Borne Darkly

by Lee Perry

  “Different people handle things differently,” she shrugged, “some can step up to the plate and some just can’t.”

  “Oh, she’s different…” he shook his head in frustration, “After her parents arrived to take care of the kid she just went into her bedroom and stayed there. She never once came out and said, oh yeah, my wife is in the hospital, maybe I should go visit her.”

  “Don…” Jordan sighed and stretched in the chair, grimacing when vertebra in her spine popped.

  “I know,” he leaned back in his seat, just as tired, “but it wasn’t until I told her dad I would take her if she wanted to go that she came here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he gave her another look, “really.” He tiredly scrubbed his face, “Thank god we got the court orders for phone taps and surveillance already, I can’t wait for the surveillance details to take over so I can go home...”

  Jordan’s brows arched, “And?”

  “The taps are in place and I explained to Miz Sparrow on the way here that she and her wife have been assigned a protective detail…”

  “But you think she’s complicit?”

  “You think Coastanoa just shot up a woman and a four year old in Marlboro for kicks, for Chrissakes?” He snorted derisively, “Rossi uses him to either send a message, make people disappear… or dead. One of them is involved with Rossi, obviously.” He sighed heavily, “Oh,” he fumbled in his jacket pocket and handed her a flash drive, “all my latest files are on here, copy whatever you haven’t got yet…”

  “Thanks,” Jordan plugged the drive into her tablet, “I’ll copy mine onto yours… I transcribed the phone interview I had with a friend of Cathy’s from the job where she met Alex.” She stared at the tablet while she copied files from the drive, “Did you see Doctor Sparrow’s school records?”

  “Oh yeah,” he nodded, crossing his arms across his chest, “she’s definitely the brains of the family.”

  “And Alex is the sales force.” Jordan finished and handed back the drive.

  “We got a great video capture of the entire house,” he yawned and scrubbed his face, “just wait till you see what we got in Miz Sparrow’s home office.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

  “How about you just tell me?”

  “Well, after sympathetically telling Miz Sparrow the purpose of having her repeat her story over and over is in case she remembers something new each time…”

  “How many times before she snapped?”

  He shrugged, “She didn’t really, I think she thought talking to me was preferable to wandering around her house or taking care of her son or seeing her dead daughter lying on the kitchen floor.” He leaned to sneak a peek down the hallway, “Anyway, after she told me several times she was working in her office on some project for a customer when the shooting happened, the tech making the video record of the house happened to be walking by and gave me the high sign when he heard her say that.”

  “And?”

  “She wasn’t working on anything in her office,” an eyebrow arched high; “she was playing a video game called Dark Warlords.”

  “Don,” Jordan sighed, “do you know how many people lie about working when they’re actually playing video games?”

  Alex backed into the corner, watching as the nurse held Cathy’s hand and Dr. Yin murmured soft words of comfort and condolences while she injected a painkiller into an IV line that would send her patient into medicated oblivion. She’ll never forgive me… Alex moaned silently, Never. She covered her face with a shaking hand; She can’t blame me for this… I swear it’s not my fault… it’s not… it’s…

  Dr. Yin approached and gestured to the door. Both women left the unit and she motioned to one of the nurses behind the counter for Cathy’s chart, “She’ll sleep now, Miz Sparrow, I am sorry to interfere with the natural grieving process, but extreme emotional upset could be dangerous given her injury, intense emotion would make her throat swell closed and effectively seal off her airway. The less swelling and inflammation there is, the better her body can withstand the effects of overwhelming emotions, so she must…”

  “Of course…” Alex sniffed and nodded, staring at the wall, You know I’m pretty upset too doctor… she thought angrily. “She’ll sleep through the night then?”

  “Yes,” the tiny doctor nodded emphatically, “we’ll give her this night of peace and try to minimize the swelling as much as possible while she grieves.”

  Alex nodded, “Thank you, doctor…” she nodded, smiling stiffly, “good night.” She left the ICU quickly, her long legs carrying her from the unit and down the carpeted hallway.

  “Alex?” Jordan called to her quietly.

