Anabel Unraveled (3 page)

Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door and in stepped another man. While he was close to my father’s age, the difference in the two men was striking. Unlike my father, this man was none too tall, and his face was not purple with rage. “Good evening, Jonathan,” he stated, his voice calm. He then sent a smile my way. “Hi Annie.”

I dashed to his side. “Charlie! Oh, Charlie, you’ve got to do something, my father has gone off the deep end once again—”

“Anabel,” Charlie cut in, “will you let me have a few words with your father? Step out into the hall, I have something I wish to say to you afterward.”

Only for Charlie would I comply. I bid my father a cool goodnight and then slid out of the room, leaving the door open a tiny crack so I could attempt to hear what was going on.

I made out a few mumbled formalities, and then Charlie began, “You can imagine why I came, Jonathan.”

“Yes, my old friend,” my father sneered, “I know you’ve come to criticize me, so I eagerly await it.”

“Kevin Miller did nothing that deserves you throwing him off this island. He will waste away in a regular prison, you know that.” Charlie’s voice was sharp. “You’re the one who insisted on bringing him here in the first place. You gave him a false sense of security, when the fact of the matter is you wanted him here for some pretty twisted reasons of your own.”

He had brought Kevin here? That was interesting. I strained my ears to hear more.

“And what if Anabel had realized who she was dealing with? What then?” hissed my father.

“Anabel supports what Kevin did,” Charlie remarked.

“Oh, does she now? You know, it’s a good thing I got rid of Marilyn, before she instilled any more faulty morals in that girl!” he roared.

“That’s not why you kicked Marilyn out, and you know it. Besides, Anabel’s not exactly a girl anymore,” retorted Charlie.

Oh good. Someone had finally noticed that, as I approached twenty years of age, I wasn’t interested in dolls anymore.

A short pause ensued after Charlie’s statement, and then I heard my father say in a voice that encouraged caution, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charlie sighed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, but that really doesn’t matter now. The point is, something’s got to be done in regards to your daughter, or you can be certain that Sam will get involved. Kevin was a distraction for her. What’s going to occupy her mind now?”

“Forget Kevin. What does S-Sam have to do with anything?” he spat, losing his cool.

“He and Anabel are close, despite your wishes, and you know he will pull her out of here if he sees fit. She’d go, too.” There was a pause, and then: “I don’t have to remind you that his authority supersedes your own,” finished Charlie.

“What exactly have I done that’s so wrong? She is my daughter—I’ve taken care of her.”

“All the same, news travels fast. When Sam found out about Kevin arriving here in the first place he mentioned to me that he had decided to send out Jared Sorensen, to evaluate the situation on the island. If you’re kicking him off, I can only imagine the visit will be moved up. I don’t even know if Sorensen knows he’s going yet.”

“S-Sorensen is a filthy, s-slimy—”

“Nonetheless, he is Sam’s choice, and Sorensen will report back, and—”

“I see.” Jonathan was curt. “I expect you to work on damage control. I will see you in the morning.”

There was a shuffle of papers, and then Charlie walked out of my father’s office. I caught his arm. “Charlie! What on earth—”

“Annie, I’m sorry,” he apologized, sounding weary, “but there’s a lot going on that you don’t understand.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But what did you want to say to me?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“What on—”

He stopped me. “I can’t help you, love.” After staring at me long and hard, he moved briskly down the hall.

Then I made up my mind. I didn’t care if I would be waking him up at an ungodly hour. He loved me. I needed some answers.

So, I called my brother.

Chapter 2—Jared

“Jared, I have something I need you to do for me,” Sam announced over the telephone.

“I gathered that,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “It’s 4 a.m., Sam. Somebody better be dead.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been up for over an hour,” he said with aplomb. “I need you to come down here, now.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. Last Night’s Girl stirred in bed next to me. I guessed she was not going to be happy when I told her she had to leave. “Will you at least tell me what this is about?”

“My sister,” he said. Then he hung up.

“You don’t have a sister,” I said to the dial tone. Then I slammed the phone down. “Great,” I moaned.

The blonde next to me stirred. “Is everything okay, baby?” she simpered.

