Amnesia (22 page)

When Captain McConnell had arrived at their home Gregg was like a caged animal seeking to escape his prison. It was terribly embarrassing to have someone of his stature act that way around his subordinates, but she played her part, that of the patient loving wife, perfectly, as she had always done. She was well acquainted with this particular weakness in her husband, and only hoped that someday she could break him of it.

At any rate, the captain had loaded them into his cruiser like a couple of common criminals, and whisked them off to the hospital to see the awful man that Beverley had lowered herself to accompany. When she had heard what the doctors had said about him she had felt some sort of pity for the man, despite his lower class upbringing. That was until the three of them, McConnell, Gregg and herself, had spent a few minutes conversing about Beverley.

Oh Beverley, Beverley. Why had she thrown away her position and family to cheapen herself around someone like this? If only she had listened to her mother, as Tawny had listened to hers, none of this would have happened.

Of course Tawny didn’t really know why the two were taken, but she suspected that it was probably drugs or something like that; it usually is with these kinds of people. All she knew was that her daughter’s foolishness had put their whole family reputation at stake. Just think of what the other Senator’s wives must be thinking of them now!

When she and Gregg had gotten back to the house he made some excuse about seeing some campaign contributors, and left again in his powder blue BMW convertible roadster. She knew it was really just a ruse to get out of the house, something he was beginning to do more and more often now. At first she had thought he was having a tawdry affair, but dismissed the idea as ludicrous. There was no reason for that. She was still lithe and beautiful, retaining the same figure she had exhibited on their wedding night. No, that wasn’t it, but even if it was, it wasn’t really a worry, as long as he kept it all discreet. She couldn’t bear the shame if that ever got out.

While he was out she had spent her time readying the house for the upcoming soirée. She stood basking again at the large formal hall, with its shiny hardwood floor reflecting the large crystal chandelier overhead. She swept over to the music system placed discretely behind a corner cabinet, and turned on a CD, swaying slightly to the strains of Beethoven’s Waltz, Opus 39, Number 15. She listened for a few moments, and then stepped out onto the faux dance floor, eyes closed, spinning slowly to the music, Cinderella at the mythical ball. She visualized her Prince Charming pulling her around the floor, the onlookers standing agape at their royalty. Her lips curved into a utopian smile as she allowed the melody to carry her dream.

The song ended, replaced by another echoing around the cavernous room, the skillfully placed speakers surrounding her with the notes. This is heaven, she dreamed. This is what life should be. If only Gregg and Beverley could share this.

She stopped dead, the dream shattered at the thoughts of her increasingly estranged family. First Gregg had distanced himself from the future she was offering him as much as from their relationship. Then Beverley had run off with that man, at least metaphorically, and gotten herself caught up in some sordid mess. It was like some awful story that other families go through, where their kids get hooked on drugs, or have babies, or some such, dragging their parents and their good name through the mud, opening them up to ridicule and gossip.

It was too much for one person to take. She was of royal descent and this shouldn’t happen to her. Yet she was a fighter and she wouldn’t let it destroy her like those commoners she heard about on the news. She opened her eyes and turned to leave the room and walked right into the strong chest of Darrion Stanton.

“Doctor Stanton! I wasn’t expecting you!” She quickly recovered from her shock, re-affixing the mantle of the cool and pleasant matriarch that befitted her station.

“Not at all Mrs. Windham,” he replied, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “And please call me Darrion. May I have this dance?”

“Oh, Darrion, really, I’m old enough to be your mother,” she responded playfully slapping him on the chest, feigning modesty. She held out her arms to the man, joining him in Shumann’s Waltz, Opus 54 Number 1. “In fact, that wouldn’t be a bad arrangement at all. I’m certain that you would be the ideal son-in-law. Heaven knows Beverley could use a man like you to help her settle down and learn her place.”

“Ah, the lovely Beverley Windham,” he said, his voice dripping with sympathy. “I heard that they found her—well—friend.”

“That impertinent fool Frindle,” she scowled. “I just know that he’s the one that got her into this mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if he would end up getting her pregnant or hooked on drugs, if she isn’t already. Well, when she gets back I will put an end to that. I am her mother after all.” She fumed for a moment, forgetting her composure in her anger.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. I think I may have a way to find her before she gets into too much more trouble.” He wore a concerned look, the faithful friend trying to aid the beleaguered parent. “Is Gregg available?”

As if on cue, the front door closed and the senator walked slowly into the anteroom facing the large hall. His head was down, dejected, his hair damp with perspiration, evidence to both the heated air and his worry over his daughter.

“Gregg,” Tawny called, “Look who’s come to visit.”

He turned jerking his head up in surprise, his deep thoughts interrupted by his wife’s voice. He started to walk toward the two in the middle of the floor, trying to rouse his political smile. The smile froze half formed on his lips as he recognized his visitor, his pace suddenly slowing, as if apprehensive of getting too near the man.

Ignoring the obvious discomfiture Stanton closed the gap himself, holding out his hand in feigned friendship. “Gregg, I just heard they found the boy Beverley was with, and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do.”

Windham took the proffered hand, albeit distastefully, and quickly released it again, unconsciously wiping his hand on the back of his trousers from the touch. If the other two noticed the action they ignored it, awaiting the assumed response. However, they could not have predicted what he actually said.

“I’m sure we can manage without your kind of help Mr. Stanton.”

Shocked, Tawny almost lost her temper with her befuddled husband. She scrambled to remain calm, carefully crafting her retort, aimed at both easing the sudden tension and putting her husband back into his assigned place.

“I see you are more tired than I had thought,” she began, “I know you normally would never have been so rude to our guest.” She then turned to Darrion. “He has taken this so very hard, you see. What is it that you have in mind?”