  She started as she passed the Family Room, her lips pressing into a thin line of annoyance when she saw them, “Agent Maynard…” She ignored Jordan completely, “there you are, thank you for bringing me here, but I wonder if I can impose on you for a ride home now?”

  Don looked at Jordan deferentially and she shrugged, “I don’t see why not, it’s been a long a terrible day for you and your family… We can talk more tomorrow.”

  Alex sighed impatiently, “Talk more about what, Agent Hawkins?” Her voice turned brittle, “I’ve told the story now more times than I can remember…”

  “I know…” Jordan nodded sympathetically, “but we know who killed your daughter and shot your wife…” Jordan watched with interest as the color drained from Alexandra Sparrow’s face.

  “You do?” she asked, her voice faint.

  “Yes,” Jordan nodded, speaking slowly, “and we are conducting a very quiet and intense state and nationwide search for him, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still need your help…” Jordan paused before adding, “We know you want to help us find this murderer…”

  Alex nodded mechanically, “Yes… of course I do…”

  “Good,” Jordan motioned to Don, “Agent Maynard will take you home. Try to get some sleep; and tomorrow we’ll review the events leading up to the shooting again…”

  She shook her head, “I told you…”

  “We won’t focus on the shooting itself,” Jordan tried to sound reassuring, “since we know who the shooter is now, but we still need to make as accurate a record as possible for the federal prosecutor when you finally give testimony in this case.” Alexandra Sparrow’s face was ashen and Jordan added, “So tomorrow we’ll start with you playing Dark Warlords on the computer in your office and work back from that.”

  Jordan could swear she saw a flash of surprise in the woman’s eyes before she defensively crossed her arms across her chest. With detached calm, both Jordan and Don watched as Alex’s hairline and upper lip started to bead with perspiration.

  “Do you remember playing that game, Miz Sparrow?” Jordan asked, and patiently waited for her answer.

  Alex struggled to affect a cool demeanor and finally nodded, “Yes,” she nodded, nervously licking her lips, “I had closed the program I was working on and decided to relax for a few minutes with the game before dinner…” She inhaled sharply through her nose and locked eyes with Jordan, “Who killed my daughter?”

  “Eduardo, or Ed, Coastanoa… we know him to be a hitman for the Rossi crime family.”

  Alex crossed her arms more tightly across her chest, “Mafia?”

  “Yes,” Jordan nodded, “they’re very dangerous people, Alex, which is why we’ll be talking to you so more about the minutes, hours and days leading up to the shooting.”

  Alex just stared, and Jordan desperately wanted to know what was going on in the tall woman’s brain, Ah… Jordan stood calmly and watched as Alex’s face suddenly flushed, coloring deeply,

  “Are you inferring, Agent Hawkins,” Alex sneered, her voice rising, “that I am involved with the mafia?” Shaking from head to toe, she shook her head vehemently from side to side, “Unbelievable!” she hissed, “Why don’t you investigate Cathy? Maybe she’s the one involved with this so-called crime family… why don’t you investiga
te her?” With that, Alex turned on her expensive-looking high heels and stalked down the hallway.

  Jordan turned to Don, “I imagine we’ll talk more later...” she said dryly and her partner shrugged as he followed Alex to the elevator.

  The first shift of agents working the protective twenty-four-hour detail to guard Cathy Sparrow exited the elevator and Jordan accompanied them to the ICU, introducing them quietly to the unit supervisor and arranging for them to obtain the magnetized badges that unlocked the unit door. When she entered Cathy’s room she sat in the corner chair again and powered up her tablet, making sure her cell phone was off. She opened Don’s notes from his inspection of the Sparrow house and noted the entry he made when Alex called her parents to come from their home in Long Island so they could care for her and Cathy’s infant son, Cameron. I wonder what that relationship’s like…

  According to Don, when prodded, Alex explained when the shooting occurred she had been working on a particularly difficult problem with a program she was working on for a client. She told him three times she was working… She shrugged inwardly; Lying about working when you’re really screwing around on your computer as your child’s being killed and your wife is shot… She sighed and looked at the still figure in the bed, But she lied three times… and her outrage out there, she mused, it wasn’t to say; give me a break you asshole, my small dead daughter is lying in a morgue and my wife is in the ICU… She didn’t even refer to them, other than to implicate her wife.