“No. You have to go. I’ll call you a taxi.”

She sat up. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I have to go to work,” I got out of bed. “Now, I can call you a taxi or you can leave on your own. I don’t care which one, but either way, I want you gone by the time I get out of the shower.”

She stared at me, and then started getting dressed. I watched her, somewhat concerned she might do something violent, but she picked up her heels and then slammed the door so loudly that it shook in its hinges.

Somehow I didn’t think we would be getting together again. I couldn’t even remember her name. Cathy? Caroline? Something with a C. I locked the door behind her and jumped into the shower, trying to shake the fog I was in. It was all a blur as I showered, dressed, went downstairs, and hopped in the car.

“Morning, Jared,” called Daniel, the driver, cheerful as ever.

I stared at him. “Why am I up right now, Daniel?”

“I would guess that’s something between you and the President.”

“I would guess it is,” I sighed.

I had a great job. I did. I worked when I wanted, most of the time, and was very, very good at it. The problem was that I worked for my best friend. It had been great when he had been Speaker of the House. He was high profile, sure; but not to where he was calling me at all hours of the night. He did his thing, and I cleaned up the messes that always arose along the way. Every politician, I assured myself, had someone who did that for them. The ones who didn’t weren’t re-elected.

Then, two years ago, Air Force One had crashed, killing the president. A day later, as they were about to swear him into office, the Vice President suffered a fatal heart attack. As a consequence, Sam Sallinger had reluctantly stepped into the role. I doubted he had ever wanted to be president—despite the aspirations of his wife—and it was now an election year. He hadn’t been elected, and his opponent was trying to play this. Still, Sam had maintained a high approval rating and was looked on as a national hero for guiding the country through a tragedy.

I had no doubt he would win. He also kept his nose clean, and I was there to get rid of the times that he didn’t.

All the same, I felt disturbed about being called in at this hour.

I went into the Oval Office, and Sam didn’t even look up. “Good morning,” he said, staring down at a file.

I seated myself. “So what is it this time?”

He pushed a photograph toward me, and I picked it up. The girl in it smiled widely for me. She had brown hair, a nice enough face, and she looked really, really . . . young.

“So what, is someone saying that this is your kid? What do you want me to do?” I grinned at him. “Don’t tell me that Sam Sallinger actually has a blemish on his squeaky clean past?”

“No, not as bad as that, but not good. She’s my sister,” he confided.

“She looks sixteen! Your mom is way too old to have a kid this age.”

“She’s nineteen,” he replied. “And you’ve never met my mom.”

“Yes, I have,” I retorted. “That’s how we met, in case you forgot. My dad worked for your parents. Kristin loves me.”

“Kristin’s not my mother,” he admitted, keeping his eyes downcast. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m adopted.”

I almost fell out of my chair. “You’re serious?”

He nodded.

“How did this never come out before now? I can’t believe you never told me. Sam, we’ve known each other since I was five!”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” he replied. “My mom—my real mom—died a few years ago, and she charged me with taking care of my sister, whose picture you’re staring at.”

“She doesn’t look a thing like you, except for the hair. She looks like—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut me off. “Here’s the deal. Anabel—my half-sister—is Jonathan Martin’s daughter.”

“That scumbag has a daughter?” I asked. “I get it. You’re sending me to Caereon?”

He nodded. “There’s a situation with my sister. You see, Anabel used to have a babysitter, whose name was Marilyn Jessmyn. Marilyn kept her perpetually busy, but her father fired the woman.”

“Why?”

“From what my sister tells me, her father was in love with Marilyn, and Marilyn was in love with Jonathan’s second-in-command. Apparently Jonathan became overcome with his feelings and had decided to tell Marilyn that he’d been in love with her for years and years . . . and he walked in on her and Charlie.”

“Oof.”

“Yes. And let’s face it, Jonathan’s not known for having a good temper. So Marilyn was sacked. Anabel tried to stow away on the helicopter, to no avail.”

“Got to give her credit,” I acknowledged. “But Jonathan’s not your father. He’s much too young.” I studied the picture again. Sam and Anabel had a similar smile.

