by Lee Perry
The area around the grave had been carefully plowed of snow, and the odd-looking backhoe that dug the grave in the frozen ground had been left discretely parked behind a concrete mausoleum. The limo and the large black utility vehicle that followed at a discrete distance came to a stop and after silently exiting the car, the small party made their way carefully through the graveyard, the only sounds made by their booted feet crunching through the thin layer of snow covering the brown grass beneath. The pastor waited at the gravesite, and Cathy turned once to see Jordan and two other agents standing silently near their vehicle, scanning the area. Her eyes locked with Jordan’s and both exchanged soft smiles.
Alex had asked Pastor Mathews, from a local protestant church to conduct the service. Cathy met him when he had come by the house only the day before, but she could not remember his name when he stepped forward and took her hand, offering his condolences and helping her to a line of folding chairs that sat in front of the small white coffin. Alex had arranged for the minister, but Cathy had insisted she drive her to the mortuary home so she could choose the casket herself. Writing on her now ever present pad, she had requested to see Chelsea one last time, so she could say goodbye, but Alex had objected and they had argued in the mortician’s private office; Alex strenuously arguing in increasingly harsh, muted tones while Cathy furiously scribbled on her pad. In the end, she was not allowed to see her beloved daughter because, as Alex had repeated to the mortician, Cathy was incapable of doing so without becoming too upset. The drive home was conducted in stony silence; Cathy sat in the passenger seat, red-faced from the effort it took to breathe in her grief and outrage.
The gray and cloud-lined sky kept the temperature hovering at thirty degrees, so the service was brief. Cathy heard the minister speaking but could not focus on the words so she gave up and simply stared at her daughter’s coffin, her gloved hand clutching Alex’s. When he finished speaking, Pastor Matthews stepped around to where Cathy was sitting and leaned down to murmur softly,
“Would you like to say goodbye?”
She took his proffered hand and rose from her seat, Alex and her parents rose to stand as she took three steps forward to lay her hands on the small white casket. She knelt on the ground and placed her cheek on the cold lid, her face turned away from the others so she looked across the top of the casket and the gently rising field of tombstones that seemed to extend into the clouds on the horizon. I am so sorry my beautiful girl… You were supposed to play and grow… start kindergarten… go to high school… become a young woman and date… you were supposed to grow up and have a fun and happy life… Her breathing was ragged and a soundless tear slipped from her eye, leaving a frozen trail that disappeared into her hairline just above her ear. I hope you can forgive me, my Chelsea… I hope you can forgive me... I hope you can rest in peace.
Alex, holding Cameron in her arms, finally stepped forward and placed a hand on Cathy’s shoulder. Another long moment passed before she finally rose and turned to the pastor. With her fingers held together and her hand flat, she raised it palm inward, and momentarily placing the tips of her fingers to her lips she then moved her hand forward and silently mouthed, “Thank you.”
He took her hand in his and murmured what Cathy assumed were words of comfort, but all she could hear was the sound of rushing blood pounding in her ears. She leaned heavily on Norm, her father-in-law’s arm as she shakily made her way back to the car. When they reached the limo Cathy stopped, holding onto the edge of the car door with both hands for support and watched as two cemetery workers emerged from behind the backhoe and used straps to lower Chelsea’s coffin into the cold ground.
“Cathy?” Alex leaned down to her, a hand on her arm, but Cathy was unable to hear her and she stood, watching until one worker let go of his end and his partner had pulled the straps from the grave, winding them on his arm. Alex gently tried to pull one of her gloved hands from the door, but she held on, not wanting to leave her daughter alone in such a cold and desolate place.
“Honey?” Alex said again, moving her hand to her shoulder.
Letting go of his grip on Alex, Cameron reached out with both hands for his mother and Cathy automatically let go of the door and turned to take him in her arms. Soundless, the family climbed into the car. The driver, an undercover FBI agent, gently closed the door behind them and carefully walked around the long black car, sliding silently behind the wheel.
