by Gary Sapp
friends grew tired of her act.” He said. “I think I remember four days as the longest time she’d ever disappeared without a single word from her: No phone call, or anything. So when you ask me if I’m surprised that she’s come up missing again, then I guess my answer would have to stand at no, I’m not surprised with anything that Erica gets herself into.”
“Are you worried about her?’
Chris considered her question a moment. “Yea…maybe a little,” He got up out of the swing and began walking towards one of the trails, downwind of the smoke. “Look, I know how my reaction may all appear to an outsider.” You don’t know a damned thing; Roxanne thought, the image of Vargas, his screaming wife, and those precious girls buried in her head, but let him go on nonetheless.
“Every family has issues, Roxanne. But those difficulties, as Denise stated to you, cut far deeper than a half dozen families endure. When the three of us were together, especially the last year or two my marriage, we defined what a dysfunctional family meant.”
I know about dysfunctional families as well, Chris. And she was thinking about her own family, not the ones that she had interfered with across the border. This wasn’t the time to dwell on her mother and sister right now, though. She needed to focus her energy and thoughts on the case at hand. “I see.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. He had gained a little weight around his middle, but he was still a handsome man. “Before we go on about Erica, are you okay?” She wasn’t showing any real weakness by simply asking. It was simple courtesy, nothing more. “You know…after what happened to you over the past several days?”
“I’m going to make it, Roxanne.” He smiled at her and something inside her melted as it always had before. “You haven’t changed. I wondered what became of you after you left the academy.”
“Yea,” She smiled back. “I’ve moved around a bit. I’ve seen a lot of the country. I went and did my own thing. I’ve been doing professional investigative work ever since.” The hard lessons she learned in Mexico doused her smile just as quick. Chris had to wonder what if had been the cause of the smile’s dismissal.
“Professional investigator, I like the term, though I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use it in that manner before. Good for you, Roxanne.”
“Thanks. And the road from falling out of the FBI’s academy to all of this wasn’t as narrow as you think.”
Prince nodded at that. “It never is.” She saw something stir in his face, stood in silence and let it flow. “During my marriage with Denise, Erica and I were never close. Like I said before, she’s pulled disappearing acts before. She’s also grown and not responsible for letting Denise or anyone else knows her every movement. I haven’t spoken to Erica in months. I’ve had a lot on my plate.” The FBI Special Agent peered out over the horizon to the space where The Andrew Young Center once stood. “And after 411, I expect this plate to only grow with responsibility.”
“I know that.”
“What you don’t know, Roxanne, if that the relationship between my ex-wife, my step daughter and me goes well past the point of dysfunction. It goes past the point of toxic. That’s all that I can say about it for now.”
An awkward silence fell over them before Prince broke in again. “You have my number; I expect daily reports on your findings.”
“I will.”
Christopher Prince put his hands in his jacket pockets, turned again towards the heart of the city, glared at the moonlight, and then turned his clean shaven head back towards her as he stepped closer.
“Roxanne, I’m holding you personally responsible for bringing Erica back to her mother…whether she is alive or not. She is her only child, her baby. And every mother should know whether their baby is alive or not.”
I know that truth all too well. Roxanne stood there a moment longer and gazed into his eyes, searching for what exactly, she could not say. She finally heard herself saying, “That is how it should be.”
Prince’s cell phone interrupts the silence that occurred between them afterwards. He excuses himself, doesn’t seem to recognize the number at first glance, and then steps over to the side to take the call, then makes his way back over to her at last five minutes later.
“You kept texting me,” He continued on as if the conversation they were having before had never been interrupted. “I never responded to any of your first half dozen texts. After some time you must have realized I was involved in 411 in some capacity.”
“Yea, I knew about the 411 and I was aware about the siege specifically. And I knew you had a date and tickets to the show.”
The look on his face said that he recognized she was an investigator, but he was unsure whether he’d appreciated her keeping tabs on him. Instead he asked, “After the carnage of the first night, how did you know that I was still alive?”