  Jordan had to admit Alex could have had a point; Except that mafia executioners did just that, they executed people and if the message had been intended for Cathy Sparrow then Alex would be lying in a cold dark drawer next to her daughter… Although why kill the daughter and not Cathy too if it was Alex who was being sent a message? She listened to the soft, whirring and clicking noise that issued from the respirator. Alex strikes me as the more likely candidate to be involved with the Rossi Family… especially if she owes them money. But Cathy’s the brains of their business… She craned her neck, wincing when she felt it pop, Or maybe Cathy works for some other family competing with Rossi. She made a low sound of disgust and looked away from the figure in the bed. Nice try, but wrong, she shook her head, completely and totally wrong. So far, Jordan had really nothing solid to pin on anyone, except Ed Coastanoa. And that was another curious thing; Coastanoa was a pro, why had he been so careless to leave fingerprints all over the door handles?

  Jordan’s instincts railed against Cathy being complicit, but as for her wife; she had looked deep into Alexandra Sparrow’s eyes; She’s involved… Unless some huge piece of evidence proved otherwise, she believed Cathy wasn’t involved, but Jordan fervently hoped she might know something, anything, about the incident. First she has to regain enough strength so she can hold a pen and write her responses to my questions, Jordan crossed her long legs, the sooner she can do that, the sooner I can make some kind of headway on this case.

  Danielle entered the room quietly, “Hey there…” she whispered, checking the IV monitor and the tubes and wires attached to her patient.

  Jordan leaned back in the chair, resting the back of her head against the wall and idly watched her perform her duties. She checked her watch; it was almost five, “Are you off at midnight?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Yeah...” She made her way around the bed to check the respirator, “you know we usually don’t allow visitors to hang out when we have our briefings.”

  “We are government officials,” Jordan whispered, “you can trust us to be discreet.”

  “Okay,” she looked uncertain, “my supervisor says she’ll have the door badges for you and your guys out there soon…” She looked down at her patient and sighed, “She had a big and awful day today; we’ll keep her out of it till tomorrow morning at least to protect her airway.”

  “Okay,” Jordan stood and stretched, “I’ll be back then.”

  “Hey,” Danielle stopped her at the sliding glass door, “is it really necessary to have those agents outside the door twenty-four seven?”

  “Yes,” she replied, her tone regretful, “I’m afraid it is.” She stepped out and quietly slid the door closed.

  Danielle turned back to her patient and folded the blanket back along one side to check Cathy’s fingers and toes for warmth. She tucked the covers around her again and said, still speaking softly, “Well, Cathy, I imagine you’d probably like to stay sleeping in here for a long time.” Gently stroking the woman’s arm, she continued, “but you still have a son who needs you, so you’d better get better, okay?”

  Jordan slid behind the wheel of her bureau car and started the engine. She clicked the seatbelt into place and put the car in reverse, backing out of the space in the parking garage. When she cleared the concrete building, she called Stewart.

  “Jordan?” His voice sounded distant over the static.

  “Yeah,” she placed her phone on the dash as she drove, “the protective detail is outside the unit and Cathy Sparrow has been heavily medicated so I’m headed home for the night.”

  “Don’t you mean surveillance?”

  “Not for her, no… I do have a bug in the room though.”

  “Good… what do you mean, not for her?”

  “I don’t think she’s involved with Rossi,” she shrugged as she drove, “I’m pretty sure it’s Alex who Coastanoa’s message was intended for.”

  “Okay, well,” she could hear him sigh, “I’ve been looking at the stuff we’ve gotten on them so far and I would think the brilliant Doctor Cathy Sparrow would be a more logical choice for Rossi…”

  “Agreed...” Jordan emitted a huge yawn, “but that’s what my gut is telling me at the moment, I’ll be back on it in the morning.”