Jordan and the two agents from the protective detail climbed back into the dark SUV, Jordan in back. Clicking her seatbelt into place, she drew a deep, clearing breath, furiously blinking tears from her eyes. I’ve gotten too close… she thought dispassionately, I admit it…
The two cemetery workers stopped to watch as the limo and the carload of agents pulled away. The older of the two sighed heavily; pulling out the knit cap he had respectfully tucked into his back pocket and with a quick flip, pulled it back onto his head,
“Jesus, Dan, after doin’ this for the past forty-odd years… this is the only part of the job that I absolutely hate with a fuckin’ passion. Nobody, but nobody should ever have to bury a child.”
Dan nodded in sympathy, “How long, do you think, before they’ll be able to get on with their lives?”
“Who says they ever will?” he replied ruefully, and left to retrieve the backhoe.
New York City, NY
Jordan stalked the main hallway in the federal courthouse building, stepping off to the side every so often to check first her watch, then her phone. She had arrived at the courthouse early, just to be on the safe side, but now she was driving herself to distraction waiting for Cathy’s sign translator and the Sparrows to arrive and testify to the federal grand jury. She knew there was nothing to worry about; the Sparrows were well protected and today were being transported to the city courtesy of the federal government in a four-car caravan. Two were conspicuously large black utility vehicles, the Sparrows sat in the first and the second car was full of agents that acted as backup in case some Rossi family soldiers tried to prevent the Sparrows from testifying. What the Sparrows were not aware of were the two unmarked cars that led and followed at more discrete distances.
Jordan wanted no chances taken today; in the weeks that had passed since the funeral of their daughter, she made daily visits to the Sparrow home to personally check in with the protective detail and with Cathy and Alex, in case they managed to remember anything new and apprise them of any developments in the case. However, Jordan had noticed that with each passing day Cathy Sparrow seemed to grow more confident and determined to forward the investigation of her daughter’s murder by her testimony, even though she herself had relatively little information to impart. And as Dr. Sparrow seemed to grow stronger with each passing day in anticipation of the grand jury, Ms. Sparrow seemed to grow more agitated and withdrawn, choosing instead to greet Jordan’s daily visits with a dark look before disappearing into her office.
With each visit, Jordan would first begin by telling Cathy any new information she had gleaned on the case that wouldn’t compromise the investigation, though precious little had come to light as Eduardo Coastanoa was still at large. But Jordan’s real intention was to keep Dr. Sparrow focused on her testimony by asking practice questions she would likely be asked on the stand and making sure she had all the signs they thought she might need in her vocabulary. Unable to do little else but hide in her home, Cathy had spent her days working in her home office and cuddled with her son, and as he played with his toys, she learned sign language from the online signing dictionaries and instruction video links Jordan emailed her. After she explained some of the rudimentary principles of how specific gestures related to families of words and how to decipher the instructions for signing each word, Cathy had proved a quick study and Jordan guessed she had probably amassed a fifteen-hundred-word vocabulary in just under a month. She was impressed with Cathy’s skill and dexterity, but admitted privately that between her genius and her grief, her becoming so rapidly fluent in
sign language was probably not too surprising.
Jordan paced off to the side of the hallway and checked her watch again. Just as she reached for her phone, it rang and she barked impatiently, “Hawkins!”
“We’re here…” was the brief reply and with that, Jordan strode out the front doors, meeting the Sparrows and their phalanx of government bodyguards halfway on the stairs.
Jordan was unsurprised to see the look of sadness and stony determination on Cathy’s face when she greeted her, but raised her eyebrows when she noted how nervous and clammy Alex appeared. Ever the properly, if distantly, supportive spouse, Alex dutifully supported her wife by the elbow with one hand as they ascended the stairs, but she looked as though she might collapse at any moment.
Don only greeted Jordan with raised eyebrows and she turned to Cathy and Alex, “How are you two holding up?” she asked; concerned that Alex might keel over from a heart attack and delay their testimony. She felt a twinge of conflicting emotions for the woman, and her flash of pity battled with her utter conviction Alexandra Sparrow was somehow responsible for her daughter’s murder and her wife’s devastating injury.
