Innocence (9 page)

“Ah,” said Maeve, “that sort of trouble. Go on.”

“Well. There’s not much more to say,” Cora stared at her tea.

“Did you meet with the agent?”

Cora shook her head.

“But you’re concerned.”

“I want to meet with him. He said that he can put me in touch with my aunt; she came to him looking for me.”

“So meet with him.”

“I would,” Cora said, “but I don’t know…Marcus…”

“Are you afraid Marcus will find out and be mad?”

Cora shrugged, “Maybe. It’s not only that, though.”

“Do you feel safe?” Maeve looked at her sharply.

“From Marcus? Yes, absolutely, no question.” Cora defended him vehemently. And she did feel safe, she realized. Maybe too safe. Followed, scrutinized.

Maeve peered at Cora’s face, looking for signs of feelings in the marble cheeks and mouth. “Are you afraid this agent will tell you things about Marcus you’d rather not know? The truth, perhaps?”

Miserable, Cora nodded.

“Do you want to know the truth about a man who may become your husband?”

“Yes,” Cora said.

Satisfied, Maeve sat back, only to watch Cora’s face grow more shadowed. “But?” Maeve prompted for Cora’s thoughts.

The young woman did not answer for a time. Then Cora whispered “But I love him.”

*

Two hours later, Cora sat in a diner near the animal rescue. Her heart thumped every time the door opened, but she gripped the edge of the table. Hang on. When the agent did arrive, she did not notice until he was at her elbow. Business attire and a bland face made him fade into a crowd. Cora chided herself for expecting a tuxedo and dark glasses as the agent slid into a seat and smoothed his tie. A pause, and then Cora put the agent’s card—now worn—on the table top. The agent opened his badge for her to study. When she was done, she gave a nod and he flipped the badge quickly shut.

“Ma’am, thank you for meeting me. I wasn’t sure my offer was well received.”

“You said that my aunt contacted you,” Cora’s voice wobbled. “I want to know how she is.”

“In a little bit,” the agent inclined his head as if to say,
We’ll take this at my pace.
 “First I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

A waitress arrived for their order. “Two coffees, that’s all,” said the man across from Cora. He didn’t take his eyes from Cora’s face. But he didn’t ask any questions, not until the mugs were placed in front of them.

If he’s trying to make me nervous, he’s doing a good job,
thought Cora, and then jumped when the agent said, “How long have you known Marcus Ubeli?”

Cora thought back to the night she had gone to the club with her friends, “About six months.”

“And you’ve been in a relationship that long?”

With a blush, Cora said, “Yes. About that long.” Her hands met under the table so she could play with her ring.

“How would you describe your relationship with…your boyfriend? Are you close?”

When I first saw you…I knew we would be together. Forever.
“Yes, we’re close.”

The agent squinted at her, making her wonder if he needed glasses, “How well do you know Mr. Ubeli?”

Cora shrugged, “We spend time together, when he isn’t working. We eat dinner, go to restaurants or clubs his friends own.”

“You have dates mostly at night?”

“Or some mornings or afternoons he has off. He works long hours.” She had an image of herself waiting for Marcus at a restaurant table, a glass of sweet wine her only companion. Marcus would arrive only to be interrupted halfway through the appetizer course by a call from a business partner. “He always tries to make time for me.”

“Has he ever spoken of business or what he does at work?”

“No,” Cora said. “But I think he’s an investor.”

“Any particular idea of what he’s investing in?”

“Restaurants, maybe. Clubs—like his friends.” Memory rose to Cora’s mind: a marquis blotted out by brighter flashes from cameras.  

“So you don’t know what he does for a living,” the agent stated.

“No.” Cora felt very small in her seat. “I never asked him. He…” she hesitated. The agent waited. “He sometimes seems upset about his business. So I don’t ask him to talk about it. I try to take his mind off of it.” She blushed again at the agent’s stare. “It’s just the way our relationship is.”

The agent stared. Cora could hear his question now:
Are you telling me that you’ve dated this man six months and you don’t know his profession?
If he asked her this, she would be forced to admit the truth: she didn’t know her would-be fiancé very well at all. He loved her; that was enough. At least, it had been enough, until lately.

But the agent said, “Let’s talk about your aunt.”

Cora sat up eagerly. “Do you know where she is?”

“You haven’t been in contact?”

“No, we haven’t been able to find her.” A raised eyebrow from the agent made

Cora explain, “Marcus and I have been looking for her ever since the morning after we first met. We went to her house; I thought I could stay with her. But she had moved. I don’t know where she could have gone.” The agent was frowning, and Cora trailed off,

“Marcus has been trying to find her.”

“I see,” The agent said after a pause.

“Do you know where she is? Where she’s been?”

“Cora, your aunt contacted us a few weeks ago. She told us that you’d disappeared a months ago. Said she would have tracked you down if she hadn’t felt she was in danger.”

“In danger?”

“She told us she was being followed. That a few men had showed up at her house one night and told her she would have to move—something about the landlord needing the place cleared for maintenance.”

“But…why didn’t she leave a forwarding address?” Something inside Cora was twisting, as if her gut knew the truth even if her mind refused to believe.

“Your aunt did leave one. It must have slipped the super’s mind when your boyfriend’s men came looking for it. Either that or…”

“Do you think Marcus hasn’t been looking?” Cora’s voice rose defensively, even as her stomach gave a lurch.

“Miss Cora, your aunt’s townhouse—where she lived until she was told to move—was one of Ubeli’s.”

A slight hiccup exploded in the back of Cora’s throat, threatening more to come. “Oh,” she said and half rose.

“Is everything okay?” The agent rose, hovered.