“No, he isn’t,” Sam affirmed. “Let’s keep the focus on her, okay? She just called me about an hour ago. She’s miserable and lonely, and I’ve been trying to get her out of there for years, but it’s very complicated.”

“I can see that. So you want a report?”

“Yes, detailing everything you see. Check up on Jonathan, too. I like to keep him on his toes, even though he does a fantastic job running the place.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time. I need you to leave tomorrow.”

“I have Caps tickets, Sam.”

“Not anymore, you don’t,” he ordered. “We’ll fly you to Los Angeles, and you will go from there to Maui. From Maui you will be leaving on a freighter, and from the freighter, a helicopter will take you to the island.”

“I guess I better go pack,” I stood up.

“You should also know that Anabel is not in a good mood right now. She had made a friend with an inmate, and he has been banned from the island.”

“From what I understand about the people housed there, I can’t believe she was allowed to talk to one of them.”

Sam took off his glasses and looked at me. “She wasn’t. It was a very unfortunate circumstance. Anyway, you should know my sister’s temper rivals Jonathan’s.”

“I look forward to meeting her then,” I noted, walking toward the door.

“One last thing,” he called.

I turned.

“She’s my sister. You know better.” He didn’t look up, but I knew what he meant.

“She’s a kid, Sam. I definitely know better.”

***

Ms. Fischer turned to me. “Tell us about when you first got to Caereon.”

So it begins. “Well, I left right after that conversation with President Sallinger, and when I arrived on Caereon, Anabel and I were thrust together a lot, mostly as a ploy by her father to prevent me from doing a proper investigation of the premises. I do not think he was aware, at the time, that I had been sent there to investigate her.”

Ms. Fischer leaned forward. “Why don’t you start off by describing your relationship with Miss Martin?”

Anabel squirmed in her seat. Sam watched her, concerned. He hated me, and every glance he sent my way was filled with a cold fury that I had never seen on his face before. I was doing really well. The girl who used to adore me and my former best friend both could care less whether I lived or died. Still, I smiled and said something that I knew would make both of them even more uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know what to say to Anabel sometimes. The truth is, I didn’t know what to say to her the majority of the time, especially when she thought that she loved me,” I revealed, making eye contact with her. She shrank back in her seat, and the damage was done.

Sam looked hard at her. “He’s not serious, right? That was for show, to throw off your father. You didn’t really love him?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Anabel sat there motionless, her face devoid of emotion. I had never seen her like this, not even right before we were rescued. The Anabel Martin I knew was always warm and engaging. I wanted to shake her and bring her out of it. But I knew better. I had ruined her life and she would never trust me again. Not that I faulted her for it. We’d been in the same room for only a few hours, and every word out of my mouth was hurting her.

I was a jerk. That was what they paid me for, right?

***

The first time I saw Anabel was that day I stepped off the helicopter and onto Caereon. It had been a long journey, but I had reanimated at the prospect of meeting her. It had been hard for me to stomach that Sam had a sister—especially one that was more than twenty years younger than he was. She was there on the helipad, standing next to Jonathan. She was a sight, though. It was windy, so her hair was blowing all over the place and her skirt was climbing to dangerous levels above her knees. My eyes flicked from her (still no glimpse of the face, hidden by all of her hair) to Jonathan, who was approaching me. You would have thought that he was nearly seventy by his way of walking, but I knew better. Jonathan wasn’t much past fifty, and his daughter . . . well as I’d said to Sam, was a kid—a kid who I was supposed to babysit and at the same time keep my distance from.

It was the most nonsensical assignment I’d ever had.

At dinner I got a good look at her. She didn’t look anything like Jonathan. Her bright blue eyes were inquisitive, her smile alluring, and (from what I could tell) her figure wasn’t too bad either. You couldn’t help but feel bad for her, as she looked out of place in the odd grouping that consisted of her father, the head of security, Jonathan’s assistant, and a couple of older ladies. Doing some quick calculations, there was at least a fifteen year age gap between her and anyone else in the room. Studying her further, I still didn’t see any resemblance to Sam—who was it she looked like? That was driving me crazy—and it wasn’t until she started talking that I realized she shared the same shrewd intelligence that characterized her brother.