Gregg, feeling his own anger flare at his wife’s presumptuousness, turned his attention back to the taller man, catching the implication that Stanton had something up his sleeve.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Stanton patronized, his voice oozing with sham affection, “I can certainly understand the stress you must be under. As I said earlier, that is why I came, to offer my assistance.”

Resigned to the fact that he had to listen, Windham crossed his arms and sighed. He had a feeling this was going to cost him greatly. “Alright, Stanton, what is it?”

“Well, you see, I have gained quite a few contacts over the years, some on the, let’s just say, less seemly side of the law.” He paused, noting Tawny taking an involuntary step back in revulsion from the announcement.

“Yes, unfortunately, being in my position, both as a physician and my father’s ties, I am forced to car
ry some hefty burdens. But if the
Stanton’s can help my friends in their time of need, I will carry those burdens without complaint.” The false self-effacement was nauseating to Gregg, yet it elicited a sympathetic look and hand on the shoulder from Tawny. Gregg simply shook his head in disbelief at the two.

“Anyhow,” Darrion continued, “when I heard what had happened to the boy, I thought that some of my acquaintances may be able to get in and find Beverley where the police and FBI have failed.” He paused for effect. “They may have the contacts the police don’t. Not that the police aren’t doing the best they can, mind you, its just that, well, the police are so backward at times.”

The statement fit exactly Tawny’s impression of the local constabulary, and the idea intrigued her. Not that she could approve of such a good man tainting himself with these associations, but she had a duty to perform as a mother and felt that there may be no other way to find her prodigal daughter.

Gregg, on the other hand, knew that the Stanton
’
s did indeed have many “less seemly” associates, many of which had been retained by the family to help smooth over the obstacles they faced, often ending with someone in the hospital or cemetery. He also knew there wasn’t a single altruistic bone in the family; there was a price tag associated with this “assistance” and he had the nauseating feeling that he would be forced to sacrifice either his daughter or his integrity. Again. He didn’t have much integrity left anyway, he belittled himself.

“Exactly what will this aid cost us?” he asked, winning a scathing look from his wife and a feigned hurt look from his adversary.

“Gregg, I can’t believe you would say that, after all the years our families have been friends. It hurts me to think that you would think so little of me.”

The senator didn’t buy it for a minute, but had no recourse but to apologize given the situation, although he did manage a great deal of sarcasm as he did so. “Sorry, Darrion, I can’t think of where that came from. I’m sure you just have our peace of mind at heart.”

Stanton smiled his most disarming smile. “Think nothing of it Gregg. I’m sure it’s just the long, hard days of worrying. Why, it’s been a whole week now, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Gregg confirmed. “Well, as you said, I’m a little out of sorts today, after seeing what those monsters did to that poor man, and thinking what they could have done to my little girl. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go try to catch a nap. Thank-you for thinking of us.” He turned, gesturing toward the front door.

“Of course.” Stanton strode over to the door, followed by Gregg, leaving Tawny to shut the music down. He paused a moment before the entry way, and mentioned to Gregg, loud enough to ensure Tawny could hear it, “And thank-you too. I’m sure you would do the same for me. If there was something you could do to help with something I wanted, I’m sure you would stop at nothing to see that it was done. Nothing. Not when a daughter’s life was at stake.”

He stared at the shorter man, a malevolent look on his face
ensuring there was no
doubt to his implication. The horror that showed on the senator’s face assured him that it was not, and he turned, heading out the door toward his awaiting corvette.

Tawny walked back over to Gregg. “I’m sure you will do everything in your power to get our daughter back, won’t you?”

His shoulder’s slumped, his eyes red threatening fresh tears, he nodded. “Yes, dear, I will.”

She watched him walk slowly toward his office and through the door, closing it behind him. She realized that she too had something that needed doing to protect her daughter. An idea flitted through her mind, bringing a smile to her face. Yes, she too had something to do.

She left the house in the gold Lexus, arriving at the hospital a few minutes later. The heat of the day was most unbearable, but the strong engine of the luxury car lent power to the air conditioner, cooling the interior quickly. It had the effect of reminding Tawny of her position, bracing her for what was coming. Not that it would be hard, to the contrary, this would be a rejuvenating discussion. It was just that she despised even talking to the hideous man.

She entered the hospital room and noticed immediately that the man lying on the bed was looking much better than he was when she had left him several hours ago. She strode up to his sleeping form and shook his shoulder to wake him. He moaned at the movement, and then slowly opened his eyes. She stood back a few feet, feeling dirty just standing this close to the man.

“Mr. Frindle, I am Tawny Windham, Beverley’s mother.”

He tried to speak, licked his lips to give them moisture, swallowed painfully, and then tried again to talk. “I know…” he rasped.

“Of course you would,” she responded disgustedly. “I am here because my daughter needs to be protected.” She paused for a moment to let the insinuations sink in.

“You see,” she continued, “somehow you have beguiled my daughter, for rather obvious reasons.” She looked him up and down, attempting in vain to see what her offspring must have noticed.

“So what you will do is very simple. You will not see my daughter again. You will also tell your Mormon friends to do the same. I’m sure even you can handle that.”

He tried to say something, but found he was still too exhausted from his ordeal. Finally he just shook his head.

“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Frindle. I am not making a suggestion or merely asking. I am telling you that you
cannot
, will not, see Beverley again. You must know that I have the power to make your life extremely uncomfortable, and I will not hesitate to do so. I can break you more easily than that heathen broke your ribs!”

She was breathing heavily, evidence of the depth of her passion. She took a deep breath before continuing her tirade, but was interrupted by the croaking voice originating at the head of the bed.