the half an hour drive. My apprehension grew.

  The car cut to the curb and he looked at me with a cold, hostile expression. When I stepped out, he grabbed my hand and held it firmly as we walked toward the bank. I wanted to cry but forced myself to remain composed while I wondered if I would be going back to Houston with him.

  In the bank, my eyes darted around searching for exits. The only door available to the public was the one through which we had entered. Outside that door was the car waiting for us with two men inside. There was no escape.

  He led me over to the information desk.

  “Can I help you?” a female bank clerk asked.

  “Yes,” Conner said. “Miss Sara Jones would like to access her safety deposit box.”

  The woman looked at me. “Do you have your key with you?”

  “Yes,” Conner answered and handed the woman the key.

  She opened a cabinet, pulled out a bin of cards, flipped through them, and pulled one out. “Miss Jones, I’ll need to see your driver’s license.”

  I took my wallet out of my purse and showed her my license.

  “You’ll have to sign here,” the clerk said, pointing to the spot, “indicating that you accessed your box today.” She handed me a pen. I signed. She picked up a large key ring, and we followed her to the vault entrance. There she stopped and looked at Conner, then at me. “Would you like to go in by yourself, Miss Jones?”

  Conner put his arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay. Sara and I are engaged. She’s getting some of my documents out of her safety deposit box.”

  She glanced at me, and her face creased with concern. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt, so I smiled to reassure her that everything was okay. The forced effort of smiling almost brought me to tears. She unlocked the door, walked over to my deposit box, and unlocked it.

  “This way,” she said, leading us to a small room. She placed the box down on a table. “Let me know if you need anything.” She left, closing the door.

  Conner raised the box lid. On top was the note I had written. It read: “If this box is opened for non-payment, give the contents to the FBI.”

  He picked up the note. A muscle flinched in his jaw and his eyes narrowed as he glared at me without speaking.

  My hands trembled as
I held them together tightly against my chest. Looking away from him, I stared at the box. My eyes moistened as I fought back tears, fearing the love he had felt for me was gone.

  He shuffled through the papers and put them in his briefcase. “Are these all the documents?”

  “Yes. That’s everything.”

  He picked up the safety deposit box and his briefcase. We walked out of the room. He put the box back in its slot, gripped my arm, and we left the vault. He handed the bank clerk my safety deposit key. “Miss Jones won’t need her safety deposit box any longer,” he said, and then smiled at me. “We’ll be living in Texas.”

  “Then I’ll need one more signature.” She pulled out my card and I signed it. “Keep us in mind if you should move back to Nebraska. We’d be happy to take care of all your banking needs.”

  “Thank you,” Conner said, holding firmly onto my hand. He led me back to the car.

  Driving away from the bank, I looked out the window, speculating if they planned a detour on the way to the airport to get rid of me permanently. I breathed easier when we stopped at the hangar.

  As I boarded the plane, the stewardess offered me a glass of champagne.

  “No, thank you,” I said and sat down.

  She handed a glass to Conner. He sank down in the seat next to me.

  I buckled up as I stared at the exit sign and wondered if he would push me out when we reached a certain altitude or have one of his men do it.

  He stroked my arm. “Sara, it will all be over soon.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant.” He raised my hand and kissed it.

  Conner was making me crazy. He ran hot and cold. My eyes met his and I swallowed hard. “We had a great time flying to Nebraska. Then you didn’t say anything to me as we drove to and from the bank. When you opened the safety deposit box, you looked like you hated me. I can’t live like this. If you’re going to push me out of the plane, just do it.” I lowered my head and tears trickled down my cheeks.