  They signed off and she drove in silence, grateful she was so close to home. Cathy had been transported from her home in Marlboro, New Jersey to New York’s Presbyterian University Hospital on the east side of the city, Twenty minutes on FDR and I’m home… She checked her bureau car back into the bureau’s garage and walked to her apartment on Park Row, stopping to pick up a sandwich for dinner on the way. Considered reasonably priced for the neighborhood; her studio apartment was located on the ninth floor, and she loved that she lived around the corner from One Police Plaza and just a few blocks from the bureau on the Federal Plaza.

  Once inside the door, she dropped her briefbag and dinner on the kitchen counter and continued into the bedroom area. She draped her suit jacket over a hanger in her closet, and after pulling the paddle holster from the waistband of her slacks, placed her weapon on the nightstand and stripped off her remaining clothes, tossing them into two hampers; one destined for the laundry room, the other for the dry cleaners. Pulling on a thick terry robe she shuffled, barefooted, back out to her kitchen and grabbing a bottle of ice tea from the fridge, sat on the lone barstool under the counter.

  Jordan’s apartment was sparsely furnished to say the least; she bought a bowl once so she could microwave oatmeal for breakfast, but most meals she either got from take-out menus or ate in the bureau cafeteria. In the living/bedroom area, she had only a TV that sat on a small coffee table on one side of the room and a bed and nightstand on the other. One side of her closet was full of black and navy blue suits and white blouses and pullovers, and in the other she hung blue jeans, t-shirts and jean jackets and she kept socks and underwear stuffed in drawers of her nightstand. She only had one set of sheets for the bed and towels for the bathroom she automatically added to the hamper when she washed her clothes. The last intimate relationship Jordan had enjoyed was with a federal prosecutor, a tall beautiful woman who said Jordan’s apartment clearly only served as a place for her to bathe, sleep and fuck.

  Sitting at the kitchen counter, Jordan ate her dinner and reviewed the files on her tablet one more time, then checked her email, voice mail and plugged in her tablet to recharge before tossing the trash from her dinner and shuffling to bed. She had recharged her phone in the car, and she set the al
arm on it before placing it next to her gun on the nightstand. She turned out the light and crawled under the covers, reaching for the TV remote she kept under her pillow. The Rossi Family has eluded us long enough… she thought tiredly, clicking on the TV, please… let this be the last senseless death… let’s get them this time… and put them all away for the rest of their miserable lives.

  Marlboro, NJ

  Alex sat in front of the monitor, staring blankly at the security program she should have had finished the day before.

  “Alexandra?” Marion Sparrow stood in the doorway, wringing her hands; “Alex, honey, your father and I are going to take Cameron out in his stroller, but we’ll stay in the yard.”

  She turned her head to look at her briefly before turning back to her monitor, making an effort to sit up straighter in the chair. She hated it when her mother wrung her hands and she resisted clenching her teeth. Her mother’s submissive, creeping tone always made her cringe inwardly; She’s always fucking on me about something, she thought irritably; (wring, wring) Is something bothering you, honey? Jesus!

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No mom thanks.”

  “It sure does make me feel safe to know those nice FBI agents are just outside, keeping an eye on us.”

  Alex could only nod her agreement. They would have been a reassuring presence, but she knew they were no match for Ed Coastanoa if he came back. Alex had been allowed to live because she wasn’t finished with the job yet, and god only knew what would happen to her once she was.

  She kept her eyes forward on the screen and unconsciously held her breath until she heard her mother say they wouldn’t be out long and her squeaky tennis shoes with the Velcro tops made their distinctive creaking noise back down the hallway and stairs. Slowly, she exhaled and reached for the mouse. With a click, she closed the program she’d been staring at for the better part of an hour then shut the computer down. It should have been a quick and easy fix but so far, Alex was unable to repair the secure email program in a way that didn’t compromise something else. The client, a small time online car broker, needed to understand there was a larger problem in his mainframe that was likely causing the problem in his email and it was going to take Alex some time to find it. If only… Alex lamented silently, if only what? She thought hotly, If only a hit man for the Rossi family hadn’t burst into your house and shot your wife, preventing her from finding and fixing the problem for you? She shot out of the chair, storming from the room and headed downstairs but stopped short at the doorway to the kitchen; No… her brain protested, don’t go in there… She turned and wandered around the living room, looking down at the floor, trying to clear her head.