“I’m fine,” Cora was bent over the table, hand on her belly. “I just…need a moment.” She rushed from the table, taking sanctuary in the diner’s restroom. There, in front of a dusty mirror, she wiped sweat from her face and shuddered. The tension was too much—in her gut, in her head.
What’s wrong with me?
She asked her reflection, avoiding her eyes. Her face held a marble pallor, no longer a child’s face. Oh, Marcus, she thought, and her stomach near heaved. She was still trying to dupe herself, and her body was protesting.

Turning on the tap, she ran cold water over her hands. When she looked up at the mirror again, her face was cool and beautiful. A woman’s knowing look had surfaced, harder and more resolute.

When she walked back to the table, graceful with a model’s gait, she turned heads.

“Are you able to continue?” the agent asked.

Cora was composed. “Please, go on. It just…took me by surprise.”   

                     The waitress chose that moment to interrupt. Cora kept her eyes down, using the pause to gather strength. The agent, annoyed, sent the waitress away all too soon with a wave of his hand.

“I understand that Mr. Ubeli must have hidden things from you,” the agent said. “I am sorry you have to hear about it this way.”

“Will you please tell my aunt that I am safe, and that I’d like to see her?”

The man nodded. “She would like that. She is living in a secure location where she feels safe.” He paused, looking at her frozen profile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll need to be back to the rescue soon.”

“One more item, then. There’s the matter of this man.” The agent slid a photograph across the table to her. Even with muscles tightened to hold her in calm, Cora jerked back a little in her seat. The picture was blurry, but the face could be recognized as the man who had drugged, near raped her, then followed her to her apartment and workplace.

“Why…why are you showing this to me?”

“He’s an average joe, does a bit of business on the street. He sells things like watches, purses, wallets—a mini outlet store right on the sidewalk. We picked him up once or twice, and he always tells us a few things we need to know. Turns out he was in Mr. Ubeli’s pay, at one point.”

“A lot of people work for Marcus.”

“True. They tend to have interesting jobs. Ask the bald strongman what he does when he’s not playing chauffeur to the boss’s girl.” The agent studied Cora, and she felt he could see, below her surface, the layers and layers of fear. “The man in this photograph was involved in an interesting plot, too. He was told to go to a club, pick up a certain girl, get her wasted or whatever—”

Cora gripped the table edge, holding on to its flat surface as her world tilted.

“And then bring her to his boss.” The agent cocked his head at Cora. “Do you know this man?”

“I need to go,” Cora mumbled. She looked around for her purse.

“Did this man ever approach you at a club?”

“I’m sorry…I…”

“Cora, how did you come to meet Mr. Ubeli?”

That night—she had been running, drugged, unable to see clearly. How long was the road beyond the club? Had she been driven down a street with no outlet, straight down the steps to the underworld?

Purse in hand, she paused in her exit. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was so long ago, and I….” She hesitated. “I was drugged. He,” she pointed to the picture, “did it to me.”

“Do you think you’re the girl he was supposed to target?”

Cora shook her head. “I was new to the city, just a visitor, few friends. There’s no way he could have known me.” She didn’t know whether he was the man in the photograph or Marcus.

“He might have seen you, when you were staying with your aunt.”

Cora nodded. There was no doubt now which he the agent spoke of—Marcus. Marcus had done it all, arranged everything.

“Do you know what happened to this man?” The agent tapped the picture.

“No.”

“He’s been missing for some days. He was supposed to go into witness protection a week ago, but we haven’t seen him since.”

The memory of Marcus’s angry voice came to Cora.
No one touches my girl.
Breaking her poise, Cora put a hand to her head.
Don’t worry, babe.

“Miss Cora? Do you know where he might be?”

“No…I…no.” She looked up, her eyes unfocused. “I should get going, though. Back to the rescue.” She groped for her purse and found its strap was already wound around her arm.

The agent rose when she did. “I know this has been hard, but your involvement will help us get down the truth. People’s lives are at stake. We need your help.”

“Oh, right,” Cora murmured anything that would move the agent from her path.

“Think about it. If you like, I’ll be here a week from now, same contact place and time.” the agent said.

“Okay,” Cora nodded. Apparently she said the right thing, for the man stepped to the side.

As he allowed her to pass, he spoke to reassure—or warn. “And don’t worry. We’ll be watching.”      

*

That night, when Sharo picked Cora up from the shelter, silence sat like a wall between them. Cora’s gaze slid over the city streets, recognizing few of them. She was still a little country girl, lost and alone. But for Marcus. The car finally stopped in an alley way. Focusing, Cora finally recognized it. She sought Sharo’s face in the mirror.

“We’re not at the town house.”

“Mr. Ubeli asked that you meet him at his office. He has a project running that he’d like to attend to.”

“I’m not clean or dressed…” Cora fretted. Suddenly, her whole world seemed held together only by her beauty and clothes.

“There’s a shower here. Mr. Ubeli uses it some mornings after a night’s work. I also brought a change of clothes,” Sharo held up the shopping bags in the front seat.

Cora got out of the car. While Sharo was collecting things from the front seat, she walked a little ways down the alley.

She rounded the corner and stopped. There was the street with the marquis sign for the club her friends had brought her to the night she first met Marcus. Looking around, Cora did the calculations. If the car was parked there I would have run down here. The way was long, but unbroken by any exit besides a small alleyway blocked with trash cans. Anyone being chased would be driven straight down towards the intersection where she now stood. Moving to one corner, she entered the shadows of the brick building where she might have waited, heart pounding, for her pursuer to find her.
I was drugged; he wouldn’t have expected me to get so far. He thought he would catch up before I came out onto the street. Then he could drag me to Marcus.
Closing her eyes, Cora remembered the shout breaking the darkness. She had run across the street at an angle, and down the steps to the only haven she could find. The dark steps of the club, leading straight to Mr. Ubeli.