The monster that raged inside Roxanne Sanchez – that allowed her to escape her own siege at Vargas’ home shrugged into the early morning darkness, “We’re survivors, Chris,” She finally said. “You and I both know how to survive.”
Though I’ve survived by being a monster, Chris; how can anyone ever love a monster?
Thomas
He went to slide the key into lock on the front entrance to his townhome in Upper Dunwoody—
The door was already unlocked…and opened slightly.
Fighting back panic, Thomas decided against calling 911 from the cell phone in his hand—at least not yet, and peered inside.
He took as a small of a step as a man his size could manage and opened the door the entire way. He was unarmed. He only owned one weapon and knew he would never reach it in his bedroom, if a prowler was somewhere in the living quarters between here and there—
“Hello, Thomas.” Serena Tennyson, leader of Pandora, was sitting on the edge of an easy chair that Thomas often dozed in after a long day of writing or interviewing. She was wearing a dark blue pants suit with her feet planted firmly on his hardwood floor. The suit highlighted the rich texture of her red hair. “Hopefully you will remember who I am. I don’t want to waste the little time we have together with us having to reintroduce—“
“I know who you are.” Thomas slid along his front door to an adjacent wall, sweating worse now that he knew who had invaded his home.
He’d just made it home from a particularly raunchy session with a woman named Darcy. They’d spent half the night together when her husband had surprised them both by taking an earlier flight and returning to their suburban Atlanta home nearly a day sooner than he was expected. Thomas had to squeeze his large frame into the couple’s walk in closet and stayed there until the man had fallen asleep, nearly an hour later, and only then was allowed to escape into the Escalade that experience had long taught him to park smartly a couple of houses down the street.
He hadn’t had the chance to shower, and he was sure that Darcy’s scent was all over him, especially with the perspiration pouring from underneath his armpits with this discovery. “I know what you are capable of? The whole world has been reminded over that past few days, what you are capable of, Serena.”
“Then my appearance here shouldn’t come as a real shock to you, Thomas.” She swallowed a mouthful of bottled water that she’d brought with her. Other than a case of beer, Thomas was sure there was very little to drink in the fridge. She was sitting perfectly still. “Try to relax, Thomas. Breathe. The first thing I need you to do is to assure me that you won’t do anything volatile. I can guarantee your safety during the duration of my visit only if you promise not to dial 911 or try to leave this place until we are finished with our business.”
Thomas found a spot in front of his bar and halted his motion there, his pulse racing in his ears with a new thought. If you help me, you will gain enemies on both sides of this conflict. Mayor Ernestine Johnson had said in the last minutes before she died. They both will harass you. They will threaten you. They may even kill you. Yes, Thomas, they may try and kill you.”
“You, of all the people in the worl
d, are going to guarantee my safety, huh?” Thomas snorted and then pointed at her. “Right now, lady, you are the most hunted woman who ever lived. I’m standing her in the same room with you. How safe can I actually be?”
Serena sat back in his chair a moment. “I guess we will see.”
Thomas’ heavy breathing slowly subsided, oxygen beginning to feed his starving brain allowing him to regain some his wits… and then a revelation. “Sophie?” He began to scanning the hard wood floors and moving the couch, coffee table, bookcase, and stereo player aside in frantic search for his pet. “Sophie?” He called again, growing distraught that she would ever answer his call again. “What have you people done with my dog?”
“That…thing is being kept at a nearby kennel.” Thomas could see the distaste written as Serena’s thin top lip lifted into a sneer. “It is being detained there, but otherwise is not being mistreated.”
“She,” Thomas said. “Her name is Sophie. She is a living, breathing animal with feelings.”
“Whatever.” Serena sat erect again, as if her real discomfort came from any relaxation that the chair may have provided her. “I would advise you to be more immediately concerned with your own health and well-being.” She paused to allow him to swallow that dose of reality. “If we have an agreement, then please sit down. We have much to discuss and