Cathy signed, “Fine…” and Alex only nodded and pulled some sodden tissue from the pocket of her long dark woolen overcoat with her free hand to dab delicately at the sheen of perspiration on her face.
As they entered the building Jordan reiterated for them, for the last time, she assured them, how the proceedings would take place when they were called in, one at a time, to testify. From the corner of her eye, Jordan watched as Alex’s eyes darted nervously back and forth as she scanned the hallway. She was thoroughly agitated and Jordan motioned for them to sit on the benches located outside the grand jury room.
“I’m fine...” Alex tried to sound calm, but the quaver in her voice was unmistakable, “Let’s just get this over with...” she added in a stilted murmur.
Jordan helped Cathy out of her overcoat, handing it to her when she sat stiffly on the bench, “Thank you.” she signed, laying it across her lap.
“Anytime...” Jordan signed back and gave her a small, sympathetic smile.
Alex had not missed the exchange and abruptly turned on her high heels to pace the hallway. She stopped to remove her long overcoat and draping it across her arm, retrieved more tissue from the pocket. She stepped into a tiny alcove that once held a pay phone and mopped at her face again, noting how the tissue had become a useless sodden wad and she threw it on the floor, snorting in disgust.
“Calm down, Alexandra…” she murmured under her breath, “Just calm down...” I can’t! She silently lamented, I can’t, because my wife is going to testify and Ed Coastanoa is going to come back and kill me for sure this time! She had managed to make some progress on Anthony Rossi’s new programs, but it frankly didn’t amount to much. All she seemed able to think about at all was how in over her head she was. Since the arrival of the note in the pizza box Alex had taken care to only work on the programs she had begun to create on her laptop, taking care each time she turned it on to make sure the wireless connection was disabled. As the days and weeks passed in her office she returned, again and again to the security program she had initially created for Rossi. Only it wasn’t really for him… she breathed carefully in through her nose, It was for the owner of a liquor distributor… A business associate of Rossi… An exasperated sigh escaped her, and I didn’t even question it… It was just to see how good I was… and trap me into creating a whole range of programs designed specifically to snoop and steal… digitally undetectable and untraceable. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, Like I can just pull all that out of my ass.
Don and Jordan stood together near the jury room doors, “Do you think they’ll make it?” he murmured quietly.
“What,” Jordan’s eyes continually swept the immense corridor, “in testimony?”
“No…” he sighed, “I mean, their relationship.”
Jordan’s brow furrowed and she shrugged.
Standing in the phone alcove, Alex had started to shake uncontrollably and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her arm. It was Cathy. “Jesus!” she exhaled loudly and whispered, “you goddamn near gave me a heart attack.” She looked over Cathy’s head and saw Jordan watching them. She took a step out from the alcove and motioned for Cathy to enter, “Have a seat...” she murmured, pointing to the small wooden bench. Cathy slid past her to sit and she stepped in after her to block the doorway. “I’m fine, sweetheart...” she reassured her, smoothing down her designer suit as she spoke, “Really, I am.”
Cathy looked up at her wife with a look of complete and utter sympathy and she grasped Alex’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She’s still beautiful, Alex suddenly realized, even with those dark goddamned circles under her eyes... Although she believed the gaunt, haunted features of Cathy’s face were now most likely permanent and would be a part of her forever. Not that I’ll live long enough to find out… she thought with a flash of anger, It’s because of her insistence to testify that I’m going to get my brains blown all over to hell and gone! She slowly shook her head from side to side as her exasperation mounted; she had planned to simply refuse to enter the room when her turn came. She would plead the fifth out of fear of retaliation; whatever it took, she didn’t care. She believed the deadly note that came with the cold pizza and she had every intention of respecting it. But it won’t matter if Cathy insists on testifying... She suddenly balled her hands into fists and after checking to make sure Agent Hawkins nor any of the other FBI agents were within earshot, she leaned down to her wife,
“Sweetheart,” she began, keeping her voice low, “we should not be here doing this…” Cathy immediately reached in the pocket of her black suit and pulled out a small notepad and pen. Alex checked the corridor again and continued in a more hurried tone, “For your own sake, sweetheart…”
Cathy’s pen stopped in mid-air and fleetingly her mouth dropped open in amazement before she began to write furiously on her pad, “For my sake? We do this for our daughter’s sake!”
“But darling,” Alex countered through now tightly gritted teeth, “if we testify here today, these people could come after us again… just for testifying, don’t you understand?” Cathy looked at her for a long moment and she turned her head to check on Agent Hawkins who now looked as though she was going to come over. When she looked back she read the pad Cathy held out to her,
“No! I will fight back!” she had scribbled furiously, “Chelsea deserves that much!”
Alex read the note then snatched the pad from her, “Is that what you want?” She hissed, “What if that man comes back and kills Cameron this time? We only have one child left, Cathy, are you really willing to risk him for this?” She leaned forward and angrily waved the pad briefly in her face before stuffing it in the pocket of her overcoat.
The color instantly drained from Cathy’s face and her eyes opened wide in shock and horror. Bull’s eye! Alex thought, triumphant, Finally, I have stricken the great Doctor Catherine Sparrow to her core. She thought angrily, Finally I have your goddamned attention! Cathy’s eyes brimmed with tears and she began to shake, and hotly boring her eyes into Cathy’s, Alex quietly put a finger to her lips, and slowly shook her head no.
“Is everything okay over here?”
Alex jumped slightly and spun around to find herself face to face with Jordan.
“Yes,” Alex assured her, “we’re just catching our breath, Agent Hawkins.” She turned back to help her wife to her feet, “Come on darling, let’s come back out here now.” Jordan stepped back so the couple could leave the small space,
“Cathy?” Jordan asked, alarmed when she saw the ashen woman’s face, “are you alright?” She stepped forward to offer the woman some additional support but Alex waved her off,
“She’s understandably upset, Agent Hawkins…” Alex held out a hand to stop her, “I have her...” she added pointedly.
As Cathy made her way back
to the bench in the hallway, her breathing grew increasingly labored and audible and Jordan felt a thrill of fear lance through her. She followed them, and when Cathy’s footsteps appeared to falter she rushed forward to take the woman’s other elbow and she immediately fell back into Jordan’s arms.
“Cathy!” Jordan cried as she lowered her gently to the floor. Cathy struggled to breathe, clutching at her throat and making loud choking and gasping noises and Jordan looked up at one of the surrounding agents and yelled, “Call 911!” She watched in horror when Cathy turned her head to cough and bathed the white marble floor in a flood of bright, foamy red blood, “Jesus!” Jordan exclaimed and quickly turned her onto her left side, watching as more blood ran from the side of her mouth. The blood rapidly turned dark and thick and with both hands clutching her throat, Cathy’s face turned beet red and veins bulged in her neck and face as strangled, gurgling noises issued from her throat.
“Jesus Christ!” shouted one of the other agents looking over Jordan’s shoulder, “Is there a frickin’ doctor in this building who’s not being sued for something?”
After what seemed an eternity to all who watched the growing pool of blood, one of the agents found a doctor who quickly determined that Cathy, who by then had lost consciousness, needed an emergency tracheotomy if she was going to live, let alone live a life free of permanent brain damage caused by oxygen deprivation. The doctor, who identified himself as Irving, used a pocketknife to open Cathy’s airway at the base of her throat and, borrowing a pen from Jordan, carefully inserted the dismantled tube section of the pen into the opening, bending close to the open end of the tube so he could hear and feel air passing in and out of her lungs. When the paramedics arrived, he snatched a stethoscope from one of them and called for a more appropriate airway to insert then listened for several more excruciatingly long seconds to make sure the air was being sucked into her lungs before securing the new airway so the paramedics could take over.